Alex was speechless. What the hell is going on? He began to sweat, his knees felt weak. He looked over at Richard, hoping to gain some insight. He was not reassured by Richard’s gaping mouth and confused stare.
The policeman cocked the hammer to the pistol and said, “I want to know where the rest of it is, or he’s dead. You have until the count of three. One… Two…”
There was a commotion in the laundry room. The policeman turned his gaze to the door, keeping the gun against Alex’s head. “Who’s in there?”
Alex was still frozen in place. There was more noise in the laundry room. The policeman moved away from Alex and swung the pistol toward the door. “Who’s in there?” he called out.
“I wouldn’t…” Alex said as the policeman reached toward the doorknob.
Ignoring Alex, Martin turned the knob and opened the door a crack. He had the pistol aimed at mid-chest height. One-hundred and twenty-five pounds of well-muscled canine exploded against the door and it flew open. The door crashed against the chest of the policeman, throwing him off balance backwards. At the same time, the pistol went off, the recoil adding to the policeman’s backward lurch. His head struck the granite countertop behind him as he fell, hitting it hard. The pistol went flying. The policeman’s head bounced off the countertop and he fell to the floor. Buddy rushed up to him and stood over him, staring down at his face intently, teeth showing, a low growl in his throat; the hair on the back of the dog’s neck was standing up. The policeman was unconscious; a pool of blood was growing under his head.
“Buddy, back!” Alex called to his dog. He picked up the pistol, put it in his belt and grabbed Buddy’s collar. He pulled Buddy off the man and walked him to the back door, putting him safely in the back yard.
Richard moved quickly up to the unconscious man. “You have a first aid kit?” he asked Alex.
“I’ll get it. He still alive?” Alex got a first aid kit from a cupboard.
“Yeah. I’ve got a pulse. Pupils are equal and reactive.”
“I’ll call 911.”
“Don’t think you’ll need to. That ‘officer down’ call will bring them running. Go check out front.” Richard bandaged up the policeman’s head, being very careful not to manipulate his neck.
“What the hell was that all about?” Alex could feel himself getting furious.
“I have absolutely no idea!”
“What are you into?” Alex shouted. “You been smuggling drugs or something?”
“No! Of course not!”
“How’s his pulse?”
“Still good and strong, respirations are even and unlabored.”
“Well, he was after something!”
“But I don’t have anything that would interest anyone.”
“He thinks you do!”
“Martin, this is control,” said the microphone on Martin’s shoulder.
Alex knelt down next to the cop and pushed the button on the microphone. “This is Dr. Stewart. Officer Martin is unconscious. He needs an ambulance right away. The other officer is dead. Martin shot him.”
Silence. Then, “All units, all units, this is control. Shoot Stewart and Gregg on sight. Shoot to kill. Do not let them leave the house alive. Do not engage, do not interrogate. Shoot on sight.”
Alex keyed the mike again. “Wait! You don’t have to shoot! We give up. We’re not armed.”
“All units, control. Switch to backup frequency. Shoot to kill.”
“You don’t need to shoot!” Alex yelled at the microphone. “We give up!”
The microphone was silent.
Richard shook his head in disbelief. They could hear sirens approaching.
Alex ran to the front door and half-opened it. A second cruiser was parked out front and a single officer crouched behind its front fender, aiming a pistol. As soon as the door was ajar, there was gunfire and splinters flew off the outside of the door. Alex took shelter behind the door - thank God it was made of heavy oak. That cop out there wasn’t kidding. “Wait! Don’t shoot! We give up!” he shouted out through the door. More gunfire, more splinters. Windows were breaking. Alex slammed the door shut.
“They don’t seem to care,” shouted Richard from the kitchen.
“Shit!” What the hell was he going to do now? He opened the door again, this time a smaller crack. “Stop shooting! We give up!” He opened the door a little wider. More gunshots, even heavier than before. “Shit!” he said again and shut the door. There were a hell of a lot of bullets and holes were appearing in the front wall. More cops must have arrived, though he couldn't see them.
“I don't think that's going to work,” said Richard who was squatting behind the kitchen island.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Alex. “Cops don’t shoot civilians who aren’t a threat. And they sure as hell don’t shoot each other.”
“They’re wearing uniforms, they’re driving police cars, what else could they be?”
“I know, I know. And Nichols, I know from the ER. This doesn’t make any fucking sense.” The bullets kept coming, splattering plaster from the walls opposite the windows. Keeping low, Alex retreated back into the kitchen on his hands and knees, climbing over the downed cop. He reached over and grabbed a leash off the counter as he went. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’d better get the hell out of here until we figure it out. Holy shit! What’re we going to do? Maybe we can go hide someplace?”
“You mean run? Run away from the police?”
“What other choice do we have right now? They won't let us surrender.”
“Guess you're right, but where can we go?”
“We need to get out of here now!” said Alex as he turned toward the back. “I don’t think they’ve had time to surround the house yet. But that sure as hell won't last.”
“Maybe we should just wait for the police to come in, then ask what this is all about.”
“Richard, they are the police and they aren't letting us surrender! If they get in here, we're toast. Follow me out the back. We have to leave now!” They heard more sirens as more cars pulled up. “Now!”
Buddy was waiting just outside the back door. Alex grabbed him by the collar and quickly put on the leash. “Heel!” he commanded as he ran to the gate in the back of the yard. He was through it and into the trees beyond before he heard more gunfire. Richard was right beside him. “Run like hell!” he shouted when he saw bits of dirt, grass and bark fly into the air as lead hit tree trunks and the ground around them.
Chapter Six
The underbrush grabbed at Richard’s clothes and ripped at his hands and face. He gasped for breath, lungs burning. Sweat glued his shirt to his skin and ran down his cheek. Next to him, Alex paused and held his hand up, crouching low. Richard dropped as well, bent over, hands on knees. They remained still; Buddy obediently paused beside Alex’s left leg, panting softly. Richard slowed his breathing so he could listen. He could make out indistinct voices behind them, some distance off, accompanied by the sounds of men thrashing through the bushes. There was an occasional loud snap of a twig, but nothing nearby. Richard was grateful for the chance to catch his breath.
“They’re moving away,” said Alex in a raspy, puffing whisper. “We’ll wait here for a few minutes to let them get a little farther.” For the past half hour, Alex led them on a convoluted, back and forth trek through the trees and dense foliage. He seemed to know what he was doing and was able to guide them through the line of searching policemen, weapons held at the ready, and into the area the police already scoured.
Other than being behind the advancing policemen, Richard had no idea where they were. “What now?” he asked. “We got a chance of getting away?”
“A chance, yeah,” said Alex. “I have a friend that lives just on the other side of that fence. We sometimes walk our dogs together.” He nodded to their left.
“At least there’s no more shooting,” said Richard. The shooting stopped as soon as they disappeared into the woods.
“I just hope I’m not getting my friend into trouble.” Alex stood, bent over at the waist, and moved toward a gate in the fence. “Come on, quickly, quietly. Buddy, heel.” In a few seconds, they were through the gate, across the open yard and inside a garage. “I think we made it. I don’t think they saw us,” Alex said. He knocked at the door leading into the house from the garage. There was no answer. Alex went to a shelf next to the door, produced a key and opened the door himself. He indicated with a hand gesture that Richard should stay in the garage, and Alex and Buddy went inside. Richard sat on the cement floor and tried to catch his breath.
Fear raged in him. It had a texture, he could touch it. It had a sound, roaring with a fury in his ears. It had a color, he could see it; everything he saw was tinted with it. It smelled of sour sweat, tasted of dry sand. It was all around him. In every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. It began when he first saw Martin with a gun; it crescendoed when the bullets started flying. It crashed like a tsunami washing across his mind, driving all thought, feeling, emotions, all else, from his awareness like so much flotsam.
He reached out with his consciousness and embraced the fear. My old friend, he thought. I know you. We’ve met before. He let the terror roil and surge, not trying to impede or control it. He just watched. Slowly, the size of the waves decreased, the spume and spray returned to the turbid waters.
Richard paid close attention to the air going in and out of his lungs. He felt it pass through his nose and into his throat. He felt his diaphragm rise and fall; his lungs fill with oxygen-rich gas, then exhale with heavy doses of carbon dioxide. His breathing slowed, but still came in deep draughts. Slowly, slowly, the fear ran out like an ebbing tide. It returned, in brief waves of memories - loud explosions and whizzing bullets followed by sprays of dirt pushed into the air by rushing lead; memories of “Shoot to kill! Don’t let them leave the house alive!” He noted these and watched as they washed back to the place they came from.
He turned his attention to the garage around him. It smelled vaguely of oil and dust. The light was dim, coming from a sole window in the back. It was a large open space; no car was present. The air was cool, chilled by the slab of concrete at his feet. For a second, Richard was there, in the garage, at that precise moment and nowhere else, no when else. Then thoughts came rushing in, filling the psychic space left behind.
Do I wear a crazy magnet? Richard asked himself. No, Gary was deranged. But the police? Still, why couldn’t he be in New England for ten minutes without being swallowed in violence? He must have accumulated some really interesting karma in a previous life.
Alex reappeared through the same door, without Buddy. “My friend and her dog aren’t here. I left a note and I’m leaving Buddy here. I also called for a cab to come pick us up. They should be here in ten minutes.”
“You don’t think the police will stop us if they see us in a cab?”
“I’m gambling they haven’t had time to organize a thorough search of the area yet. Though they probably have set up road blocks at the edge of town, to make sure we don’t leave.”
“We do have to get out of town, though, right? I mean, we’ll get caught for sure if we stay here. How’s the cab going to get us past the road blocks?”
“I have a plan. You got any thoughts?”
Richard paused for a moment. Nope. He was so far out of his element, his mind was blank when he searched for ideas. Besides, Alex seemed to be doing really well so far. He was content to follow Alex’s lead. “I haven’t got a clue.” He happened to glance at Alex’s waist. “Uh, Alex… You’re armed.”
“What?” Alex looked down to where Richard was looking. The pistol Martin had dropped was still in his belt. “Dammit, I forgot about that. Shit.” He took it and held it out to Richard. “I don’t want it. Here, you take it.”
“No way.” Richard backed up and held his hands up as if to ward the thing off.
“Shit.” Alex looked around the garage. “Can’t just leave it in here. Kids come in here. It’s dangerous.”
“Can you put it in your pocket where it’s out of sight?”
The cab pulled up and honked. Alex put the gun in the front pocket of his pants. It bulged, but did not openly declare itself to be a gun. He took it back out and stuck in his belt again, this time pulling his shirt tail out so it hung loosely, covering the pistol without obvious remainder. Satisfied, Alex led the way out to the cab, walking as nonchalantly as he could manage.
The cabbie opened the back door for them and asked, “Where to?”
“The airport,” said Alex as he got into the cab.
“Logan?”
“No. Georgetown Airport.”
The cabbie raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
In the back of the cab, Richard turned to Alex, speaking softly so the cabbie couldn’t hear. “There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t know what it means, but you need to know.” Alex gave him a questioning look. “I didn’t put the pieces together until now, but that accident I was in yesterday? I don’t think it was a simple accident.”
“What?”
“A large black sedan followed the cab I was in from the airport. He was after something, I don’t know what. Probably never will know either. He followed too close and ran into us. The sedan spun off into the median strip, rolled and burned up. I really have no idea what he wanted. But I’m pretty sure, now, he was after something he thought I had in my bag. Why he thought I had anything interesting in there, I have no clue. Anyway, I think the driver of that sedan must have somehow passed his suspicions off to Martin and Martin came looking for - whatever.”
Alex looked at him for a moment, saying nothing.
“The scariest thing about what’s going on is the not knowing,” said Richard. “If I just had an inkling of an idea, a hint, I’d have something to work with. Something to help me decide on a course of action, a guide, no matter how vague, that could lead me in some purposeful direction. But,” he raised his hands in resignation, “I have nothing.”
“That’s just great,” said Alex. “I’ve got a couple of days off, but what am I going to do if we can’t get this straightened out by then? I have to show up for work or I’ll lose my job. If I call someone and let them know I won’t be there, they’ll find us for sure. Then, more shooting. Damn! I can’t afford this. I have mortgage payments, airplane payments. This could screw up my whole career!”
“I’m sorry, Alex. Had I known what was going to happen, I never would have gotten you involved. But, believe me, I had no idea.”
Alex sighed deeply. “Well, it’s too late now. I’m in it, whatever ‘it’ is, up to my eyeballs. We’re just going to have to deal with what we’ve got. Take it as it comes. I don’t see any other way to play it.”
The rural lanes leading to the airport were narrow, tree-lined, and bumpy. On one side were large homes surrounded by larger lawns. On the other, a veil of forest hid what lay beyond. A gap in the trees appeared and the cabbie turned the car into a small gravel parking lot.
Richard looked around as they stopped. In front of them were narrow roadways and to the side of these were large grassy fields surrounded by trees. Along one side of the fields and directly to their left was a long row of dilapidated and rusting metal-sided buildings. Numerous small, very small, airplanes were parked on the grass in front of these – Richard wondered why. The place looked like a grassy parking lot for little planes. “So, where’s the airport?” he asked.
“Right here.” Alex sounded puzzled. “I figure the roads in and out of town will be watched closely. So we’re not going to take a road. We’re going to fly.”
Richard knew Alex was a pilot, and he knew Alex had a plane. But he had no idea how big the plane was, what kind it was, or where it was kept.
Alex paid the cabbie with a credit card and they got out. “I suppose they can trace us through the credit card,” said Alex. “At least they do in the movies. So that’s the last time I can do that. From now on, everything is
cash. You got any?”
“Very little, just what I’m carrying in my pockets. A few bucks at most.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“No.”
“I do.” He reached in his pocket, pulled it out and shut it off. “They can track those too.” They walked down the edge of the grass field in front of the metal buildings. At the fourth building, Alex stopped, unlocked a padlock, and opened its door – a large door that folded on itself, leaving a wide entrance in the front.
Richard followed Alex inside. “So where’s the plane we’re going to fly?” he asked.
“Right here,” replied Alex. He nodded toward a very small, but colorful, blue and yellow airplane.
“Where?” Richard saw only the small plane.
Alex put out his hand and caressed the spinner. “Isn’t she a beaut? Three-hundred horses under the cowl, she’ll climb at 2700 feet per minute at sea level. She has a roll rate of 360 degrees per second, and vertical penetration of 3600 feet – she’s a real sweetheart!” As he talked, he moved around the plane, giving it a close look.
The plane’s tandem cockpit was little more than a hole with two seats in it, fore and aft, covered by a plastic bubble. All that separated the flyers from the great beyond was a cardboard-thin skin. It looked more like something you would put on than get in. Richard placed his hand on a wing. It didn’t feel very strong. “What’s it made of?”
“Mostly carbon fiber.” Alex looked over at his friend and added, “It’s a type of plastic, like fiber glass, but much stronger and lighter. This baby’ll suffer fifteen positive g’s and ten negative without breaking a sweat.”
Plastic? Glass? Suffer? Break? “Uh… Couldn’t we take something bigger, metal maybe?”
“Why in the world would we want to do that? There’s only the two of us and this thing’s certified fully aerobatic, including snap rolls and tail slides.”
Aerobatic? Snap what? This wasn’t looking too good.
“Look, I don’t think we have a whole lot of time here. We need to get moving. Help me push her out. Push here.” Alex indicated a spot on the back of the wing by the fuselage.
The Devil's Vial Page 6