by Jonas Saul
The decision took no time at all. He jumped inside the cruiser just as another siren could be heard in the distance. Without shutting the door, he dropped it into reverse, hit the gas and drove backwards as fast as he could, trying to get as much distance from the cop as he could before the cop decided to use his sidearm.
With his eyes barely over the seat watching where he was going, he was pretty shielded when the first bullet that hit the windshield.
Then another hit.
Darwin spun the wheel hard and almost got tossed out the open door. He held the steering wheel tight to stay inside, tearing at the wound on his abdomen.
He screamed and waited for the car to stop spinning. When it did he was aimed at the street, the passenger side facing the cop who stood with both hands on his gun, legs wide.
Darwin dropped the car into drive and hit the gas as a bullet entered the passenger window in the back seat. Then he was past the building and free of the cop.
The radio in the car picked up non-stop chatter. He heard something about a stolen police car, but then he was on Finch Avenue and heading toward Highway 400.
Have I completely lost my mind? This is so out of control.
He searched the dash until he found the button for the lights and siren. It was challenging to see through the windshield as the cop’s bullets had caused two holes and concentric lines throughout.
He slowed at red lights, but otherwise kept his speed up to eighty miles an hour or more until he hit the highway heading north that would take him to the golf course. He knew exactly where it was. He’d golfed there many times.
The sun beat down on his side of the car, warming his arm. Air rushed in through the holes in the windshield with a high-pitched whistle that could be heard over the rushing air coming through the broken back window.
He swerved around slower moving vehicles, making good time with hell on his tail.
He never felt so free.
Chapter 18
He couldn’t pull up in a police cruiser and expect everyone to lay down their arms and send Rosina out. The FBI was sure the meeting was taking place tomorrow. There was no backup and no one knew where he was. He felt lost with no idea how to get in, get Rosina, and get out alive.
But he kept driving because there was nothing else he could do.
The bullet wound was bleeding again. It seeped through his new hoodie, darkening the front with a small stain. A minor amount, but it still concerned him.
After turning off Highway 400, he drove along a concession road to get to Highway 50, which would put him on the outskirts of the High Hills Golf Course property.
He cut the siren and the lights and slowed to the speed limit. The wind and whistle inside the car dimmed with the speed but the police radio kept up its chatter. As far as he could tell, they had no idea where their stolen police car was. He had also picked up that the domestic disturbance at the adult store on Finch had led to one deceased male, Caucasian.
Didn’t mean to do that. Being in the Russian Mafia wasn’t a good career move.
He slowed the cruiser and pulled off the road a few hundred meters from the fence line of the course. A long driveway led down to a farmhouse. He started down it a little ways, then pulled in between two trees and drove the cop car off the lane and into the brush as far as he could go.
He turned the car off and popped the trunk. When he got out, all he could hear was the cooling of the car. No noises came from the house. In the distance, he heard the sound of a golf cart somewhere. This area was far enough from the city to be almost silent.
He walked around to the trunk and looked inside. A case of water sat on the left beside a small box of protein bars.
“Wow, this guy was prepared.”
Darwin grabbed a protein bar, ripped it open and took a large bite. He opened the water and drank two bottles while eating the bars. For what he was about to do, he would need the energy.
In the middle of the trunk sat a long metal gun box. Darwin could only surmise what was in the box but it was locked.
He searched the car for keys for the gun box, but couldn’t find them anywhere.
They must be still on the cop.
He ate another bar and shoved two more into his pockets, plus a bottle of water.
Then he walked away from the car. He still had both scythes on him and one gun from the Russians, even though it was empty. It would have to do.
He walked through the brush to the driveway of the farmhouse, then followed it to the road. A couple of cars passed him as he headed to the side of the golf course, but no one paid him any attention.
At the fence, he tossed the last protein bar wrapper away and jumped over. He pushed through the thick shrubs and came out slowly on the other side. He didn’t want to be seen by any golfers who were close by.
The green of one of the holes backed onto the wooded area he hid behind. It had to be a par five. He couldn’t even see where the golfers would tee off from.
He had to wait until a golfer came along. He only hoped it was soon. For Rosina’s sake.
It took just over five minutes before he saw his first party of four. They took their shots, hopped in golf carts and drove closer. Then they shot again from the edge of the green and got ready to putt.
It was a foursome, playing slow because the twosome behind them was already waiting to play for the green.
All four men were discussing something that happened last weekend. Darwin tuned them out, stayed low in the bush, and waited for the twosome.
He checked his wound. It had stopped bleeding again.
He lay down slowly so as not to break a twig or make any noise, trying to find a more comfortable position to wait in. The foursome was still putting, which started to work on his nerves.
What could they be doing to Rosina? Where was she right now and was she even alive still?
Then he thought about the intel the FBI had. What if the meeting really is set for tomorrow and the girl lied to him? If that was the case, then Darwin was shit out of luck. He was about to storm a golf course pro shop and convention center with his limited weapons to find an empty building and probably end up in jail.
He smiled. I’m lying out flat on a golf course again, just like a few days ago when they found me after escaping Yuri’s house of madmen.
Except this time it would be Darwin who was going to do the terrorizing.
He was clear on what he had decided. The only way out of this was to kill as many of them as he could. The justice system didn’t stop guys like this. They killed without regard, and so it was the only way to deal with them.
He knew this was a lost cause, but as long as he was breathing, there was nothing left for him to do. They had killed the old Darwin and Rosina when they hunted them down in Rome so long ago.
The foursome finished up. Two of them high-fived each other as they walked to their cart.
They forgot to put the flag back in. One of the twosome standing a hundred yards back from the green waiting to hit up yelled at them.
The heaviest of the four turned and saw the flag on the green, ran over and plunked it back in place.
“Sorry,” he yelled and waved.
One of the twosome took a couple of practice swings and then stepped up to his ball.
The green was at a lower elevation. He misjudged the shot. The ball hit the green near the back, bounced once and then shot into the bush, landing ten feet in front of Darwin.
Perfect. It couldn’t get any better.
When the twosome got up to the green, the man who shot into the bush, grabbed his putter and an extra ball, and headed toward Darwin.
Once inside the woods, the man kicked at pine needles and rummaged around looking for his ball.
“I can’t find it,” he shouted to his playing partner.
“Just use another ball. You don’t have to take the penalty for it. Who knew the green would be back so far?”
The man muttered something under his breath and turned aw
ay.
Darwin stood, hopped up close behind the man before he had a chance to turn around, and tripped him. He fell hard, but as soon as he did, the man flipped over and looked up at his attacker.
He recoiled at Darwin’s appearance.
“What happened to you?” the man asked.
“Is that what you would normally ask someone who tripped you in the woods?”
“Sorry, it’s just your face really surprised me.”
“What are you doing in there, Bob?” the other guy asked. “Come on, we gotta move to the next hole.”
“Just a sec,” the man shouted back.
“Take your golf shirt off.”
“What?”
Darwin pulled both scythes out, blood still coating the tips.
“Now,” he said.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“And what’ll I tell John? That I had a sudden urge to play naked golf?”
“After I cut your throat with these blades, I’m not sure you’ll be able to tell John anything. Now, take off the shirt.”
The man slipped out of it and tossed it at Darwin.
“What’s taking so long?” John asked. “The other group is waiting on the ridge.”
“Coming.”
Bob was a lot bigger than Darwin, so he slipped the golf shirt over his hoodie and tucked the hood in the back. Perfect fit. Then he walked away.
The golfing partner’s face lit up when Darwin stepped out of the woods wearing his friend’s shirt. Darwin had already put the scythes away.
“Where’s Bob?” the man asked.
Darwin hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “In there. I don’t think he wants to come out. He’s embarrassed by his naked gut.”
“What?” John said and started for the trees.
Darwin walked across the green, got in the golf cart and sped away. Both the golfers’ cell phones were in the drink holders of the cart.
Perfect. They can’t call ahead.
He followed the signs to the next tee box and continued driving the length of that fairway, en route for the next tee box, and so on, until he got back to the clubhouse. Along the way there had only been a couple of golfers irate enough to shout something as he passed them with no regard for who was hitting a ball or where they were.
The clubhouse came into view. Golfers on the first tee watched as he approached, waiting for him to get out of the way. He drove around the tee box, up a little cement path just big enough for the cart and parked out front of the pro shop.
He gazed at all the faces, trying to see someone he recognized or that looked Russian. Nothing unusual stood out, which could be good or bad. A dozen golfers stood around in groups, waiting to head out, but none of them looking like they crawled up from the underworld of crime in the Russian Mafia.
Without trying to draw attention to himself, Darwin walked away from the golf cart and around the building until he faced the convention center. The double doors were closed with a dark curtain over the window. He started for them, the whole way watching his back.
The doors were locked. A sign on the wall beside the door said that the way in was through the pro shop.
Darwin headed for the pro shop. This made sense to him. With the kind of meeting that was taking place, the powerful people present, they wouldn’t have these double doors unattended.
At the front, he stepped inside the pro shop which was filled with golf supplies and equipment. Where was the security? If three rival Mafia families were really meeting here, right now, then it totally didn’t look like it to Darwin.
Or maybe that was the idea.
They would have the meeting when it was a normal day at the golf course with the public buying green fees and driving carts around and no one would be the wiser.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked.
One golfer stood near the back, eyeing up a new driver.
“Looking for the entrance to the convention center. The sign said it was through the pro shop.”
“You here for the meeting?”
Shit. Are you serious? It’s that public?
“Yeah.”
“Name?”
“Dar—” he almost said his own name. “The Scythe.”
The clerk’s eyebrows raised and he looked Darwin up and down.
“Really?”
Darwin pulled the handles of the scythes up high enough to show the clerk and then slipped them back.
“Yes. Really,” Darwin said.
“Holy shit,” the clerk whispered. Then louder, “I’ve heard of you.”
“The convention center?”
The clerk pointed toward the back of the pro shop. “Back there. Go ahead. They’ve already started.”
Darwin walked by the counter and headed for the back. The golfer with the driver in his hand stayed where he was, a blank expression on his face. The clerk was still behind the counter, shaking his head back and forth.
At the back, two doors opened to a hallway. With caution, he took each step, watching for traps, alarms, or guards.
Maybe the pro shop clerk is their gatekeeper?
At the end of the hall, his stomach in knots, he tried the double doors and found them unlocked. He paused, breathing in and out like a locomotive. When he opened these, the Russians could be waiting. They would probably have guns and shoot him down. Then Rosina would die.
It was hopeless and he knew it. But what else was there? They would live together or die together. One thing was for sure. If he didn’t walk through these doors, his wife would die.
He had never planned to go up against the Mafia, the Italians or the Russians. He had wanted to enjoy his honeymoon in Rome with Rosina and fly back to Canada to start a life together. But the Italians wouldn’t leave them alone. Then the Russians got in on it. This had to end and the only way was for the decision makers, the bosses, to be killed. There would always be a contract on Darwin’s head as long as the bosses were alive.
So he had to walk through these doors and enter the convention center. But he didn’t have any bullets left in the gun, only the two blades.
He pulled a scythe out and held it in his left hand. There was bound to be a guard by the door who would try to hit Darwin or pull a weapon. Darwin could use the guard’s body as a shield if anyone else shot at them. He could cut the hand that held any weapon and then use it to repel his attackers.
I hate odds like this. Fucking sucks.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he took another and opened the door to the convention center.
No one stood on either side of the door. There were no armed guards. Only a long wooden table on the other side of the cavernous room with four men sitting at it, their backs to him.
He took in the room as the door behind him clicked shut. Nothing threatening, nothing untoward.
What the fuck? Where is everybody?
He looked at the four men. To cross the distance to the table would take half a minute as they were at the wall on the far side.
All four men turned and then stood up at the same time. They adjusted their jackets, one fixed his eyeglasses. Darwin’s heart pounded in his chest as he thought he would’ve seen Rosina as soon as he opened the door. Whatever state she was in, he had to accept, but not seeing her brought his spirits down. This nightmare seemed far from over.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kostas. Glad you could join us.”
Yuri stepped away from the others.
“Where is she?” Darwin asked. “It doesn’t have to end this way,” he added. “You could walk away when this is over.”
Yuri smiled. “There are times when I wish you worked for me.”
“Fat chance.”
“Or slim chance,” Yuri added.
“Huh?”
“Fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing,” Yuri said. “Odd, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was trying a little of your sarcasm and ridiculing your language a
t the same time. But I guess we’re past that.”
“Where is she?” Darwin pulled the other scythe out. Now both hands gripped the comforting handles.
“You’ve come a long way,” Yuri said, wiping his chin.
“I’m not here to talk about me.”