The Daredevil Corpse (The Departed Book 2)
Page 8
“Hands over your head slowly.”
Yeah. He saw me. Crap.
I rise, keeping my hands up.
“No one told you to stand,” the voice says.
Not what I was expecting. I stop, half stooped. My thighs begin to burn from the awkward stance and I can hear him circle around me. I see his shoes, black and gleaming with polish.
“What have we here?” he asks.
“Who is it?” the woman asks. “Is it another burglar?”
“Another?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says. “There was one here earlier. Didn’t your other police friends tell you?”
“Like I said, ma’am. This is about a separate matter.” He turns his attentions back to me. “What are you doing here?”
I say nothing. Something doesn’t feel right.
“Hands against the wall,” he says, “and spread your legs.”
I do as he says. I can get to Queen Mary quickly, but his weapon is already out and trained on me. I’m not that quick. One hand rests on my shoulder, and my flesh crawls with disgust at what I dread is coming. Moving down my side, my leg. He’s thorough, but professional. I sigh inwardly, relieved to see he’s at least not a creeper. Then he finds my pistol and camera.
“Well, isn’t this an interesting find,” he says.
“What is?” the old woman asks.
“I have a permit for that,” I lie, trying to steal a glimpse of the cop over my shoulder.
“Sure you do,” he says. “Do you have a permit to be in someone’s apartment uninvited? That’s called Breaking and Entering, you know.”
Without his consent, I turn around slowly. If he’s a stand-up sort of cop, he’ll get frustrated but he won’t harm me for it. If he’s not, he’ll rough me up a bit, but he won’t harm me too bad, not with a witness present. I can live with that. At least then I’ll know what sort of cop I’m dealing with.
“Stop what you’re doing and turn back against the wall,” he says, and tries to strong arm my head from turning.
Does he want me to stay facing away from him for control, or is it because he doesn’t want me to see something?
I continue to turn anyway, pulling against his grip. “Look,” I say, resisting the pressure of his hands. “I can explain. You gotta hear my side of the story, right? That’s the law, right? Innocent until proven guilty?”
I babble about knowing my rights about anything I can to distract him while I look him over. The uniform looks legitimate, but not the badge. It’s nice, shiny, polished. But it doesn’t say Philadelphia on it. It doesn’t say any city on it. It’s a fake, and I should know. I have one just like it in the car. Fake badge, fake cop.
“You got this all wrong,” I say, waving my hands up high, making sure he sees they’re empty. “Let me explain.”
“I don’t want to hear- ”
And while he’s looking at my empty hands, watching for a sign of violence, my knee comes up hard, and plows full impact into his testicles. The fake cop crumples down, withdrawing his body into a central mass to protect the shattered family jewels. As he contorts, bent over in pain, I bring my fists together and crash them down on the base of his neck, dropping the imposter to the floor like a sack of dirty laundry.
As he lies there, I kick at his ribs. “Give me back my freakin’ pistol!” I say, until his hand loosens on my beloved sidearm.
The landlady screams for help, but I pay her no mind. I have what I came for. I just need to make sure I leave nothing behind and this faker doesn’t follow. As I cram my pistol and camera into my pocket, the fake cop grabs my leg and yanks hard, pulling me to the floor. I scramble to my feet, but he scrambles faster, and soon I find myself slammed against the wall, drywall cracking behind me.
I try to bring my knee up again to drop my foe, but he’s learned his lesson and gives me no access. A torrent of swear words pour from his mouth. I try to stop the flow with a few punches but no luck. His arms are too long, and I can’t reach his face. I change my attack and drive fists at shoulders, but none of my flailing against his arms weakens his grips in the slightest.
Of course it doesn’t. Brute force won’t work against someone with more strength than me. If I want to win this, I need to fight smart and fight dirty.
I spit in his eye. He doesn’t flinch, but it does blind him enough that he doesn’t see my fist coming up hard from below, plowing into his inner elbow and buckling his arm on the left side. His hold on me shifts dramatically under his uneven pressure. As his left side falls in close, I swing a wide right hook and catch him in the trachea. Gasping, he releases his grip on me and clutches his throat.
I take the momentum and break free, kicking his own pistol away from him as I move. I dart across the room to put distance between me and the imposter when glass shatters and another killer rolls in, this one in a werewolf mask with his GoPro strapped to his chest. Before I even realize what’s happening, the wolfman has pulled two Uzis out like he’s in some sort of video game and opens fire at random, barely missing the old woman, who wisely dives out the door.
“Oh, Danger Man,” he says. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Clearly, he has not noticed yet this is an efficiency apartment. The cop, I see, has been shot in the leg, his bleeding calf poking out from around the corner of the island where he took cover. Fake cop. Mad gunman. Lots of gunfire that will no doubt draw the real police out. I could panic, or I could do this the smart way. The Olivia way.
“Truce,” I shout to the cop and kick his pistol across the floor to him. Sticking around just long enough to see him ready the weapon to fire, I dive out the window and onto the fire escape. The thunderous pop of gunfire screams out from the apartment behind me, but I’m already two flights down. Let those two killers deal with each other. I have more important work to do. Besides, maybe the fake cop on the scene will get the police to get off their butts and start investigating like real detectives.
Down in the alley, I tear off the ski mask, wig, and hoodie, shoving them into the backpack I had concealed beneath. Peering out into the street, I check for anyone who might notice me, but there’s no one, at least not on this side of the alley. I walk quickly away from the scene, back the two blocks to my car and pull out onto the street.
As I pass the apartment building, the first of the squad cars arrive. Doing my best to look casual, I drive on by and he pays me no mind, blowing on by me to the crime scene. I shouldn’t be surprised. I drive a 2016 Kia Sedona. Nothing says “I’m a law-abiding citizen” like a sensible automobile. It’s the whole reason I bought the car in the first place. Were I in that cop’s position, I wouldn’t pay attention to me either, especially when I was racing to a shootout.
I breathe a sigh of relief and do my best to put distance between me and the apartment, all the while, cop cars pass me one by one. What catches my eye, though, is the flashy white muscle car that cuts a U-turn as the police approach. I peer hard at the two men inside it, silhouetted against the setting sun. I can’t possibly be that lucky, can I? Especially after that werewolf guy exploded onto the scene and gave me a perfect escape. But maybe I am. The lighting isn’t ideal, but I can just make out the features of two men. Sitting in the car like some cosmic gift are Blondie and Dan Germany.
I floor it to catch up. I won’t let them get away again.
Chapter 15
JAIME
RUN AWAY BUT DON’T GIVE IN
The car we found wasn’t bad. At least I assumed it wasn’t. I felt confident it wouldn’t die in the next month, and that was more than we needed. Dan seemed pretty pleased with it, and that must have counted for something. For the cash we had on hand, it would do. Plus, he was pretty sure it could make the jump without any extra work, which was nice. It would make for an amusing failure video for the car to not even clear the ramp, but it’d sure make prepping for the rest of the stunt wasted effort, and we still had a lot of gear to track down. Which reminded me.
I pulled my cell phon
e out of my pocket and punched in the Marquis’s number. Naturally, it went to voicemail. He loved his power games.
“Hi, I’m sure you can guess who this is,” I said. “Here’s a hint. I’m older than I sound. Anyway, I just wanted to know how our efforts are going to get everything set up. We still need the ramp supplies, the bomb, the helicopter, the… well, we have the car secured, so pretty much everything but the car. Also, speaking of the car, it’s not exactly tip top shape, so we’re not exactly one hundred percent sure it’ll make the jump. We’re more like maybe eighty-five percent sure, if I’m being honest, which raises the question about who’s going to fly the helicopter? I have accepted the fact that I might well crash into it instead of fly over it, but I don’t want to kill anyone else when it turns out this thing’s get up and go has got up and went. Anyway, give me a call back and let us know when we’re a go. Also, whenever you’re ready to start selling those GPS coordinates, feel free to do so and send some of that cash this way. We had to get this car on finance, and let me tell you, the kind of car an old man with really bad credit can get on finance, well, it’s the kind of car he’ll have until the day he dies, and I mean that in the worst possible way. Okay. So. Call me.”
I hung up the phone and tossed it to Dan.
“So, what do we know?” Dan asked. “How are things progressing?”
“You heard it,” I said. “We know nothing.”
We drove in silence back to the apartment, Dan doing whatever he did when he wasn’t talking and me anxiously waiting for the Marquis to call back. The number of attempts on my life today was more than I would like, and I got the nagging suspicion they were going to keep on coming. The sooner we could pull off this stunt and I could go back to being a woman’s shelter worker by day, abusive husband abuser by night, the better. Being old and hunted put me on edge.
You know what will take that edge off, said a little voice itching at the back of my head. I hated that voice.
No, I said firmly, and for now I had the strength of will for that to mean something. Who knew how strong I’d be tomorrow or a week from now. Hell, who knew how strong I’d be tonight. I had got to get out of this body.
As we drew close to home, we politely pulled aside for a police cruiser that rushed past us, lights flashing. “Bad neighborhood?” I asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Turning onto Dan’s street, we pulled over for another cruiser, and watched as it stopped at the building. “Damn,” I said. “What do you think? Questions about the accident, or another attempt on my life?”
“More than one car, lights flashing?” he said, scratching his chin. “Another attempt.”
“I’m thinking we declare the apartment dead to us and just make our way to the Grand Canyon now while we still have the freedom to make that choice. Thoughts?”
“That it sucks we just dropped our last twenty on groceries we’ll never get to eat?”
“You mean my last twenty,” I said. “But what are your thoughts about going to the canyon now?”
“I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t shy away from risk but going back to that building is too much for me. Let’s go.”
We cut a U-turn in the middle of the boulevard, hoping it didn’t look suspicious to the cops we kept passing. They seemed to pay us no mind. Made sense. If I were a cop driving to a crime scene where something dangerous just happened, something that was big enough a threat to public safety that I felt the need to speed and throw on my flashing lights, I would probably disregard a car making an illegal U-turn as well, so long as it didn’t speed away like they had something to hide.
The setting sun glared brightly into my eyes, its fiery orange glow blinding me. I pulled down the visor and squinted as best I could, but it still wasn’t enough. Lifting my hand, I blocked out the light with my outstretched palm, and for the first time, the pain burning at my retinas eased enough for me to look in my rear view. I’d been driving under the assumption the police hadn’t been following me, but it was nice to have a little certainty. That’s when I saw the minivan speeding toward us.
“Hey, Dan,” I said. “Someone’s coming in pretty hot.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“I think it means they’re approaching at a really fast, unsafe speed. I think. I heard it on Top Gun, but I can’t remember if that was when Cougar and Merlin were trying to land and they were too fast to stop, or if it was when they were about to start shooting, so maybe it means they’re ready to attack. I guess either is appropriate, but I meant the first way.”
“So, let them pass,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s what they want,” I said, eying the car once more in the mirror, trying to make out the face behind the wheel. No mask, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “There’s a whole empty lane they could be using, but they aren’t. Plus…”
“Plus what?”
“Plus, I think I recognize the driver.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” I said in stunned disbelief as the face clicked in my mind. “I think it’s an assassin I had a run in with last year.”
“Is he good?” he asked.
“She,” I said, “and yes. I think.”
“She kill you?”
“Multiple times.”
“Oh,” he said, then suddenly worried. “Oh!”
I mashed the accelerator to the floor.
“What are you doing?” Dan shouted. “What about the cops?”
“Look,” I said, “I may draw unwanted attention from the police, but at least she’s unlikely to take me out while they’re watching. She’s too professional for that.”
“Well, don’t get us killed,” he said. “You know what happened last time you were in a chase.”
“I remember,” I said. “Trust me.”
He said he did, but he also gripped the handle above the passenger door so tightly I could see bone through his skin, which was not a good thing. I should have been watching the road, not his knuckles. Maybe he had a point.
“I’m going to need your help,” I said. “I don’t know Philly like you do. I need you to lead me out of the city.”
“What about her being a professional? What about other people?” he asked. “Don’t we want witnesses?”
“In a perfect world, yes we do,” I said, “but we don’t want them dead. I want to get away from anywhere where I might run somebody down.”
“Good thinking,” he shouted over the roar of the engine, and he began to feed me directions to the outskirts. All the while, the minivan kept up. I thought Dan’s concerns that the car might not clear the helicopter had a little merit to them.
Naturally, my phone chose now to ring.
“You should answer that,” Dan said.
“Weren’t you the one telling me to not get us killed?” I said, swerving the car around some much slower moving traffic.
“Could be important,” he said. “Could be Ambrose.”
I wanted to say we would call him back and let the Marquis have a taste of his own medicine, but the old aristocrat might get petty about that and not return the call for days. I wanted out of this mess now.
“Dan, I need you to reach into my pocket and get my phone.”
He stared at me for a moment, then snapped out of it and reached, sliding his hand in as best he could. The pocket was tight and his wild groping wasn’t doing either of us any favors. Hoping to speed things up, I hoisted my hips so he could get a better feel in there. As we swerved past a minivan, I suppressed a giggle as a blushing mother awkwardly reached back behind her to cover her son’s eyes.
“This is taking forever,” Dan said. “Are you sure it’s even in this pocket?”
“Yeah, reach down as far as you can. It’s settled to the bottom.”
He reached and grabed blindly.
“That’s not my phone,” I said and his grip instantly recoiled. “Why so shy? Weren’t you asking for this sort of thing this morning?”
“What do I do with this thing?” he said.
“Seriously?” I asked. “You don’t know how to answer a cell phone?”
“I’m old. I never learned to use those smart phone things.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I said. “I’m over ten thousand years old, and I learned how to answer a phone.”
He stared at me blankly.
“The green button,” I said. “Press the green button and hold it up to my face.”
He did. It was probably the most awkward phone conversation I’d ever had, physically at least.
“Hello?”
“Hello, old girl,” said the Marquis’s familiar voice. “How may I be of service today?”
It figured he wouldn’t be bothered to actually listen to my voicemail. I left it for a reason, but did he care? No.
“Look, things are getting kind of hairy, and I wanted to know how the stunt is coming along.”
“These things take time,” he said. “We only made the deal this morning.”
“You make it sound like you didn’t already have plans in the works before I even met Dan, but I’m not buying it.”
There was silence, which I took to mean I’d read him right.
“The materials for the ramp have been procured already. Lumber is a simple find. I have a few builders on hand who say that they can whip it together in an afternoon. Though I have my own personal helicopter, I would not dream of risking it if you fail to pull this wild scheme off so I am in the market for another. Something inexpensive, but that can be rigged to fly remotely. That too will take some time. At least a day to install the remote pilot and to ensure it is calibrated correctly. This assumes, of course, that no major corrections are needed, or worse, the helicopter does not crash in a test flight and need replacing.”
“Of course,” I said, awkwardly trying to keep the phone close to my face as I wove in and out of traffic. The Marquis said something, but I missed it.