by James Raven
Crane sucked in his breath. ‘I wish you’d mentioned it before. I would have told you that it was stupid to keep one.’
‘I realize that now, but it never occurred to me that someone would steal it. I’ve never taken it out of the apartment.’
Crane chewed on a thumbnail, his stomach churning with dread. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not when things seemed to be going so well. His fears were compounded by the fact that there was very little he could do about it.
He didn’t think it would be a good idea to contact the police. That way the news would spread like wildfire and speculation would be rife. Questions would be asked as to why anyone would want to steal Beth Abbot’s diary. Did it contain explosive information about her job, her boss or her personal life? Crane liked to be in control of events that impacted on his life and right now he wasn’t. He felt angry and impotent.
He gritted his teeth. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, Beth.’
The fury in his voice made her flinch. As she looked up at him a muscle under her right eye started to twitch. It was the first time he had shouted at her but she needed to understand that she’d let him down big time. A diary for pity’s sake. Who the fuck kept a diary in this day and age?
At that moment his cell pinged. He fished it from his pocket, thinking it was bound to be a message from his pissed-off wife. But it was from an anonymous source. It read: What a night. Gideon told me he loved me. Then we fucked like rabbits on the floor of his apartment. Later I sucked his cock as he spoke to Pauline on the phone. Life just doesn’t get any better!
‘What the hell is this crap?’ Crane fumed.
He thrust the phone at Beth. She took it from him. The colour drained from her face as she read the text.
‘Oh my God,’ she exclaimed.
Crane glared at her. ‘What?’
She swallowed hard. ‘It’s an extract from my diary. I wrote that months ago.’
Crane’s mouth fell open and his heart froze in his chest.
‘Oh shit,’ he said.
13
I SPENT MOST of the afternoon pacing the room, feeling restless and edgy. My mind resolutely refused to switch off.
It was a great shame because I should have been spoiling myself. The fridge had been restocked with a few more beers and snacks. Daniels had also delivered some more newspapers and magazines. And there were dozens of TV channels to keep me entertained.
Eventually Daniels returned carrying a beige summer suit, a dark blue shirt and a pair of brown leather shoes. He told me to get showered and dressed.
‘We’ll be leaving in half an hour,’ he said. ‘And cheer up, Mr Jordan. This is where your new life begins.’
Mr Jordan! It sounded weird. It had been a long time since anyone had been so respectful towards me.
As I got ready I felt the excitement build. I thought about all the wonderful things I might now experience and all the paths that were going to open up to me. A new life. A new identity. A new country. Not bad for a man who only hours ago had been led into the execution chamber to be put to death.
But it wasn’t easy to focus just on the positive. I couldn’t totally ignore an underlying uneasiness – a vague sense of disquiet that refused to go away.
At six thirty I stood in front of the mirror and found it hard to believe that it was me staring back. I was a complete stranger. Smart and respectable. Tanned and well-groomed. I was pretty sure that even my sister wouldn’t recognize me.
‘The transformation is amazing,’ Vance said when he came into the room. ‘Nobody would guess you’re a dead man walking.’
‘Very funny,’ I said.
Vance was wearing a black suit and carrying a black leather briefcase. He motioned for me to follow him outside.
There were two cars parked in front of the building. One was a grey Dodge Durango with darkened windows. The other was a silver Taurus. I counted four guys standing to one side smoking. One of them was Daniels. They were all wearing dark suits and they all snapped to attention when Vance and I stepped outside.
Daniels opened the rear door of the Dodge and Vance told me to get in. He climbed in beside me and Daniels got behind the wheel. The other guys got into the Taurus.
‘So let’s go,’ Vance said.
The Dodge followed a long, gravel driveway to an automatic gate that opened as we approached it. The Taurus stayed close behind.
‘What’s with the muscle?’ I asked. ‘You afraid I might take off?’
Vance shook his head. ‘You’re not that stupid, Lee. You know there’d be no point. But you’re a precious cargo and we have to make sure you’re well protected.’
‘Do they all know who I am?’
He shook his head. ‘They think you’re some nameless dude on our witness protection programme.’
This whole thing was becoming more puzzling. The questions were piling up inside my head. Why the hell was I so important to the FBI? Who was going to meet me in the restaurant? What did they want me to do for them? Why was I the only person who could do it?
So many thoughts were rattling around inside my brain that it was making me dizzy. As we passed through the gate onto the road I experienced a frisson of unease. Every muscle in my body felt taut and the blood was pounding in my ears.
There were plenty of distractions, though, and I tried to focus on them. I stared out of the window and drank in the sights, which became more interesting the further we travelled from the house. At first there wasn’t much to see other than a few houses set back from the road. But after about five minutes the buildings started to bunch up and I realized that we were pretty close to the city.
It was already dark and the moon looked small, as though it were moving away from the earth. As we veered onto a freeway I saw a familiar landmark in the distance – the Tower of the Americas, which stretches 750ft above San Antonio.
Marissa and I had spent a weekend in the city early on in our relationship. We’d ventured up to the tower’s observation deck from where the views are spectacular. We’d also visited all the other major tourist attractions, including the Alamo and the River Walk, with its various restaurants and bars.
It had been a wonderful couple of days during which we’d talked and walked and got to know each other. The memory brought tears to my eyes and I couldn’t help wondering if Marissa could see me now. Would she be happy that I was still alive or sad that I wasn’t with her?
‘We’ll soon be at the restaurant,’ Vance said. ‘It’s in the downtown area. How are you holding up?’
I looked at him. ‘Pretty well, I guess. I just want to know what’s going on.’
‘And you will soon enough. As I said before, all of your questions will be answered and your concerns addressed.’
‘This guy I’m meeting – is he FBI?’
‘He’ll tell you himself who he is.’
‘Why can’t you tell me?’
‘Because I’ve been ordered not to. That’s the way it has to be. There’s a lot at stake here and we all have to do exactly what we’ve been told to do. We can’t afford any mistakes. I’m sure you can appreciate that.’
A few minutes later we were in the heart of the city and driving past the Alamo – that long-standing symbol of American freedom. Along with most other Texans, the old mission held a special place in my heart. It was where almost two hundred volunteers, including Davy Crockett, died at the hands of Santa Anna’s Mexican army in the great battle for independence.
‘It brings a lump to my throat every time I pass it,’ Vance said, and I believed him.
Less than two minutes later, Daniels pulled the Dodge to a stop outside a brightly-lit restaurant called The Cactus Flower.
‘This is the place,’ Vance said.
I released a slow breath and gritted my teeth. It looked like a classy joint. There were large windows through which I could see inside and it was pretty busy.
‘Just go in and ask for Mr Martinez. He’s inside.’
‘Are you not coming?’ I asked,
surprised.
‘No. But we’ll be waiting out here to take you back to the house.’
I glanced at the restaurant and then up and down the street.
‘Just walk slowly and casually,’ Vance said. ‘You’ll be fine. And I want you to take this.’ He handed me his briefcase which had been pushed between the seats. ‘You’ll look like you just finished a hard day at the office.’
Something just didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. My heart started to thunder against my chest.
‘You’ll be perfectly safe,’ Vance said. ‘See the guy standing in the doorway to the right? Well he’s one of ours and he’s there to make sure that nothing goes wrong.’
The guy was wearing a dark top with a hood so I couldn’t see his face.
‘Go on, Lee,’ Vance said. ‘Go and find out what we want you to do for us in return for bringing you back to life.’
I got out of the car and closed the door behind me. It was a cool, clear evening and the pavement was empty except for the guy in the hood. I could hear music coming from inside the restaurant and could see several people at window tables. One guy actually acknowledged me with a wave. He had jet black hair and was wearing a white jacket. He was Hispanic, probably Mexican. I reckoned he must be the mysterious Mr Martinez.
I threw a glance back at the Dodge but I couldn’t see Vance through the darkened window. So I took a deep breath and started walking towards the entrance, briefcase gripped in my right hand, glasses resting on the bridge of my nose.
I told myself to stay calm. The Feds were not going to let anything happen to me. Not after going to all that trouble to stop me being executed.
I just had to go inside and hear what the guy had to say. Simple and straightforward.
But then something happened that I didn’t see coming.
The Dodge suddenly pulled away from the curb with a loud screech of tyres. I spun round and saw it speeding along the road away from the restaurant.
At the same time I noticed that the hooded guy had stepped out of the doorway and was standing a few yards behind me. He was holding a revolver in his outstretched hand and it was aimed at my chest.
A chill of fear swept through me as he squeezed the trigger and the gun flashed and roared.
14
I WAS LUCKY. The would-be assassin must have thought that he was too close to miss his target because he was holding the gun in one hand instead of two. And as everyone knows – especially FBI agents – that leaves too much room for error. His arm was not as steady as it should have been and when the Dodge screeched away from the curb the noise appeared to distract him.
It caused his trigger finger to hesitate for a fraction of a second. Time enough for me to already be moving as he fired off the shot. The bullet sliced a path right where my body would have been if I’d stayed still. I felt the slug whizz above my head as I ducked down. I sprang forward, slamming into him with considerable force. The guy fired a second round, but he was off balance and the bullet went skywards.
He let out a sharp grunt of pain as his knees buckled and he fell onto the pavement. But I managed to stay on my feet, my ears ringing from the blasts. I dropped the briefcase and grabbed his wrist with one hand while seizing the gun with the other. Panic and rage cut through me like a hot knife. I took a step back, threw off the glasses and pointed the gun at him.
His face was visible beneath the hood and he stared up at me in slack-jawed disbelief. I saw that he was middle-aged and pale-skinned, but nothing else registered. I had no intention of shooting him, but I had no intention of hanging around so that someone else could try to shoot me.
I looked around, my heart drumming frantically. I saw diners in the restaurant looking out at me, some of them standing. I felt giddy and disoriented. Cold fear hardened in the centre of my stomach.
Then I heard a car door open. I turned and saw the Taurus across the road. Two of the suited men I’d seen earlier had got out. My gut told me that they were not coming to my rescue.
They’re going to kill me, I screamed at myself.
So I did the first thing that came into my head – I raised the gun and fired off a shot in their direction, making sure the bullet went well above them.
As they both ducked behind the Taurus I broke into a run, moving like a panicked deer. My heart was pumping its way out of my ribcage as I hurtled along the street with no idea where I was going. I knew only that I had to put distance between myself and the FBI agents.
The muscles in my thighs burned as I hammered my feet on the pavement. At the same time the shoes they’d given me were hurting like hell.
The street was quiet. Too quiet. I was far too exposed. I came to a cross-street and chanced a look back over my shoulder. What I saw flooded my veins with ice. The Taurus was bearing down on me with its headlights blazing.
Without thinking, I turned left and went at full sprint along a street that was better lit and busier. As I ran, I shoved the gun into my jacket pocket, but not before the sight of it alarmed a bunch of people. One guy jumped out of my way and tripped over the curb, landing on his ass.
I saw a road bridge up ahead and a sign for the River Walk, with an arrow pointing down. I remembered how crowded the walk was when I came here with Marissa, so I followed the arrow and dashed down a long flight of steps. Behind me I heard the Taurus screech to a halt on the road.
At the bottom of the steps was the river that meanders through the downtown area of the city. On either side it was lined with restaurants, bars and boutique shops. A steady stream of people was moving in both directions, most of them tourists. The air was filled with the sound of flamenco music and the smell of exotic foods. But I did not stop to admire the colourful scene. Instead I ran straight onto the pavement and jostled my way into the crowd.
Someone swore at me. Someone else yelled for me to slow down. But I ignored them and pressed on, praying that I’d eventually shake the men who were pursuing me.
Brightly lit pleasure barges cruised along the river, and families and couples sat at outside tables soaking up the atmosphere, unaware of the drama that was unfolding around them.
I continued to attract attention as the throng dispersed to let me through. After about a hundred yards I came to a small footbridge over the river. I veered onto it and as I crossed it I slowed to a fast walk so that I could look down along the route I’d come.
I saw two dark suits cutting through the crowd of bright shirts and dresses. One of them looked up and pointed at me. That was my cue to break into another run.
The other side of the river was just as busy and the bars, cafes and shops were doing a roaring trade.
By now my breath was rasping in my throat and it felt like there were daggers in my lungs. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the pace. A decade on death row meant that I had very little stamina. It was proving to be a real struggle. Could I outrun them? I didn’t know. But I had to try. I had to push myself hard and fast.
But I quickly felt myself slowing, and as my breath became more laboured my head started to spin with the effort of staying on my feet. Trauma and exhaustion were taking their toll. Then I suddenly collided with the edge of an outside table and stumbled. There was nothing to hold onto so I went over and ended up splayed out on the path.
It caused a fair amount of commotion. People scattered, probably thinking I was drunk. A thought flashed in my mind. Would I be recognised? Surely that wasn’t possible. Or was it?
‘Are you all right, sir?’
I rolled on my side, looked up. The voice belonged to a black girl in a skimpy summer dress. She was holding a pile of menus under one arm and standing outside a Mexican restaurant. Just as she extended her free hand to help me up she was elbowed out of the way by one of the suits who’d been chasing me.
‘OK folks,’ he shouted, holding up his badge. ‘No need to be alarmed. We’ve got this situation covered.’
His partner stepped into view, a cellphone pressed to
his ear. No doubt he was telling Special Agent Vance that they’d caught me.
They hadn’t taken out their guns. Was that because they didn’t expect me to resist or they didn’t want to cause panic? As far as I was concerned it was a mistake on their part.
I raised both arms, palms out, in a gesture of defeat. The two agents seized an arm each. They were both big guys with army-short haircuts. As they lifted me to my feet one of them leaned close and said, ‘Don’t make a scene, pal. If you do you’ll get hurt.’
I let them think I was resigned to my fate. But when I was standing up I went for it, catching both of them off guard. We were all just a few feet from the edge of the walkway. One of them had his back to the river and I took a deep breath and then pushed at him with my shoulder. As he teetered backwards I jerked my arm free and gave him another shove to send him splashing into the river.
Then I twisted my body and drove my forehead straight into the other guy’s face. He let go of my arm and staggered backwards, blood spurting from a broken nose. I leapt forward, grabbed his jacket, and whirled him round so hard and fast that he couldn’t stop himself plunging into the river along with his partner. The river wasn’t deep at this point and when I looked over the side they were both standing up, with the water reaching their chests.
A woman behind me screamed and there was shouting. Fear pulsed through me and my knees felt weak.
Fresh panic sent me plunging ahead along the river bank. When I’d covered maybe sixty yards I slowed down and looked to see who was on my tail. I saw no one.
The River Walk became less busy. I passed a couple of smart hotels and a few more restaurants. When I came to some steps I dashed up them. I found myself on a busy road. I heard a police siren in the distance, maybe a few streets away.
I had no idea where I was or how many people were looking for me. But I did know that if I didn’t make myself invisible soon I’d be snared like a wounded animal.
I crossed the road and ducked into a doorway to catch my breath. I was completely winded and gasping for air. I ran the splayed fingers of both hands through my hair. I kept a sharp eye out for the Dodge and the Taurus. Where was Vance? Where were the other agents? Were the cops also looking for me?