Playing A Losing Game

by MF Bishop

  Chapter Eighty One

  Bobby checked the map on his computer before getting out of the truck. The dot was still there, only a block away. He hoped Alexa's exact location would be obvious, because the map only located within fifty feet.

  Locking the Astro, he walked rapidly down the sidewalk, resisting the impulse to run. How would he identify the exact building? And then what? March in and demand they return his friend? The traffic streamed by on Rhode Island. One of the cars looked familiar. The Lincoln! With the black guy alone, his suit rumpled by the wind blowing through the hole where the windshield had been. Bobby moved against the building. If Husky looked in his rear view mirror...but the Lincoln kept on going.

  Afraid of losing the car, Bobby forgot about being inconspicuous. He ran down the sidewalk, weaving around the few pedestrians. The car turned on Guam. Bobby cautiously peered around the corner. The narrow street was lined by two and three story brick and concrete block buildings, all empty and abandoned. The Lincoln went through a set of battered garage doors into a building in the middle of the block. Bobby started to run as soon as the Lincoln was out of sight, but by the time he reached them, the doors were closed.

  A narrow passageway separated this building and the next one. Bobby peered down the passageway. A row of windows ran along the second floor of the building holding the Lincoln, most of them with no glass. Both structures were made of crumbling brick, the walls scarred with cracks and gaps. Bobby ran into the passage and looked frantically up at the windows a few feet above his head.

  The gap between the buildings was less than three feet wide. Maybe a rock climbing trick would get him in. Facing the windowed wall, he braced his back against one building and his feet against the other. Clutching at the rough brick with his hands, he inched his way up the wall. In less than a minute, he was just below the window. Standing on protruding bricks, he pulled himself upright and clung to the wall.

  Now what? Just climb right in? What if the bad guys were waiting on the other side? The sound of a crash and pounding footsteps interrupted his anxious dialogue. He tried to press invisibly against the wall and also look through the window. He saw the back of a woman as she ran past him. My God, it was Alexa! Quickly out of sight, she clattered down a flight of stairs. He started to leap through the window, then paused. She was running. Was someone chasing her? The sound of curses and the thump of heavy feet answered his question. He stayed where he was. A broad, suited back moved rapidly after Alexa.

  Were there more pursuers? But the only noise was banging sounds from the end of the building, and a man's angry voice. Bobby scrambled through the window.

  He was in a wide hall littered with trash. Bobby hurried toward the front of the building. He paused at the flight of stairs, then started cautiously down. The room he entered was a garage, two stories high, lit by windows at the second level. The Lincoln was below him and no more than thirty feet away. Beside it, Alexa was on the ground. The man knelt over her. He held a knife. As Bobby watched, the man cut Alexa's hands free. What was going on?

  Then, horrified, Bobby saw the man take one of Alexa's arms in his huge hands. Bracing himself, he started to bring her arm across his knee like a stick of kindling.

  "Oh, no," Bobby screamed, "oh, my god!" He clawed at the gun in his pocket.

  The man dropped Alexa's arm and turned around. His dark face was calm as he drew his gun from a shoulder holster and fired.

  As he pulled the trigger, Alexa brought her foot up and caught him behind the knee. Not much of a kick, but enough to stagger him and spoil his aim. Bobby heard the bullet thunk into the ceiling above his head.

  Bobby shot once, ran down the stairs a few steps and shot again. The noise of the old .38 was deafening.

  "Shit," the black man said, and sat down on the ground beside Alexa. Two bloody spots stained the front of his suit. He tried to raise the gun he still held in his hand. Alexa pulled it away from him.

  Bobby stood on the stairs and stared at the man he had shot.

  Still sitting, the man coughed twice. The second time, blood poured from his mouth. He rolled on his side and was still.

  Bobby dropped his gun and clutched the railing of the stairs. He threw up. His breakfast went first, followed by whatever was left of dinner. After the heaves stopped, he forced himself down the stairs. The man lay on his side. His eyes were open, unseeing. He was dead. Bobby had killed someone. He looked at the corpse, moments ago a living, breathing human being.

  Alexa lifted her head.

  "Christ on a crutch!" Bobby ran to her. "Alexa, are you Ok?" He stopped, stunned by the sight of her bloody, skinned face. "Alexa!"

  She looked up and him and smiled. "Hello, Ranger," she said, and passed out.

 

  Chapter Eighty Two

  When Alexa came to, her first sight was Bobby's anxious face. He held her head in his lap and dabbed at the blood and dirt on her face with a handkerchief.

  "Even with throw up on your chin, I'm glad to see you." She tried to touch him, but her arm was too heavy to move.

  "Alexa, are you Ok? You don't look too good." Bobby looked at his sleeve, then rubbed it across his chin. The sleeve was torn in several places, and covered with brick dust and blood.

  Alexa laughed weakly. "Careful, cobber. I sent the last guy that told me that to the hospital." She tried to sit up. "We've got to get out of here. These creatures may have friends."

  "Alexa, what am I going to do? I just killed someone." Bobby wrung his hands. Alexa had never before seen anyone literally wring their hands.

  "Hey, man, look at what they did to me. And this was just the start. The other one tried to rape me and this guy was going to break my arms. Help me up." She made it to her feet and leaned against Bobby. The best thing to do was get him moving and away from here. "Have you got a car?"

  "Your truck."

  "Go get it, pull up around the corner. Where's the gun?"

  Bobby pointed silently to the gun lying by the stairs.

  "Ok, open the doors." They pushed one door open far enough for Bobby to slip out. Once he was gone, Alexa retrieved her gun, then quickly searched Mel. She found a wallet and took it. She also took his gun.

  She heard the Astro outside, then Bobby came back in. He looked at Mel and gulped.

  "Let's go," he said.

  "They may check for prints," Alexa said. "What did you touch?"

  "God, I don't know...the railing, and the window sill." He stopped. "They? Aren't we going to the cops?"

  Alexa patted his cheek. "We are the cops, sweetie. And we don't need complications like a shooting inquest right now. If we can fade quietly away, this will look like a drug deal gone bad. Use your handkerchief on the railing and the sill. Move it."

  While Bobby tidied up, Alexa tried to remember if she had touched anything. Then she laughed. She hadn't touched much, not with her hands cuffed behind her back.

  They cleaned the garage door and left Mel and the Lincoln alone together. As they drove away, Alexa wondered how Lonnie was doing. Badly, she hoped.