Chaser

by J. A. Konrath

  Somehow.

  THE COWBOY

  What are you boys watching?” the Cowboy asks, walking into Heckle and Jeckle’s computer room.

  “We just created a new livestream,” says Heckle.

  “Erinyes has a dog,” says Jeckle.

  The Cowboy glances at a monitor. It’s not a dog, of course. It’s a naked, well-built man, chained to the floor, a doghouse behind him.

  Erinyes is a pet project (pun intended) that the twins have taken on. An old, scarred man who killed a lot of whores in the past, and videotaped the murders. They’ve been surprisingly popular on Usher House 2.0.

  People can’t get enough of vintage.

  Heckle and Jeckle have been helping Erinyes transfer and upload his video archives, and the crypto has been flooding in. So much better, and easier, than heroin and white slavery.

  “How is the Jack Daniels video doing?”

  Through the wonders of computer technology, they’d projected the ex-cop’s head onto one of the Cowboy’s previous victims in a digital video, then kept an eye on the comments to see if anyone noticed.

  “It’s gotten a lot hits and comments,” says Heckle.

  “But no one has recognized her face,” says Jeckle.

  The Cowboy knew Jack wouldn’t be stupid enough to reveal herself. But unraveling anything begins by pulling on seams. Couldn’t hurt to try.

  Hopefully this new venture will have more success.

  It had been expensive, and risky, to break Hugo Troutt out of prison. So risky that they’d checked out of the swanky suite they’d been staying in and gotten a last minute Airbnb; renting a house in the Chicago suburbs. No host, the house was empty.

  Well, except for present company, Hugo, and Dr. Bipasha Kapoor…

  They’d picked Pasha up when she parked at her clinic in Flutesburg. The twins rented a cargo van, pulled up alongside her, and, to hear them tell it, Hugo hopped out and scooped the woman up like she was a toddler. The abduction took all of four seconds.

  Pasha was now in the basement, duct taped up, mummy-style.

  Hammett had taken off. The merc had offered to stick around to get the doctor to talk, but there was no need; Hugo claimed to be an expert at interrogation, and the Cowboy had skills that likely surpassed Hugo’s.

  The twins also expressed interest in learning the ropes, so to speak. The Cowboy had taught them a few things over the last few months, practicing on homeless people.

  Heckle liked a branding iron and blowtorch.

  Jeckle preferred a knife and a pair of pliers.

  They were sloppy an inexperienced, but eager.

  Hugo wanted Pasha all to himself.

  She’s pretty. Even prettier than Hammett.

  Which meant she’s a hundred times prettier than me.

  The sex with Hugo had been good. Rough, like the Cowboy liked it.

  But brief.

  Understandable. The man has been in prison for years.

  But the Cowboy had hoped to have another shot with him.

  I’ve had a long dry spell.

  Tough to find a partner when your body looks like spiced ham.

  Heckle and Jeckle, though competent assistants, were asexual as far as the Cowboy knew.

  Or maybe they’re horn dogs, and I just repulse them.

  “You get anything from the doctor’s cell phone?” I ask the twins.

  “Not yet,” says Heckle.

  “She deletes her call history,” says Jeckle, “but we’re working on a jailbreak hack to get numbers she’s dialed,” says Heckle.

  “Program is running,” says Jeckle.

  “Once we isolate the number, we can track his phone,” says Heckle.

  “Once he turns it on,” says Jeckle. “He has to turn it on first.”

  “But Hugo is sure Jack will show up with Phin,” says Heckle.

  “Hugo says she’ll be with him,” says Jeckle.

  “We’ve met her. We agree,” says Heckle.

  “She’s loyal,” says Jeckle.

  “If he’s coming, she’ll be with him, to help,” says Heckle.

  Hugo better hope that’s the case. Because if I paid all this money for nothing, I’m going to be seriously pissed.

  I don’t care how big the son of a bitch is. No one is too big for a bullet in each eye.

  The Cowboy leaves the twins to their darkweb torture porn, and walked over to the basement door.

  She tries to listen.

  Hears nothing.

  Maybe she’s still gagged.

  Should I go down there?

  The Cowboy tries to analyze her thoughts.

  Am I in a hurry to know Jack’s whereabouts?

  Or am I just horny?

  Or am I curious to see what Hugo is doing to her?

  Or…

  Could I be jealous?

  Big, strong, hung guy down there with the pretty lady.

  Showing no interest in me at all.

  She backs away from the door.

  Hugo isn’t a plaything. He’s a means to an end.

  A very expensive means to an end.

  I’ll give him another hour, then demand an update.

  She goes to the bedroom, and begins to practice her quickdraw.

  Jack Daniels is fast.

  I’ll be faster.

  This time, she won’t get away.

  PHIN

  Descending to ORD

  My imagination punished me during the four hour flight.

  Obsessing about leaving Jack and Sam behind in LA, hoping that Harry, Tom, Roy, and the mercs McGlade hired will be enough to protect my family.

  Obsessing about Pasha, and the horrible things that would happen if Hugo got to her before we did. She’d been abducted by my brother once before. It had permanently scarred her, and led to her leaving me.

  Obsessing about my brother, and how his sick shadow had been looming over me for my entire life. Even when he’d been sentenced to multiple life sentences, I couldn’t fully forget about him. Couldn’t fully believe he was no longer a threat.

  And I’d been right, worrying all those years.

  The asshole was running around free, once again. Unleashed upon the world like a disease.

  Nightmare scenario after nightmare scenario filled my stupid brain.

  Images of people I cared about being hurt and killed.

  Images of innocent people being hurt and killed.

  Images of me, as a child, and the hell he put me through.

  Images of me, eleven years ago, facing off against Hugo and nearly dying, Pasha nearly dying, putting Harry and Jack in danger.

  I should have killed him when I had the chance.

  I won’t make that same mistake again.

  When the wheels of the plane hit the runway I immediately dug out my cell phone. I had three messages.

  One from Herb, saying he’d meet me outside Terminal 2. Look for a Black Mustang.

  One from Jack, who told me to be careful, and that Chandler would be coming to help. She didn’t say she loved me. McGlade did, which wasn’t much consolation.

  And one from Pasha.

  Except it was a man on the voicemail.

  A man I hoped to never hear from again.

  “I got her, little brother. Speak, bitch.”

  “Phin! I—”

  The slapping sound made me wince.

  “Come to Chicago, if you’re not already on your way. And don’t try calling back. I’ll call you.”

  I clenched my fist so hard my fingernails dug into my palm.

  Taxiing took an eternity. I kept a hand on my the phone like it was a gun I was ready to draw.

  When I finally made it through the airport, I stepped outside and felt the Windy City slap me around. Chicago was grey and cold and mean, drizzle pinching my face.

  I took in the traffic and immediately saw Herb’s new black Mustang, idling just beyond the taxi lane. He was arguing with a parking cop.

  “There he is,” Herb told the woman as he po
inted at me.

  Then he hopped out of the car and greeted me with open arms.

  The first thing I noticed was his deep tan. He looked like old leather. And though his gait and posture were familiar, his shape was not.

  I’d known Herb as a fat guy. In Nebraska, he’d lost all of his weight. Now, he was ripped. When Herb hugged me, he lifted me off my feet. I could feel his ab muscles touch mine.

  “I know the situation sucks, but it’s great to see you, Phin.”

  It wasn’t the time for happy reunions.

  “He’s got her, Herb.”

  Herb let me drop, the smile falling away from his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I have to wait for his call. Where’s Tequila?”

  “Sleeping in the back seat.”

  “Chandler’s coming too.”

  “Dangerous lady. We can use her help.”

  Dangerous was putting it lightly. From what I knew, the woman called Chandler could kill someone from three kilometers away with a rifle (incomparable), kill someone from a hundred meters away with a handgun (about on par with what my wife can do), or kill someone with her bare hands in a few dozen different ways.

  The government trained her and her sisters to be the best of the best, and for once the government didn’t screw it up.

  I climbed into the Mustang, and glanced at Tequila, on his back, asleep. His crewcut was even greyer than the last time I’d seen him. But like Herb he’d packed on the muscle, and his body appeared about one-third of his biological age. Tequila was a former gymnast, former mob enforcer, and a very dangerous man.

  Like Chandler, Tequila was lethal with firearms and with his hands. I’d tussled with him once, and he held back and still kicked my ass.

  I hoped the four of us would be enough.

  Herb pulled into traffic. I set my phone on my lap.

  “McGlade had a black Mustang,” I said, mostly to be moving my mouth.

  “I know, right? A Shelby. So’s this one. Bernice did pretty good with my life insurance, and since I’m pretending to be dead anyway, we decided not to give the money back.”

  I closed my eyes. Pictured Hugo. Opened them again.

  Why wouldn’t my damn phone ring?

  “Phin,” Tequila said.

  “Tequila,” I said back.

  We didn’t say anything else to each other. Tough Guy Greetings 101.

  Herb left the airport.

  I called Jack.

  “I’m here. Herb and Tequila picked me up.”

  “Erinyes grabbed Tom.”

  “Shit.”

  “We may have a way to find him.”

  “Wait until the mercs come,” I told her.

  “I know.”

  “I’m serious, Jack. We know how this always turns out. You one-on-one with the bad guy. And you’re not in any shape for that.”

  “I promise. But you promise me the same. You can’t go after Hugo. I don’t care about Pasha. I care about you.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Promise me, Phin.”

  “I promise.”

  I waited for her to tell me she loved me.

  She didn’t.

  Maybe she was waiting for me to say it first.

  Maybe she was just as worried and pissed off as I was.

  “Be safe,” Jack said before hanging up.

  “You didn’t mention that Hugo had Pasha,” Herb said.

  “Must have slipped my mind.”

  “You have to tell her, Phin. Honesty is the cornerstone of any lasting relationship.”

  “She’s got a lot on her plate right now, Herb.”

  “I’ve known Jack for a lot longer than you. In some ways, I know her better than you. If you don’t tell her what’s going on, she won’t forgive you.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “If you don’t, I will. And she’ll be pissed. Your wife, my old partner, is a force of nature. You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

  I closed my eyes again. Pictured Hugo again. Opened them again.

  Just as Herb was ready to pull onto I-90, my phone rang.

  “Unknown number,” I said.

  Herb pulled onto the side of the highway, waiting for instructions, and I lifted the phone, noticing a tremor in my hand.

  “It’s Chandler. Where are you?”

  “We just left O‘Hare.”

  “Circle back around. I’m at Terminal 3.”

  “Black Mustang,” I told her.

  She hung up and I passed the info along to Herb. Tequila moved from prone to a sitting position.

  We had to drive the airport loop three times, searching for the operative, before someone stepped in front of the car and forced Herb to slam on the brakes.

  A woman. Blonde. Tan. Wearing a poncho.

  Chandler.

  She climbed in the back seat. “You passed me up twice.”

  “We were looking,” I told her. “You’re hard to spot.”

  “Habit.” She made eye contact with Tequila. “Tequila.”

  “Chandler,” he answered.

  More Tough Guy 101. Maybe 201, at their heightened level.

  “Well, we got the whole A-Team here.” Corny. No one had schooled Herb on tough guy etiquette. “Now what?”

  “We need weapons,” Chandler said. “I flew with just a ceramic knife.”

  Tequila seemed impressed. “Never occurred to me to try that. Smart.”

  “Someone named Jack taught it to me,” Chandler told him. She looked at me. “A different Jack. This guy operates in New York. Does freelance repair work, so to speak. My kind of people.”

  “We have weapons in the trunk,” Tequila said. “I’m sure you’ll find something that suits.”

  I eyed Herb, feeling my ears get hot. “You were arguing with a cop at an airport and you have a trunk full of guns?”

  “Also grenades,” Tequila said.

  “It was just a traffic cop, Phin.”

  Him denying his error made my anger grow. “Jesus, Herb. That was a stupid risk.”

  “I handled the situation.”

  For a moment, I thought I could keep the lid on my rage. Then it bubbled over.

  “Pull over,” I ordered.

  “Seriously?”

  “Pull the hell over, Herb.”

  Herb pulled the hell over.

  Speech time. I let passion override logic, and let it all out, practically yelling.

  “We can’t make any mistakes. Or take any chances. Or be stupid. I know you’ve been hitting the gym, Herb.” I glanced at the duo in the back seat. “And I know you guys are badasses. But the four of us, toe-to-toe, with Hugo… my money’s on Hugo.”

  Chandler’s face remained neutral. “I know all about your brother. Went away to Stavill for a nickel. Assault. Recruited by skinheads. Rose to the rank of Truppenführer in the Caucasian Nation, one of the largest white supremacist organizations in the country. He’s linked to over a dozen murders—”

  “It’s at least four dozen,” I interrupted.

  “—including the guards he just murdered during his escape from Cofferdale, where he was incarcerated for seven life sentences. Convicted for six counts of murder, plus a terrorist attack. During the last eleven years in prison, he’s been in solitary nineteen times. Assaulting other prisoners. Assaulting guards. Rape. Murder. He pulled off another inmate’s arm, and the man bled to death.”

  “Pulled his arm off?” Tequila whistled. “Never saw that before.”

  “You put him in prison,” Chandler told me.

  “I got lucky. And I had help.”

  “You have help now. And no offense to your wife or Harry McGlade, we’re more formidable.”

  “You ever pull off a guy’s arm?” Tequila asked her. “I never pulled off a guy’s arm.”

  “I’ve mixed it up with some tough guys before.” She traded glances with Tequila. “We won’t take risks with Hugo. That’s why we shoot to kill, from a safe distance.”

  I wasn’t getting my point a
cross.

  “Hugo’s planned for that. He’s been planning this for more than ten years. He’ll know I have back-up. He’ll know a way to neutralize you.”

  “He’s just a person, Phin. People can be beaten.”

  I shook my head. “You researched him. But you don’t know him. He’s evil, Chandler.”

  “I know evil.”

  “Not like this. He’s one of the worst people to ever live.”

  The corner of Chandler’s mouth curled into a slight smirk. “You think your family is bad, Phin, you should meet my sister Hammett.”

  “You don’t get it. You think I’m overreacting. We have to be sharp. Or he’ll kill Pasha. And me. And everyone here.”

  My cringey words hung in the car like a crooked painting.

  Chandler’s face said she didn’t buy it.

  Tequila yawned.

  I glanced at Herb, who looked embarrassed for me.

  “Sorry, Phin,” he said. “I’ll be more careful.”

  I offered a half-hearted nod, feeling stupid.

  That’s why you don’t say stuff when you’re stressed.

  After an awkward silence, Herb said, “Tequila booked some motel rooms near the airport. We can hole up there, make a plan, wait for Hugo to call.” He looked at Chandler in the rearview. “He’s got Pasha.”

  “Are you still in love with Pasha?” she asked me.

  I didn’t answer.

  Chandler pressed. “We’ll keep it between us. Your wife won’t find out. We need to know, because it could compromise you.”

  “It won’t compromise me.”

  “What are you going to do when he sends you a picture of Pasha with her eyelids cut off? Or him sticking a curling iron up her ass?”

  I clenched my teeth. “It won’t compromise me.”

  “Do you still love her.”

  “It’s my fault he’s got her.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No.”

  “Herb, pull over.”

  “I keep pulling over all the time. I feel like an Uber driver.”

  “Just pull over. I’m getting out. I’m not going to run an op when I don’t trust my team, and this asshole just lied to us.”

  Herb once again began to pull over.

  Shit.

  Bare-it-all time.

  “I’ll always love Pasha,” I said. “But not in that way. Not anymore.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah.”