Chapter Fifty-Nine
The front gate performed exactly as Clarence Koob suspected it would. The enormous magnets were sufficient to hold the enclosure together, to serve as an active deterrent to the occasional passerby, to even stave off the harshest of Midwestern elements, but it stood little chance against the front end of a sport utility vehicle.
Resisting for just a moment, it snapped backward, the squeal of bent metal and the sound of wood snapping ringing out.
The steel supports played the role of crumpling the front end of the SUV, either corner turned into aluminum accordions, the headlights blinking out, bending inward on the engine.
Combined, the effect was enough to impede Rye’s progress, allowing Koob’s newest present to do what it needed to.
The speed of the SUV was sufficient to carry it on past the spike strip, even as the front tires were torn to shreds. With a mighty pop, the innertubes on both burst, rubber shearing away, the sound of metal scraping against brick audible.
A moment later, a repeat of the sound was heard, the rear tires giving way as well, the vehicle unable to go any further, stalled out in the gaping maw of the destroyed gate.
Combined, the sounds acted as nothing more than background music, Koob out of the security hamlet the instant a flash of headlamps first appeared on the screen. With the front door already standing open, he was over the threshold, his weapon in hand, by the time the silver machine came to a stop.
Ignoring the columns to either side of him, not caring for the shelter they could provide, he walked straight across the marble porch, his features drawn tight.
For two years he had waited to face Sydney Rye again.
At long last, the opportunity had arrived.
Pointing his gun into the air, he fired twice, the sound just one more in the twisted cacophony that was rolling through the quiet country air. His gaze aimed at the front windshield, he made sure he had her attention as he lowered it in a sweeping arc to the side, letting it be known he had no intention of firing on her directly unless she gave him reason to.
They had a history of the sort that was not to be settled with a simple gunshot.
Seeming to understand his message, to get exactly what was being conveyed, the driver’s side door swung open, a single boot hitting the brick. A moment later, a matching one appeared alongside it, the head of Sydney Rye popping up over the door.
Her gaze fixed on him, her features seemed to relay the same sentiment as his own.
In her right hand was a gun as well, a smaller kind, the barrel extended longer than usual with a noise suppressor.
The sort of thing a woman – especially an American – would use.
“Clarence Koob,” Rye said.
Gone from her tone was any mocking undercurrents, any of the bravado that had marked their first encounter.
Clearly, she had learned he was not someone to be taken lightly.
“Rye.”
“Long ass time,” she replied.
Turning his jaw an inch to the side, Koob considered the statement.
Every single day since they’d last met, he’d been dogged by the memory of their encounter, his hatred burning bright.
To him, it wasn’t long at all, the incident as fresh as if it had happened that very morning.
“Lucky for you.”
Tilting her head back slightly, Rye feigned a smirk, though no mirth crossed her face.
“I take it from your little display with the gun that you want to settle this the old-fashioned way.”
It wasn’t a question, but a handful of retorts floated past Koob’s mind anyway.
Choosing not to respond, he raised his weapon to shoulder height, holding it out parallel to his body, the barrel pointed off into the darkness. Keeping it there a moment, until the faintest hint of lactic acid started to course through his shoulder, he released his fingers, letting the gun clatter to the ground.
Standing in the center of the driveway, he was completely exposed. There was a second Walther tucked into the rear waistband of his pants, no chance he could draw it in time if she decided to go straight to shooting.
But if the last two years had been anywhere near as rough for her as they had for him, he knew there would be no way she even considered such a thing.
Issued as a clear challenge, he stood watching, waiting, as she seemed to debate her response.
Behind her, Koob could hear her mutt bawling toward the heavens, the sound thundering out, muffled just slightly by the cab of the SUV, the wreck of the vehicle shaking beneath his weight.
Her decision to leave him behind already hinted at what she was thinking.
It was now just a matter of her getting around to it.
Extending his fingers wide, Koob raised his hands a few feet to either side, confirming the challenge, openly provoking her into action.
A moment later, the sight of Rye bending at the waist, the sound of her weapon touching the brick by her shoes, confirmed his assumptions.
This time, there would only be one person walking away.
Curling his hands into fists, Koob shifted his body just slightly, two quick steps cutting the distance between them.
Across from him, Rye extended her hands into knife edges, the latest in martial arts style, a clear upgrade from their last encounter.
Good.
Swinging a few inches to his left, the two began to circle slowly, measuring each other, preparing for a battle they’d both been training a long time for.
And would have to wait at least a little longer on, the sudden explosion of headlights across them shattering the moment, putting them both into motion at the same time.
Chapter Sixty
Nearly all of the emotion Reed Mattox had felt in the preceding forty-eight hours faded into the background as he sped through the night. Gone was the shock, the sorrow he had felt seeing the tragic sprawl on the second floor of the Franklinton Luxury Suites. Long past was the frustration he felt with the media or any nervousness with having the brass downtown again trying to dictate how he should run an investigation.
Vanished too was the uncertainty he had about his quasi-partner on the case, any imbalance he might have thought about Vinson Gerard or Clarence Koob or anybody else attached.
In their stead was only anger, the sort of hostility that came when a man reached his breaking point, was far removed from any longer caring about the peripheral.
All he was focused on was the six inches in front of his face.
Catching up to Rye.
Finding Gerard and Koob.
Ending this mess before it descended any further into the circus act it had become.
Leaning hard on the gas, Reed was hunched up behind the steering wheel, hurtling through the darkened streets outside of Columbus. Just ten miles removed from the lane that took him home each night, the road he was on might as well have been on a different planet.
Gone were open sightlines, any glimpses of pasture or farmland. In their stead was only heavy forest, pressing in from all angles, blotting away any sign of the outside world.
Making it impossible to see what was lurking nearby, or even to know exactly where he was going.
His only connections to aid were the GPS system mounted on the front dashboard, a blinking red arrow indicating his position, a pulsating blue one showing him relative to it, and the microphone clutched in his right hand.
Two miles out and closing fast, time was a precious commodity, the tingle that had been with him since Deke’s threatening to burst from every available opening.
“Jackie, you there?!” Reed barked into the microphone, keeping it just a half-inch from his mouth.
“Hey, Sugar,” she replied a beat later, her saccharine sweet voice the same tone she always employed when responding to him. “Everything alright?”
“Tell Captain Grimes I need all units,” Reed said, “I repeat – all available units. We have a possibly hostile situation developing now with lead suspects in d
ouble homicide from two nights ago.”
For the first time in the entirety of Reed’s interaction with her, any pretext of flirtation – or even femininity – faded from Jackie’s voice, her tone completely serious.
“Roger that. Location?”
Rattling the address off from memory, having just entered it into the GPS a few moments earlier, Reed said, “I’m not even sure whose district we’re in right now, but have him call and clear the way. Tell them we’ve got a federal agent and a detective in pursuit.”
“A federal a-“ Jackie began to reply, her usual overly curious nature getting the better of her, prompting her to begin prodding for more information.
Cutting her off, Reed released the microphone, tossing it into the passenger foot well, ignoring the sound of the hard plastic bouncing around the space.
Raising his gaze to the GPS, he saw he was a half-mile out and closing fast, a faint glow appearing ahead to the left. Pushing a little extra on the gas, he looked to the rearview mirror, to the pair of eyes staring back at him.
Perched between the seats, Billie was up on her front paws, her attention meeting his, bundled energy oozing from her.
“Get ready, girl.”
The back end of Rye’s SUV was the first thing to come into view, the silver machine resting at an angle in the middle of the driveway. Extended out at an awkward jut away from it was the twisted remains of a gate, chunks of wood and debris littering the ground.
Pressing his shoulder blades back into his seat, Reed mashed on the brakes, the anti-locks squealing loudly, the smell of charred rubber circulating throughout the car as they dropped more than fifty miles an hour in a stretch of just twenty yards.
Feeling the back end fishtail, he kept his chin pressed to his chest, his body raised up behind the wheel, as they convulsed to a stop, just inches separating his bumper from hers.
With a quick punch of his right hand, he shoved the gear shift into park, jerking the door open with his opposite.
Leaving it agape behind him, he slid his Glock from his hip, gripping it in both hands before him, jogging around the backside of the SUV.
An instant later he heard Billie descend, her inky form appearing by his side, no more than a foot between them.
Stepping away from the vehicles, Reed could see Rye running back toward him, pulling up just short of the driver’s side door. Dropping onto her side, she slid to a stop, snapping up her gun from the ground and turning toward the house with it extended at shoulder height.
Opposite her, the back of a man clad in black could just be seen disappearing through the front door, the front lights flashing off his pale bald head.
In the air, Reed could hear the incessant wailing of Blue, the animal locked inside the SUV, the vehicle convulsing under his weight.
“What the hell is going on?!” Reed asked, stepping up alongside Rye, his own weapon poised at the front of the house.
On the ground around them was the assorted remains of tires and headlight casings, the latter crunching beneath his feet with his each step.
Without glancing his way, Rye replied, “Lousy ass timing, that’s what’s going on.”
Not in the mood for sarcasm, or any of her shit in general, Reed said, “Yeah, looks like you’ve really got it under control here.”
Ignoring the barb, rising back to full height, Rye lowered her weapon, keeping it at an angle before her. Stepping backward, she reached over and unlatched the rear door, Blue piling out, his barking finally slowing.
In the wake of it, the world was much quieter, every sensation heightened around them.
“How many?” he asked, pushing past their initial interaction, ready to move forward.
“That was Koob,” Rye replied, “which means Gerard is here too.”
Nodding, Reed asked, “Others?”
“Unknown, though I have to think if there were any, we’d know it by now.”
Again, Reed nodded, lifting his gaze from the house, pushing it wide to either side.
As a whole, the place looked like the image Deke had printed out for them, only much, much larger, the number of places danger could be waiting, the breadth of the force that could be squirreled away inside, quite large.
“Reinforcements have been called in,” Reed said.
“But given where we’re at...” Rye said, letting it tail away. “Yeah, I got it.”
For an instant, Reed wanted to scream at her. To tell her they where they were because she’d yet again gone off-script. Had made a mess of things when that didn’t need to be the case.
Just as fast, it faded.
There would be time later for such things.
“You want to wait for help?” he asked.
Beside him, he could hear Rye scoff. “What do you think?”
Matching the sound, Reed turned to look at her.
“So which direction do you want?”
Chapter Sixty-One
The collision of Sydney Rye with the front gate looked explosive and violent, even while watching in muted black-and-white on the computer monitor in Vinson Gerard’s office. Since the moment Clarence Koob had walked in, telling him that a confrontation was imminent, that the woman they’d tracked halfway around the world was coming straight to them, his sole focus had been on the screen.
Watching. Waiting.
Shoving his chair up tight against the desk, he had rolled his sleeves to the elbow and began pacing. Not the long, slow, laborious walk of earlier in the night, but a short, spastic movement, nervous energy bouncing off him in undulating waves.
It was only by pure luck that he even saw the original collision, his focus just happening to be on the camera depicting the front drive as a splash of light appeared. Jerking his body toward it, he had launched forward in one leaping bound, landing with both palms pressed flat against the desktop, his breath coming in short pants as he stood and stared.
After two long years, finally, it was happening.
The woman that had ended his legacy, had put a stop to the extension of the Gerard family name, was going to have the same done to her.
That, and so, so much more.
With his focus on the screen, he watched as the light grew brighter, Rye drawing nearer, before slamming into the front gate.
He saw as it swung inward, the tire spikes Koob had planted doing their job, halting her progress.
A smile had grown on his features as he watched the standoff between Koob and Rye, knowing his Head of Security had his own personal vendetta to settle, that he would honor the order to ensure she was living.
It had stretched across his entire face as both combatants lowered their weapons, secure in the knowledge that no woman could ever match up in physical combat with the man he had protecting him.
If not for the sheer glee of the spectacle, the intense anticipation of seeing Rye receive the first of what would be several heinous beatings in the coming days, Gerard would have dug out his cell phone. He would have called the local airstrip on the outskirts of northern Columbus and told them to ready the Gulfstream.
That he would be making an emergency late night return home to tend to some family business.
Instead, he stood rooted in place, lost in rapt focus as he watched the two begin to circle each other.
And just as fast saw the scene dissolve as a second pair of headlights appeared, a man and his pet climbing out, sending Koob and Rye both sprinting in opposite directions.
Koob had mentioned the detective working the case, but not once had Gerard ever put much stock in the man, assuming it was just his employee being thorough, making sure he was abreast of everything occurring.
It had been years since their enterprise had had to worry about coppers, the occasional well-placed donation or handshake all it took to sidestep such matters.
Every once in a while, a do-gooder or a young upstart looking to establish themselves would make a run at him, but there was never any real concern. As quickly as they arrived, they were stamp
ed out, as inconsequential as the business competitors Gerard had quashed along the way.
Never did he put much weight in Koob’s mention. Everybody had heard the infamous stories of police corruption and ineptitude in America. If anything was going to stop his quest to demolish Sydney Rye, it damn sure wasn’t going to be some low-level grunt making pennies each year.
Maintaining his pose in front of the screen, Gerard was hunched over the desk as the door to his office burst open, the sound as loud as a gunshot in the quiet space.
Through it walked Koob, his weapon back in hand, poised by his hip. “We need to move.”
Pushing himself upright, Gerard felt his jaw sag slightly, a flush of heat coming to his face.
“What? Where the hell are we going?” Extending a hand to the screen, incredulity rising to his features, he added, “The bitch is right outside!”
“I’m aware,” Koob said, stopping on the rear corner of the desk, his stance allowing him to flick his gaze to the monitor, watching what was playing out on the front drive.
“So go get her,” Gerard said, his feet rooted in place. “That’s what we came here for.”
It was clear there was a litany of responses Koob wanted to make, retorts tucked just beneath the surface, though he managed to refrain from voicing a single one.
Instead, he offered only, “She’s not alone.”
Making a face, Gerard leaned back at the waist, letting it be known how ridiculous he found the assertion.
“What? The copper? Regular working dick, nothing to be concerned with. If he tries to arrest us, one phone call and we’ll be out in time for lunch.”
Sliding his gaze from the screen to Gerard, Koob shook his head. Taking a half step forward, he reached into the small of his back with his left hand, extracting a matching pistol to the one in his right.
Placing it down atop the desk, the sound of the metal tapping against glass seemed to resonate in the space, the enormity of what Koob was trying to say – had been trying to say – finally registering with him.
“He’s not here to arrest us,” Koob added, the words the same ones that had flitted through Gerard’s mind a moment before.
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