The Standoff Page 42
She paused a long beat. Her finger was inside the shotgun’s trigger housing. She squeezed the trigger, slow. She put enough pounds of pressure on it to pull it back a fraction of the way. All she had to do was squeeze a little harder and he would be dead.
She lingered on the thought. But she didn’t shoot. She spoke instead.
“Joseph Abel. You’re under arrest for terrorism and murder. Toss the gun.”
He looked at her, stunned.
He said, “I gotta say that’s disappointing, Agent Adonis. I thought you were better than that. You’re just gonna arrest me like some common criminal?”
She stayed quiet.
He said, “I’m not going to prison. I’ll die first.”
“Drop the weapon!” she barked.
Abel stepped back away from the shotgun’s muzzle. He held the Glock still. It was muzzle up, pointing into the air.
He said, “You’re going to have to shoot me! I’m not going in!”
He lowered the Glock, slowly like the minute hand on a clock.
“DROP IT!” she shouted.
He kept moving the Glock down.
“DROP IT!” she shouted again.
He kept lowering it.
She squeezed the trigger of the combat shotgun. But it didn’t fire.
The weapon CLICKED!
It was deafening in the snowy silence. They both heard it.
He lowered the Glock all the way and pointed it right in her face.
She pumped and clicked it again. Pumped and clicked again. Pumped and clicked.
Nothing.
She stared at him.
Abel slapped the shotgun out of her hand. It went flying off into the snow. He started to walk toward her, forcing her to stumble back. She fell back onto the ground.
He smiled at her.
“Maybe we can have that fun time now and then I’ll kill you.”
She back-crawled away. He followed her. She crawled away through the row of trees and out to a clearing that seemed like a manmade track.
Abel followed, gun pointed at her. He had a terrifying, wild man look on his face.
Abruptly, they both heard a noise. It was sudden and loud, like a train barreling down tracks.
Shep’s police cruiser came straight out of the gloom and slammed Abel into a cluster of Christmas tree. The trees broke under the force and weight and impact of the speeding car. The police car went up off the front wheels. The radiator burst from the impact. Hot steam exploded and smoked out of the engine.
The accelerator gassed and whined until the driver took his foot off the pedal. The airbag deployed, hitting Widow right in the face.
He popped open the driver’s door and fell out of the car.
Adonis jumped to her feet and ran around the tail of the car over to him. She helped fish him out of the seat.
Widow now had bumps on the back and front of his head. His nose bled from being punched in the face by the airbag. There was a gash over his left eyebrow, but otherwise, he was fine.
He slinked out of the car and slung one arm across Adonis’s shoulders to help him stand straight up.
She said, “You saved my life. Again.”
“Where’s the boy?”
“He was here, but he took off when the shooting started.”
Widow looked around and saw Flack’s dead body.
“There’s one of them. Did you do that?”
She said, “No. They turned on each other. Abel shot him in the back.”
“Just like rats,” he said.
She helped him walk to the rear of the car and leaned him against it. He stayed there for a moment. He felt like his brain was in a fishbowl. Between getting exploded into a wooden beam and then clocked by an airbag, he was more dazed than before. But still not confused.
He asked, “What about Abel?”
She left him sitting there for a moment and went to the front of the car. She took a look.
Adonis had seen a lot of dead people in her law enforcement career. But she had never seen someone plastered half into a tree and half into the grille of a car before. She felt sadistic, but it made her smile.
She returned to Widow.
“You killed him.”
“That’s too bad. I was just trying to knock him over.”
“Yeah, right,” she said.
“How many are left?”
“Just one. Brooks. The tall black dude.”
“Not sure I’ve met him yet.”
Widow got up and stood tall.
“You should take it easy,” she said.
“Not yet. I’ll take it easy when we find Dylan.”
She didn’t argue with him. She had learned better by this point.
He asked, “Where’s the last place you saw the kid?”
She said, “Brooks is armed. We need weapons.”
Widow paused and looked in the backseat of the car. He wrenched the back door open and dipped down into the rear bench. He came back out with the Winchester rifle. It had fallen down into the foot well on impact with the tree that killed Abel.
“What’s that, a gun from the Old West?”
“It’s an 1894 lever-action rifle. So, yeah. It’s from the end of the Old West.”
“Does it work?”
He pointed it at the sky and fired it, levering the action, and replacing an old cartridge with a fresh bullet.
The rifle BOOMED!
“Good old-fashioned American-made. It works.”
He handed it to her.
“Me?” she asked.
“Unless you want this?”
He took out the M9 Beretta.
“How many bullets in the rifle?”
“Left?” He asked and started counting in front of her on his fingers. She watched him as he mouthed, “Carry the one.”
“Never mind. Give me the nine-millimeter.”
He handed it to her. She ejected the magazine and checked how many were left. Then, she put the magazine back in.
“There’s one chambered?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. You take the pop gun.”
“Suit yourself. But don’t lose that gun. Belonged to Abe’s dead son. He was a Marine.”
She nodded.
“Now, where was the last place you saw the kid?” he asked.
Adonis looked around, saw the tree that she had been hiding behind and pointed at where Abel and Brooks were standing and shooting at her from.
Widow walked that direction, away from the car. It wasn’t going to be helpful anymore. The airbags had deployed and the engine was basically a ticking time bomb waiting to catch fire.
He led Adonis away from the wreckage and the dead cult leader.
They made their way to the position she remembered last seeing them.
“What’re you looking for?” she asked.
“It’s snowing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Footprints.”
They looked at the ground.
“There,” she said and pointed to a set of child-size footprints.
Widow saw them too and nodded.
“This way then!”
They took off running, chasing after Dylan.
Chapter 60
D YLAN RAN again like he had before, only this time his heart pounded in his chest like it was beating to fight its way out. He couldn’t go on anymore. He had to stop.
He stopped in the gray, near the tree line to a big opening until the next section of trees, which was the good news. He knew he was almost in the ten-year-old trees.
He dropped to the ground, sat back on his butt in the snow, and laid back. He stared up at the sky and tried to catch his breath. He saw a bird flapping its wings overhead, lost, as if it was separated from the flock, only he recognized it. It was a blackbird. No. It was a crow. They had a lot of them around. He wondered if someone would say it was separated from the flock or separated from the murder?
He smiled at the thought. But that smile was short-lived wh
en he heard boots on snow, running. He sat up and looked back the way he’d come. He saw nothing but gray and trees.
He stood up and breathed in heavily, taking deep breaths so he could take off again. He turned and ran right into a brick wall, for the second time.
Dylan fell back on his butt, making an imprint in the snow right next to the one he’d just left.
He looked up, his eyes traced up the brick wall all the way from his boots, up his torso, past the M4, to Brooks’ face.
Sweat covered Brooks’ forehead. His eyes bulged, like anger festered underneath.
“Get the hell up!” he said, and he scooped Dylan up by the arm. Dylan started kicking at him and screaming.
Brooks lifted him to his feet and dropped and reared back and punched him square in the face.
“Shut up!” he shouted.
The punch didn’t break any bones; it wasn’t meant to. But it dazed the boy. He stood on his feet, rocked a bit as if he might pass out.
“Snap out of it!” Brooks shouted.
He jerked Dylan by the collar, dragging him back into the tree line. They stopped at the edge. Brooks looked in every direction for any more speeding cars he didn’t expect. There was nothing.
He said, “Which way?”
“What?” Dylan asked.
“Which way to the road?”
Dylan looked around like he was trying to figure it out.
Brooks shook him and showed him another fist.
“Want another one? Because I’m holding back on you, kid! This time, I’ll break your nose!”
Dylan threw his hands up in self-defense.
“Okay! Okay! It’s that way!”
He pointed back to the farmhouse.
“You think I’m a fool?”
“No!”
Brooks slapped him across the cheek, not as hard as the punch. It was just shock and awe.
“I’m not lying! I swear!” Dylan said.
“That’s going back to the house!”
“Yeah. You asked which way to the road.”
“Where’s another road?”
“There is no other road. That’s the only one. Every other direction is nothing but forest for miles and miles.”
“How many miles?”
“It could be fifty or more. I don’t know.”
Brooks stared at him; then he looked in all directions other than the one leading back to the farmhouse.
He had no intention of wandering around South Carolinian woods for days. He thought about it. He could still fly the helicopter away. He was no pilot, but he was smart enough to figure it out. Better to take his chances with the bird and get as far away as he could from the FBI’s dragnet than to linger around there for any more time.
He shoved the boy to his feet. He kept one big hand on Dylan’s shoulder.
He said, “You lead the way, boy.”
Dylan started to walk, but the big hand on his shoulder held him in place. He glanced back at Brooks.
“You try and run, and I’ll shoot you in the back. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“No funny business!”
Dylan nodded.
Brooks released him and they walked back toward the house.
Chapter 61
W IDOW LED Adonis through the snow, moving as fast as they could without running full-speed. They moved at a rate somewhere between first-time joggers and a gazelle’s top running speed.
They tore through two rows of trees. Widow put a hand up, like he was signaling STOP to a SEAL team in enemy territory. Adonis saw it and stopped next to him.
“What? Do you see them?”
Widow pointed up ahead in the clearing at two figures.
“There,” he said.
“I see them.”
“It could be them or it could be someone else.”
“Who else could it be?”
“I don’t know, but why would he just stop and stand out in the open like that. He knows we’re on his trail.”
“Is it a trap?”
“Probably.”
“Are we still going in?”
“What choice we got?”
“True.”
Widow said, “You go around that way.”
He pointed left.
He said, “Circle all the way behind. Stay a good twenty yards away. Maybe the gloom will give you some cover.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going right up the middle.”
“Will he be expecting that?”
“Of course.”
“Won’t he be expecting me to come up from behind?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Adonis looked at him sideways.
She asked, “So, won’t he shoot me?”
“Probably.”
She slapped him in the arm. He didn’t budge.
“You’re making jokes? Now?”
Widow said, “A sense of humor is a strength beyond all measure.”
“What’s that, some more of your Army mumbo-jumbo?”
“I was never in the Army.”
“What were you in?”
“What makes you think I was in anything?”
“Look at you. I’m not stupid. I was a Marine, you know?”
“I knew you were a jarhead!”
“How?”
“Because you can’t shoot straight.”
“Hey!” she said and smacked him again on the arm.
“Okay. Okay. No time to argue about it. We gotta get the kid.”
“So then, what the hell is your plan? We’ve only got the two guns.”
He paused and stared at the figure. And like a light bulb went off over his head, he smiled at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You like Christmas movies, Adonis?”
“What?”
“Know what my favorite Christmas movie is?”
“What the hell are you blabbing about?”
Widow said, “Die Hard . Ever seen that one?”
“Of course. Who hasn’t?”
“Greatest Christmas movie ever made.”
“What the hell’re you talking about, Widow? Did you bump your head?”
Widow rubbed the back of his head and felt the bump.
“Actually. I did. But that’s not relevant.”
He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a bunch of duct tape taken off the roll from the van. It was bunched together. It was the piece he had wrapped around the radio earlier.
She arched an eyebrow and stared at him. And it dawned on her exactly what he was thinking of doing.
“No. No. You’re nuts.”
“It’ll work. Trust me.”
He told her his plan, and she listened.
“That’s the most idiotic plan I’ve ever heard in my life,” Adonis said.
“And that’s why it’ll work.”
She shook her head but didn’t argue. They took the necessary steps to go through with it. He took off his coat and shirt and undershirt, and he kicked off his boots. He left them on the snow, and he gave her the duct tape. She did her part and then she scooped up one of his boots. A moment later, Adonis took off running west, away from Widow and the figures up ahead. She circled around, staying twenty yards away at a minimum as Widow had instructed.
Widow imagined her circling around, and he waited, calculating the time it would take her to get into position. Once he figured she was there, he disheveled his hair, pulled off his socks, and started walking completely barefoot through the trees, toward the figures in the clearing.
Chapter 62
B ROOKS CLUNG to the back of Dylan’s collar tight and held the boy out in front of him. They stood in the middle of a clearing. He held the M4 out in front of them, but he also kept his Glock loose in its holster for a quick draw, if necessary.
“How long are we standing here?” Dylan asked.
He was uncomfortable being that close to Brooks, but he also needed to pee. The whole afternoon being held hostage, b
eing jerked around by these bad guys had taken a toll on him. He was afraid to tell Brooks, but he wasn’t going to be able to hold it forever.
He tried to focus on his bladder problem, which seemed counterintuitive, under most circumstances, but not this one. Concentrating on holding it distracted him from the fear of being shot once Brooks had whatever it was he wanted from him.
Brooks tugged at his collar, choking him momentarily.
“Shut up!” he said.
Dylan shut up.
Brooks turned, pulling the kid along, keeping him out front. They turned like a lighthouse beam swinging around three hundred and sixty degrees.
Brooks knew there was someone coming after them. He figured they would split up and come at him from two sides or more if they were more than just two people. He knew one of them was Adonis, but he had no idea who the one, or more than one, was in the car that ran over Abel. He prepared himself for the unexpected.
They rotated, checking all directions until he saw something.
There was something coming at them, slow from out of the gloom. It was a man—one, lone man. He came up from out of the trees, the way they had come, from behind him.
Brooks faced the man coming toward him. He pointed the M4 right at him, but also kept himself loose, ready to flip around and shoot whoever came up behind him, which he assumed would be Adonis.
The guy walked closer and closer. He started out as a gray silhouette at about thirty yards away.
Brooks yelled out.
“I see you.”
The man stayed quiet but kept approaching. The guy had a rifle of some sort in his hands. Brooks could see the outline of it.
The man continued coming at him.
Twenty yards.
Brooks jerked the kid in closer.
“I’ll shoot you!” he shouted, but the man kept coming.
Fifteen yards.
Now, Brooks could see him, but it wasn’t anyone he had ever seen before. It wasn’t Walter. It wasn’t Abe. It wasn’t anyone he recognized.
“Who the hell are you?” he shouted.
The man kept walking. Now, he was ten yards away, out of the gray and the gloom and past the trees. He was right at the edge of the clearing.
The man stopped.
Brooks looked him over. The guy was tall, maybe as tall or taller than Brooks. His hair was a mess. He was barefoot. And he was shirtless. He looked like a crazy man, like a guy raised by wolves, having left a cave for the first time.