Determinant (19 page)

The streetlights lit my watch enough to show me the time. I had eleven minutes, I was at least five away. My turn had to be approaching. I saw the street turn to brick in the distance. I got to the brick and picked up more speed. A row of red buildings a block ahead sat on my right. It was my turn. I was only a few blocks away. I put my head down and pressed on. The adrenaline that coursed my veins just moments ago had dissipated. I was running on willpower.

Two blocks up I made a left. I slowed to a jog. I checked my watch. Five minutes left. I searched outside the house’s front gates for a number. There wasn’t one. I didn’t have time to search further. Hank and the rest of the officers would have to find it. I pulled myself over the front gate and crouched as I ran up the cobblestone driveway. I looked at my watch. Three minutes left. I didn’t hear sirens or see red and blues in the distance. I was going in solo.

The backyard and pool area were lit when I rounded the side of the house. I shuffled between the pool house and a row of bushes. The pool house was empty, as was the pool. I walked along the pavers and slid up to the side of the house. The doors that led into the bar where they had Callie and I tied up were open. I crept along, weaving in and out of the landscaping along the outer wall of the house. The door leading in approached. I crouched and glanced into the house. The television that sat behind the bar was on. There was no one in sight. An empty wine glass sat on the bar. I dug Ray’s knife from my pocket and flicked open the blade. I rounded the corner and stepped up the two stairs into the bar area.

My backup would arrive in minutes. If I got Callie out of the house unseen, we could send in SWAT to deal with Viktor. I needed to find the wine room where they kept her. When Ray took me to the garage to leave we went straight from the bar. I remembered passing a kitchen and the main foyer, I didn’t see anything that looked like it led to a wine room. Past the bar, I got to the edge of the room. I looked left. A short hall that ended in an office lay before me.

I turned right and stayed low. My feet didn’t make a sound. I followed the wall through the large living room. It was empty. A large doorway came up on my left. I looked through and pulled my head back. Wood shelving filled with books spanned to the ceiling—a library. I continued on. The wall I followed turned into a hallway. The tiled floor turned into a bending stairway. I rode the vineyard muraled wall with my back. My white knuckles wrapped around the handle of the knife.

At the bottom of the stairs was a glass door to my left. I gave it a quick glance in. Workout equipment filled the room. To my right was a metal gate over a door. To the side of the door was a digital thermometer. There were small windows in the thick wooden door that sat behind the gate. The light was on inside. I looked in. Callie lay on the floor. I pulled at the metal gate. It was locked. There was no key in sight.

I reached through and tried the latch on the inner door. The door pushed open. Callie moved and looked toward me. She jumped to her feet and rushed over. I folded the knife and stuck it in my back pocket.

“Carl.” She grabbed me through the metal gate.

“Where is Viktor?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since I was upstairs with you. How did you get free?”

“Ray took me to go to your house. I took him out.”

“Can you get me out of here?”

I yanked at the gate. It didn’t budge. I pulled it harder. It wiggled. I put all of my weight into it. I put both feet up and the wall and leaned back. The metal gate creaked and groaned.

“Kane! Watch out!” Callie yelled.

I felt a crack over the back of my head and collapsed to the floor. I turned to see Viktor holding a revolver by the barrel. He’d pistol whipped me. When my vision cleared, I recognized the gun—an engraved Colt Python .357 magnum with a pearl grip. It was a showpiece weapon for someone with money. With the power it possessed, I had no intentions of being on the receiving end of it.

“Get your ass up! Where is Andrei?”

I slid my back up against the wall to stand. I had my fill of getting hit in the head for the day. “The last I saw him, he was in the trunk of the Bentley. I’m guessing he’s either dead or in custody by now.”

I watched a range of emotions cross Viktor’s face. They dissipated.

“Where’s the case?”

He cared more about what was inside the case then he did his own brother.

“We never made it there to get it—ran into a little car trouble.”

Viktor aimed at my head.

“Cal, close the door,” I said over my shoulder.

She retreated backward and pushed the door closed.

I pulled the knife from my back pocket and flipped the blade open.

Viktor smirked and let out a chuckle.

I didn’t plan to use it on him. He’d shoot me before I got close enough for it to be an effective weapon. My chances of throwing the knife at him and hitting him blade first were slim. The odds of the blade sinking in enough to cause him to not blow my head off were even less. He was my size. I had confidence that I could handle him in a fight.

The situation left me one option—distract him, and ambush.

My attack got planned in my head in seconds. Throw, juke right, attack. My release had to be fast. A big wind up and he’d put a slug in me before the knife ever left my hand. I needed a distraction before my distraction. I turned the knife in my hand and took it by the blade.

“Wait Viktor, I’ll get you the case. Let’s work something out,” I said.

“I’m listening.”

“First you need to let her go and do one more thing for me.”

He scoffed. “What’s that?”

“Duck!”

I side armed the knife as his head. It spun through the air lower than I expected. He did duck, right into the incoming knife. I got low. I juked right. The knife bounced off his forehead, handle first. His head snapped back. He fired wild gunshots. The first hit the floor. The second plugged into the door that I had Callie close. A third shot entered the wall where I just stood. I rushed him and closed the ten foot gap that separated us before he could fire a fourth shot. I was on him in two steps and a lunge. My left shoulder sank into his chest. I wrapped my arms around him. It was a textbook football tackle. I took his body into the muraled wall. The painted drywall crushed and sunk in from the impact. He didn’t drop the gun.

I took his right hand with the gun in my left. I pushed it away from my body. He fired twice into the ground. I drove my right elbow into his chin. The back of his head broke through the drywall. I tried another. He blocked it with his left arm. I faked another. He lifted his arm to block. I looped my right elbow up over his defense and brought the point down into his eyebrow. It opened a two inch cut. Blood poured. He wavered. I smashed his right hand into the wall. The gun fired into the floor.

Viktor hit me with a left cross to the side of the face. He grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me in. He kneed my in the midsection. It took the wind out of me. I didn’t let go of his hand with the gun. He tried to turn the barrel in on me. It wouldn’t matter. He went for another knee. I lifted my leg to try to block it. It was a fake. He hooked my other leg with his foot and took it out from under me. I fell backward. My momentum stripped the gun from his hand. It bounced off the tile. I hit the ground hard.

Viktor scrambled for the pistol. I turned over and brought myself to my feet. I walked toward him. He pointed the gun at my face. I kept advancing. He pulled the trigger.
Click
. He pulled again.
Click
.

“What’s the matter, Viktor? You can’t count?”

He was silent. I heard sirens.

He threw the pistol at me and tried to flee up the stairs. I ran after him. I reached out with my hand and tripped him as he hit the top step. He went sprawling into the living room. Viktor got his feet under him and retreated backward. He threw a lamp at me. I kept coming at him. He pulled over a small coffee table as if it would stop my progress. I picked up speed. He grabbed a vase from the mantle and tried throwing it at me. I swatted it away.

The room filled in behind him. Two officers stood, service weapons out. It was Detective Jones and Patrol officer Tate.

“Freeze!”

Viktor turned to look at them.

Two more of my guys joined to their sides—Detective Donner and Sergeant Mike Mueller.

Viktor turned back toward me.

He ran at me. I planted my fist in his gut stopping his progress. I stuck my right foot behind his and put my right hand in his chest pressing him over my outstretched leg. His feet came from the ground. I drove him into the tile floor. He coughed.

I rolled him over. “Cuffs!”

Jones came over and planted a knee in his back. We linked him up. I went through his pockets looking for the key to the wine room. He didn’t have it. I pulled him up and shoved him at Donner and Sergeant Mueller.

“Keep an eye on him.”

I motioned for Jones to follow me. “I need your help with something.”

We walked down the steps to Callie in the wine room. I pushed open the inner door.

She ran to me. “Carl!” Callie wrapped her arms around me through the gate.

“We’re going to get you out of there,” I said.

I grabbed the metal gate. I nodded for Jones to do the same.

“Count of three?” he asked.

I nodded. Jones fired off a three count. I leaned back and pulled as hard as I could. I could see Jones doing the same. He put his foot up on the wall for more leverage. The gate creaked and flung open. It sent me stumbling back. I caught my balance. Callie rushed out into my arms.

“I’m so sorry, Carl. I’m so sorry you got wrapped up in this.” She held me tighter than I’d ever felt before.

I pulled back. “What exactly is
this,
Callie?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked me in the eyes. “I wanted to tell you months ago but Deputy Klein wouldn’t allow it.”

“Deputy Klein?” I asked.

“He’s a U.S. Marshal. I’m in witness protection.”

Ray awoke in darkness. The stench of death surrounded him. The smell was thick enough to taste. His head throbbed. His hands were cuffed. Ray looked left and right in the darkness. A glowing plastic handle that he recognized caught his eye. It was the emergency trunk release tab. He lay in the trunk of the Bentley with Scott’s body. Kane must have cuffed him and put him inside.

Ray rolled on his stomach. He grasped the handle behind his back and pulled. The trunk lid flipped up. He got to his knees and rolled himself out of the trunk. He stood. The Bentley was embedded into a tree. Ray looked inside. Kane was gone. The sound of sirens echoed in the distance. Red and blue lights of police cruisers speed past out on the street. They headed in the direction of the mansion. At the patch of destroyed bushes by the street, another squad car slowed. With his arms restrained behind his back, he jogged back into the yard and out of sight.

He watched the cop exit the car and head toward the Bentley. The cop was alone. He approached the back of the car. The light from his flashlight shined over the grass. The cop got to the trunk. He shined his light inside on Scott’s body. The cop called it in on his shoulder radio. Ray needed to act fast.

He circled the yard in the darkness, and crept through the trees to stay out of the officer’s field of vision. The cop still stood at the back of the Bentley shining his flashlight in. Ray started toward him. He was slow leaving the cover of the tree line. He built his speed to a jog. The cop stood twenty feet away. Ray went to a full run. The cop heard Ray’s pounding footsteps and spun around. He reached for the gun at his hip. Ray was two strides away.

The officer’s reaction was too late. Ray lifted his leg and delivered a boot to the cop’s face at full run. The cop flipped over the back of the car and collapsed to the ground. Ray rounded the back. The cop tried pulling himself to his feet. Ray punted him in the face. The officer spun over and fell to the ground. Ray lifted his foot and stomped down. The cop stopped moving.

Ray scooped up the cop’s flashlight. He shined it on the cop from behind his back. A key ring on the cop’s belt reflected the light back. Ray dropped the flashlight and positioned it to shine on the key ring with his foot. He spotted two small keys—handcuff keys. He sat with his back next to the cop’s body and tried to unclasp the keys from his belt.

The lights from another police cruiser caught his attention. A second car pulled up at the street. Ray yanked at the keys. They wouldn’t come free. Ray heard a car door close in the distance. He pulled at the keys harder. The light from a flashlight shined on the sidewalk. Ray pulled with all his strength. The key chain ripped free.

Ray knelt. He held the cop’s handcuff keys in his right hand. He poked away with the key until he felt it slip into the lock on his left cuff. With a quick turn of the key, the cuff came loose. He unlocked his right hand and dropped the cuffs to the ground. He pulled out the Desert Eagle. The flashlight came closer. The cop was still forty yards away—too far in the dark to get an accurate shot. Ray aimed toward the light and waited. The cop approached—thirty yards away. The beam of the flashlight touched the ground five feet in front of where Ray knelt. Ray aimed twelve inches right of the flashlight and fired. A muzzle flash filled the darkness in front of Ray like daylight. The shot rang out like a cannon through the night air. The flashlight fell to the ground.

Ray got to his feet and ran through the yard. He’d stop for nothing. He wouldn’t look back to see if there were other cops pursuing.

Five houses down, he crossed the street. He ran between the houses heading south. Front yards became back yards, then a street. Front yard, back yard, street. He pulled up in a backyard six blocks from the Bentley. He saw the lights from a main crossing street ahead. Ray put his back to a garden shed and holstered his gun. He pulled in huge breaths of air.

He was dizzy. Ray’s forehead throbbed. He reached up to feel another giant gash above the one delivered by Kane. He stuck his finger into the wound. It was wide and deep. He didn’t remember anything after being kicked in the face by Kane. He looked at his suit jacket. It was covered in blood—as were his pants. If a cop spotted him, whether they knew who he was or not, he’d be stopped and questioned without a doubt. He needed to stay out of sight.