Good As Gone (17 page)

“Understand English?” I said.

He offered up a barely perceptible nod.

“Good,” I told him. “If you make a sound, it’ll be the last thing you hear.” I pointed to Marek’s position. “Now, let’s you and I go for a stroll over there where we can chat a bit.”

Chapter 31

“Who’s inside the house?” I said, once I had the guard under the cover of trees.

I had to act quickly in case someone poked his head outside and saw that the two downstairs guards were missing. And I wasn’t sure if either of these men was supposed to check in. I could ask, but he could lie, and there would be no way I’d know it. Not until it was too late.

“The boss,” the guard said. “He is inside.”

“Kazmer Chudzik?”

“Yes.”

“Who else?” I said.

“His lawyer.” The guard swallowed hard as he stared at his partner’s body a few feet away. The guards were dressed warmly, and thus he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his partner’s chest. There was no way for this guard to know that the other was still breathing. In any event, he was taking no chances, and that was good for our purposes. “And two Turkish men,” he said. “One is old, the other is young. I think maybe they are father and son.”

Marek grabbed the guard by the lapels of his jacket. “How about a woman? Her name is Ana. Have you seen her?”

“No,” the guard said, breathing heavily. “But earlier someone arrived and pulled straight into the garage. They removed something large from the trunk. It could have been a person, I don’t know.”

My stomach instantly sank into my pelvis. I couldn’t move.

Meanwhile, Marek’s eyes caught fire. “This person was
dead
?”

“I assumed so, yes. But I didn’t see—”

Marek grabbed the guard by the throat and squeezed.

I nearly fell to my knees, thought I might hyperventilate.

“Easy, Marek,” I finally said, my voice cracking. “I have a few more questions, then we’ll head inside and find her.”

Grudgingly, Marek released the guard’s throat.

I gathered myself and said, “Aside from the four men on the roof and you and your friend over there on the ground, are there any more guards inside or outside the house?”

The guard shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Because if I find out you’re lying, I’m going to come back here and break your neck. But only after I cut off your fingers and toes one by one by one.”

“I swear it,” he said. “Chudzik hired only six of us. But he has two of his own men. And they have many weapons inside. Pistols, shotguns, knives, everything you can imagine.”

I carefully lowered myself onto my haunches and asked him to describe the layout of the interior of the house and where the weapons could be found. Where Chudzik and his lawyer and the two Turks and Ana might be. He answered as best he could, and I listened as best
I
could, but I could hardly concentrate.

I needed to snap out of this fog and the only way to do that was to convince myself that Ana was still alive. Alive and in danger and in need of my help.

“All right, then,” I said, rising off my haunches and stepping behind the guard. My muscles were sore and tired but my mind suddenly felt as though it had just been struck with an electric charge.

“Please don’t,” he said. “Don’t kill me. I have children.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” I said, placing my arm around his neck, same as I had done for his friend. “I’m just going to put you to sleep for a bit.”

*

There was no way to deal with the men on the roof without alerting the men inside. I handed Marek the guard’s rifle.

“Know how to use this thing?” I said.

Marek nodded. “I am not a big fan of guns, but our father, he was a hunter. He taught Ana and me how to shoot when we were children.”

“All right,” I said. “Today that knowledge comes in handy.” I handed Marek one of the two walkie-talkies and pointed to the single guard visible on the roof from our vantage point. “I want you to shoot that guy in the leg on my signal.”

“What about the other three?”

“If they truly are professionals, they’re not going to come to their fallen comrade’s aid, so you may not get a shot at them. If you do, take it. Always in the leg; try not to do any serious damage. But the more you drop, the fewer I’ll have to deal with inside the house.”

“When do I follow you in?” Marek said.

“You don’t. You’re far more valuable outside. I’ll keep the walkie on me. If I need you, you’ll hear from me. Otherwise, maintain your position. Keep out of sight.” I pointed to the windows. “If you see a target through the glass, take it out. But make sure it’s not me or Ana. And remember, even if it’s one of Chudzik’s men, try to simply wing them. I’m going to need someone alive at the end of all this to pump for information.”

Marek placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Please, Simon,” he said. “Find my sister, and bring her out unharmed.”

I nodded.

“But if Ana is dead,” he added, “please keep alive the son of a bitch who killed her. I will need some time alone with him.”

Marek’s words struck me like a rock between the eyes. Hearing the possibility uttered a second time gave it too much power and I immediately wanted to rewind time so that I could return the words to his throat. If Ana was dead, it was my fault. I’d known the risk of taking her with me when I first met her at the law office. I’d thought then that involving her was probably a mistake.

I took a deep breath, tried to conceal my renewed worry in front of her brother.

“All right,” I said.

*

The men on the roof were looking out into the distance, so entering the house wouldn’t be much of a bother. It was once I got inside that my problems would start.

I bolted up the drive, keeping low, my Glock already in hand. I pressed up against the garage as I’d done before. I was about to round the corner to find an appropriate window when I spotted a side door into the garage. I tried the knob. The door wasn’t locked so I gave it a go.

The garage was dark and windowless, but I made out three vehicles, all fairly new and pricey. One Jag and two Mercedes. On the far end, I saw a door that would presumably lead into the house.

I hurried to it, my heart racing. I tried not to think about all that was at stake. Ana. A little girl. Their families. My head was garbled with sentiment. I knew I needed to clear it or else I would be putting myself and everyone else at risk.

I felt overwhelmed with hatred. Emotions wouldn’t help me inside this house. Only clear thought. Logic. Reason. All else would serve only to hinder my efforts.

But there wasn’t time to run an analysis. I tried the knob. This door was locked. I removed the walkie from my belt, put it to my mouth, held the button, and said, “Now, Marek.”

I stepped back, drew in a deep breath, and lifted my right leg. Soon as I heard the shot, I aimed my foot just below the knob and kicked.

The door flew open.

I stepped inside and raised my Glock.

Chapter 32

The garage opened into a foyer. I turned left, heard movement from two rooms over. If the guard’s description of the interior was correct, the commotion was coming from the living room. I kept low, darted behind an island in the kitchen. Allowed myself a peek and spotted a heavy man running toward me, his weapon raised. I planted myself and fired into his chest. The shot took him down.

A round buzzed over my head. Not from the guy I’d just taken out but from someone just around the corner. I ducked back down, maneuvered around the island to a point where I hoped I’d have a clear shot at him. I got to my feet, aimed, and fired. The bullet struck the corner of the wall. The man just behind it fired back. Once, twice.

The shots were wild. He was no marksman, so I felt better about what I was going to have to do: take him head-on. I rose from my position and moved forward, walking straight toward him. The boldness of the move froze him for a moment, enough time for me to get off a shot. He tried to duck, so the bullet caught him in the throat. I now presumed that Chudzik’s two men were down.

The living room was empty and there was no way anyone could have escaped without running past me. Which meant they’d either headed to the back of the house or gone upstairs. I quickly cleared a bathroom and a guest bedroom and a small space turned into a library.

I then rounded the final corner and found a set of carpeted stairs. Footfalls were headed down the steps in my direction. I didn’t wait until I saw full bodies. I cut the first man down with two shots to the knees. He tumbled the rest of the way down the steps, dropping his weapon directly in front of me. I kicked it away.

The second man turned to retreat. I chased him back up the steps. When he reached the top, he turned and fired a pistol. The shot grazed my right arm. I fired back, took him down with a gut shot, just as a third man fired a rifle over my head. I turned and shot him square in the chest.

On the third floor, I heard doors slamming. It was where Chudzik, Dabrowski, and the Turks would make their stand.

I raced up the stairs.

Just before reaching the landing, I lay on the stairs, my gun raised, glimpsing the layout. Looked as though there were four doors. Three were closed, one open. The open door led to a toilet. The three other rooms, according to the guard, were bedrooms, one of which Chudzik had made into a den, which opened onto the grand deck. That was the room in which he stored most of his weapons. Chudzik would be behind that door, the door to my far left. That door would be the most dangerous.

*

I paused for a moment, checked my right arm. Barely a flesh wound. I gathered my courage and picked myself up off the stairs. I went to the far right and back-kicked the door. As it flew open, I pressed myself up against the wall, expecting shots. None was forthcoming, so I chanced a careful move into the room with my Glock raised. From the corner of my eye I caught the glint of a blade. I tried to turn but I was a moment too late. The knife slashed my left forearm, a deep cut that caused me to drop my gun.

The man who had slashed me kicked my gun aside and came after me again with the knife. He was a large man, dark, with a mustache wrapped across a wide face. Talik, I presumed.

With my good right arm I snatched him by the wrist before he could drive the knife into my chest. I twisted his wrist until I heard a snap, then back-kicked him hard in the chest.

As I bent to retrieve the knife, someone leaped from the closet and jumped onto my back. It was Alim. He wrapped a phone cord around my neck and tried to strangle me. With all my strength, I threw my body back against the wall, slamming him into the Sheetrock. His grip around my throat loosened but he remained on my back.

As I tried to pry him off, I glanced up. Talik was again on his feet, coming at me with the knife. He held it awkwardly in his left hand. I blocked the blow with my right and, with the aid of my injured left, turned the knife back on him.

We struggled for what felt like forever. The big man was even stronger than he looked. Sweat dripped down my forehead, stung my eyes so badly I had to blink them closed. My face was burning up, and the purple vein in my exposed right forearm looked as though it might break free from my skin. My muscles were tiring. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and summoned every last bit of strength.

Finally, the blade plunged into Talik’s chest.

Alim jumped off my back and made for the door as I moved for my Glock. By the time I picked it up and spun around, Alim was gone. As I listened to his footfalls fade down the carpeted stairs, I looked down at his uncle. Talik was either dead or dying. I didn’t bother to waste a bullet on him.

As I took my first step back into the large hall, the door to the far left burst open and Kazmer Chudzik fired a shotgun at me.

In a single motion, I turned and threw myself behind the wall of the room I’d just left.

The blast just missed me and I landed on my stomach next to Talik’s body. I considered lifting the corpse and using it as a shield, but surely Talik was too heavy.

I pulled myself up, crept over to the doorframe.

I chanced a quick look into the hallway. The moment I showed myself, Kazmer Chudzik fired a second time.

Big mistake.

Wasting no time, I stepped into the hall and began firing, leaving Chudzik no chance to reload. A bullet nicked his shoulder and a spray of blood shot across his large round face. He tossed the shotgun, turned, and ran into the room.

I followed.

When I reached the doorway, Chudzik was halfway through the sliding glass door to the deck. He hadn’t grabbed another gun. He didn’t appear to be armed.

I moved swiftly across the room, my left forearm bleeding profusely, my right still aiming the Glock at his head.

I stepped onto the deck. Yelled over the howling wind, “Nowhere to go, Chudzik.”

With his back now against the wooden rail that looked over the canyon, Chudzik held his arms out at his sides.

“You do not want to kill me, American,” he shouted. “If you do, you will never find the little girl. I am the only man in all of Poland who can lead you to her. No one else—not the Turk, not the lawyer—has the slightest clue where she is, or where she is going.”

Chudzik’s tone was defiant, his face set in a sneer. I believed him. He was too smart to have made it otherwise. I needed him. He was the man I needed to keep alive.

“All right, then,” I said. “You live to lead me to the little girl. Under one condition. You tell me where Anastazja Staszak is. I know your men took her from Pruszkow.”

Chudzik’s eyes flickered over my shoulder. The moment they did, I dropped hard onto the deck.

The sound of an automatic weapon spilling its chamber filled the air as holes peppered Chudzik’s ample chest, throwing him backward into the wooden rail. The rail splintered and his body, covered now in red, burst through and fell hundreds of feet into the canyon below.

I rolled and leveled my Glock at Dabrowski’s chest. Before I could fire, I heard the click of his weapon, signifying it was empty.