Lazar's Intrigue (The Jack Lazar Series) (27 page)

“I
told you on the plane, I owe you for saving my life, Ben, and I was just
following through with my promise. After I found out you resigned, I figured you
were on your way out of the country or something like that, so I thought I’d
buy you a little time.”

“See
what I mean?” Ben looked proudly to his associates. “I love this guy!”

Jack
shrugged as if anyone would do the same.

“Just
remember you do owe me,” Ben continued, leaning over the table. “And just in
case you need a little more incentive, just think about how much you care about
the Benson girl. Lisa, isn’t it? If you ever say a word to anyone about what
we’re doing, we’ll kill her before you can blink.”

“That
won’t be necessary. You can trust me. After all, Antonucci’s dead. Phil’s dead.
Hesterling’s dead. And of course, Sarina’s dead. There’s no reason for me to be
involved anymore, and frankly I’d like to get as far away from this as
possible. I don’t like what you guys are doing, but it’s not my responsibility
to do anything about it. The government hires plenty of people to take care of
that kind of thing.” He smirked.

They
all laughed.

“I’d
just like to know one thing,” Jack continued. “Why, if you were planning all
along to take over Antonucci’s business, did you help me blow up that building
in Colombia? Why would you destroy millions of dollars in cocaine and equipment
that you eventually planned on taking for yourself.”

Ben
grinned. “C’mon, Jack. Haven’t you learned by now not to believe everything you
see? Especially in this business. Antonucci has always used that building as a
decoy. It was just an old warehouse where the previous landowner stored his
tobacco, so Antonucci decided to post a few guards outside and make it look
like there was something important going on in there. But there never was. The
real processing facility is set way back on the property, a long way from the
road.”

“Seriously?”

“Just
think about it. Why would he process his crop so close to the entrance of the
compound? It would be too risky. And Antonucci was anything but stupid.”

“But
why agree to blow it up at all? Why didn’t you just try harder to talk me out
of it?”

“Because
I realized we could use the torched building as additional proof to U.S. and
Colombian authorities that you and I had destroyed Antonucci’s operation.
Again, it was another brilliant idea of yours that helped us wrap up the case
nice and clean.”

Jack
rubbed his eyes. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“Don’t,”
Ben said as he slapped Jack on the back. “You were up against the best and
didn’t stand a chance.”

“I
suppose.”

“Langstrom?”
Ben was now apparently satisfied with the session. “Take Mr. Lazar back to his
car. I think we’re finished here.”

“Gladly,
sir.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

After
an almost silent journey, Langstrom dropped Jack at the Benson estate at about
two in the morning to retrieve the Range Rover. Jack noticed that most of the
lights in the house were still on, but he thought it best not to bother the
Bensons right now. He would come by and see them tomorrow as planned, which was
soon enough. The police and their homicide crews probably hadn’t left long ago,
and the family deserved a little peace, even if sleeping was out of the
question tonight.

Slipping
into the Range Rover’s leather driver’s seat, Jack remembered he had given his
keys to the valet. It didn’t even occur to him to bring a spare, and he was
just beginning to sigh with frustration when he noticed someone had
thoughtfully placed the keys in the ignition. He raised an appreciative eyebrow
as he closed the door, strapped on his seat belt and started the ignition.

Jack
eased his way out of the driveway and coasted slowly down the street as he
thought about how there would be minimal traffic on the Five at this time of
morning. That meant his drive to San Juan Capistrano should be relatively
smooth and pleasant—a welcome change to this evening’s dreadful events—and he
reached for the radio to find some relaxing music.

Thank
God it’s finally over.

As
if fate were laughing at his naïve postulation, a powerful arm thrust around
Jack’s throat and pulled his head back with terrible force against the headrest,
closing his windpipe. As a reflex action, Jack’s released the steering wheel to
wrestle with the man’s arm, his knees pushing on the side of the wheel as he struggled,
the Range Rover leaping over the median and darting in front of an oncoming car
that somehow managed to swerve around, unscathed.

The
man maintained his hold on Jack’s throat as the vehicle veered out of control,
the left wheels catching a ramp on the back of a utility trailer, flipping over
the Range Rover and causing it to tumble through a storefront window. The
sounds of metal slamming against pavement and shattering glass permeated the
otherwise quiet neighborhood.

The
Range Rover finally came to a rest on its driver’s side like a fallen beast in
the jungle as heavy billows of steam rose from its wells. Jack struggled to
find his orientation as the intrusive store alarm began to blare, his head a
scrambled mess after rolling inside the car while being pummeled by airbags and
choked into near unconsciousness by a deranged assailant.

Without
even looking to see if his attacker was dead or alive, Jack released his seat
belt and reached for the passenger door handle as he stood on the inside panel of
the driver’s door. He crawled out frantically, but not fast enough to prevent
the man from grabbing hold of his foot and starting to pull him back inside.

Jack
shook him loose in a fit of panic and leapt over the side of the car into the
darkened store, falling into a rack of clothes that tumbled into several others,
the entire line dropping like a series of dominoes. He gathered himself from
the fall just in time to see the assailant pull himself from the car, and although
it was dark, he recognized him instantly.

The
man they called T-Rex jumped to the floor and blocked Jack’s only path to the
street. He lumbered toward Jack as he pulled the special knife from his belt
and held it in attack position.

“You
miserable son of a bitch!” Rex shouted. “You killed my boss. You tried to kill
me. And now, so help me God, I’m going to kill
you
.”

“Rex,
listen,” Jack pleaded, trying to talk some sense into the huge man. “When I
shot you, I was just defending myself. You were trying to kill me, remember? You
would have done the same in my place. Please!”

Rex
just laughed as he continued his fierce approach.

Jack
backpedalled down the store’s main aisle while he desperately looked around for
something he could use as a weapon. Rex seemed like such a powerful,
indestructible man, so it would have to be something big to take him down. And
as Jack’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized they had crashed into a
sporting goods store, which would surely yield something adequate.

But
as Rex moved in for the kill, Jack was still empty-handed. He stood his ground
instead and took the jujitsu stance Tasagi had taught him, prepared to fight
hand-to-hand. He would need to rely on speed and skill to defeat Rex, just as
he had done at the warehouse in Newport Beach.

Rex
began his attack without hesitation, and the knife swept twice in front of
Jack’s chest as he darted backward. The lack of a connection caused Rex to lose
his balance, giving Jack the opportunity to plant a solid strike across the big
man’s face, instantly breaking his nose.

The
scream Rex let out was terrifying, like that of an enraged grizzly preparing to
tear its prey into shreds. He reached his hand to the mess at the center of his
face and examined his bloody hand in disgust.

“You
broke my fucking nose, goddamnit! You broke-my-fucking-nose!”

Jack
tilted his head as if to say “you asked for it, buddy”. And he prepared for the
man to come at him again.

His
rage visibly continuing to build, Rex quickened his movements and thrust forward
this time as Jack’s hand caught his wrist. The knife stopped only inches from
Jack’s chest as they fell together onto a stack of plastic exercise mats and
scattered them all over the floor. But with Rex’s overpowering strength, the
knife continued to move forward, and Jack was unable to do anything more than
divert the trajectory as the blade sliced through the side of his abdomen
without a hint of obstruction.

Jack
howled with agony this time, the piercing pain unbearable, and he grabbed his
gut with both hands while Rex used the moment to raise the weapon and drive it
downward again. But Jack rolled away at the last moment, the knife becoming
momentarily stuck in the mats, and he crawled away as Rex struggled to free his
weapon from its hold.

Succeeding
quickly, Rex turned and lunged toward Jack again, this time missing him entirely
and giving Jack an opportunity to run toward the opposite end of the store. His
breath short and his side blazing with pain, Jack searched for a way out, but
the toppled Range Rover blocked any access to the broken storefront window, and
the entry door was locked with a double cylinder deadbolt. He searched around
for something hard and heavy like a barbell to break the glass on the door, but
nothing like that was stocked in front. He was trapped, and Rex was coming
after him again.

Jack
glanced to his left and did a double-take as he discovered an archery set on
the wall, the bow hanging easily within his reach, and a cylinder full of
arrows offered plenty of ammunition. He had used a bow and arrow almost every
day during summer camp when he was thirteen, and he hoped to God it was like
riding a bicycle. If this worked, he would have to send a letter of apology to
his mother, as he still frequently reminded her of that awful camp and how it
was the most useless summer he had ever spent in his life.

Rex
trudged toward him like a ghastly monster from a cheap horror film as Jack
lifted the bow and set an arrow into place. He was hidden by the darkness while
his target basked under the light of a single fluorescent fixture, which apparently
remained on for security reasons.

It
was clear that Rex didn’t know what was coming as Jack pulled back and released
the bow, the arrow sailing fast and true before piercing his target directly in
the upper leg.

“Son
of a bitch!” Rex cried as he dropped his knife to the floor and grabbed the
shaft of the arrow, attempting to extract it from his limb. But there was no
time to try as the next one bored straight through his shoulder. He growled
again and grabbed an arrow in each hand, pulling on them futilely.

“Shit!”
Jack shouted as Rex surrendered the extraction campaign and reached back down
for the knife before boldly resuming his approach. Jack shot a third arrow, completely
missing his target, but the next one hit the mark and speared through Rex’s opposite
leg.

Jack
thought for sure that would do it, but the big man didn’t seem to care anymore
as he moved forward with unyielding determination, the arrows doing little more
than angering him now. Jack frantically continued to shoot as Rex drew closer,
piercing the man in his gut twice, then his opposite shoulder, his forearm, and
then his lower leg.

The
gap between them had reached only ten feet, and it seemed there was no way to
prevent Rex’s quest for revenge. With just a single arrow remaining, Jack
closed his eyes as he let go. It seemed to sail in slow motion as Jack open his
eyes again and watched it go straight for Rex’s head where it bored into the
big man’s right eye.

Dropping
his knife again, Rex momentarily reached for the arrow’s shaft as the blood
streamed out of his socket, but the damage was done. He staggered forward and
then backward as he fell, his massive body causing the floor to quake as it
slammed down. He was gone.

Jack
sighed in relief as he wiped his face and tenderly held his abdomen. He rested
his back against the wall as the police sirens filled the distant air and
gradually grew closer. The abrupt screeching of tires arrived soon thereafter,
and the sirens howled down as several car doors slammed closed.

“Hello?”
called a voice from outside. “Hello?”

“Over
here!” Jack yelled in response. “On the other side of the car!”

“I’m
Officer Powell with the LAPD. Are you all right, sir?”

Jack
chuckled until he almost cried.

“Sir?”

“Yes,
I’m…I’m all right!”

Powell
apparently used his nightstick to break the glass entry door, and he walked
toward Jack’s position, stopping suddenly when he noticed Rex’s dead body and
the plethora of arrows protruding into the air.

“Holy
shit!” he exclaimed, frantically extracting his gun and pointing it toward
Jack. “What the hell is going on here?”

“It’s
okay,” Jack responded, raising his hands and walking into the light. “He was
hiding in the back of my car and tried to kill me.” Jack pointed downward.
“This was the only way I could defend myself.”

“Jesus,”
Powell said, looking at the body again. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

A
couple of other officers came in afterwards, stopping as quickly as the first. “Oh
my God,” they said in unison.

“I’m
not sure what to do here,” Powell confessed.

“Listen,”
Jack offered. “I may regret suggesting this, but I think you should call
Lieutenant Grubbs. You know him?”

“Sure,”
they all replied.

Jack
continued. “This little problem is directly related to the homicides he
investigated earlier this evening at the Benson estate. I’m sure he’ll want to
know about it.”

“Wait
a minute,” Powell said. “You’re that Lazar guy, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Jeez.
You look like hell.”

Jack
couldn’t help but laugh, painful as it was. “No doubt.”

“Yeah,
you’re right. I better call Grubbs.” He pulled the police radio from his belt
and barked instructions toward his associates before using it. “Get those
paramedics in here.” He looked over at Jack. “Knife wound?”

Jack
nodded.

“You
need to go to the hospital?”

“I
don’t think so.”

“Good.
I’m sure Grubbs will want to talk to you.”

“I
can’t wait,” Jack muttered.

Lieutenant
Grubbs arrived in less than twenty minutes, and Jack could hear him grumbling
as he scaled through the debris at the front of the store. The lights had been
turned on, and a man with a tow truck was busy trying to hook up a winch to
pull the Range Rover back onto its wheels. Jack was seated on the edge of an
exercise bench, his tuxedo shirt pulled off while the paramedic applied the
last of the stitches.

Grubbs
stopped cold as he saw Rex’s arrow-laden body, and he looked over to Jack with
a look of total disbelief, shaking his head. “What the hell? Are you some kind
of maniac?”

“I
know this looks bad, Lieutenant…”

“No
shit! You wanna explain to me why this guy has a million arrows sticking out of
his body?”

“Not
really.” Jack glared at him, indicating that the last thing he wanted to do was
be cross-examined again.

“I
didn’t think so,” he huffed as he looked at the mess around him. “Is it your
goal in life to bring murder, mayhem and destruction to Los Angeles, or does it
just come naturally?”

“I
didn’t start any of this.”

“Just
like you didn’t start the incident at the Benson estate, which I must emphasize
very strongly here, resulted in two dead guys.”

“That’s
correct. And I didn’t kill either one of them.”

Grubbs
looked toward Powell, who was standing by observing, and he spoke to him with
contempt. “For chrissake, why hasn’t anybody cuffed this guy?”