The Crypt (22 page)

She was close now.

An orange and white construction bar that suspended a makeshift yield sign leaned against a hydro pole.

In one quick motion Sarah lunged for it, grabbed the pipe and swung her body in a circle with the metal pipe coming with her on a wide arc aiming at the vehicle. The shooter was just turning the Cadillac on and dropping the car into drive when the pole hit his windshield.

The glass didn’t break inward but it shattered into tiny pieces that stayed stuck together.

Sarah lifted the bar and spun around to smash the driver’s side window.

She felt near hysteria now as at any moment the gunman could pull a handgun and shoot her in the belly. The only defense was to keep him jumping back from the onslaught of the bar.

On her next windup the shooter managed to get the vehicle moving.

She swung hard, with everything she had, knowing that it may be her last hit. The pipe hit the driver’s side window again.

This time it entered the window.

The car shot forward, pulling the pipe from her grasp. The Cadillac rolled ahead and then jumped the curb. Five feet or so along it bumped into a light standard and stopped.

Sarah ran for the car door. She grabbed the handle and yanked hard.

It opened, spilling the driver onto the sidewalk. He moaned and reached for a cut on his cheek that was bleeding.

She must’ve have made solid contact with his face. When she stepped around him, her hands ready to punch, her feet to kick, she saw his face had a small dent in it below his left eye.

Did I break his cheek? Or as my mother used to say, did I break his face?

She saw his good eye looking up at her. It was wide and scared.

She looked around. The street was empty.

In a quick motion Sarah dropped to one knee and started to search his waistband for a weapon with one hand held to his throat. In seconds she came upon a small pistol in his jacket pocket. After ripping it out, she checked if it was loaded and flipped the safety off.

She turned to address him. His right eye seemed wider. How afraid of her was he? By appearance only, she was just a small girl. Nothing to be feared by a medium built male. Unless he’d been told who she was.

“You’re not going to tell me who hired you? I mean that’s what I’m assuming here.”

He didn’t respond.

Her newfound weapon was held in her right hand. The safety was off and she knew he knew that. A gentle movement brought the gun to his mid-section. She eased it into his stomach and pressed the barrel hard, hoping when she used the gun most of his clothing would muffle the shot as a pillow would.

“Gut shot by a carjacker. You’ll probably live but a hole in the stomach can mess you up for the rest of your life. I’m talking hard alcohol and spicy food. That’ll fuck you up for a long time. And eating with a broken face could be challenging too. But what do I care?”

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Three, two…”

“Wait,” she heard him mumble. She could tell he spoke without moving his lips. “I was told,” he started but the pain wracked him. He moaned louder and tried to curl into a ball. Sarah held him back.

She leaned up and stared into his face. “Tell you what. You get an ambulance and no more damage to your person as soon as I know who sent you and I’m satisfied with the answer. Each lie gets a bullet for your efforts. Oh, and I know you know who I am, meaning you know I’m not fucking around. Now, talk or die. Your choice, asscock.”

“I was told…you might shoo uh. I was told to make sure you don’t wah away.”

“By who? Who told you? Remember, this answer is important. Your stomach is depending on you.”

He stared a hole through her. “He say you would know him. He say his name was Jack Tate.”

Jack Tate, also known as Armond Stuart.

“Okay, you’ve done well and you’ve saved your stomach.”

She leaned back and sat on the sidewalk beside him. Then after a moment she lifted the gun and shot the man in the right foot, dead center. The report was loud with no suppressor on the quiet street but the man was louder. He screamed which caused his cheek to flare up. She watched as he turned and passed out on the concrete beside her.

“That was for shooting at me. You coulda killed me. Now you will limp for a long time to remember what you did today.”

She grabbed his belt and undid it, keeping an eye on her surroundings. Not a single car had passed them in the few minutes they’d been there. Maybe people skirted this street due to the construction.

Or maybe Armond is here and he’s keeping traffic away. Come on Sarah, he’s not a God.

After a moment she had the belt wrapped around his leg as a tourniquet. She saw the bleeding in his foot was slowing.

I sure like to wound people in the leg or foot. That’s getting to be my signature. I only kill to save my life. Anyone else who deals with me has trouble walking afterwards.

Sarah stood slowly, taking the entire area in. The first sign of life was an old man with a cane. He seemed to be looking in a store window.

Odd time to be window shopping.

A moment later he began walking slowly in the other direction. He didn’t seem to have noticed the Caddy sitting at an odd angle on the sidewalk. Nor did it appear that he heard the gun and resulting shout.

The sun had gotten higher making shadows stretch. The wind of earlier had died down.

Run or stay?

Jump in the Caddy and pick up Parkman before they even know she’s gone or stay and attempt a break later? Staying meant she may walk into more traps set by Armond. Staying also meant she would have to deal with Rod Howley. Leaving meant less assurance she would see Armond go down and she’d still have to deal with Rod. At least with staying she’d have witnesses when she faked her death. People who would report to Rod. People who were professionals that he’d believe.

She decided to stay, as Armond was her priority above everything else.

She sat back down and kept the pistol handy. She’d wait for them to come looking for her. No way was she letting the shooter out of her sight.

After ten minutes she loosened the belt and then tightened it again. She reached inside his jacket to search for a wallet. She found one in an inner pocket. Inside she found no identification.
Big surprise.
But there was a few hundred dollars in Hungarian currency and a note on a lined piece of paper. She opened the note to see a small grocery list.

What the hell is a palichinta?

Her hand started with the familiar numbness.

No way. Now?

She frantically searched for a pen. The shooter had one in the same pocket the wallet was in. She grabbed it and leaned over the paper as a full blackout came upon her.

“Sarah? Sarah, are you okay?”

She snapped awake.
How long was I out?

Rosalie was leaning over her. Two of Rosalie’s men were attending to the shooter, one of them on a cell phone directing an ambulance to their location.

Sarah nodded at Rosalie.

“What happened here? We came out of the strip club and you were gone. One of my men thought he’d heard a gunshot but we didn’t know where from so we started a block to block search. When we got here an old man with a cane was approaching. We got him out of here and tried to wake you up. Did he hit you? Are you hurt?”

Sarah listened to her and sat up, blinking in the morning sun. 

Where’s the note? What did Vivian want?

“I’m fine. I must’ve blacked out. Everything’s okay with me. This guy tried to shoot me outside the front of the strip club.”

“What? How did this happen? Are you saying this was a setup to get you out here?”

Not only can she run a team of international agents she can think on her feet too. Impressive.

Sarah recited everything from the first ping she heard from the shooter’s gun until she blacked out, omitting why she passed out.

“So we’re being played.” Rosalie seemed quite disturbed by this prospect.

“Don’t let it bother you too much. Armond plays everyone. You’re no different.”

Rosalie turned to glare at her. “You don’t understand. I put a lot of time into this undercover job. My team and I were in with Tony. There’s no way Armond could know who we were until yesterday when we raided Montone. If he knew, he would’ve blown our covers long ago. In such a short time, how could he know so much?”

Sarah used the wall of the building to stand up. Two police cars were arriving. An ambulance brought up the rear.

“Armond is a professional. He has remained elusive because of how good he is, how resourceful. He hides in plain sight. When my sister sent me to find him, he ended up becoming my colleague using the name Jack Tate without my even knowing it. There were times when we were alone in my car, but I didn’t know him and how good he was at the time. I barely got away with my life thanks to Parkman.”

“Thanks to me you almost lost your life tonight. I’m lucky he missed.”

Sarah found that comment odd. “
You’re
lucky he missed?”

Rosalie looked sideways at her. “Yeah, my orders are to keep you safe, protected. I’m to deliver you to Rod when this is over. I don’t do that, I’m finished.”

Sarah stepped away. “Then quit now.”

“What?” Rosalie called after her.

Sarah moved away and around the Caddy and the commotion the Paramedics were making with the shooter. He was coming to and moaning loudly again.

She needed to find the note Vivian gave her. Unless it was still in her hand when she was passed out and Rosalie grabbed it.

She searched her pockets. To her relief she found it in her back right pocket.

She unfolded it and scanned the words.

Shit!

Rosalie had stepped out from behind the Cadillac.
No doubt wanting to keep me close,
Sarah thought.

She motioned for Rosalie to join her as she folded the paper and pocketed it again.

“You know that old man with the cane?”

Rosalie nodded.

“That was Armond.”

“How do you know that?”

“Do you know anything about me?”

“Yeah?”

“Then you know my sister tells me things and she just told me the old man was Armond. He’d stuck around to watch me die. When I chased the shooter to his car he followed. After everything went down I saw him across the street but he appeared to be walking the other way. Then I passed out. You show up and usher him away. He was about to make his move when you got here so take some consolation that you did save my life after all.” Sarah said this without conviction. If she’d really been in danger Vivian wouldn’t have taken over.

Rosalie talked into a mic telling her men to scour the area for the old man with a cane.

“Did your sister tell you anything else?”

“She told me it all ends in a crypt on Friday.”

“A crypt,” Rosalie repeated, evidently thinking over what it meant. She looked away from Sarah. “Most of the men involved in the immigration racket use crypts all over Europe as a meeting place. Too hard to record them talking. Cell phones almost never work buried in that much stone. Wiring anything down there can only be done with external cords making it obvious where electricity is. They have many other reasons for using crypts but that’s a few of them.” She seemed in a daze as she recited some of her knowledge, thinking over what Sarah was telling her. She looked at Sarah again. “Did your sister tell you where? Any other details?”

“Just that it has something to do with vampires.”

“Vampires?”

One of Rosalie’s men called for her. The police needed a statement from Sarah.

“Stay here. I’ll deal with the police.” She raised a finger. “Sarah, we need you. Let me think about this crypt thing. I may have an idea what your sister means regarding the vampire angle, okay?”

Sarah nodded and stepped away to wait on the opposing curb.

She pulled the note out and reread the ending of it.

Vivian explained in the note how messages were sent for Sarah to change or alter an event. If something was to happen that didn’t require any meddling then she wouldn’t interfere. She knew the gunman would miss so she’d said nothing. Vivian apologized for all that she’d done to get Sarah into this violent life. She expressed her love for Sarah and her sympathy for what was going to happen at the crypt but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Fate was in charge this time.

Nothing at all could be done with destiny.

Chapter 21

An hour later Rosalie sat across from Sarah at a small bakery. Sarah lifted her coffee and sipped.

“Thank you for finding a place that sold American coffee,” Sarah said. “Everywhere I go all I can find are cappuccinos and espressos. I had to go to a McDonald’s to get one of these but this one is so much better.”