The Einstein Pursuit (8 page)

With that, she closed the door behind her.

It was her way of getting even.

Most patients would have freaked out over the thought of blood, but not Jones. He had spilled enough over the years to become immune. Too bad the same didn’t apply to power tools, because the thought of a high-speed drill in his mouth made him nauseous.

‘Calmm dowwn,’ he said to himself, his words suddenly slurred by the Novocain. ‘Whaatt the fuckk?’

He poked his lips with his finger. They were already growing numb. He slipped his finger inside his mouth and pressed down on his tongue. Strangely, his finger could feel his tongue, but his tongue didn’t feel the finger. He moved it around, trying to illicit even the slightest sense of touch. There was nothing. It felt like a dead fish in his mouth.

Just then his cell phone started to vibrate.

He was so unnerved, he nearly bit his finger in two.

‘Shiiitttt!’ he screamed as he yanked the damaged digit from his mouth. It took a moment to wipe the saliva on his bib and pull the cell phone from his pocket. Once he did, he read the text message from Payne.

911
. MEET AT MON. INCLINE LOWER STATION. GAME ON.

‘Gaamme onn?’ he mumbled. ‘Thannkk Godd!’

A jolt of adrenalin shot through his body, as if his nerves were on fire. His best friend was in danger and needed his help. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would keep Jones from coming to his aid – especially if it meant getting out of a root canal.

He leapt from the dental chair, grabbed the tray of tools that was blocking his path, and flung it against the wall. They clattered to the floor as he bolted from the examination room and hurried down the hallway toward the reception desk.

‘Mr Jones!’ the technician shouted. ‘You can’t leave yet!’

‘I hawf to go! We’ll hawf to rethedual.’

‘But we’re not done!’

Jones ignored the comment, completely focused on his escape. He threw open the next door with so much force that it crashed against the wall and ricocheted back against his face. If not for the Novocain, he would have felt his bottom lip splitting against his teeth. For the time being, it was merely a minor inconvenience as blood poured from his mouth.

‘Sonnoffabitchh!’

He pushed the door open again, this time with a lot less force, stepped over the threshold and found himself in the waiting room, surrounded by several frazzled patients. He tried to assure them that everything was okay, but a spray of blood and several incoherent words did more damage than good.

‘Mr Jones!’ the dentist yelled from behind. ‘I know you’re wary of the drill, but trust me, the hard part is over.’

Jones ignored him and ran outside like a condemned man fleeing the gallows. Never in his life had he been more thankful to get a life-or-death text from a friend.

Back in the waiting room, a hush fell as everyone wondered what they had just witnessed. A madman on the loose, or a procedure gone wrong?

The dentist smiled to reassure them. ‘Okay, who’s next?’

Not a single patient moved.

Three minutes.

That was how long it would take the incline to reach the lower station.

Three agonizing minutes.

It wasn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but Payne knew it was an eternity in close-quarters combat. And that was what he would be facing if the two men turned around and spotted Sahlberg in the upper level of the car.

At least, that was what he
thought
he would be facing.

For the time being, he had no way of knowing if Sahlberg was telling the truth. Sure, he had been able to verify that the old man was a former employee of Payne Industries who had worked for his father, but that was only part of the story. Sahlberg also claimed that these men had broken into his house and meant to do him harm. But Payne had no way of knowing if that was true.

The thought had crossed his mind that these men might actually be the good guys. After all, what did he really know about Sahlberg? Regardless of his former employment, there was no guarantee that he hadn’t turned to a life of crime. Maybe that was why his employment file was so thin. Maybe his paperwork had been shredded to protect the company. Sahlberg might simply be using his connection to the company to pull Payne to his aid.

What a disaster that would be.

If Payne helped a wanted fugitive, the impact of his actions would be severe. He didn’t like the prospect of a jail cell. Even worse, he hated the thought of negative publicity for his grandfather’s company. Abetting a criminal would not go over well at the next board meeting.

Nevertheless, Payne’s gut told him that he was on the side of right. If these men were detectives or federal agents, they could have invaded Sahlberg’s house in the dead of night, catching him while he slept. Even if they had been forced to act immediately, without the chance to wait until the wee hours of the morning, he could not understand the need for secrecy.

Why pretend to be deliverymen?

Why not just storm the house?

Sahlberg wouldn’t stand a chance against a SWAT team.

Still, even if Payne’s intuition was correct, he knew it was a risk to attack the men now. If something went wrong, the only escape routes were treacherous: climbing the steep tracks to one of the stations or jumping from the incline entirely. It was several feet to the hillside below, with little more than shrubbery and rocks to break the fall. Even if they survived the drop – and Payne had to assume Sahlberg wouldn’t survive uninjured – they would be easy targets.

Payne didn’t like his options. He truly didn’t. But if the two men in the lower station had called in reinforcements, there was a good chance he was heading into a hornets’ nest. And if that was the case, he preferred to squash two of the insects now. He knew the maneuver was risky, but he decided to use the only tactical advantage he had: the element of surprise.

He calmly reached under his jacket and withdrew the pistol he had tucked in the small of his back. Sahlberg stared at him, unsure of what would happen next.

Payne pressed the gun into Sahlberg’s hand. ‘Do you know how to use it?’

Sahlberg gripped the weapon. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. If this goes to hell, protect yourself. Understood?’

‘Yes,’ Sahlberg whispered. ‘But what about you?’

Payne handed Sahlberg his cell phone. ‘If anything happens to me, call the first entry in the speed dial. Tell him what happened. He’ll know what to do.’

With that, Payne removed his jacket and stepped toward the opposite bench. The middle-aged couple were gabbing in the level below him, and the teenager was still in a world of his own, his eyes closed and his head bobbing as he beat out the rhythm of his music on his backpack.

Payne climbed on to the bench and eyed his targets on the bottom level. His muscular physique strained against his fitted shirt. Silhouetted against the sunlight and the city below, he looked like a gargoyle preparing to swoop down upon its prey.

A moment later, he was airborne.

Payne launched himself over the passengers in the middle section and landed between the gunmen with a thud. The car lurched slightly and the woman screamed. Before his targets knew what was happening, he struck both men in the head with his elbows. His goal was to knock them out before they could pull their weapons.

It didn’t work.

His elbows landed hard, but they didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of knocking them out, he transformed his targets into the skilled soldiers they were.

Though dazed by the blow, the larger of the two men flailed wildly at Payne, hoping his counterpunch would find its mark. He missed, and Payne was able to lock on to his forearm as he stumbled into his follow-through.

Payne twisted his grasp and bore down with all his might. He hadn’t been able to drop the man with a single punch, but now he hoped to disable him. A few seconds more, and the bones in the gunman’s forearm would splinter and snap. Unfortunately, Payne didn’t have that much time.

The second mercenary wasn’t about to take on Payne with his fists. Not when he had a Beretta 92 under his jacket. In a flash, he reached for his weapon.

Sensing what was happening, Payne spun the man in the arm-bar toward his colleague, using him to knock the pistol from his partner’s hand. The weapon fell to the ground, but not before the mercenary had managed to get off a shot.

The bullet tore through the larger man’s hand like a spike at a crucifixion, cutting through the soft flesh and tendons with ease. Blood squirted as he shrieked in agony.

The thunderous blast of the gun snapped the teenager out of his daze. He sat upright as if he had been hit by an electric current. The scene would have terrified most people. The middle-aged man in the second tier was using his body to shield his wife from the gunfight below. She continued to scream at the top of her lungs as shock and terror overwhelmed her. But the teenager’s reaction was different. To him, it was as if he had awoken inside his favorite video game. His eyes lit up, and he actually squealed with delight as the larger mercenary stared through the hole in his bloody hand.

It looked like a scene from a horror movie.

The gaping wound made the large man even more enraged. He charged recklessly toward Payne, who countered the move by jumping on to the bench and delivering a knee to his opponent’s chest. The blow had the dual effect of dropping the larger soldier on top of the smaller one and at the same time dislodging his weapon from his holster. Both fell to the ground, the larger man pinning his partner beneath him.

But the larger man was unrelenting. He couldn’t rise, but he had the presence of mind to grab the nearest pistol. He smiled as he aimed it squarely at Payne’s chest.

Payne had nowhere to run – and he knew it.

The gunman pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

He tried it a second time, still nothing.

The mercenary glanced at the gun and realized his mistake. Each of the thug’s weapons had been fitted with a palm-print reader on the grip. This biometric safety prevented anyone but the authorized user of the gun from firing it. In his haste, he had reached for the first weapon he saw and had grabbed the wrong one. In his hand, his partner’s gun was basically just a hunk of steel. He threw it at Payne’s face, hoping to do some damage.

Payne ducked just in time.

Unarmed and one-handed, the thug was at Payne’s mercy. Payne grabbed him by his suit collar and slammed him into the far wall. The glass cracked from the impact. A moment later, he swung his elbow into the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe. Suddenly unable to breathe, the thug slumped to the floor as blood poured from his nose and mouth.

The smaller man realized he’d be next if he didn’t act fast. He dove to the ground and grabbed both weapons just as Payne spun to face him. The gunman didn’t know which gun was his, but it didn’t matter. If he squeezed both triggers, he knew
one
would fire.

Payne saw everything in slow motion.

The guns. The gunman. The triggers.

Ka-boom!
A shot thundered in the cable car, but he didn’t see a muzzle flare. Instead, the front window exploded into a thousand shards as a bullet cut through the glass.

Payne instantly recognized the sound of his own gun. He didn’t have to look to know that Sahlberg had pulled the trigger. But the mercenary had no idea who had fired the shot. As he glanced to find the shooter, he took his eyes off Payne for a split second.

It was a reaction he couldn’t control.

An instinct that cost him the fight.

Before the gunman could re-aim, Payne lowered his shoulder and exploded from his stance. Years of American football had taught him how to turn his body into a battering ram. The impact was violent. He lifted the mercenary off the ground and kept his legs churning forward until the man slammed into the wall. He felt ribs breaking in the man’s chest.

The mercenary fell limp against the wall.

As the world sped up to real time, Payne turned toward the upper level of the car. Sahlberg was standing at the edge of the railing, Payne’s gun shaking in his hand.

The room was moving forward but also still.

There was no more violence.

No more gunshots.

The only sound was the wind.

‘Everyone okay?’ Payne asked.

‘We’re all right,’ the husband answered.

Sahlberg nodded. So did the woman.

Only then did the teenager react, leaping to his feet with so much vigor that Sahlberg momentarily pointed the gun his way. He pumped his fist several times and screamed at the top of his lungs, ‘That … was … AWESOME!’

Payne checked the fallen gunmen for signs of life. Both were breathing, but the larger one was in bad shape. He would need medical attention to survive the day.

But it wouldn’t come from Payne.

Not with Sahlberg’s life still in jeopardy.

Payne searched their pockets for identification. He found nothing useful. It was further proof that Sahlberg had been telling the truth. Almost everyone in law enforcement – local police, FBI, ATF and so on – carried a badge or some sort of ID. But Payne only found cash. No wallets. No credit cards. No personal items. These guys didn’t want to be identified.

He took a moment to examine their high-tech pistols. The palm-print scanners were almost perfectly integrated. The only thing that gave them away was a slight thickening of the grip and a noticeable change in texture. The scanner was smooth and shimmery; the rest of the grip was pebbled and dull. He had seen biometric locks before, but nothing like this. Even the prototypes he had used in the military were clunky and cumbersome.

But not these.

These were streamlined and sophisticated.

They were damn near perfect.

Payne glanced through the shattered window and saw the lower station getting closer. He had less than a minute before they reached the bottom. He had to work fast.

He looked up at the couple in the second tier. ‘Ma’am, I’m going to need the strap from your purse.’

She nodded nervously and threw the purse to him.