The Ringer (20 page)

“Still so self-righteous, Thornbird. Tourism has gone up, and murder rates have gone down. You should thank us for making your job easier instead of being an ingrate.” Dustin straightened the sleeves of his tux while he waxed poetic about Parker’s and his evil acts.

Jax tried to think of a plan. Well aware his time was running out, nothing useful came to mind. “What about the Szohre kid? He wasn’t a dirty bum or a homicidal drug dealer. How do you explain killing a teenager whose only crime was coming here for vacation?”

A faint frown touched Dustin’s boyish face for a moment. Petulant anger, he concluded since it couldn’t have been regret.

“One mistake.” Dustin shrugged before he reached into his tux pocket, bringing out a vial and hypodermic needle. “But this won’t be.” He bit the cap off and spit it onto Nate’s desk. “It’s a good thing you’re healthy, Thornbird.” He filled the syringe with liquid from the vial. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of money we can make off of your organs.”

Mortiz held his arm with an iron grip as Dustin advanced on him with the fully loaded needle. Jax understood a few things. Shooting him wasn’t their goal; the gun was just a tool used to control him. The second fact, and the most important in his wild-and-ready assessment, was how gravity worked.

Betting everything on his lousy plan, he hooked his foot around Mortiz and shoved the nozzle in the opposite direction. Self-preservation would force Mortiz to yank the weapon away from him while they fell to the ground in a heap.

“Hold him!” Dustin cried.

Jax brought his arm down on top of Mortiz full force. He managed to get a clear punch to the middle of Mortiz’s face, forcing the gun to drop from his hand. The sickening crack of the man’s already crooked nose filled the room.

“You mutha—” Mortiz hollered, but he continued to pummel his fellow detective with his fists.

Dustin must have realized he would be next if Jax won this fight since he tried to jump into the fray with the syringe in hand.

Already dizzy from the previous hits to his head, he struggled to remain on top as he kicked Dustin backward. He reached for the .357 Magnum hidden at his ankle.

No longer a cop
, he told himself popping off two shots into Mortiz’s chest. He didn’t have time to watch his brother in blue die or even bleed out from his wounds. Instead, he had to stop the little shit who tried to rush past.

“Oh, God,” Dustin squealed like a girl. Jax managed to catch him by the pant leg. The fool fell face first into Nate’s plush office carpet. Dustin kicked at him with his shiny dress shoes, connecting with his shoulder.

Lightheaded and pissed off, he grabbed the needle young Lockland had dropped and yanked him close. He shoved the point into Dustin’s neck. When he pushed the plunger into the barrel, the little douche screamed bloody murder. It released whatever knockout drug into his system.

***

Jax stumbled out to the street. He didn’t bother tying anyone up, instead he left the young Lockland on the floor of his brother’s office.

“Whoa,” she hollered.

He held a paper towel he had filched from the men’s room against his head. He tried to figure out which direction he should go. He couldn’t remember Lane running across the street to help him before he fell to the ground.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Mortiz and Dustin,” he told her. The stone jungle of the city circled around him in a dizzying loop. She helped him over to the side of the building to try to steady him. “We have to get to Navy Pier and tell Army the evidence is gone then run before the police catch us.” Bile burned his throat from all the hectic movement. He stamped down the need to vomit.

“Wow! You must have taken one heck of a hit to the noggin because you’re not making a bit of sense.” She peeled back the napkin he had stuck to the side of his ear from the sticky blood. When she caught sight of the messy condition of his ear, she hissed out a curse. “I’d hate to see the other guy.”

“One may be dead, and the other I just wish.” He closed his eyes to stop the pounding in his head. “We should go on to Plan B since I lost the evidence,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

They had come so far. To give up now was incomprehensible, but he felt they had no choice in the matter. Once he got his bearings together, he would have to face reality and turn himself into the feds. Either way, being on the streets of Chicago made them sitting ducks.

“You have a mild concussion, Jax, and I would normally say we need to get to a doctor, but I think we should drop these off first.”

“Huh?”

Lane pulled papers out of the band of her jeans.

“What is that?”

She grinned. “The printed version of the evidence you need with times, dates, descriptions, and newspaper clippings.”

“How did you…?”

She handed over the folded documents to him. “I circled around the block like you told me to. After enough time passed, I decided to pop into the garage.”

“And you jimmied the lock to the car?” he asked with more hope than he wanted to convey.

“Oh, no,” she assured him. “I threw a brick through the passenger side window. Trick I learned in high school. You have to apply the right amount of—”

He held his hand with the belief he didn’t have another Maxie on his hands. “Then what?” He shook his head at her lack of finesse. The movement caused an ache inside of his brain so bad it forced him to stop everything.

“Johnny Mac was a doctor, and they take a lot of notes, so I decided to poke around in case you missed anything.”

Jax leaned on her. “Good idea.” Since he already had the jump drive on the key chain, he hadn’t bothered checking the car.

Impressed by the beauty but shocked at her antics, he tested his balance with a few steps while he used her body for support. They headed into the direction of Navy Pier. Ultimately, he hoped the dizzy effect would stop. He considered driving the Firebird but figured they would be in police custody much faster if he did. The hike was a mere eight blocks, so he decided they could tackle it easy enough.

The pain in his head had become more manageable, but he worried Mortiz busted his eardrum. It had taken a solid ten minutes to get his balance back. “Cops are swarming this place, looking for us and Franco. He’s still out there.”

“What do you suggest?” she asked.

They joined the crowd barricaded across the street, away from the rich and famous at the Pier. With the engagement party in full swing they needed to find a way in.

“We just need to get around my friends on the squad. When I worked vice, we went through two hidden entrances. One is for the electrical grid that runs the place. It’s off of Grand. We can cross over to the trail once we make it. We’ll just stick together and—”

“No,” she tried to scream over the crowd who went wild for another celebrity arrival. They had to move in closer just to hear one another. “If both of us get caught, we don’t stand a chance. Better odds if we separate.”

“One of us could get hurt.” He pointed toward his useless ear.

“I’ll be safe….” She pulled open her leather jacket where her gun was still holstered.

“This is a bad, bad plan.” Panic that hadn’t showed up when Dustin had threatened to sell him piece by piece made his heart beat faster. He didn’t want her out of his sight for fear something terrible could happen to her. “These guys have nothing to lose.” He leaned against her. They stood amongst the crowd of crazed fans, holding each other tight.

“I promise not to fall apart until I see you,” she joked with a half-hearted laugh.

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, pulling her back far enough to take in her lovely face before he kissed her sweet lips. He moved his mouth over hers, clinging to her for as long as he could while the celebrity stalkers cheered all around them.

Jax wiggled his way through the hole in the gate the employees used when they needed a smoke. The chain-link fence ran around the main entrance of the Pier.

When he worked vice with Sherman years ago, they’d contemplated having the fence fixed. Since they had made quite a few busts there, it became an asset to keep it open rather than go around it in search of crack heads. He tried to concentrate on the plan and not on Lane. She had proven time and time again she could handle herself in sketchy situations. But once her adrenaline high wore off, she would most assuredly land in trouble.

Either the space in the fence was smaller than he remembered or he’d grown more than he should have. He convinced himself of the latter and shoved the metal out of his way. Carnival lights lit up Lake Michigan. The twinkling brightness led the way to the pier. Damn near pitch black where he stood, he had to keep his focus on the Ferris wheel.

Dead weeds crackled under his feet. He lost his balance a few times on some scattered rocks, but he managed to right himself and soldier through the backfield while his head still ached.

Once he made his way around the jogging trail, he would wait for Lane and, hopefully, Army. They had called him from the car. The fed confirmed he would meet them at the party. The closer he got to the pier the distorted lights came into crisp view. A snap underfoot sent him to the ground, and something whizzed over his head. He instinctually rolled for cover. He quickly belly-crawled behind a boulder for protection.

“Toss the evidence over, and no one will get hurt, Thornbird,” Franco lied to him from someplace nearby.

He was under no illusion that the other part of Frick and Frack wanted him to live. Shooting first and requesting things later was a good indication of that fast and loose rule.

“No clue what you’re talking about.” He stalled for time while he dug into his jacket for his gun.

“You make no sense, Thornbird. You never needed this job,” Franco’s voice echoed somewhere in front of him. “Couldn’t just mind your own damn business, could you?”

Another shot kicked up dirt near the boulder Jax hid behind. He searched the ground next to him and pitched a rock far off to his right. Once it hit the ground, Franco unloaded on it.

“Mortiz had kids, you shit.” Franco’s voice quivered. “He didn’t have no trust fund, man. Unlike you, he had mouths to feed.”

He fired off a round while he rolled to his left. The brightness from the pier cast a good shadow over Franco. Thankfully, he hit his target, Franco’s body jerking back before he fell to the ground. Cops would recognize shots fired and soon be on their way. With no time to check on the fallen detective, he ran at full speed toward the Ferris wheel.

“Get down on your knees! Get down or I’ll shoot!” A flood of police lights washed over him.

***

Cirque du Soleil
acrobats entertained the guests in the lobby area. Hawaiian flamethrowers tossed batons throughout various rooms in the pier. Julian tried to plaster a look of amusement on his face, but he failed miserably.

Nothing except the best for these old fogies
. He waited for the shady gang to assemble into the private room. One by one, the pompous brass poured into the sectioned-off VIP area.

“Thornbird is on the grounds, and we’re closing in on him,” he informed the men who had made his life hell for the past few weeks. “It would be best if we scattered once he is apprehended.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year,” the mayor grumbled. More lucid than the drunk lush had any right to be, Julian ignored him.

“I’ve requested the valet bring your cars around. Please leave as soon as this meeting is adjourned.”

“What are you going to do?”

“My wife will fake an illness, and we’ll be on our way. It would look downright insensitive for me to be in attendance while the honoree’s brother is shot dead in the street.”

“Finally showing some backbone, Captain. Hope it lasts,” the mayor scoffed.

Julian believed the mayor was still sore over his request for the mayor’s early retirement, but he didn’t care since the old fool had forced his hand. “Gentlemen.” He nodded. “We’ll meet under better circumstances,” he lied, truly hoping he’d never see them again.

***

“Look, son, you don’t want to do this.” Jax put his hands over his head. He could tell by the quiver in the uniform’s voice he was a rookie.

“Do what I say! Get down on your knees!”

His stomach clenched.

The cop was nervous. Jax wondered if his BOLO had been changed to armed and dangerous. He glanced over his shoulder. The kid looked young. Being shot execution style outside of one of Chicago’s biggest tourist spots did not appeal to him in the least.

“Do you have a weapon?” the kid asked.

“Inside pocket on the right.

“I want you to reach for it and hand it to me.”

“That’s not how it works,” He told him. He refused to aid the idiot in the cover up of his own death.

“I said do it!” the young cop yelled.

“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin, man. You’re just going to have to shoot me.” Jax could have sworn the safety had been released off the uniform’s gun, but that couldn’t be detected from this distance.

“You’re a dirty cop. This would be a clean shooting,” the rookie hissed. Obviously, he needed to pump himself up to do the deed.

“On my knees and in the back is the epitome of ‘not a clean shooting,’” he warned him.

“I would be a hero,” the rookie said, probably in an attempt to convince himself differently.

“FBI, son. Put down your weapon.”

Jax let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Army’s voice. He must have followed the cop to the trail. Not totally out of the woods yet, he tried not to get too hopeful.

“Put the gun down, kid, before you hurt yourself,” Army threatened.

“Watch it, Army, he’s nervous.”

“No, you put your gun down,” the uniform shouted back at Army..

Flashlights cut the darkness. Jax turned his head toward several FBI agents who stood behind Army. “If you shoot him, we shoot you. Does that clarify the situation?”