Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (37 page)

A few minutes later, Netter pulled over and stopped. I sat up and looked around. There was a set of railroad tracks fifty yards ahead. “This is good,” he said. Netter and Cox pulled the magazines from their nine millimeter pistols, verified they were loaded, and then shoved them back in. They both ratcheted the slide to insert a cartridge into the chamber.

“We’re about three blocks away here. Tucker, you stay in the car. And I mean it! I can’t take any chance somebody’s going to shoot you by mistake.”

“I have an idea,” I said. “What if go in alone and talk to him? Maybe I can get him to surrender peacefully.”

The two of them looked at me like I was from the dwarf planet known as Pluto.

“So you’re not even going to consider it?”

“Tell ya what, Tucker,” Cox said. “We’ll consider one of your suggestions when it’s not a stupid fuckin’ idea.” He looked at Netter and shook his head. “Jesus!”

Netter turned up the volume on the police radio. “You can listen to what’s happening. We have ten people, all plainclothes, coming in from different directions. We’re all miked, so you’ll be able to hear everything.” Then he looked me in the eye, dead serious. “I know he’s your brother, Tucker. We’ll do what we can, but I’m making no promises.”

I nodded my head in understanding.

Cox pointed out the side window. “There’s another fuckin’ storm comin’ in. We’re gonna get drenched.”

Netter looked at the darkening sky and nodded. “Looks like it.” He turned on his microphone. “This is Netter. Everyone in position?”

One by one, they replied.

“Let’s roll,” he said. The two of them got out and began walking down the street.

CHAPTER 55

Rumbles of thunder off in the distance were getting louder and closer. I waited impatiently, listening to faceless voices on the radio, as the officers worked themselves closer to the Auto Emporium parking lot.

A bright flash and a crack of thunder scared the bejeezus out of me. When I started breathing again, I looked up at the swirling black sky.
Thank you very much
!

Minutes stretched on like hours. Then chatter peppered the airwaves.

“I’m in. No visual.”

“In the back. No visual.”

“Parking lot. No visual.”

“East side. No visual here.”

I sat forward with my arms on the back of the front seat, staring at the radio, straining to hear. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and glanced up as a black hoodie walked toward me and stopped. Prescott!

The two of us froze, motionless, staring at each other. Then he took off and bolted to my left. I yanked Pure Reason from my holster and struggled to get out of the car. The fucking back doors were locked! I fumbled frantically and finally found the lock thumb release. I flipped it and almost fell out on my face.

By then, Prescott was almost a hundred yards away. I sprinted as fast as I could, following him over the railroad tracks and toward the Home Improvement Center where I’d picked up a garage door transmitter just a day earlier.

It was raining heavily, but I could clearly see him running along the side of the building, and then round a corner toward the back by the loading docks.

When I came around the back corner, I stopped and scanned the area, adrenalin surging. There was no sign of him. The entire loading area was surrounded by a fence that must have been at least ten feet high. No way could he have gotten over that fence in such a short time.

The only other place he could have gone was onto the loading docks.

The storm intensified, and flashes of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by earsplitting cracks of thunder. Violent winds drove torrential rain in a crazy angle as I climbed the eight steps up to the loading platform. I worked my way slowly toward the wall and inched my way deeper into the building.

A rocket of lightening, followed by an immediate crash of thunder, left me in the dark as the transformer that fed power to the area exploded. Seconds later, the emergency lights came on, but it was still too dark to suit me.

I pulled out my cell phone to call Netter—no bars. Fuck!

The cavernous loading docks were almost empty, and with each flash of lightening, I scanned the area for any sign of Prescott. I saw nothing. With my back against the wall and Pure Reason raised and pointed in front of me, I slowly made my way to the door that led to the warehouse portion of the building. As I entered, I could hear the faint rumbling sound of a freight train approaching.

I crept slowly up and down the towering warehouse aisles in a serpentine manner, looking for him. As I turned into Aisle 3, something crashed over me from behind, and I collapsed to my knees.

The impact had knocked Pure Reason from my hand, and I feverishly groped around on the floor to find it. C’mon, c’mon, I prayed, work with me here! When I turned behind me, I froze. A pair of feet was standing there.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and my life flashed before my eyes as I slowly looked up. It was Prescott—pointing Pure Reason at me with his right hand. Even in the dark, I could see what looked like old scarring around his wrist.

He wore dark jeans and black work boots and a blue work shirt of some kind under the black hoodie. Even with the hood up, I could see that his hair was now cut like mine. It was like looking into a mirror, but not exactly.

“Hello, Ben.” The sound of the train grew steadily louder as it came closer. “Stand up slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”

I did as I was told.

Prescott shook his head. “My god. This has been a dream come true. My life was nothing before I found you.” He paused and carefully studied my face. “And now
you’ve
found
me
.”

Paralyzed with fear, I finally found the strength to speak. “How did you get away from the police?”

“That first big burst of thunder. I looked outside to see how bad the storm was going to be … and I saw your buddy Netter walking up the street. He should really lose a few pounds. All that weight has to be bad for his heart.”

Prescott ran his left hand through his wet hair. “So how’s Officer Stanton? Did she get my flowers?” I looked confused. “Oh, I guess they didn’t tell you about that.”

“She’s out of the hospital and going to recover,” I said. “At least physically.”

“I’m glad. That just wasn’t supposed to happen. I have no ill will toward her. She seemed like a sweet kid.”

I took a deep, ragged breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. DNA analysis has proven that you and I are brothers—twins. Netter believes I was given up by our biological mother for money.”

He became agitated and shook the gun at me. “Don’t take me for an idiot! I know the two of us have a destiny,” a crazed look of anguish suddenly spread over his face, “but you’re not my brother!” He took a deep breath, and his face changed again, this time becoming calm, almost angelic. “Mother was my first.” He said. “It was wonderful.”

“Look,” I said. “This doesn’t have to end badly … for either of us. Come with me.  Surrender peacefully. I’ll see to it that you get the best defense attorney money can buy. And I’ll stand by you … I swear. Just put down the gun and come with me.”

The train was getting closer.

“I believe you, Ben. But no deal. I still have too much left to do … and then we’ll go together.” He listened. “You hear that train? That’s the four o’clock freight to Charlotte. It’s a slow mover, and I can jump on it.”

He looked at me and his face changed again, obsessed, merciless. “I’m on a divine mission, and there’s nothing … absolutely nothing that will stop me. It would take the intervention of almighty God. But I know you, and you won’t let me hop that train and finish what I have to do. That’s why I have to shoot you.”

The rumbling told me the train was almost here. I needed to make a move, but I had little chance.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I really don’t want to do this.” He began raising the gun. “Stand still. I’ll try not to kill you. Just stand still.”

The walls and the roof began shuddering violently, and Prescott glanced up at the ceiling. I lunged, grabbing his right wrist, and Pure Reason discharged to the side with a deafening blast. We struggled wildly, but Prescott was stronger, and he spun me around and pinned me against a rack loaded with electrical conduits.

The conduit’s jagged edge gouged Prescott’s hand, and he dropped Pure Reason. It hit the top of my foot and I kicked it away. I then stomped my foot down on his instep, and Prescott jerked over briefly in pain. But it was enough for me to plant my right foot, swing around, and land a crashing blow to the left side of his face. He fell backwards, struggling to get his balance. I lowered my shoulder, ran three steps, and rammed into him like a linebacker crashing through the line of scrimmage.

The momentum carried us both crashing into a pallet stacked with electrical junction boxes that rained down upon us. The two of us struggled wildly but managed to make it to our feet.

Suddenly, the entire building exploded. My body was lifted from the ground, the air sucked from my lungs—my body battered with debris.

CHAPTER 56

When I opened my eyes, cold water was dripping on my face. It was pitch black, and I was totally disoriented. But it was what was right in front of my face that terrified me—two glowing green eyes. It was an animal—a large beast of an animal, and I could feel its rasping, warm breath on my face.

I couldn’t move. My entire body was covered with debris, and there was sharp pain in my right leg. The looming animal barked. It was a dog—a
real
dog—a German Shepherd.

There were muffled voices, and then something pulled the dog away. A light blinded me, forcing me to close my eyes. The light washed back and forth over the area around me, and I was able to see a man’s face.

“Hang in there, buddy,” he said. “We’re gonna get you out of there.” He turned and shouted. “Over here! We found one!” Someone in the background said, “Good boy, Taz.”

Moments later, another face appeared through the opening in the debris pile. Netter. He blinded me with his flashlight and said, “Well, it’s one of ‘em, but I can’t tell if it’s Tucker or Prescott.” His face disappeared.

I screamed hoarsely out of the opening. “Hey! Where the hell are you going? Don’t leave me in here! Come back here dammit! You fuckin’ Judas!”

His head popped back into view, a big grin on his face. “Ah, quit your bitchin’! You’re alive, aren’t ya?” He turned to Frank Cox who was standing beside him. “It’s Tucker.”

It took almost two hours to shore up large pieces of debris before the rescue team could begin digging their way to me. It took another hour to clear a path big enough to allow paramedics to begin working.

They quickly checked my airway, breathing and circulation, and looked for any sign of heavy bleeding. One of them shined a small flashlight in each of my eyes to check the reaction of my pupils. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Benjamin Tucker.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“I haven’t got a fuckin’ clue.”

They checked my vitals. “Pulse 58 … low BP, 73 over 48 … temp 93.2 … he’s hypothermic.”

One of them inserted an IV and began infusing fluids while the other one examined me. “We have a compound fracture of the lower right leg. I think it’s the tibia.” He looked at me. “Mr. Tucker, this is probably going to hurt pretty bad. I’m going to give you an injection of morphine, and then we’ll apply a temporary splint to your leg.” I hated the thought of the morphine, but my leg already hurt like a son of a bitch, and now they were going to do something that was “probably going to hurt pretty bad”.

When they were done, they secured me to a long spine board and carried me out of my tomb.

Netter came over as they put me in the ambulance. He spoke to the medics as they covered me with blankets. “How is he?”

“Broken lower right leg, lots of minor scrapes and bruises, mild hypothermia. They’ll do a full examination at the hospital, and surgically set that leg, but I think he should be okay.

Netter stepped up into the ambulance and sat on the long bench seat to my left. He looked down at me and shook his head, astonished.

“What happened?” I asked. “It looks like a nuclear bomb went off.”

He pulled an unlit cigar out of his mouth. “You just survived an F3 tornado. It ripped the shit out of this area.” He put the cigar in his pocket. “We were lucky to be over at the Auto Emporium. For some reason, it missed the full brunt of the storm—only ended up with some broken windows. What the hell were you doing over here at the Improvement Center? If you were running away from the storm, you ran in the wrong fuckin’ direction.”

I told him about seeing Prescott, chasing him, and the aftermath.

“What? Prescott was over here?” Netter was dumbfounded. “So the bastard didn’t get away after all.” He looked out the open ambulance doors. “He’s probably under this mess somewhere.”

“Uh … he may also have my gun,” My eyes drooped, and my speech was beginning to slur.

“Well, it won’t do him any good now,” Netter said.

He patted me on the shoulder and told me he’d see me later. We took off as soon as he stepped down out of the ambulance.

It was shortly before ten o’clock that night when we arrived at WakeMed Hospital in Cary. Even under a pile of blankets, I was shivering uncontrollably. After removing my wet clothing, the medical team stuck hot water bottles in my armpits and groin and covered me with an electric warming blanket. Fortunately, x-rays showed no other skeletal injuries beyond my right leg.

Two hours later, my temperature had normalized, and I was sent to surgery to have my leg set. When I opened my eyes, it was morning. The first thing that came into focus was a purple flowered cowboy boot. Amanda Jane was sitting sideways on a beige sofa under a window with her feet crossed. The blinds were only open a crack, but I could see my daughter’s beautiful long blond hair pulled to the side in a ponytail and her innocent, young face.