Ash Reckoning

by Samson Weld

  But now, Carpenter had killed his brother before his eyes. He’d broken Dale’s neck!

  Ash ducked down in his seat when Carpenter stepped outside, looking all around. Then he pulled out a phone and typed something in for a moment before vanishing back inside. A moment later, two other men came out of neighboring rooms and loaded stuff into the back of the Chevy Tahoe.

  When they returned to their rooms, Ash started his car and headed across the street.

  Picking up his phone, Ash pulled up the phone book and Bellucci’s cell number. It began to ring as he put it on speaker.

  “Hello, Bellucci here,” she answered. “What do you want, Ash? I don’t really have the time or patience right now.”

  He quirked a brow. Really?

  “I’m just giving you a heads up, my friend,” Ash said. “Joel Steinberg hired assassins to kill me. I think they just killed my brother. Now I’m going to kill them.”

  She didn’t answer right away.

  “Don’t.” She sounded exasperated, stressed. “I’m dealing with something right now. A suspect killed Boone.”

  Ash’s blood ran cold. First Deanna, then Dale. Now Boone was dead? Everyone he knew was dropping like flies.

  “I’m sorry. He was a good man.”

  “I know.”

  “The suspect?” Ash asked. “Did you catch him?”

  Again, that long hesitation. “I killed him.”

  He nodded. There was something in her voice that he understood. She hated what she’d done, but she was glad she’d done it. It was the right thing to do.

  “I understand. Don’t worry about me. I’m not asking for help,” he said. “I’m just letting you know that I’m dealing with the situation.”

  She didn’t answer right away. He braced himself for her coming arguments against vigilantism.

  “Fine,” she said. He did a double take on the phone.

  Bellucci ended the call.

  He fetched all his toys and had them piled up in the passenger seat. The Heckler & Koch MP5 sat on top. He picked up the MP5 as soon as he crossed the street and entered the motel’s parking lot. All windows were rolled down. Ash pulled into a parking spot facing their rooms.

  Then with the MP5 in hand, the AR-15 across his back, and the Glock in his pocket, Ash headed for what he supposed was Steinberg’s room. He didn’t bother checking to see if the door was locked or not.

  He kicked the door in.

  Die, motherfuckers!

  He opened fire. Ash sprayed the motel room, full auto. He emptied a thirty-round magazine and reloaded. Carpenter’s head popped out from behind the bathroom wall and returned fire, forcing Ash to dive for cover.

  Hearing running feet outside the door, Ash turned and sprayed the door and walls to either side. He smiled at the curses it elicited.

  “Steinberg! Carpenter! Crenshaw!” he shouted. “I know who and what you are. The police know, too. You better pray they get to you before I do. But it doesn’t look good for you right now.”

  Ash emptied that magazine into the room. When he stopped to reload, Carpenter broke cover and slammed hard into the door to the adjoining room. The jamb splintered and Steinberg raced through behind the mercenary before Ash had time to reload his weapon. So Ash opened fire, spraying the wall between the room with another full magazine.

  Crashing sounds filled the air, coming from all directions, including the floor above. Men shouted in the next room, and outside. He heard the Tahoe’s engine turn over. A quick glance through the open door found Crenshaw in the driver’s seat.

  Ash took aim, but a dark shape charged inside. A big man with dark, slicked back hair dove through the door and then rolled up onto one knee. They faced each other, weapons trained on the other, fingers on triggers.

  Throwing himself backwards, Ash avoided death by a fraction of a second. He rolled up beside the bed, laying the MP5 on top of it and opening fire on his enemy. The other man’s weapon locked back, empty. Ash recognized that too familiar sound.

  That’s when he heard the Tahoe race away.

  “Son of a bitch!” Ash screamed.

  He leapt over the bed and charged the other man. Ash reached him just as he got another magazine loaded, but before he could chamber a round.

  A roundhouse to the head left the man sprawled on the floor, barely conscious. Ash yanked his weapon away, throwing it across the room. And then he kicked him in the ribs to get his attention.

  “Where is Carpenter taking Steinberg?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Without missing a beat, Ash shot him in the left thigh.

  The mercenary screamed and cursed. Ash waited impatiently for him to get a grip on his pain. Then he asked again. The mercenary just glared murderously.

  “Is this the hill you want to die on?” Ash asked, pulling his Glock and aiming at the other man’s forehead. “Is it?”

  “Airport,” he said.

  “Which one?”

  “Alliance, north of Fort Worth.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ash said. He started back toward the door. “Now you get to live long enough for the cops to get here and arrest you.”

  The second Ash lowered the pistol, the other man reached behind his back. Ash dropped into a crouch as he released the Glock and pulled the MP5 back around to threaten his opponent

  The idiot continued to swing his pistol around toward Ash so he had to open fire. Two five-round bursts into the mercenary’s chest and head ended the threat.

  “I guess it was the hill you wanted to die on.”

  Ash ran back out to his car. He heard horns and screeching tires to the north. He tossed his weapons onto the passenger seat and took off after Steinberg’s vehicle. Traffic was light and his Mustang was fast. Ash felt confident he’d catch up.

  They opened fire on him the second Ash caught up with them on the street.

  Chapter 44

  The room remained quiet. Subdued. It was as if everyone was afraid to speak normally. Bellucci sat at her desk, staring morosely at her monitor. Detectives Paul Tran and Gerald Kilgore sat next to her.

  Boone wasn’t even her partner. She barely knew him, in fact. Yet, his death hurt. He’d been a good man. Struck down by a man gone mad.

  Of course, her killing of his murderer put her in a predicament every cop dreaded. She’d killed someone in the line of duty so she was waiting for Captain Perot to put her on administrative leave pending investigation. With pay, but it wouldn’t be any vacation for any of them.

  “I guess you can tie up the loose ends of the home invader case,” Bellucci said. “I’ll finish writing up my report before I leave.”

  The prospect of writing her report made her brain want to shut down. She’d have to write about Boone murder. She didn’t want to think about it, much less write it down. It seemed like he deserved more than that.

  But the paperwork had to be done. Heck, if she failed to write it up immediately, internal investigators might take that as trying to hide something.

  “We got it, Bellucci,” Paul said. He stood and patted her shoulder. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  All she could do was grunt noncommittally.

  Once they returned to their desks, she sucked it up and started typing. The report had to be done and waiting wouldn’t make it easier. About halfway into it, she noticed the Captain returning. He glanced at her and then went into his office. He didn’t look happy.

  Good. Nobody should be happy.

  “Not again,” someone said.

  She looked up. People were starting to gather around the TV mounted on the wall. There was a car chase going on, captured by a local TV station’s traffic helicopter. But it wasn’t a normal chase. No cops were involved. Not yet.

  “They’re shooting at each other,” Tucker said with something that was almost awe. “Dallas is turning into the Wild West again.”

  The last high-speed gun battle had involved Ash Wexler. Bellucci hurried over to watch with the rest of them.


  “Are they in Dallas?” she asked.

  “No. Mid-Cities,” Tucker said. “Heading toward North Fort Worth.”

  The traffic helicopter zoomed in on the Tahoe in front. Two men were leaning out the windows and firing at the car chasing them. The camera moved back to the other vehicle. A Mustang. Didn’t Ash drive a Mustang now?

  Her heart started racing. His call. She’d been distracted, upset about Boone’s death. Bellucci felt her face heating up. She should’ve paid more attention. She shouldn’t have blown him off like that.

  Oh my god, Ash said something about taking care of the problem. I kinda gave my blessing. Is this how he’s doing it?

  She hurried back to her desk, pulling up a map of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex. From their location, and from the TV stations description of their route so far, it looked like they were heading toward Fort Worth’s Alliance Airport. That’s a favorite airport for hotshots with private jets.

  Bellucci grabbed her purse and keys. She had to get over there before they put her on administrative leave. Ash might need her help.

  It was the only way to keep him alive.

  Chapter 45

  Three bullets struck Ash’s windshield in quick succession.

  For all the shots they were taking at him, very few actual hit his car. For that reason, Ash had stopped shooting at them. They had to stop sooner or later, no?

  And then…

  Crenshaw hit the brakes. Ash had to slam on his brakes to avoid a collision. Suddenly, the Tahoe’s backup lights came on.

  “Shit.” Ash spun the wheel, put it in reverse, and then hit the gas.

  He floored it. The Tahoe surged at him in reverse while Ash’s Mustang leapt backward to veer sharply right. The Tahoe whipped past him as Carpenter opened up with full-auto as they passed by.

  Ash’s windshield was left a bullet-ridden mess, almost impossible to see through. Having no choice, Ash shifted to the side, leaned back and kicked the windshield over and over until it broke loose and fell upon the hood.

  He grabbed the AR-15 and leaned it against the dash. Within easy reach and ready to rock and roll. The Tahoe spun around at the intersection at the same time and took off down a different street.

  Ash put his car in gear, lifted his foot off the brake… and stopped.

  All of the sirens registered. They were coming from every direction. Before long, the first police car sped by, followed by two more. When his eyes tracked them around the corner after Carpenter and Steinberg, he spotted three more coming up behind the other direction.

  Damn. Every cop within a hundred miles was coming to play.

  He noticed Dallas, Keller, Sherriff, and Highway Patrol cars. And one he didn’t catch the city name on the side. He hesitated.

  I’d never get to them with all those cops in the way, he concluded. Ash used his phone to access the web and found the chase broadcasted live from a local TV station. There was a helicopter up there, too?

  He looked all around and finally spotted the helicopter circling above. He could follow at a distance using the chopper as his beacon. Better yet, he could use their live coverage for his benefit.

  He watched a few minutes. The traffic reporter in the helicopter started shouting excitedly. Something was happening.

  Carpenter could be seen leaning out the window and firing at the cops with an automatic weapon. Police cars rolled to a stop, one by one, with smoke coming out of their engine compartments. One swung left and crashed into another. Yet, more police cars joined the chase.

  I’m not sure Steinberg’s billions can get him out of this.

  The cops had forced the Tahoe westward, but they were still trying to head for the airport. Did Steinberg honestly think they would allow his jet to take off?

  The prospect of them reaching the jet caught in Ash’s craw. If they reached the jet, what exactly could the cops do to stop them from taking off? Worse, he knew that Mexico was just a few hundred miles to the southwest.

  If Steinberg reached Mexican airspace, he’d be a free man. A fugitive, but still incredibly rich and able to live a great life, with enough money to guarantee his protection.

  Not on my watch, Ash thought.

  Pulling back out into the street, Ash turned right. Back toward the airport.

  Chapter 46

  Ash didn’t know much about Alliance Airport other than it was about fifteen miles north of downtown Fort Worth and right off I-35W.

  He passed under I-35W, heading west. The tall chain-link fence alerted Ash that he’d found the airport. All he saw were open fields with a paved strip down the middle. Then he noticed the infrastructure of an airport, such as runway lighting and weather conditions installations.

  He followed Heritage Parkway south until he saw hangars and other structures. FedEx had a large footprint out there. And soon he found lots and lots of private aircraft up to rather large private jets. That’s when he realized that he had no way of knowing which jet belonged to Steinberg. His name wasn’t stenciled on any aircraft that he could see.

  He checked his phone for the chase coverage. Almost here, but exactly where are you heading, Steinberg?

  The helicopter coverage gave Ash a bird’s eye view of the area. With that, he made a guess and headed to his right. If he could crash into Steinberg’s Tahoe, the police would capture him. No matter what, he couldn’t allow them to board a plane and escape.

  “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” the reporter cried. “Did you see that? They drove through the fence and are now on the airport grounds.”

  Ash checked the screen. He made out the Tahoe driving across an open field before getting up on the runway. That really got the reporter worked up. There was a sleek jet preparing to take off on that very runway.

  They’re going to get away, he thought after spotting nearby hangars and a handful of private jets arrayed before the hangars. One of them was most likely waiting for Steinberg.

  Turning off the street, Ash smashed through the fence. He floored it, tearing up turf as he sped toward the hangars and planes in question. When he reached the taxiway, the Mustang took off like a bullet.

  Locating a Gulfstream with the stairs pulled down, he veered toward it. The jet waited just out front of an open hangar. Ground crew were just finishing up refueling. This had to be Steinberg’s ride to freedom.

  Right then, Ash recognized the Tahoe coming in fast from the other direction. In any case, there were no cops anywhere to be seen. He checked his phone, noting the cops were all still outside of the airport.

  “Not going to happen,” Ash mumbled, turning into an intercept course. Won’t they be surprised to see me!

  He watched the Tahoe slow, and then stop near the aircraft. Ash sucked in a breath, braced himself, and plowed into the Tahoe. T-boned it.

  All Ash knew was a loud BOOM. A gut-wrenching jolt, and then everything was spinning. The Mustang flipped. Several times. When it finally came to rest, he found himself upside down.

  Oh man, that hurt.

  Looking around, Ash realized that he was still held in place by the seatbelts. The airbags all deployed and had saved his life. Other than a few rather intense aches and pains, he was okay. Nothing broken.

  His weapons were all over the place, both inside and outside the car. The AR-15 was the only one close at hand, laying on the tarmac just outside the driver side window.

  Ash released his seatbelt and crashed headfirst to the ground. Quickly crawling out, he snatched up the AR-15. A quick search found one spare magazine.

  That was exactly when someone opened fire on him. Automatic fire.

  Shit!

  Ducking behind his car, Ash searched out his attacker. Crenshaw.

  The idiot stood in front of the Tahoe, assault rifle in hand and covered in blood. He looked pissed. Enraged.

  Ash assessed the situation. The crash had sent the Chevy truck rolling into the hangar. The engine was smoking and fluids were oozing out. Radiator fluid, or gasoline? He noted a line of liquid flowi
ng out of the hangar and toward the jet. The ground crew was shouting as they ran away.

  We’re all going to get blown to hell today.

  Then Carpenter began firing from behind the Tahoe. That snapped Ash back and he returned fire.

  The upside down car didn’t provide much cover so he ran toward better cover. Running zigzag, he raced across the tarmac as bullets flew all around him. He returned fire the entire way, emptying his magazine, and finally reached the side of the hangar.

  Ratta-tat-tat-tat! Carpenter emptied a magazine at him. Click.

  Ash heard Carpenter’s weapon lock back. Empty. He didn’t hear the familiar sound of ejecting the magazine and slamming a new one in. Was he out of ammo? Maybe, but not Crenshaw. He emptied his magazine and reloaded.

  Ash reloaded at the same time.

  Screw you, Ash thought.

  He took careful aim and squeezed off two short bursts. He hit Crenshaw in the chest, and then the head. Gotcha. Go to hell where you belong.

  “Get me out of here, Carpenter!” Steinberg screamed. “I smell gas!”

  That’s all Ash needed to hear. He charged the Tahoe, firing short bursts into the side of the SUV. All he needed was a single spark. In the movies, every bullet strike on a vehicle caused a spark. He got nothing.

  “I’m going to burn you alive, Steinberg!” he shouted. “You’re going to pay for murdering my family and Deanna!”

  Steinberg panicked. “Carpenter! Help me!”

  Carpenter wasn’t going to help him. He was out of ammo. Ash felt a thrill. Both of them would pay for their crimes with their lives. The sirens were still off in the middle distance so he had time.

  And then he ran out of ammo.

  Chapter 47

  “Out of my way!” Bellucci screamed.

  Two cars drove side by side on the freeway. She pulled up close to the car in the “fast” lane, the left lane, and turned on her lights and siren. The person hit the brakes, slowed, and then pulled over to the right. She cursed under her breath and went straight, flooring the pedal.