The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  A third crash sounded immediately on the heels of the second, and I felt the car lift upward on its side as sheet metal folded and groaned in protest.

  Over the din, I heard Constance scream, “Goddammit!”

  I knew it couldn’t be good if she was using expletives. I threw my other arm over my wife, covering her face as Mandalay’s unsecured cell phone flew over the back of the seat and ricocheted from my forehead. The tires were slipping across the icy pavement, making the vehicle jump and jerk as their surfaces would randomly achieve some modicum of traction, only to lose it in almost the same instant. I was expecting to roll at any moment and braced myself as best I could.

  The unmistakable sound of glass shattering ripped through the air, but I couldn’t identify where it was coming from. I stayed low in the seat and held tight to Felicity as the sedan thudded back down onto all four wheels, jolting us hard when it bounced.

  Momentum carried us along, and I could feel that we were still languidly spinning. As we came upon the halfway point, we found ourselves sliding backward down the highway, headlamps from now oncoming vehicles casting harsh shadows within the cabin.

  A new crash sounded in the near distance, and I pushed my head up to peer out the window just in time to see a newly involved vehicle fishtail into the passenger side of our car then bounce away into another.

  We were thrown to the other side of the car, and my hip impacted heavily against the door handle. Felicity’s body crushed against mine, and the air forced its way out of my lungs in a guttural huff.

  The insane screech of metal on metal continued to underscore every other noise as horns blared into the cold night. I felt another thud, lighter this time, but still enough to propel me back into the seat and toss me upward. My arm was ripped away from Felicity, and her body followed mine as we both returned to sitting positions.

  We were still skidding backward, and I looked forward to see blue halogen headlights filling the windshield. Before I could catch my breath, yet another vehicle joined the insanity by marrying itself with great purpose to the front end of ours. I snapped backward amid the deafening crunch, watching with detached interest as the interior filled with a hazy fog, and the windshield was instantly obscured by the deploying airbags.

  * * * * *

  I didn’t black out. At least I don’t think I did. Still, I couldn’t begin to tell you how much time passed or what actually transpired between this moment in time and my last clear recollection, which was the white fabric of the airbags filling my field of vision.

  The shrill cacophony of a car horn was insinuating itself into the mix of other sounds, effectively pushing everything else into the background.

  I opened my eyes and saw that I was pitched forward, almost doubled over, and now staring at the floorboard. I put my hand against the back of the seat in front of me and pushed, levering myself into an upright position. I could feel someone moving next to me and turned to find Felicity pushing herself up as well. I could tell by the way she was moving that she was completely disoriented.

  She began reaching toward the passenger side of the vehicle as she cried out for me, “Rowan!”

  I slipped my hand over to her, and she jerked toward me the moment I touched her leg. She quickly shifted direction and grabbed for me, struggling against the center passenger lap belt that still encircled her waist. Her lower lip was bleeding, and there was a gash over her right eye, but she seemed to be coherent and moving okay.

  “Are you all right?” I shouted over the din of the vehicle’s horn.

  “Aye, yes, I’m okay,” she cried. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I reassured her.

  “Felicity! Rowan!” Ben’s voice cut through the noise.

  I looked up to see him reaching across the back of the seat. His nose was bloodied, and he seemed to be favoring his right hand. Looking past him, I could see a spidery, circular shatter point on the windshield that looked like it would just about fit his large fist.

  “Ben!”

  “Are you two okay?” he screamed.

  “Yeah, I think so. You?” I shouted back.

  “I think my fuckin’ hand is broke,” he returned. “Mandalay’s unconscious. I think she’s hurt bad.”

  “Oh Gods!” Felicity exclaimed as she continued to struggle with the lap belt. “Is she breathing okay?!”

  “Yeah, I think so!” he yelled.

  “Don’t move her,” Felicity called back to him.

  “I know, Felicity, I know!” he returned. “Can you two get out?!”

  “I don’t know,” I yelled back at him.

  I sent my hands in search of the latch on my own safety harness and managed to thrust my knuckles into it hard enough to make it pop free. Taking hold of the door handle, I pulled it up and pushed. The door gave outward slightly, but other than that, it didn’t really budge.

  Looking out the window, I could see that the side of the vehicle was caved inward at the center structural pylon. I looked over at Felicity. “Honey, can you move over a bit!”

  I was shouting to be heard over the blaring horn, but mid-sentence, there was a dull pop as a shower of sparks exploded from the front of the car. The lights flickered and went black. The horn warbled sickeningly then faded to silence. The last half of my sentence resounded through the cabin, breaking the new found calm.

  Felicity shifted as far as she could to the opposite side of the vehicle, and I scooted with her. Twisting in the seat, I drew my legs up and lay back with my head almost in her lap. I pushed my right hand against the back of the front seat and then levered my left elbow into the other for support. Pistoning my legs with everything I had, I kicked hard against the door. It bounced outward a few inches and then sprung back against me.

  I could hear the pained groan of metal from the front of the vehicle, and the ambient noise of the exterior burst inward along with a healthy blast of cold air. I kicked outward again, and the rear door creaked as it pushed open a few inches farther and remained there this time.

  I sucked in a deep breath of chilly air and tensed all my muscles as I continued levering pressure against the mangled door. As I groaned, I looked up through the window and saw Ben with his shoulder wedged into the scant opening as he joined me in muscling it wider.

  The sheet metal complained loudly, and the hinge popped out audible complaints as the door started to move. I closed my eyes and forced out a guttural scream as I sent everything I had into my legs and pushed. The sound started slowly, creaking through a low pitch, rising along the way until it burst forth as a loud crunch. My legs pistoned outward against nothingness as the door popped past the sticking point and flung open.

  Ben’s torso was already through the opening, and his good hand was extended toward me. I released my grip on the seats and took hold of the offered appendage. With a smooth pull, he slid me out the opening and up to my feet. As I stepped forward I turned, but he was already tucked back inside in the process of extracting Felicity in the same manner.

  “Is everyone okay here?” A voice met my ears, and I looked back around to find a uniformed city police officer staring back at me, detached concern in his eyes.

  Over his shoulder, I could see two patrol cars parked in the near westbound lanes on the opposite side of the concrete barrier. The emergency lights on the vehicles were flickering madly, and passersby were already slowing to gawk.

  “The driver is hurt,” I declared in answer. “She’s unconscious.”

  The officer nodded as he looked over my shoulder at Ben and Felicity. I noticed that his arm moved almost instantly, and his hand rested on his firearm. I glanced back and saw that my friend’s jacket was pushed back, revealing the grip of his Beretta peeking out of its snug home in his shoulder holster.

  “I’m a cop,” Ben told him, taking immediate notice of his posture. “Detective Storm. My shield’s on my belt.”

  Ben moved his left hand slowly across and pushed back his jacket to reveal his badge. Th
e uniformed officer relaxed noticeably and shifted his hand away from his weapon. As soon as the immediate tension faded, Felicity stepped forward and took hold of my arm.

  “The driver of this vehicle is injured, and she is an FBI agent,” Ben added, shifting without hesitation into his professional mode.

  The uniformed officer immediately keyed up his radio and began speaking. “Dispatch, Unit Twenty-seven,”

  “Twenty-seven, go ahead,” came the static-plagued response.

  “Dispatch, Unit Twenty-seven, ten seventy-two multiple vehicle accident with injuries on Interstate Forty-Four just west of Exit Two Eighty-eight. I have a federal officer down, over.”

  The speaker hissed again. “Twenty-seven, repeat officer down, over.”

  “Dispatch, Twenty-seven. Driver of involved vehicle is unconscious. Has been identified as FBI. One passenger identified as Detective Storm with homicide. He’s injured but conscious and lucid, over.”

  “Twenty-seven, dispatch, rolling paramedics your location, over.”

  “Ten-four, dispatch.”

  I was rattled. It took a moment for me to realize that I was just standing there staring at the scene around me. I counted a total of five cars resting askew across the eastbound lanes of the highway. Mandalay’s vehicle sat at the center of a small cluster of three that comprised the crux of the accident. The other two were spread out like billiard balls, one canted against the center median, the other was farther back and pointing into the oncoming traffic.

  To my left, another officer was igniting flares and tossing them to the pavement at various intervals to create a cordoned area. I glanced around and saw that the occupants of the other vehicles seemed to be in far better shape than us.

  “Rowan?” Felicity’s voice called to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, honey, yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You’re staring off into space, then,” she pressed. “Did you hit your head?”

  “No, really, I’m okay,” I said as I brushed her hair back from her face and gently touched her forehead. “How about you? You’ve got a pretty nasty cut over your eye. Looks like you’re the one who hit her head.”

  “Aye, I’m okay. I’m worried about Constance though.”

  I nodded. “Me too.”

  I heard an electronic peal dance through the air, growing louder with each note and noticed Ben struggling to pull his cell phone from his belt with his left hand. By the time the device started into its next chorus, he had managed to snatch it up and thumb it on.

  “Yeah, Storm here,” he said, then waited a moment. “Yeah, well excuse me for not hearin’ it. Uh-huh… Well that would be because somebody decided to hit us. Yeah… Uh-huh… Yeah, as in car wreck. Yeah, fuckin’ totaled. Yeah, I’m busted up and Mandalay’s hurt pretty bad but they’re okay. A little rattled but okay. Yeah… Uh-huh…”

  I was just turning to watch the officer who was checking on Constance when I heard my friend bellow, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me! Awww, Jeezus! There’s no way in hell I can get him there that fast!”

  CHAPTER 32:

  “Hell yes I know it’s only four miles,” Ben barked into the cell phone. “If the fuckin’ highway was open… Yeah, exactly. Uh-huh… There’s a pileup at Jefferson too. Yeah, we’re at Grand and Forty-Four, just west of the exit ramp. Yeah, can’t miss it, there’s a big friggin’ pile of cars and enough flares down to decorate my birthday cake… Yeah, we’ll be waitin’. Bye.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked him as he made a few clumsy attempts to hook the phone back onto his belt then aborted the task and shoved it into the first available pocket he could find on his jacket.

  “You were right, white man,” he confessed. “Porter went off the deep end.”

  My stomach fell. I had almost forgotten why I was even out here in this mess to start with.

  Felicity tensed against me and muttered, “Oh no…”

  “He didn’t?” I asked, leaving the subject of the question a solid implication rather than a spoken reality.

  “No. He hasn’t done anything yet that they know of, but he’s making the threats.” He spilled the details. “They thought they had him under control after they cut the line, but he escalated all of a sudden, and they haven’t been able to talk ‘im back down.”

  Car horns were randomly sounding from the growing sea of impatient drivers, adding punctuation to the blend of noises issuing from running engines and passing vehicles. Police radios scratched out communications in bursts of intermingled words and semi-cryptic ten-codes to keep the officers updated on the ETA of the paramedics, fire/rescue, and countless other things.

  Looking past Ben and back down the highway, I could see flickering red lights in the distance. Far off sirens warbled and provided a high-pitched background for the occasional burp of an air horn.

  “I hate to say…” I started.

  “…I told you so, yeah, I know.” He nodded his head vigorously as he finished the sentence for me. “Better just keep that observation to yourself, Row.”

  “Yeah, I will,” I agreed. “So what are they doing?”

  He continued his explanation. “They haven’t gone in because they still don’t know where he’s holed up in there. But he’s keepin’ tabs on them somehow ‘cause he knows what’s goin’ on every time they make a move, no matter which side of the building they go for. They’re thinkin’ he’s gotta have a police band radio or a portable scanner. Something like that.”

  To my back, there was a droning hum that continued to grow louder by the second, throwing itself into the chaotic fray of sounds against an underscore of echoing thumps. It was the familiar sound of a helicopter. In the back of my mind, I wondered whose it was. It seemed too soon for an air ambulance, and I wasn’t sure the media would even bother responding to the pileup considering the drama that was playing out on the riverfront.

  “Great,” I muttered with heavy sarcasm.

  “Tell me about it.” He nodded as he raised his voice against the growing din. “Anyway, about fifteen minutes ago he started demanding that they bring you to the scene. Since you were already on the way, they had no problem consenting even though it was going to be on their terms.”

  “Aye, that’s about when Constance got that call,” Felicity interjected.

  “Yeah, exactly,” Ben said. “And right when we got nailed.”

  “So can’t they just tell him that I’m still on the way?”

  He shook his head. “They’ve played that out. It’s not workin’ anymore. He finally hit ‘em with an ultimatum. Says if he doesn’t see you in front of the building in ten minutes, he’s killing Sullivan, and that…” He paused and glanced at his watch. “…Was about three minutes ago.”

  A heavy rush of icy wind whipped around us, lifting a cloud of loose snow and causing me to squint as my eyes watered.

  “Ten… Seven minutes?!” I yelped, forcing my voice upward to compete with the sound of the helicopter overhead. “There’s no way…”

  “Can you fly?” Ben shouted.

  “Ben!” I returned. “This is no time for joking around. You know damn well that whole thing about Witches is just a myth!”

  “No! I mean do you have any problems with flying?” He bellowed over the roar as he took hold of my shoulder and urged me to turn. “Cause right there’s your fuckin’ broom!”

  The machine-fabricated vortex bit into my face as I twisted around, forcing me to cock my head down and to the side. My ears were filled with an inescapable roar as I watched a Bell JetRanger hurriedly touching down on the pavement a little better than thirty yards away.

  “We’ve got five minutes,” Ben yelled into my ear. “They’ll have us there in two!”

  “What about Constance?!” I screamed back at him.

  “The paramedics will be here any minute!” he returned.

  “Aye,” Felicity’s voice rose in my other ear. “I’ll stay with Constance, then. You go!”

  I snapped my head around to lo
ok at her. “Are you sure?!”

  She nodded with a quick flourish, eyes glistening and her hair whipping about in fiery tangles. “Aye, but damn you, Rowan Linden Gant, you come back to me!”

  I felt like I was stuck in the middle of the year’s biggest box-office thriller. The script was moving forward at a frenzied pace, and we had now arrived at the ultimate stage of climactic melodrama. The point where, just before he rides off to save the world, the hero bares his soul to the gorgeous actress who is playing the part of the love interest.

  Had I not been in the middle of it, I think I would have been forced to laugh at just how contrived it all seemed. Instead, I threw my arms around her and squeezed, burying my face against her neck beneath a cloud of spiraling auburn. I didn’t know for sure what was ahead of me, but I knew that something still felt very wrong. I didn’t really want to make a promise that I might very well be about to break.

  I suddenly found myself hating the Lord and Lady for putting me in this position, despising them for what had been heaped upon me so unceremoniously in the past two plus years. I knew that I was rushing headlong toward a choice that no one should ever be forced to make. Moreover, with knowing that an innocent life was inexorably linked to my actions, there was no escape for me.

  I had no idea what I had done to bring about this amount of horror as a payback, but I was rapidly approaching a crisis of faith.

  I choked back a lump in my throat and spoke directly into my wife’s ear, mimicking her penchant for using my full name whenever she wanted to drive her point home. “Remember that I love you more than anything, Felicity Caitlin O’Brien.”

  “Come on, Rowan!” Ben was screaming at me. “We gotta go now!”

  I barely managed to kiss her as my friend manhandled me away, pushing me toward the waiting helicopter. “I’ll bring him back, Felicity!” he screamed to her as we started to jog. “Promise!”

  The frigid gale slapped us about, plastering any bit of loose clothing directly to skin and forcing its way through. We broke into a half run as we hunched over, our bodies almost involuntarily seeking escape from the driving force that beat down upon us as we entered the circular envelope of the spinning blades.