"You got good places?" Kertzman asked.
"A few."
Kertzman couldn't help himself.
"Up north?" he asked.
Laughing, Gage fixed on him.
"OK," said Kertzman. "But you need to be careful. Your whole plan rests on staying low."
"That's the easy part," said Gage. "It's the easiest thing in the world to stay hidden." Then his voice assumed a bitter tone. "I just hope I never have any reason to come back."
Kertzman took another sip of coffee. Finally, he removed a Marlboro from the pack in his jacket, lit it. Pensively, he exhaled a long stream of smoke, looking curiously at Gage. "How come you're doing all this?" he asked tiredly. "I mean, it seems like it's for something more than old Father Simon. I don't know why, really. It just seems that way."
Gage looked at the wall, his face pale and fatigued. "It's hard to put into words, Kertzman. I'm trying to find something. Maybe I just want to find a balance, somehow, with some things that are out there. Get clear of some things I can't ever forget.” A pause. “Maybe I just want to put some old ghosts to rest. Make peace with them."
Kertzman waited calmly. He didn't need to ask questions. Too much time with broken soldiers and broken cops had long ago conditioned him to guilt and madness and the pain of old sins. Slowly he sent two long, lazy spirals of smoke floating up from his nostrils, expelled with a meditative breath.
"Things are coming around, old son," Gage added after a moment. "You want to know why I'm doing this. Part of it is because of Simon. That's for sure. And it's for Sarah. But there's something more." He exhaled deeply. "You know, I'm different than I was, Kertzman. I was a bad person. Didn't believe in anything, really. But I learned from Simon. He taught me how to believe, how to live. Still, I remember what I used to be. And sometimes it's hard to live with."
"Yeah." Kertzman nodded, compassion in his voice of granite and stone. "I know the feeling. We all got ghosts, kid."
Gage hung his head for a moment, concentrating. Kertzman knew he was trying to find words to capture what he truly felt. Then he leaned back against the wall, stared distantly at the ceiling. His voice was haunted.
"There's probably something else," he said quietly.
Kertzman was struck by the solemnity of the tone. "What's that?" he asked.
Gage closed his eyes. "A debt."
"A debt?" growled Kertzman. "To Father Simon?"
"No." Gage shook his head.
"To who?"
Gage opened his eyes, shrugged. "I've felt it for a long time. There's something I've got to make right, partner. Maybe to myself. Maybe to the world. I don't know. But I've got a debt to pay." He paused. "I know it. I can feel it."
He waited so long Kertzman thought he was finished.
"There's something waiting for me out there, Kertzman. Has been for a long time. I did some things, and now the consequences are out there. I created it, set it in motion. And now it's come home to me like a debt I have to pay."
Gage became suddenly quiet, as if the words had unexpectedly captured something, had unexpectedly agreed with something inside his own mind. He seemed solemn, serious, faintly satisfied.
Hulking and unmoving, Kertzman blinked. His eyes were focused as he rumbled, "Out in South Dakota we call that 'a reckoning.'"
Gage seemed to consider it. "A reckoning?" he repeated quietly. "A reckoning." He hesitated, eyes slightly widened. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"So I know what you mean," Kertzman said, after a moment. "But I think that it's gonna cost you. Might cost you a lot."
Gage shifted uncomfortably. "No other way, Kertzman. I was called to this, in a way. I guess you could say it was meant to be. And I'm not going to lay down this time. And they're not going to quit. If I die, I'll know it was right. And if I live, somehow I'll know that I'm clear, at least inside myself. I'll know that I faced up to something that has followed me for years. I won't have it over me, anymore." He nodded quietly. "And that's enough. To live or die with. It'll be enough."
Agreeing, Kertzman leaned back. He noticed the building was warmer, warmed by the late-morning sun. Suddenly the faint aroma of something old, moldering and stagnant, was in his nostrils. The cigarette had burned down, forgotten, in his hand. Sniffing, he stubbed it out.
Absently, he scratched his right arm. The wound, and a large area of his forearm, felt numb, but not from painkillers. It felt permanently numb, like he had received a shot of Novocain directly into the incision. He knew that the nerve damage would be slow healing, if it healed at all.
Tenderly, Kertzman flexed his injured right hand, felt the tendons where they were sewn together; a dull, tightening fire of pain. He released the tension, resting a moment. Then he flexed his left hand, simply for the primitive pleasure of it, feeling the strength, thick rough fingers folding against a calloused hand with a broad thumb laid across; a sledgehammer fist, massive knuckles leading beneath weathered, scarred skin. He stared at the fist, squeezed it tight, holding its force with the strength of a hulking forearm and bicep. Owning it.
His mind turned away.
"Tonight," he rumbled. "Is the Japanese gonna be there?"
Gage was watching it all.
"Yeah," he replied. "He's gonna be there."
Kertzman nodded, frowning.
"Good," he said somberly. "I'd like a piece of him."
Brutal head bending, he looked across, fist relaxing to rest lightly on his bandaged forearm.
"Just a piece."
*
FIFTY-ONE
A shadowed wind carried cries of distant hounds through the night; hot, hunting beneath a cold moon. There was a scent of rain, the feel of thunder in the air.
Gage glanced up at the sky, then frowned at the five shadowed shapes approaching across the darkened distance; silhouettes moving closer, coming up the deserted pathway beneath the skeletal shadows of trees.
Sarah moved in front, Sato beside her. Gage stepped forward, walking down the path that led toward the catacombs. He zipped up the short leather jacket, preparing.
Zoning, every instinct and skill keen and focused, he suddenly stopped, standing ready. The Hi-Power was at his right hip, hammer back with the safety on for a fast first shot. He didn't look to the wood line at his right where Kertzman stood hidden.
Nearer they came. Sato moved Sarah slightly off to the side, away from Kertzman's position.
Stern advanced, D'Oncetta beside him. Another man, the one from the cabin that Kertzman had told him about, called Radford, stood on the other side of Sarah.
Gage stared at Stern, who stopped ten feet away. The tall man scanned the woodbine with a practiced alertness, the gaze intense but forced to assume a nervous indifference.
"So, Gage," Stern said politely, "shall we quickly resolve this situation?"
Gage almost smiled. And just for communicating intent, he focused on D'Oncetta a moment, allowing an intimidating hostility to beam across. But D'Oncetta held his ground, implacable and in control, above it all.
Watching Sato peripherally, Gage looked back to Stern as he spoke; "Let her go."
Sato twisted Sarah's arm, and Gage caught the glimpse of black metal in his hand, glistening in the distant city light.
Thunder rumbled overhead. Wind swept a cold mist, early rain, across them, swaying Radford where he stood.
Stern was open, blinking. "I would like the manuscript, first," he said reasonably. "That is the customary way in which these pleasantries are finalized."
Gage shook his head, eyes narrow.
Sato started something.
"Don't!" Gage said with a violent focus. "I'd just as soon kill all of you and her, too. I don't care anymore." He stepped to Stern, attempting to direct the emotional tide of the situation with his will. "Release her or the manuscript burns! I'm not alone."
Without looking away, Stern pointed to Sato.
"Release her," he said quickly.
Sarah staggered away, clutching her throat where Sato had gri
pped her. She took a step toward Gage, face open, breathless.
"Stay," Stern said tersely, pointing at her.
She froze in stride, mouth grim, looked at him with a cool hate. For a moment Gage thought she would disobey and it wasn't time yet. He held up his hand.
"Hold on, Sarah!" He focused on Stern. "If you don't want to lose the manuscript, let her go!" He took a quick breath, calculated a firing pattern.
"First, the manuscript!" Stern said.
D'Oncetta stepped forward and Gage saw Sato move towards Sarah.
"Stern, this is not what it seems!" D'Oncetta began. "He is—"
"Be silent, priest!" Stern hissed with seeming hatred, half-turning his head. "I know what he is doing! You will do as I say or I will kill you myself!"
Gage's hand sweated, but he didn't move his fingers. He blew out a slow, focused breath.
Sarah called out, "Gage, don't let them have the manuscript—"
A quick step and Sato was almost on her. In a blink Gage drew the Hi-Power with his right hand, holding down on Sato.
"Wait!" yelled Stern, glaring angrily at Sato, drawing his own pistol at Gage. "Wait! Wait!"
"Get away from her!" Gage raged at Sato. "Get away from her or die! You got one second!"
Face twisting, enraged, Sato took a narrow step back. He held the automatic low, pointing at the ground.
"We have released the woman, Gage!" Stern yelled. "Where is the manuscript!"
Gage kept his eyes on Sato. "Let her get clear!"
"No!"
"Alright, Stern, then let's burn it down!" shouted Gage. “I’m tired of this!"
"I will not let the girl go!"
Gage was still focused on Sato but sharply raised his hand and dropped it. "Then maybe you need some incentive."
Over 100 feet to the side a flame suddenly leaped to life. A gust of wind blew over them, a sheet of rain that passed. In his peripheral vision Gage watched Radford draw a weapon. He calculated a firing pattern.
Fire fast from left to right ... Get Sato first ... Then Radford ... Stern ... One shot for each man on the first sweep and then go back to finish them with two more shots on the second sweep …
Stern stared, angry and confused, at the fire which was blazing inside a 55-gallon drum. Kertzman would be standing beside the drum holding an old and cherished manuscript high for all to see.
"No!" screamed Stern, stepping convulsively toward the fire.
"Let her go, Stern!" shouted Gage.
Stern staggered back and forth, as if he couldn't decide which direction to take.
"Let her go!"
Tension spiraling out of control.
"Alright, alright!" screamed Stern. "She can go! Go! Go! She can go!"
Gage shouted, "Run, Sarah!"
Instantly Sato stepped forward behind her, raising his automatic, aiming for her back.
"No!" he yelled.
Gage almost fired at the move. His finger removed every ounce of pressure from the trigger, tightening; a half-ounce more pressure, a touch almost too small to measure by human feel, and the Hi-Power would discharge. But the range was too great for a sure head shot, at least 20 feet ...
"Wait!" screamed Stern.
"Burn it!" yelled Gage.
Stern screamed incoherently, D'Oncetta also cried out and without turning Gage knew that Kertzman had just thrown a handful of pages into the flames.
Aghast, Stern staggered backwards and D'Oncetta turned toward Gage, screaming, shockingly emotional.
"Savage!" he yelled. "You have destroyed what cannot be replaced!"
Gage laughed. "You want to see it again?"
D'Oncetta staggered, cast a wild look back at Kertzman.
"Burn some more!" yelled Gage.
"No!" screamed Stern, lifting both hands, regaining a wild calm with a frantic, gasping effort. His eyes bulged with a spiraling panic. "Wait," he struggled to say, "just ... wait ... a moment."
Stern gestured to Kertzman with a high, empty hand to hold him from more destruction. Gage didn't look but knew Kertzman hadn't thrown another handful of pages into the flames.
"She can go!" Stern pushed the words forward with his empty hand.
"No!" screamed Sato. He turned to level the automatic at Kertzman and fired, a single smooth motion that was there, perfect. Gage also fired instantly. The blasts blended together and Sato went back, roaring, hit dead center.
Everything happened at once and Gage moved with it, firing and moving.
Stern's pistol came up. Gage swept right with the Hi-Power and fell backwards firing, firing, white fire and thunder roaring out from him. Chaos. Sarah screaming, Sato staggering away into dark. Stern shouted, staggering, blasting at Gage with an automatic. Gage rolled, shooting, realigning as he moved and shooting as the rounds hit beside him. Then he was on his knee, sighting solid on Stern, firing the remainder of the clip until the slide locked.
Mouth open, Stern stood in place. Then in slow motion he dropped his automatic to the ground and fell back.
Radford raised his automatic.
Frantic, Gage tore the empty clip from the Browning and yelled for Sarah to run as she leaped into the forest, disappearing instantly. Radford centered on him with the .45 and he knew he wouldn't have time to slam in a new load before the CIA man fired.
Radford laughed, raising the automatic to eye-level.
"Game's over, Gage. You're dead."
In that uncanny combat acuity that comes with perfect concentration, Gage knew Radford's shot would hit him dead center.
Thunder from the right.
Gage spun, hurled himself to the ground. Realizing he wasn't hit, he was up, the empty Hi-Power in his hand, scanning wildly as Radford shouted, staggering. Gage glimpsed the familiar bulk coming quick from the shadows, the huge Smith and Wesson .44 magnum leveled.
"Drop it, Radford!" Kertzman yelled. "You got one chance! Drop it!"
A madness, a maddened shaking gaze and Radford laughed.
Kertzman walked closer as he shouted. "Just drop it, Radford! Do it now! Drop it!"
Then Radford cried out something indiscernible, lifted the .45 as Kertzman shouted again and the revolver thundered flame. Radford staggered back again, also firing at Kertzman.
From somewhere within the woods Sarah screamed.
Gage whirled at the cry that tore through the forest, at the same time dropping the slide on the Hi-Power to chamber a new round and a full clip.
Sarah!
Gage ran toward her scream, more blasts thundering behind him. He ducked, moving under the limbs of trees, running forward.
Scream was to the left, deep inside the trees. But she was clear and running.
Sato!
Gage ran with all his speed, using a panther's balance and movement in lightning-quick leaps and steps through the dark with the Hi-Power held high, teeth bared to kill and be killed just get to her!
Don't worry about where Sato is... When he fires, you fire and close on him... Take a round to give what you got and you'll get him.
Night wind around him and in a hot tactical analysis he saw a shape on the ground and dropped, scanning, gun out in front with eyes shifting left, right, seeing everything both moving and still; darkness, white shape lying motionless on the ground – small, not Sato.
Finger tight on the trigger tension, Gage moved forward slowly, slowly, scanning and closing on Sarah without looking at her, turning and revolving in the shadows while listening to the leaves whispering around him.
Sirens in the distance, closing.
Gage reached her, knelt quickly, rolled her over. Looked down.
A cruel slash descended from her forehead across her cheek and jaw, a straight diagonal line that razored down her face, slicing the beautiful skin. Blood oozed.
"Oh, Sarah ..." Gage whispered, forgetting everything else. "Sarah ..."
She was still. Gage felt for the pulse, caught the faint beat. He caught his breath, fierce and charged with emotion and rage.
She stirred, groaned, and Gage tore off his leather coat, removed his shirt. Then, moaning in remorse, he wadded his shirt as a bandage, and placed the soft fabric over her face. He was grateful it was dark so she could not see herself.
Her lips opened. "Gage ..."
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here."
Her hand squeezed his, tight. She shook a moment, groaned, lifted a hand to her face. "What ... did he do to me?" she cried.
"It'll be alright," Gage said quietly. "You're hurt but you'll be alright. It's just a cut. Don't worry about it. They can fix it. You'll be fine."
She turned her face into the bandage, holding his hand.
His mind was raging, overloaded.
Get it together!
Gunshots, a roar, screaming.
Gage spun in a crouch, staring back at the path over 200 feet away. He heard the struggle; Kertzman roaring, fighting, cursing and then three more shots, the .44 blasting away in the night, Sato screaming.
Breath hard, face grimacing, Gage listened. "I can't leave Sarah. Can't leave her," he whispered tensely. "Come on, Kertzman, handle him. Take him down. Take him down. Come on."
The sounds continued; a savage conflict.
Gage turned back to Sarah, pulling on his leather jacket. He put her hands on her face, holding the bandage in place.
"Hold this," he said softly. "Just keep the pressure down. It'll stop the bleeding."
She moaned something in reply.
Then, holding the Hi-Power in his left hand, he lifted her. Cautiously and quickly, he moved forward.
Two more shots sounded and the night thundered with a howl from Kertzman.
Gage froze, listening, heard only silence in the forest, sirens closing from everywhere on the park, the catacombs.
Eyes keen to the dark, reading everything, Gage moved quickly forward, sacrificing stealth for speed, almost running, and then he saw the path, Kertzman sitting upright against a black, wet stone tablet. The massive head was bent, exhausted or dead.
"Kertzman!" Gage shouted. Sirens closing from every direction.
Steps!
Livid with rage Gage spun smoothly to fire from the hip, blasting a pattern at the Japanese 40 feet away who leaped wildly to the side for cover of trees. Gage continued to fire, reflexively tracking the movement, rising with the recoil, the Hi-Power sounding like a submachine gun as it blasted out 14 rounds in three seconds.
Reckoning Page 48
