The garage door had a large piece of plywood blocking it, and it had been nailed in place from the inside. The axe was gone, but I had removed any trace of fingerprints. So I wasn't worried about that.
I walked up the road and beyond the ghostly silent buildings that made up the industrial park toward my car.
There was plenty of light to see by. Each parking lot had at least one sodium vapor lamp shining its dull orange light over the area.
Oddly, my car sat alone in the parking lot where I'd left it. The other car was gone. I shrugged and walked over to mine.
As I was inserting the key into the door, a sound made me stop. It wasn't loud, but I knew it well.
It was the metallic click of a switchblade knife opening.
I spun around. Two dark figures had closed in on me. They had me pinned against my car. One held the knife. The other had a length of chain in his hands. He was holding it taught, and that was why it hadn't made any sound.
"Hold on, guys," I said. "You can have my wallet."
They stepped towards me. I pressed my back up against the door of my car. They were four steps away now.
Three steps away.
Two steps away.
I held my hand out in a stop motion. "Guys," I said.
The one on the left swiped at me with the knife. I lurched into the other one to avoid the blade, but the other wrapped me in the chain.
The first one swiped at me again. I managed to twist enough to the side so that the cut missed me. The guy holding me grunted as I threw my body to the side. I was putting a lot of strain on the chain in his hand.
Whoever these thugs were, they weren't here to rough me up. They were here to kill me.
I had a gun concealed around my ankle. It's not a great spot for a concealed weapon, and now I knew why. I couldn't get at it.
"Hold him still," the first one said.
"I'm trying," the other said.
"Guys, guys," I said. "I think we're on a security camera." I jerked my head up towards the corner of the closest building.
They both looked.
I smashed my heel down on the instep of the guy holding me. He groaned and the chain loosened the tiniest amount.
I threw my body forward. He let the chain slip up. It lodged under my chin.
The chain tightened. He was going to garrote me. The links dug into the soft flesh of my neck, and all my air was cut off.
The other stood over me watching.
But now my hands were free. Moving quickly, I plunged my hand into my pocket and came out with my knife.
"He's got a knife," the first one yelled.
I snapped my wrist to open the blade. The first guy kicked at my hand and knocked the blade clean out of my fingers. I heard it skidding and dancing across the pavement.
I grabbed up at the chain and tried to force some space so I could breathe. The first guy slashed at my fingers with the knife.
My vision was closing in, and I was feeling the panic of suffocating, but I controlled it as much as I could.
I grabbed at the blade as it flicked at my fingers a second time. I got the guy by the wrist above his hand.
Yanking hard, he tumbled off balance, not expecting that. He hit me and drove me back into the one choking me.
The chain loosened.
I gasped and gurgled as I breathed. The guy holding me must have fallen because suddenly there was no tension on the chain. And we were all on the ground.
I pulled it off from around my neck, and I whipped it down on the second one who'd been holding me. He saw it coming and rolled out of the way.
The chain made a loud smacking sound as it collided with the pavement.
The first guy had jumped up on my back now. He threaded his arm around where the chain had been. He was going to choke me.
I clamped my chin down on his arm, and I reached around my ankle for the gun. Up under my pant leg, I got it.
As soon as I had a grip on it, I discharged it. I shot it into the ground.
The sudden explosion and flash startled both.
I slithered out from under the first one and kicked him in the head. The second was merely feet away, and he was holding a knife now.
"Hey," he said. "Let's take this easy. I think there's been a misunderstanding."
I kicked the first guy in the head again. And again. And again. The whole time I kept my eyes on the other.
I kicked the first guy in the head five more times. They were hard, bone-rattling kicks. He wasn't moving anymore or making any sounds.
"Who are you working for?" I asked.
"Dude, look. We were just after your car. I'm sorry. Don't shoot, man."
"After my car?" My neck hurt. It felt like it was bleeding too. "My car? I don't think so. You were trying to kill me. Why?"
"Dude. I'll leave right now—"
"Do, and I'll shoot you," I said.
"Oh, man," he said despairingly.
"Get on the ground," I said. "Move!"
He got down and put his hands over his head.
Careful to not get too close, I circled him. "Who hired you?"
"No one, man."
"I'm not a nice person," I said. "And I expect to get an answer. I'll do whatever I need to do to make you talk. Understand?"
"Oh come on, man," he said starting to sound whiny. "Please. It was a carjacking gone wrong."
"Why shouldn't I shoot you now?"
"Are you kidding?" he asked. "That's murder, dude."
Then a sharp pain dug into my ankle. I wavered and then went to a crouching position. A throwing knife stuck in my ankle. Somehow he'd done that without my detecting it.
The guy was jumping up. I tried to train the gun on him, but suddenly the gun was out of my hand. In the light from the streetlights, I could see that a knife had hit it too.
He was throwing knives? How many more did he have? I yanked the one out of my own ankle. It wasn't a deep or dangerous cut. In fact, it was barely in me.
The guy, however, wasn't throwing any more. He was diving after my gun.
I threw the knife at him, but it hit him butt first and harmlessly dropped to the ground.
He got to the gun and spun around. I flattened against the ground. A shot was fired.
If I stayed here, I was dead. I jumped up and ran in a random sort of pattern toward the main road, which was close.
The gun fired again. My ankle hurt a little, but not enough to slow me down and let me get shot.
The guy was wearing some heavy boots, and I could hear him clomping behind me. I would have been putting separation between us if it hadn't been for the cut in my ankle.
I kept changing the direction I was running, and I didn't let a pattern form in my direction changes.
The gun fired a few more times, but it missed each time.
Up ahead, the main road stretched out. It was empty at this time of night, but a car was coming.
What luck! It was a police car.
I ran across the road and the guy must not have seen the cop, because he fired across the road at me and right in front of the oncoming police cruiser.
The car screeched to a halt, and I heard two doors opening. Then there was shouting and yelling. No more shots were fired.
I turned around and knelt down in the tall grass off the side of the road. The cop car was at an angle on the road. The bar lights had been flipped on, but there was no siren.
There were two cops. Both had guns drawn and pointed at the prone silhouette of the guy.
They were talking, yelling at him. I think he was answering, but I couldn't be sure. The volume of the cops' voices drowned out his responses.
I had a dilemma. Who were those two working for? If it was Mickey, that wasn't a big deal. I expected him to try something.
I hadn't expected something that good. Those two had been well hidden, and it meant Mickey knew I was the one who'd broken in too.
However, there was a chance they didn't work for Mickey. If they didn't, if my past had caught
up to me, I needed to know that. That would mean I'd have to leave immediately if I wanted to stay alive. More, much more would be coming if it was them.
The problem was I wouldn't get to talk to this guy, but there was the other one still in the parking lot. That is supposing I hadn't killed him with my kicking.
The cops had hauled the guy to his feet. One of them started walking in my direction. His gun was out.
"Hey!" he yelled. "I can see you. Stand up!"
I didn't. I didn't think he could really see me yet. He was trying to flush me out.
"Stand up!" he commanded. "Don't make me shoot at you. Get up and let me see your hands."
I put my hands up and stood slowly.
"Walk slowly towards the car," he said.
I did, but I let my hands slide down to a normal position.
"Get your hands up!"
I didn't.
"Get them up now!" he was starting to sound a little frantic.
I stopped walking. "Or what? You're going to shoot me?"
"Accidents happen," he said through his teeth.
"I'm not the one you want," I said. "He was shooting at me."
"We'll go down to the station and sort this out," he said. "Now get your hands up!"
"No," I said.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The other cop was pulling something out of his belt. A taser.
I turned my head to him. "Are you going to shoot me with that?"
"You are resisting an officer," he responded.
"Fine, fine," I said. I put my hands back up.
"Move to the car," he said.
I did.
One showed me how to stand next to it so I could be searched. He showed me the correct posture from a safe distance away, on the other side of the car.
I took the position with my hands against the body of the car and my feet spread apart.
The other one came up behind me. "Do you have any ID on you?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Where is it?"
"Find it," I said.
The cop sighed. "Do you have any weapons on you?"
"Yes," I said.
"What?" He sounded surprised.
"Brass knuckles," I said.
"Really?" He sounded like he didn't believe me. "Those are illegal. Where are they?"
"You're going to search me. Find them yourself," I said.
He put a hand on the back of my head and smashed it into the top of the trunk of the car.
"Look punk, I'm not in the mood for this."
Before his hand let go, I had reached up and gotten it. In a quickly executed Hapkido move, I had him on his knees and in extreme pain.
All I had was his wrist and the palm of his hand. It was twisted up at a weird angle. The cop backing him up didn't have time to react.
"Get your other hand up," I said. He didn't. I tweaked his wrist further.
Chapter 14
"Aww! Okay, okay, okay, okay. It's up. Easy!" His other hand came up.
I could snap both bones in his arm from the position I had him in. Also most of my body was covered behind his kneeling figure.
The other cop looked confused. He wasn't sure what all had happened. He had his weapon out, but he wasn't pointing it at us. He pushed a button on his radio and began calling for backup.
I was going to have to move fast now.
Cops had never been a favorite of mine. They get in the way far more often than they do any good. And the good they do is usually by accident. Cops were troublemakers, and because of that I didn't feel bad about what I did next.
I gave a sharp twist to the cop's wrist. Both bones audibly snapped, and he screamed. I let my body drop as he was collapsing, but I got my fingers around his service weapon in his holster.
The other cop started to bring his up, but slowly, still unsure and not wanting to shoot his buddy.
I had no such issues, and as soon as I had the gun free, I shot at him.
The first missed, but the second took him off his feet. Hopefully, he was wearing Kevlar.
I turned the gun on the back of the car where the guy who was chasing me was.
I shot the gun through the window. It shattered and a shard caught me on the arm. It started bleeding.
It would have been smarter to step back, or open the door.
I opened it now. He cowered against the other door.
"No, dude. Don't," he said.
I did. Three forty caliber bullets ripped his body apart, and then tore through the door he was cowering against.
The other cop was starting to sit up. I walked over to him, and disarmed him. Then I shot him in the chest again.
I wiped each piece clean that I'd touched, and holding them with the edge of my shirt, I tossed them off the road.
Then I wiped the car where I'd put my hands. I wiped the back door handle too.
I found my gun lying in the grass close to the edge of the road. The guy must have dropped it when the cops stopped.
After all that, I jogged back up to my car. The other guy was still there, and out like a light, but he was alive.
Using the chain, I bound him and put him in the trunk of the car. I got into the car and called my wife using my disposable cell to call her disposable cell.
I had to call twice before she picked up.
"Hello?" she said tiredly.
"I'm not coming home tonight," I said.
"What?" She sounded concerned.
"I've had something come up. Business I had to take care of," I said.
"You're not coming home?"
"No," I said.
"Please be safe," she said.
"I will. Goodnight," I said and hung up.
Then I drove away and headed out of town to an abandoned area. Somewhere where no one was.
Somewhere where someone could scream and scream and no one would hear.
Several hours later, I drove alone back into town. It was very early morning now. It would be best if I wasn't questioned by cops now. Given that, I drove under the speed limit by three miles per hour.
My clothes were blood stained, but it wasn't my blood. He'd been tougher than I expected. In the end, he revealed nothing. I had to believe him. No one experiences the pain I gave him and still uselessly clings to a lie.
Of course, that left the whole question unanswered. Who had they been working for? The most reasonable answer was Mickey, and that was the answer I was going with. Despite the fact that I was unable to prove it.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea to ghost the other one in the backseat of the police car. Maybe he would have known something.
Speaking of that, I was going to have to make a confession for the killing. In a way, it had been in self-defense. But, it wasn't completely necessary. I knew that.
In a day or two, I'd have to confess for the death of the other punk that jumped me. The way I left him, and where I left him, he'd be dead in less than twenty-four hours.
The scary part: I felt no regret. Normal people can't do that. They can't kill someone and walk away like nothing happened. A sociopath can do that, but a normal person can't.
I can, and that means I'm nothing close to normal. That scared me. I wanted normalcy, but I couldn't have it.
Feeling tired, I turned the radio on to help myself stay awake and on the road. An early morning news broadcast was what I picked up first.
The newscaster said, "Breaking news this morning, police are investigating a shooting and homicide on the east side of town outside of the Lehman Business Park. Also, one police officer was shot, but it is reported that he is expected to make a full recovery. Anyone with any further information is urged to contact the police department's twenty-four hour tip hotline."
The guy on the radio droned on, but I tuned him out. I was thankful the cop I shot was okay. The other would probably have to have surgery to repair his arm.
There was a twinge of guilt about breaking the guy's arm. That made me happy. Weird, I know, but at least I
have something of a conscience left.
Another thirty minutes went by. I drove right past where the incident happened. It was cleaned up, but there was an unmarked car and several people poking around the edge of the road.
The sun hadn't really risen yet, and so they had to use flashlights to help them search for whatever they were looking for.
If nothing else, this should send a clear message to Mickey to leave me alone. I was more than he can handle. He's small potatoes as far as I was concerned.
I've had far better people try it, and none had succeeded yet.
But in terms of the whole murder/suicide investigation, he was still a very good suspect.
On a whim, I pulled into the office parking lot of my building. The only other vehicle in the lot was a van from an HVAC company.
My brain was fuzzy from a lack of sleep, but I felt the need to get some clarity before letting myself get some much needed rest. I parked and got out and stretched. Good thing it was early and no one else was around. Looking down at my clothes, it looked like I'd murdered someone.
More or less, I had.
I let myself into the building and walked up the darkened stairs. It wasn't completely dark. Barely enough light illuminated the hall and stairs. I'm sure the building owner was required to have that by law for safety reasons.
I walked down the upstairs hall to my suite or small office and let myself in. Inside there was a glow from the streetlights below casting a ghostly light in the office. My windows look out over the main highway.
I flipped the light switch on.
Light was everywhere. Too much light. I didn't hear an explosion, but there had to be one.
The windows shattered and dropped like sparkly confetti on the street below. Pain covered me like a blanket. I was up sideways on the wall. I slid down and hit the floor. And then I blacked out.
* * * * *
Beep, beep, beep.
It was an annoying sound. I opened my eyes. Everything looked strange. There was an off-white or cream hue to everything.
Slowly, I realized that I was lying in a bed. Looking to one side and then the other, I saw chrome handles that boxed me in.
Up above my head, a bag of liquid hung, and a tube ran from it and snaked its way down to my hand.
I held my hand up. It was bandaged, and the IV ran right into it.
Death of an Escort Page 11
