Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 14

by Stone Kiss

  “They were dressed as Chasids?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” A big sigh. “You know how tight things are now. Especially El Al. As soon as security was called in, they took off— scattered.”

  “Really stupid of them to travel together.”

  “Last-minute flights to Israel are always a problem. Airlines have cut their dailies to Israel after the attacks.”

  “Did security nab anyone?”

  “I don’t know, because no one’s talking.” Jonathan tapped the wheel. “Airport police haven’t told us a damn thing. FBI hasn’t told us a damn thing. The Feds arrived at Minda’s house and at the shiva about the same time as the phone call. Hershfield was supposedly on his way to the airport to sort it all out, but… but I have the feeling that they don’t have Chaim in custody.”

  “Why not?”

  “By Hershfield’s questions.”

  “What did he ask?”

  “The gist? Where would Chaim go if he wanted to hide out? But he was subtler than that. And the Feds basically asked me the same thing.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I decided that after the debacle with Shayndie, I’d talk to you first. So I haven’t opened my mouth to anyone. Things are frantic over there. When no one was looking, I took off. My question to you is… where do we go from here?”

  “Not back to Quinton,” Decker told him.

  “No, not unless you want to be detained for hours.”

  “Do you know where Chaim would be hiding, Jon?”

  “No idea. My first thoughts were maybe one of his stores—in Manhattan or in Brooklyn. I’m sure both places are swarming with Feds right now.”

  “So that would be useless.”

  “I think so,” Jonathan agreed. “Maybe we should meet Hershfield down at the airport.”

  “Did he ask you to come meet him?”

  “No.”

  No one spoke.

  “Well, what the hey!” Decker slapped his wet thigh. “Sure, let’s try the airport.”

  “Think they’ll tell us anything?”

  “No. But if they have Weiss, Harabi, or Ibn Dod in custody, I’ll call up my brother. Those guys are wanted big time in Miami. If I get him on the phone, and he starts in with official extradition processes, it’ll give us some credibility.” Decker regarded his sodden lap. “Before we do anything, I need dry clothing. Since Quinton by now is Fedland, how about the Bainberry mall? Something over there should still be open.”

  Jonathan turned the van around.

  They rode a few moments in silence. Decker leaned forward and stared out the windshield.

  “Your brother will be happy then,” Jonathan said. “That the police captured these guys… if they did capture them.”

  Decker didn’t answer.

  “But Chaim wasn’t a part of their Miami ecstasy ring, so far as your brother knew, right?”

  Still no response.

  “Akiva—”

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  Silence.

  “Akiva, did you hear what I—”

  “Just a minute…”

  “What is it?”

  “Hold on…” Decker’s eyes swept from the windshield to the rearview mirror, to the side mirror, then out the windshield again.

  “Akiva, what’s going on?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’m not sure.…” Decker’s mind was reeling. “There were headlights behind us before you made a U-turn. One headlight, not a pair… which I thought was peculiar because it’s pouring outside.” Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the snub-nose.

  “Wha… when did you get that?”

  “It’s a long story, but right now I’m glad I have it. Can I dry the grip off on your jacket?”

  “Hold on, I’ll take it off.”

  “Don’t bother, I just need the hem.” He wiped moisture off the gun. “Since the vehicle was in the distance, I thought maybe it was a car with a busted headlight. Now you just turned around, so it should be facing us. But it’s not there.”

  Outside, the world was shades of charcoal and black. Even the sky failed to bring forth any illumination, the cloud cover blocking out the stars and the moon.

  “Jonathan, cut your lights. Then coast a minute or two and pull over.”

  The rabbi killed the beams. They were encased in total darkness. Decker turned on the flashlight and shone it out the windshield. It wasn’t much, but it was better than a blackout. “Coast a few minutes, then pull over.”

  A warm flush swept through Jonathan’s body. His hands were shaking. “Here goes nothing.…”

  The van bumped and dipped and finally stopped, askew in the mud, just inches from a tree trunk.

  “Switch places with me,” Decker told him.

  Jonathan started for the door, then stopped himself. “You mean I should crawl over you.”

  “Yes, of course. Stay down.”

  Falling over one another, they switched places. Decker was on the floor of the driver’s seat; Jonathan had hunkered down on the passenger’s side. Decker could hear his brother breathing hard…or maybe he was hearing his own exhalations. A moment ago, he had been exhausted, completely spent. In a few seconds’ time, adrenaline had put speed and force into his heartbeat.

  “What—”

  “Shhh…”A pause. “Hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Listen!”

  Finally, Jonathan heard it, the low growl of an engine grumbling through the rain. Decker peered over the dashboard, but nothing came into his field of vision. He lowered the driver’s window halfway down, more than enough to liberate the barrel of the snub-nose. Then he looked over the dashboard again.

  The motorized whir grew a bit louder, then abruptly all was silent except for the rain.

  “Uh-oh… this doesn’t look good.…”

  “Wha—!”

  “Shhh…”

  Jonathan would have thrown up his hands had there been room. His armpits were soaked through.

  “Okay, okay… Where’s the flashlight?”

  Jonathan gave it to him. “What are you going to do?”

  “I gotta see him first.” Decker was talking to himself. He patted the battery pack. “Let’s hope this motherfucker’s strong.”

  “Who do you think it is?”

  “Don’t know.” He put the driver’s window all the way up, then unlocked the doors. Again he peeked over the dash. He couldn’t really see anything, but the darkness in front of him seemed to shift, as if the air molecules were rearranging themselves. Could be his imagination playing games. But then something shifted again. “Get way down, Jonathan. Tuck your head between your legs and your hands over your neck.”

  The rabbi did as told. Decker noticed that his brother was moving his lips, but no sounds were coming out—silent prayer. He hoped Jon was saying one for him, too. “I see something. Hold on, baby… C’mon, you mother…”

  The shape—presumably a human and most probably a male— was nearing the van, walking with a bowlegged gait as if he were about to draw a gun in an old-fashioned Western. Then Decker realized that the legs were straddling a seat. The motorcycle was a small one. Looked to be a Honda… something nimble. He was approaching them from the driver’s side, most likely because the van’s passenger wheels were stuck in a rut of mud right next to the woods.

  “C’mon, c’mon… ,” Decker urged.

  Inching closer.

  “Just a little more, baby….”

  “Oh God!” Jonathan moaned.

  “Hold on.” Decker swallowed hard. “He’s almost here.”

  The seconds ticked by.

  One… two… three.

  He peeked out again. “C’mon, motherfucker. Move a little closer to the door.…”

  Four… five… six.

  The Honda was at the front bumper on the driver’s side. A figure looking through the window… to the dash. Even though Decker couldn’t see out that well, he knew there was no way that the biker could
see in.

  “Keep going…”

  The figure was moving toward the driver’s window. “A little closer…”

  Springing into action, Decker hurled the door, clipping the front wheel of the motorcycle, spinning the entire ensemble off balance. Then he aimed the light’s beam on the driver’s face, features hidden behind a ski mask. “Freeze!”

  Abruptly, something sped past Decker’s head.

  “Shit!” He dropped the flashlight and ducked behind the safety of the metal door. Vaulting out a second time, he shot from the hip, discharging a bullet at the bike, but a volley of flying metal forced him to retreat another time. The biker’s bullets hit the front of the van, sending a deafening clatter throughout its interior, some of the ammo ricocheting off, spitting fire into the wet, raven night. Decker covered his head as hot lead flew past him.

  “Fuck!” he screamed. “Fuck, fuck!”

  He leaped out, returning fire: two rapid shots that took off a section of the cycle’s back fender. Still, the biker had kicked the motor into gear and sped away, screeching tires that burned rubber even though the asphalt was wet. Decker decided not to waste his last bullet on a fleeing target.

  Panting heavily, he would have felt the wetness of sweat throughout his entire body except that he was soaked from the rain. He picked up the flashlight, which had survived the battle without injury, then dragged his body into the driver’s seat. “Are you okay, Jon?”

  “I think so… ,” the rabbi whispered. “Other than uncontrollable shaking, I think I’m fine.”

  Decker lowered his head on the wheel, fatigue covering him as oppressively as a sodden blanket. “I’m shaking, too.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m whole, and that’s all that counts right now.” Decker was trying to steady his heartbeat. He lifted his head up and turned the key in the ignition. The motor coughed lazily, then decided to fire up. “Well, that’s a good start.”

  Jonathan uncoiled from the fetal position and slithered into the passenger’s seat. He belted himself in.

  “Here goes nothing.” Decker strapped on the seat belt, then put the van into drive and coaxed it out of the embankment. Once he got it onto the asphalt, he depressed the gas pedal slowly. The car bucked, then limped noisily for about twenty feet before Decker applied the brakes.

  “We’ve got a flat,” Decker said. “Hopefully, only a flat… as in one tire. Do you have a spare?”

  “I have a spare,” Jonathan said. “I’ve never changed a tire, but I’m assuming that you have.”

  “You assume correctly.” Again Decker pulled the vehicle to the side of the road. He went out and inspected the damage—a Swiss-cheese hood and one flat tire. Decker didn’t bother looking under the hood. At this point, it was probably best if he didn’t know. Jonathan had gotten out, staring at his newly ventilated van.

  “I’ll change the tire,” Decker told his brother. “No sense in both of us getting wet.”

  “Nonsense. At the very least, I can hold the flashlight.” Jonathan paused. “Although I’m still trembling. Think of it as a strobe.”

  Decker laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He was as rigid as a stone post. “You’re holding up great.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to Decker. “Who do you think it was?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Donatti?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Merrin?”

  “Quite possibly.” He exhaled. “I also borrowed… well, more like swiped the gun from an obnoxious taxicab driver. It could have been him, too.” He brushed rainwater from his eyes. “I would even say maybe it was Chaim, but I think your brother-in-law has other things on his mind right now.”

  Together they pulled out the spare tire and the kit. An hour later, on four inflated tires, they made their way into the Bainberry Mall parking lot. They settled upon the first store that looked promising, a unit that specialized in athletic gear that was GOING OUT OF BUSINESS. They rooted through the deeply discounted items, stocking up on sweats, T-shirts, lightweight waterproof jackets, socks, sneakers, and an umbrella. By seven in the evening, they were back on the highway in dry clothes, wolfing down bagels and sipping hot coffee from paper cups. Warmth on the skin, warmth in the belly: Heaven had many forms and shapes.

  Jonathan was driving. “Where to?”

  Decker thought a moment. “With the van in such poor shape, it makes sense for us to go back to Quinton. Maybe I can squeeze something from the Feds.”

  Jonathan blew out air. “So JFK is out?”

  “I doubt if Hershfield’s still there,” Decker told him.

  “True, true.” Jonathan tapped the steering wheel. “If we go back to Quinton, we’ll be stuck there for hours.”

  “I know.”

  “Also, you said this could be Merrin’s doing.”

  “Possibly.”

  “So maybe it’s not too safe for us to be there now.”

  “Jonathan, if Chaim’s house is crawling with Feds, I think we’re okay for a while.”

  His brother was silent. Decker said, “What’s on your mind, Jon? You have a look on your face.”

  “The Liebers have a warehouse. It’s in the middle of nowhere—an old converted barn—about twenty miles north of Quinton. So maybe around fifteen miles from where we are. You wouldn’t know how to get there unless you’ve been there before.”

  “And you’ve been there before.”

  “Raisie and I get our TVs, VCRs, computers, cameras, etcetera, etcetera from the overstock—last year’s models. Sometimes it’s cheaper to get rid of items than to ship them back. We’ve always gone down after hours.”

  “You have a plan.”

  “Well, I have a location.” Jonathan finished his bagel. “I also know where the back door is. I’m sure it’s locked and alarmed if no one’s there. But if Chaim is there, we can talk to him through the intercom.”

  “And what are we supposed to say to him?” Decker asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jonathan answered. “Convince him to give himself up.”

  Decker laughed. “A man who set up his brother—and possibly his daughter—”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Fine. Be delusional. But I will tell you this. Chaim’s scared, wanted, and probably irrational. I don’t see him just… giving up.”

  “Well, then, maybe we can convince him that we’re a better bet than the police.”

  Decker sipped coffee as thoughts tumbled in his brain. “I suppose we can check it out. Think the van can make it?”

  “You’re the mechanical one,” Jonathan answered. “I’m a rabbi.”

  “Who said rabbis couldn’t be mechanical?”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Fifteen miles one way,” Decker said. “Then, if we don’t find anything, we’ve got to make it back to Quinton. That’s forty miles in a van with a shot-out hood and driving on a spare in the rain.”

  No one spoke.

  Jonathan said, “I’m willing to try it.”

  “Well, we have rain slickers now.…” Decker ran his fingers through his damp hair. “All right. Let’s give it a whirl.” They drove several miles without speaking. “And what do we do, Jon, if he resists? What do we do when he starts shooting at us?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know psychos.” Reaching into the glove compartment, Decker took out the snub-nose. “I have one bullet left. If it’s him or me, I go for the kill. Can you accept that?”

  “Better he be shot by you than by the police. At least, that way I’ll know that the shooting was justified.”

  “Maybe better for you, Jon.” Decker felt his jaw tighten. “Not necessarily better for me.”

  34

  Everything was stacked against them. The van was straining at thirty, bouncing on a compromised set of tires, each bump and grind sending shock waves up their spines. On top of that, the road was oil slicked, and it was as dark as sin outside. So Jonathan wasn’t sure if
it was the right way. He summed up the situation perfectly.

  “This was a terrible idea.” The van landed with a thud as it took a jump over a pothole. The engine stalled for a moment, then continued to chug along. “I just want to reach Chaim before the police. Maybe less chance of his getting hurt.”

  “If he doesn’t hurt us first.”

  “Akiva, I asked you no less than a dozen times if you wanted to turn back—”

  “I know you have. I’m conflicted.”

  “So am I.” Jonathan gripped the wheel. “I want to help Chaim. He’s my wife’s brother. The family has been through hell. I’ve been through hell. But I don’t want to get killed.”

  “Succinctly put.” Decker tightened his coat around his body.

  “Do you want to go back?” Jonathan asked him. “Your call.”

  “Now there’s a switch. The rabbi daring the cop.”

  “Not strange at all. Haven’t you read the Kemelman series?”

  Decker smiled. The rain had abated to sprinkles, leaving the asphalt as shiny as polished onyx. Because one of the biker’s bullets had knocked out the heating fan, the windows were kept open to prevent the windshield from fogging up. Arctic cold, but at least Jonathan could see. Since the windows were rolled down, Decker could hear the strong whoosh of water roiling downstream as it cut deep ruts into the roadside mud.

  To Decker, New York had always been synonymous with Manhattan. But the state was big and wide and full of open space. Long stretches of glens and valleys sided rolling mountains and dense forest. Because it was dark, the terrain showed only shapes and shadows, but occasionally he could make out a New England clapboard house lit from the inside, or even a small brick structure that sat on the edge of the highway. Once he saw a barn illuminated by several exterior lights, in front of it a hand-painted sign boasting antiques as well as fresh farm products. He could see the mist falling in the light’s beam, the sign streaked with water. In the background, he caught glimpses of fields, but nothing appeared to be growing.