Denouement

by E. H. Reinhard

  Knox came to the doorway.

  “Knox, do you want to try it?”

  “As in it?” Knox asked.

  “Yeah,” Faust said.

  “Okay.”

  “We’ll try to get him to the window. That looks to be your only spot.” Faust pointed past him.

  I looked to where he was pointing but still didn’t know what he was pointing at.

  “It has to be clean,” Faust said. “What’s your confidence level from there?”

  “It’s not really my confidence level I’d be concerned about. What’s yours in the technology?” Knox asked.

  “How many rounds at that distance have you put through it?” Faust asked.

  “Countless,” Knox said.

  “On target?”

  “I’d say ninety-five percent within a six-inch grouping,” Knox said.

  “Well, make sure it’s in the ninety-five percent and inside the six-inch window.”

  “Are we looking for a kill shot?” he asked.

  “Whatever shot that you have that’s clean. Radio me with the details when you get there,” Faust said.

  “Got it,” Knox said. He stepped into the van, took a long rifle from the shelf, and draped it over his shoulder. The scope looked odd. He jumped out and jogged toward the street.

  “Where is he going?” I asked.

  Faust pointed. “Billboard.”

  I looked, and in the distance I saw the billboard advertising the restaurant I’d passed earlier in the car. The sign had to be a half mile away. “You’re serious? With a hostage?”

  Faust nodded.

  “And you trust him with that kind of shot?” I asked.

  “I do, and I trust the technology.”

  “Technology?” I asked.

  “Precision-guided firearm,” Faust said.

  I didn’t respond. I knew what it was. I’d seen a version of the weapon at a gun show months past. The scope was basically a computer that automatically corrected for long-range shots. The company at the gun show had videos playing of people hitting moving targets at a mile’s distance. While it was in the hands of the government, I was fine with it existing; however, the technology being available to the public, even at extremely high prices, was troubling.

  “Rock, are you seeing any movement in the room?” Faust called.

  Faust’s remaining two men had split up. One had taken cover behind the Charger Faust had driven. The other, Rock, came to the door from the rear of the van.

  “Nothing since Knox fired on the building,” Rock said.

  “What the hell is he doing in there?” Faust asked.

  Chapter 31

  Amy flailed and screamed. Ray unloaded the AK-47’s magazine through the broken window. None of his rounds were penetrating the van the men hid behind, so he focused the fire underneath it. With any luck, a bullet would bounce up and hit someone. When the last round left the barrel, Ray pulled back from the window to get another weapon.

  Amy sank her teeth into the arm Ray had around her neck.

  Ray stared down at the back of her head. He dropped the rifle, took a handful of her hair in his right hand, and yanked, freeing her teeth from his flesh. Ray spun her around so she faced him, cocked his fist, and delivered a blow to her forehead. Amy dropped and didn’t move. Ray thought about just putting a bullet in her, but if he did, the cops, feds, or whoever was outside with Kane would have no reason to remain there. Ray picked Amy up and tossed her onto one of the beds. He went to the duffel bag for another assault rifle.

  The sound of semiautomatic gunfire rang from outside. Ray stayed low against the wall. He could hear the rounds entering the building’s roof. Ray took the gun into his shoulder, crouched, and moved through the open door to the building’s office. Ray took a quick glance out of the dirty window facing the street. The FBI agent Ray had had an encounter with a few nights prior was loading a man into the back of a single sheriff’s cruiser. Ray could see red down the man’s leg. He’d hit one of them. Ray assumed the gunfire he was taking was cover fire so they could get the injured man to safety. He tried getting a view up and down the street—Ray saw no traffic, but also no other feds or cops in sight.

  Ray walked to the front door and crouched. Ray could see outside through the gap between the blind and window. One of the men was moving around behind the sedan, and it appeared that the rest were still behind or inside the van. He counted the men off in his head. He’d seen five in tactical gear, plus Kane.

  Ray went back to the front window. The sheriff’s car was pulling away with the injured man. Amy moaned in the next room. He left the office and returned. Amy was rolling on the bed. The white sheets beneath her head had soaked up some of the blood from the two-inch cut Ray had opened when he struck her.

  Amy scooted herself against the headboard when Ray came back into the room. Her hands clutched the bedsheets next to her face. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her eyeliner streaked down her face. “Please, just let me go,” she said.

  “Shut up,” Ray said. He tried to get a view out of the broken front window without getting too close.

  The handful of cops would surely multiply, the longer the standoff went on, he thought. Ray needed to at least wound one or two more. If their attention was focused on treating their wounded, that would give him a window to escape.

  “Please, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to die.” Amy’s words came out between erratic breaths.

  Ray turned and pointed the rifle at her. “Bitch, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll put a bullet in your head.” He walked to the canvas bag near the bed she lay upon. She scrambled off of the bed and took a lunging step toward the room’s front door. Ray was on her before her hand could reach the knob. He hit her square in the back with the butt of the rifle, and she flew to the ground. Ray pulled her by her hair back toward the weapons. He held her down with his foot while he reached in the bag and removed another assault rifle. Then he took his foot off her. “Get your ass up and walk to that window. Slowly.”

  She pulled herself to her knees and used the bed to stand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Please don’t kill me.” Her crying intensified.

  “Just do what I say.” Ray held an assault rifle in each hand. He lifted the barrels of the rifles and pointed them at her.

  She walked to the window, facing Ray the entire time.

  “Turn around,” Ray said.

  She faced the window.

  “We have the woman in the window,” someone called from outside.

  Ray stepped close behind her and brought a rifle up under each of her arms.

  Chapter 32

  “I have the woman in the window!” Rock called from the front of the van.

  “Any sign of Azarov?” Faust asked.

  Faust and I stepped out from the van.

  Rock looked over at Faust and me. “She’s alone, but she looks injured.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, I heard gunfire, and red mist came from some part of his upper body. Rock dropped to the ground facedown, his head and torso unblocked by the van.

  “Son of a bitch!” Faust yelled.

  Bullets from Ray thumped into the other side of the van. Faust took Rock by the feet and pulled him back toward us and out of the line of fire. He laid him inside the van. Blood was leaking around the back of his vest. Ray’s gunfire continued over to the Charger at Faust’s other agent, and then came back toward the van before it stopped.

  Faust rolled his agent onto his side. “Rock!” Faust yelled. “Rock!”

  “I’m alive,” Rock said. He squinted his eyes.

  Faust pulled the collar of Rock’s shirt back, looking for an entry wound. “Can you move everything?” Faust asked.

  His legs moved.

  The agent reached for his neck. “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “It went in on the side of your neck and…” Faust continued looking. “There’s no exit wound. Just don’t move. Keep your hand on tha
t until we can get you out of here.”

  I looked at the street. Deputy Levy had returned—another cruiser had parked behind him, a few car lengths in front of my Cadillac. Levy and two other deputies had weapons drawn over the roofs of their cars. I looked at Faust. “I’ll cover you again.”

  Faust lifted his man to his feet. I took a position at the back of the van with eyes on the motel-room window—I didn’t see the woman or Ray. Faust passed me, assisting Rock toward the deputies on the street. I glanced back over my shoulder. Faust delivered Rock and was returning with Deputy Levy. They got to me at the rear of the van.

  “This is looking pretty bad,” Levy said. “Should I call in our SWAT guys?”

  “We sent someone up the street with a long-range rifle. We’re going to try to get a shot. If we can’t, you can call in your guys,” Faust said.

  Levy nodded.

  “He should be almost over there by now, shouldn’t he?” I asked.

  Faust thumbed his radio. “Knox, report.”

  Knox’s voice called back a moment later. “I just got done climbing and finding a position.” He sounded out of breath. “I’m getting my range. Hold on.”

  We waited.

  “Nine hundred eighty-eight meters,” he said.

  “Do you have sights on the window?” Faust asked.

  “As clear as it gets. You tell me when I should be expecting him, and I’ll let you know when I get a tag.”

  “Wait for my command. He sent the woman to the window before he came last time.”

  “Got it,” Knox called back.

  “You’re on, Kane. Get him to that window.”

  I stood near the driver’s-side door, where I could see the motel room through the spiderwebbed bulletproof windshield. “Ray!” I yelled. “It’s Kane.”

  I didn’t get a response.

  “Ray!”

  “What, Pig?”

  “No one has to die here today. Let’s try to resolve this,” I said.

  “This will be resolved when you and everyone out there is dead,” Ray said.

  I watched the window but saw no signs of him. “There isn’t any way out of this,” I said.

  “You’re a shitty negotiator. Aren’t you supposed to make me think that there is?”

  “That’s not how this is going to go down, Ray. You’re leaving in a bag or cuffs. Give yourself up,” I said.

  “No. I’ll just keep picking you guys off one by one. It looks like I got two so far. I’m pretty sure I have you guys outmatched in the firepower department. Plus, my little female shield here is making sure you guys don’t return fire.”

  I looked for any kind of movement from the little I could see inside the room. Still nothing. “Do you honestly think that situation isn’t going to change? We have a SWAT team that will be here shortly.”

  “I hope they are packing some heavy artillery,” he said.

  I took my eyes from the motel window and looked back at Levy and Faust. I shook my head. “He isn’t coming.”

  “Just keep him talking,” Faust said. “We need him at the window.”

  I nodded.

  “How did you survive that shot?” I asked.

  “What shot?”

  “The Desert Eagle at six feet,” I said.

  Ray laughed. “Learn how to aim. You’re a lousy shot with a real man’s gun.”

  “Is that what you call that thing? I thought it was compensation for something else.”

  “Good one, Pig!” Ray yelled.

  “Let’s talk about your brother,” I said.

  A single bullet came from the room and skipped off the windshield, no more than a foot from my head.

  I slid myself back and looked at Faust.

  He motioned for me to continue. “Keep pissing him off,” Faust said. He called over his radio for Knox to be alert.

  “The word that came back was that some prison guard raped Viktor before he was killed. Did you hear the same thing?” I asked.

  Ray still didn’t respond.

  “Are you still there, Ray?” I watched the window. I thought I saw movement, but no one approached. Then the inside of the room lit up from muzzle flashes.

  “Shit!” I ducked. Behind bulletproof glass or not, I wasn’t keeping my head where Ray could see. The sound of bullets hammering into the front of the van filled the gaps between the sounds of the shots themselves. Glass from the headlights fell to the concrete. I heard a pop and a hiss, and antifreeze spilled to the ground. A large section of the front grille fell. Bullets traveled through the front of the van and out of the driver-side fender, sending pieces of metal flying. The gunfire stopped.

  “Are you dead yet, Kane?” Ray called.

  I didn’t respond, staring through the window of the driver’s door and out through the splintered windshield. Between the damage, I had a visual on the motel window, and I saw Ray.

  Faust’s radio came alive at my back: “I have a tag,” Knox said.

  I turned back and looked at Faust.

  “Confirm. Send it,” Faust said.

  I heard a zip through the air and a smack. I turned back and stared through the glass of the van at the motel window. Blood sprayed on the blinds. The sound of the shot didn’t come for another second and a half.

  “Confirmed?” Faust asked over the radio.

  “Hit. He went down. It looked like the side of his neck, through my scope. I was trying to keep the round away from the woman.”

  Faust whistled to his other agent, behind the Charger, and motioned with his hand toward the room. “Ken, we’re going in.” Faust looked at me. “Get our back.”

  Chapter 33

  Ray saw movement through the shattered windshield of the van. He pulled Amy along, still using her as a shield, as he walked to the back corner of the room. With each step back, he got a little better angle. He heard Kane’s voice mention something about Viktor being raped in prison. Ray took one more step back. He saw a head near the driver’s door, and the man was bald.

  “Bye, bye,” Ray said.

  He pushed Amy to the ground before him. “Don’t move,” he said.

  Ray brought the AK-47 into his shoulder, and aimed. Ray squeezed the trigger as quickly as he could, aiming the rounds directly at and around where he’d saw Kane’s head. Metal and debris flew from the front of the van with each bullet that didn’t make a direct shot to the intended area. Ray emptied the thirty-round magazine. He squinted, looking to see if he could see the cop dead. Then he tossed the weapon on the bed and picked up another.

  Amy cowered before Ray, her hands over her head.

  Ray grabbed her. “Come on,”

  He walked her to the window for a closer look.

  “Are you dead yet, Kane?” he yelled. Ray moved the blinds with one hand to get a better look. In his right hand was one of the TEC-9 pistols pointed out the window. He couldn’t see blood or any signs that Kane was down. Without warning, something powerful sent Ray reeling back from the window. He fell to the floor inside the motel. His backward momentum sent Amy flying and bouncing off the corner of one of the beds. Ray lay facing the ceiling of the motel room. He heard the sound of the shot a moment later. Ray reached into the neck of his T-shirt. He turned his head to look, and his dark shirt was wet with blood. He ran his hand over his trap muscle between his shoulder and neck. It felt hot, wet, and unnatural. His fingertips bounced across jagged, torn flesh. He pulled his hand back—it was covered in blood with a chunk of skin attached to it. Ray got to his feet—the pain hit him like a thousand red-hot knives. He stumbled backward before regaining his balance.

  Amy tried running for the door. Ray reached out with his left hand, caught her by her hair, and pulled her back toward him. She screamed.

  “Where’s the rest of the coke?” Ray asked.

  She didn’t respond. Amy clawed at his hand holding her by the hair.

  Ray spun her around to face him. “Coke, bitch! Where is it?”

  “On the dresser!” she screamed.

/>   “Where are the keys to the Porsche?” Ray balled his fist in her hair.

  “Ow!” she screamed. “On the office desk.”

  “They better be.”

  Ray pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach. She folded into a fetal position. His eyes darted to the dresser. Ray spotted the baggie of cocaine and swiped it up. He dumped the powder into his hand and jammed the handful into his face. He breathed in and rubbed the rest in his mouth. Then he walked to the bags of firearms.

  Ray took one of the remaining MAK-90s from one bag and snatched up the other full duffel bag of guns. He draped the bag over his uninjured shoulder. He walked through the doorway to the office and the room in the back. He saw the keys on the desk. Ray scooped them up and walked to the door leading out the back. Ray shouldered the rifle, gritted his teeth, and kicked open the rear door. Sunlight hit his eyes, and he took a moment to adjust. Two Hernando County Sheriff’s cars were blocking the street a quarter mile up. He glanced to his right and saw a white Cadillac and the tail end of another sheriff’s cruiser. He looked left, and no one was there.

  Ray rounded the back of the Porsche. He opened the driver’s door, leaned inside the car, and jammed the duffel bag of weapons into the passenger’s side foot well. The large bag leaned against the seat, zipper up so the contents would be accessible. Ray moved the seat as far back as it would go, wedged himself behind the wheel, and started the car. The MAK-90 assault rifle hung from his left hand.

  One of the sheriff’s cruisers blocking the street in the distance flipped on its lights, turned in the street and started for the motel.

  “Shit,” Ray said.

  Ray lowered the windows. He took the rifle and propped the barrel out the driver’s-side window opening. Ray closed the door and shifted the car into drive.

  Chapter 34

  Faust left the cover of the van as his other agent, Ken, came out from behind the Charger. Deputy Levy and I stayed a few steps back and followed, our guns drawn. Faust and Ken had aim on the window of the motel room. Levy and I had sights on the front door.