by Unknown
“Let me see your pistol.”
Jerry handed it to him. It was a short barrel .38 caliber revolver. Josh examined it, turning it side to side.
“Where’d you get this gun?” Josh said.
“Walt gave it to me.”
Josh handed it back. “Tell him to get you one that shoots straight.”
He started toward the van.
“Where are you going?” Jerry said.
“To get the last guy. There were three, remember?” Josh said, holding up three fingers.
Josh approached the van with his gun raised, ready to fire at anything carrying an Uzi. Lights came on in the buildings along the street. People would be coming down to check on their cars.
He could not let them get caught in the middle of a firefight.
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He looked in the open back end of the van. Inside were a few boxes laying on their sides. From around the side of the van, though, he heard shoes scuffing on the pavement. He peeked around the rear door and saw a guy standing with his back against the van, adjusting something on his arm.
Was he injured? If so, this should be easy enough. He would at least take one of them alive.
He stepped around the door. The gunman looked up and raised his Uzi. Josh lunged back behind the van. A spray of bullets rattled against the door and the side of the van. Josh rolled into the street with the image of the open end of the barrel in his mind. He did not like getting that close to a machine gun. It was like staring at death.
He heard footsteps running away. Josh hopped to his feet and went after him. That was stupid. Only rookies made boneheaded moves like that. They got themselves killed for it, too.
A second burst of gunfire stopped him again. He heard glass shattering and peeked around the van. One of the glass doors that led into an office building was shot out. He heard someone shout, then another short burst of gunfire, followed by a cry of pain. Josh ran to the door and looked in.
On the floor in the middle of the lobby was a security guard, an overweight, middle-aged guy in a gray and black uniform.
“Wh-Who the hell are you?” the guard said.
Josh admired his valiant attempt to do his job even though he had three bullet holes in his right leg and two in his right arm.
“I’m one of the good guys,” Josh said.
The guard’s revolver was on the floor by a couple of potted plants.
“I called the cops when I heard the shooting outside,” the guard said.
“Great.”
Josh could hear a quiver in the man’s voice. He was scared and Josh didn’t blame him. He was pretty scared, too, the first time he took a couple of bullets.
“Which way did he go?”
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The guard pointed with his good arm.
“The stairs. Up the stairs. Artie’s up there.” Josh ran down the tall arched hallway toward the rear of the building, passing a row of elevators and several doors. At the end of the hall were doors on either side with signs to indicate they were stairwells.
Great. He could have gone anywhere. He could be upstairs or downstairs, or he might have found a way out of the building already. Josh picked one of the stairwells and went in.
It was dimly lit, with cement stairs, white walls and steel tube handrails. The gunman wasn’t there. Josh went across the hall to the other door. Nothing there, either. He started to go out when he heard another short burst from the Uzi, this time more distant.
Definitely from upstairs. Did he find another guard? Josh went up the stairs. He was getting much too familiar with the sound of an Uzi for his own comfort.
He came out in the hallway on the second floor. There was the guard, Artie, he guessed, face down on the carpeted floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. On his back were the exit wounds of three bullets. Josh crouched and pressed two fingers to the man’s neck. He had no pulse.
In the opposite wall were three bullet holes. Artie obviously surprised the third gunman as he came out of the stairwell. There was no reason for this man to pay for this mistake with his life. It was his fault. If he hadn’t pulled that stunt with the van it would have gone on its way and none of these people would have been hurt. Walt was going to come down hard on him for this one.
Josh started down the hall. He wanted to find this guy before he killed someone else. He would tear this building apart if he had to.
Josh entered an office area crowded with desks when he heard a woman’s scream just a few feet away. He turned to his left and saw the Uzi pointed at him again. The gunman fired. Josh dove and rolled under the nearest desk. The bullets left a trail in the carpet behind him and slammed into the steel desk, shattering the phone and spraying a stack of papers in the air like confetti.
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Josh rolled to a knee behind the desk and aimed at the shooter, ready to kill. The gunman was using the cleaning lady as a shield. He saw Josh on the far side of the desk, readjusted his aim and fired. The woman screamed again. Josh ducked to avoid the bullets, feeling frustrated. This guy had to run out of bullets sometime, didn’t he?
“Don’t make me kill this bitch,” the gunman shouted.
“Oh, God,” the woman cried.
Josh heard the fear in her voice.
“I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Josh said.
He could see over the edge of one of the desk drawers that had slid open. The Uzi was pointed in the direction of the desk.
The woman’s eyes were wide with fear.
“You kill her, I kill you, simple as that.”
“I’ll do it,” the gunman shouted.
The Uzi shook in his hand. He was just as frightened as the woman.
“So do it,” Josh said in a calm, patient voice.
The expression on the gunman’s face changed. The woman sobbed. Josh felt sorry for her. She did not deserve to be put through this.
The gunman’s arm held the Uzi out for another second, wavering, then his elbow bent to turn the gun on the woman. With his concentration focused on the gunman’s eyes, Josh popped up from behind the desk, raised his Smith & Wesson in both hands and fired a single shot.
The gunman’s head snapped back. He stood motionless. The bullet entered on his right cheekbone and exited through the back of his head, scattering most of his skull on the wall behind him.
He sagged to the floor like a rag doll. The Uzi dropped from his right hand. Still in the grip of the man’s left hand, the woman was spun around like a ballerina. On her right shoulder was a splattering of blood. She stared at Josh, near shock.
Josh shrugged. “Sorry,” he said.
He didn’t know what else to say. It was his fault she had been put through this. There was nothing he could do to make it up Change of Heart
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to her. He should probably try to comfort her or something, but he didn’t know how to do that, either.
Alwayne had arrived when Josh came out of the building. He stood beside his car, looking around at the carnage with his hands on his hips. He was a tall man with a tall forehead, although he was about Josh’s age. He wore a polyester print shirt and striped pants held up with suspenders.
That was what Josh always liked about Alwayne. He was true to himself and he didn’t care what others thought of him. Walt was convinced Alwayne was not suited for field work and Josh was constantly fighting for him. He needed men like Alwayne.
“What the hell happened? A bomb go off?” Alwayne said.
His tall forehead crinkled.
“Just about,” Josh said as he went to Alwayne’s car.
He heard sirens approaching from the distance. He was not anxious to be there to explain things to the police. Jerry was leaning against the car.
“Anything in the van?” Josh asked.
Jerry shook his head. “Nothing, just empty boxes.” Josh looked in the back seat of Alwayne’s car.
“Did you
get him?”
Alwayne looked surprised.
“I thought you got him. I saw him go this way.”
“Nothing came this way but the van,” Jerry said.
Josh looked from one to the other, suddenly realizing they had been duped.
“He’s headed for the boat. Jerry, come with me,” he said.
He got in Alwayne’s car. Jerry got in the passenger side.
“What are you doing?” Alwayne said.
Josh rolled down the window.
“We gotta stop him before he gets out of the country. You don’t mind if we take your car do you? Didn’t think so.” Smiling, he rolled the window up and drove off.
“Wait!” Alwayne shouted. “If you wreck that car Walt’s gonna kill me.”
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Jerry had been told Josh could be like this. No, they had warned him. They said Josh was a wild cannon, out of control, a cowboy who could be more of a danger to his partners than he was to himself. After sitting in the car with him for three hours, Jerry came to the conclusion that none of it was true. Josh seemed like one of those timid, sensitive new-age guys. Jerry wanted to show Josh how tough he was and make an impression his first time out.
Now, sitting in Alwayne’s car with Josh again, holding on for dear life while Josh threw the car around traffic at speeds that made the other cars just blurs, Jerry was the one who was impressed.
Two days ago, when Walt assigned him a gun, Jerry was filled with confidence. Then, after sitting in a car with a new partner who seemed as passive as an old head of lettuce, Jerry was sure if he needed to use that gun he would have to do it on his own without expecting Josh to back him up. It hadn’t quite worked out that way.
He looked at Josh out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to stare openly. This man was completely different from the one who started this mission earlier that day. Josh had ice in his veins and that fiery look in his eyes. What was it? It was a look he’d seen before, but where? Then he remembered. It was the bloodthirsty look of a war hardened veteran on a battlefield. Jerry saw that look in the eyes of the veterans he fought alongside in the desert. They got that look after combat, especially when they killed someone. It was a bloodlust. Every one of them told him not to let himself get that deep into combat or he’d never get himself out. It changed a man, it made him something less than human, like a beast, and he could never be the same around other people again.
Jerry always took that for a load of crap, until he looked into the eyes of the man sitting next to him. Josh was not just some average field agent working a tedious surveillance job for an intelligence organization. He had been changed. He was a soldier, a hardened warrior.
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Jerry looked away. He completely underestimated his partner.
But then, how could he not? To look at Josh he’d never know what he was made of inside.
They reached the docks. Apparently, Josh knew exactly where he was going. They came to a guarded entrance in the fence with a guard house and a striped gate. Jerry saw the guard in the small booth sit up when their car did not slow down. Josh laid into the accelerator and the engine roared. Jerry’s grip on the door handle tightened. The guard picked up a radio microphone and shouted something into it. Josh launched the car up the slight rise of the driveway and through the lowered single plank gate, shattering it to splinters. The car slammed back to the ground.
Josh did not lift his foot off the gas.
They raced past the row of docks. In the side mirror, Jerry noticed flashing red lights coming after them. He looked at Josh.
If he noticed, he showed no sign of concern. If Josh wasn’t worried, then he wouldn’t be, either. He was, however, terrified.
At the end of the row of docks, Josh slammed on the brakes and slid the car sideways to a stop, perpendicular to the access road, facing out to the water and the end of dock 39. Ahead, in the car’s headlights, several armed men ran toward them. Beyond them, a long, tall yacht drifted slowly away from the dock. Jerry and Josh both looked out the left side window back up the access road. Several security vehicles, their red lights flashing, rushed toward them.
Josh looked at Jerry.
“Hang on,” he said.
“What? What?” Jerry cried.
His hands had never released their tight grip. Josh nailed the gas, heading straight toward the armed men, who raised their guns.
“You might want to get down,” Josh said, his voice calm over the roar of the engine.
Jerry heard the crack of the pistols as the men scattered out of the way of the car. Bullet holes punched through the windshield, but Josh did not flinch. One of the men failed to get out of the 20
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way of the car. Josh swerved to avoid him and Jerry wondered why until he realized Josh had no way of knowing whether they were real hoods or just rented cops.
They made it past the wave of guards and the only thing ahead was the yacht, turning out into the harbor, already well away from the dock. Jerry looked back. The guards were still shooting and the security cars had made the turn, bearing down on them.
“What are we gonna do?” Jerry said.
He did not see how they could stop the yacht without the harbor patrol. He also did not see how they were going to get away from all that security behind them with their lives.
“I don’t know,” Josh said.
His foot lifted off the gas. The yacht seemed to hover in a black void of space. Jerry hated the idea of admitting defeat.
“I think I have an idea,” Josh said.
The car swerved again and accelerated.
“Oh no. Josh, no,” Jerry pleaded.
Josh aimed for a makeshift ramp on the end of the dock that angled toward the stern of the yacht. The gap between the end of the dock and the back of the yacht grew rapidly.
“Are you crazy?” Jerry shouted.
“A little bit.”
Jerry was screaming when the car hit the ramp at full speed.
The engine roared as the wheels left the ramp and the car became airborne. Jerry stared down at the water that stretched between them and the yacht. They weren’t going to make it, he could see that, the yacht was too far. He’d rather take his chances with all those armed guards on the dock than face certain death in the cold, black water below.
Then the tail of the yacht loomed large in the cracked windshield. The car nosed over toward it. A man stood on the aft deck, lit by the car’s headlights. He had a machine gun, but was too stunned to use it. The car came down right on top of him.
Jerry couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes, finally realized he was screaming, and snapped his mouth shut. The impact seemed to take forever. He heard nothing. Time stopped for him, like in a Change of Heart
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dream. Then the car slammed into the deck like hitting a brick wall and the dream was over. Their seat belts strained to hold them back.
For a few seconds the world was silent. Gradually, Jerry heard the faint throb of the yacht’s diesel motors and a fast hissing sound. Jerry opened his eyes slowly. Twice in one night. He was beginning to understand what he had been told about Josh’s reputation. If he did this kind of thing on every mission, Jerry wasn’t sure he wanted to be teamed with him again.
A hand touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes.
“You all right?” Josh said.
“I think so.”
Josh smiled. “Damn. That was fun. I wanna to do it again.”
“Fun,” Jerry repeated.
Josh unfastened his belt and opened the door. Jerry did the same. As he got out, he noticed the hissing noise came from the front of the car, which had smashed through the wooden deck.
Blood was splattered all over the splintered wood and he stared at it for a few seconds before he realized it belonged to the man who had been standing on that part of the deck. The car stuck out of the deck at a steep angle. When he climbed down, Jerry found the
lower half of the man’s body, and was unable to tear his eyes away. He’d never seen so much blood.
“Grab that,” Josh said, and Jerry looked up.
Josh pointed down at Jerry’s feet. He looked down again, realizing an Uzi lay beside the body. He bent down and picked it up.
“If we meet resistance I need you to cover me. If I miss a guy you have to clean him off. Can you do that?” Josh said.
“Definitely,” Jerry said.
He pulled back the locking mechanism to make sure the Uzi was loaded and checked that the safety was off. Josh nodded.
Jerry took a deep breath. Josh might be crazy, but there was something about the look in his eyes that made him feel confident.
He’d follow this man to hell and back, if he wasn’t so afraid he’d 22
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get them killed on the way.
Jerry tapped Josh’s arm and pointed up the deck. Josh looked.
A man with an Uzi came toward them on the narrow walk alongside the superstructure.
“Thanks,” Josh said.
He started toward the guy, who had not raised the Uzi. Josh held his pistol down at his side, concealed by his leg.
“Who the hell are you?” the man shouted.
Josh didn’t answer. He didn’t get a chance. On the upper deck of the superstructure, a door opened and another man came out, his Uzi up and ready to fire. In a lightning quick, fluid move that startled Jerry, Josh raised his pistol and fired a shot. The man on the upper deck went down before he could fire.
The one approaching on their level raised his Uzi. Josh, holding his pistol in both hands, swung his arms down and fired another shot. The man was hit in the shoulder. He dropped the Uzi, which clattered on the rail and fell into the water. Josh fired another shot. The man dropped over the side.
Another one appeared in the doorway on the upper deck, but before Jerry could shout something to warn him, Josh swung his arms back and fired. Jerry saw a red splotch appear in the center of the man’s chest. He tumbled forward over the rail and landed with a thud.
“Come on,” Josh said.
Jerry followed, shaking his head. Did this guy ever miss?
Josh looked back toward the dock. “I gotta turn this thing around. I don’t think anyone’s driving it.” Jerry looked back at the dock. The security guards and their vehicles had collected under the lights. He followed Josh up the stairs, past the body of the man who fell over the railing and the one who lay at the top on the landing.
