Authors: John Gilstrap
At All Costs (53 page)
And the shooter was getting away.
“Get on your face!” the officer yelled. His voice cracked from the strain. “Arms out to the side!”
With his arms still raised, Jonathan pointed the forefingers of both hands toward the opposite span. “The shooter’s over there!” he said.
“Now!”
Moron.
The cop was so invested in Jonathan as the bad guy that there’d be no reasoning with him. Jonathan did as he was told and lowered his belly to the pavement. Partly to streamline the process, but mostly to steal the officer’s thunder, he went ahead and placed his hands behind his back, cuff-ready.
The cop was so invested in Jonathan as the bad guy that there’d be no reasoning with him. Jonathan did as he was told and lowered his belly to the pavement. Partly to streamline the process, but mostly to steal the officer’s thunder, he went ahead and placed his hands behind his back, cuff-ready.
“Don’t you move,” the officer warned as he approached. “If you so much as blink, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Jonathan listened as the footsteps halted on his right side, near his hips, he figured. This would be the time—at this range—when Jonathan could take the guy out if he’d wanted to; but the officer would be aware of that, too, making it that much more important for Jonathan to be on his best behavior. Most of the friendly fire incidents that Jonathan had witnessed over his years in the military had been tied one way or another to a bad case of the nerves.
“I see you’ve done this before,” the cop said as he placed his knee in Jonathan’s back and gripped his thumbs for control. From the way he fumbled with the cuffs, the guy gave himself away as one who did not do this very often in the field.
“Actually, no,” Jonathan grunted through the pressure on his back. “But I’ve done it enough to others to know the drill.”
The cop hesitated. “What, you’re going to tell me you’re a cop?”
“I’m a lot of things,” Jonathan said. “For tonight, though, I’m a private investigator who was seconds away from killing the person who shot up the bridge.”
“Right,” the officer scoffed. “That’s not what I saw.” He ratcheted the cuffs tighter than they needed to be, then climbed off Jonathan’s back and pulled on his wrists to bring him up to his knees. He continued to grasp the chain of the cuffs while he reached into his prisoner’s back pocket for his wallet.
Jonathan sighed noisily—a growl, really. “Look, Officer . . .” he waited for the guy to fill in the blank.
“
Agent
,” the man corrected. “Special Agent Clark, United States Secret Service.”
Agent
,” the man corrected. “Special Agent Clark, United States Secret Service.”
“Special Agent Clark, then. United States Secret Service. If you got on your radio right now, you might be able to stop a mass murderer from getting away.”
“Why be greedy?” the agent quipped. “I’ve already got one member of the team in custody. You’ll give me the rest in time.”
Jonathan bowed his head. Surely the man was being deliberately obtuse. Did he really imagine, even for a moment, that the destruction here could have been wrought by a man with a .45? Jonathan didn’t have a lot of respect for cops in general, but he had a particular hard-on for federal agents whose bravado outstripped their abilities. It happened a lot. He resigned himself to losing this battle.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” a voice boomed from Jonathan’s blind spot. It was Dom D’Angelo.
“Stand away, Father,” Clark commanded, clearly noting Dom’s collar. “This is none of your concern.”
“It absolutely is my concern,” Dom insisted. “Not only is that man my friend, he is also my driver for the evening.”
“One step closer,” Clark warned, “and I’ll arrest you, too.”
Jonathan stared out into the cold night, blinking his eyes against the wind. There was a killer out there somewhere, getting away while they dicked around with Agent Clark.
It was going to be a very long night.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 1998 John Gilstrap
Excerpt of
Threat Warning
copyright © 2011 John Gilstrap, Inc.
Threat Warning
copyright © 2011 John Gilstrap, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-2828-3
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