Triage: A Thriller (Shell Series) (39 page)

“Why are you doing this?”

“Let’s ride and talk about your brother.”

He looked around. A few people traveled the sidewalks but they didn’t look as though they’d be of any help to him.

“I can snatch you right now, Noah. No one would try to stop me. Someone might see it happening but they would get my details all wrong later when they talked to the authorities. My height, weight, race even.” I paused. “Make a decision now. By the way, I’m the relaxed one. My sniper’s probably growing impatient.”

Defeated, Noah’s shoulders slumped and he moved toward his car, his gaze fixed on the building across the street the entire time.

We’d traveled less than a mile when we came to a light. I’d scouted the area earlier, knew every opportunity that existed for me over the next five blocks. This was a perfect moment and place to make my move.

“Noah?”

“What?” he said, exasperated, turning to face me…

Making the head butt simple.

WHILE NOAH ATTENDED TO his face, I struggled more than I had imagined to reach across his body and legs in the tight space and take control of the vehicle. Somehow I managed to maneuver it down the alley just off to our right. There was a Dumpster in the alley but it was rusted and unused. Two doors led into the buildings that comprised the alley but neither space inside was inhabited. I parked just beyond the Dumpster, shielded us from view, turned off the ignition and pocketed the keys. Noah Avery moaned beside me and soaked up the blood seeping from his ruined mouth and nose with his fingers. I reached across him again, found the door handle and pushed open the door. Shoved him out. He was a sobbing heap as I walked around the back of the vehicle and met him on the driver’s side.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he cried.

“I did. Now talk to me about your brother.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“This is too much.”

“Your brother…”

“Is a maniac,” he said. The immediate candor surprised me.

“How does he play into this?” I asked.

“Oh…Jesus.”

“How does he play into this?” I repeated.

“Jesus…Jesus.”

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and roughly stood him. “How…does…he…play…into…this?”

“I set it all in motion,” he stammered, “and it got out of control. Jesus, Jesus, it got out of control.”

“CANDACE ISN’T AN ADULT in Bishop’s eyes,” Noah said, snorting and crying still. “He believes watching over her as he does will protect her from harm, that there are people who’d exploit her and he must single-handedly stop them all. But he’s stunted her growth more than her…disability. What happens when he’s gone?”

“You’re in love with her,” I said, smiling as realization took hold.

“We’re in love with each other,” he corrected.

“So how does that tie in with Sweet and Nevada?”

“Oh Jesus.”

“Don’t stop talking now, Noah.”

“They came to the church claiming to be Bishop’s children. He’s a prominent man with money. People make wild claims all the time. I was ready to dismiss them, tell him about it thinking we’d share a laugh. But then Bishop acknowledged it was true. The hypocrite.”

Noah’s sudden anger trumped his fear. Best to let him feed off of that, I thought, keeping quiet.

“Illegitimate children,” he sneered. “And he has the nerve to walk around with his nose in the air. No one is as pious as he. He is the all powerful One. Two bastard children show up after more than twenty years and he can take them out to eat, flash his black Amex card, and all is forgotten and forgiven.”

“That made you angry?”

“Damn straight.”

“And so…”

“I decided Candace was better off without Bishop in her life. I would take care of her myself. The only thing I was missing was…”

“Money,” I said. “You set up the extortion.”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t know how to do that. I reached out to my brother. He handled everything. I just handled the money end.”

“Where’s the money now?”

“Huck took it all. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Where’s Nevada?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your brother killed Sweet,” I said, raising my voice. “Did you know that?’

“Yes,” he cried. “Yes.”

“Did you tell him to?” I yelled.

“No!”

“Where’s Nevada?”

“I don’t know!”

“Is she dead?”

“I don’t know,” he said, sobbing louder. “It’s gotten way out of control. My brother isn’t talking. I don’t know.”

“Your brother runs with a man called Uncle John. Is he involved in this too?”

“It’s all Huck. He’s out of control. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You’re going to kill me? Please. Oh, Jesus, Jesus…Jesus. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I love Candace. You can understand that. It’s Huck. My brother is sick. Jesus. He’s sick. Jesus…Jesus.”

“Noah,” I said calmly. “Stop it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“Your brother has to be dealt with, Noah. I’ve looked into his eyes and…”

“I know. I know. I messed up. I shouldn’t have involved him. I am so sorry I involved him.”

I held out my arms for comfort.

I’m a violent man, much in the way his brother is. It’s there in my eyes, too. But our human desire for comfort in our weakest moments is far greater than reason. Noah fell into my arms without a second thought. Fell into my arms like a child.

I didn’t wait more than a second before I rammed Noah Avery into the brick wall of the building. His head jolted back and exploded like a pumpkin on impact. It was a sick sound that sadly I’ve heard before. The light in his eyes dimmed before his body hit the filthy ground.

“Never announce your plans,” I whispered before walking off, leaving him to rot.

THIRTY-FIVE

HOW’S IT TO KILL someone? You feel anything after?

I’d ignored JW’s questions on the last day of his life, but as with most things of a tricky nature they couldn’t be avoided forever. With every death resulting from my hands I moved closer to my own demise. Each shuddering last breath was a new reminder of how mortal all of us are, myself included. Here’s my final truth, one that I won’t run from again: I’ve always been unsettled by seeing the light dim in someone’s eyes, that crowning dash of confusion right before the end. It takes a certain kind of spirit to kill without feeling.
How’s it to kill someone? You feel anything after?

Too much. You feel way too much.

I literally shook my head, cleared these thoughts from my mind.

My breath was rank, my throat raw. I’d made it only a few blocks from Noah Avery’s fallen corpse before I had to stop, retching so violently I expected to see blood in my vomit. The effort drained me. A slick of sweat covered my skin now. I reached my car, parked a block beyond the coffee shop, and sunk down like a stone behind the wheel. I took two, three, four deep breaths and made my first attempt at easing the key in the ignition. It took several more attempts before I was successful.

I drove in a daze, wandering around for several hours, not realizing I’d done so until I made a turn onto Elm Street. The sun had set a while before and the street had a dark feel to match my mood. I found a spot maybe a hundred yards from Nevada’s front door. The distance seemed daunting but I vaulted out of the car without hesitation and started walking for home. A light burned next door to the Rubalcaba’s but their house was dark. Siobhan had called my cell not long after I took Noah Avery out of his misery. “Not only can I read your face,” she’d said, “but I can read your voice, too. What have you done?”

I stumbled around for an answer, unable to come up with a suitable one.

“I’m hanging up,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Let me explain,” I finally managed.

“No. I’m hanging up. If we keep talking I’ll say something we’ll both regret later.”

Again.

Once
again
I was a killer.

“Don’t turn around,” a voice called from the shadows behind me now, breaking my thoughts. “Open the door and step inside about five feet. Leave the door open, keys in the lock.”

I knew this moment would come. I did as told.

He rushed in behind me, closed the door, took the keys from the lock and threw the deadbolt in place. I stood frozen, watching him. He jangled my keys as he walked toward me. His right hand held the familiar .38.

“I’m going to pat you down,” he said. “Then we can get started.”

It was a reckless thing to do, but once he was close enough I quickly raised my right hand and jabbed jabbed jabbed at his face. The .38 could have accidentally discharged, but luckily it remained silent in the most important way, falling from his grip and making a meaningless noise as it hit the carpet. I kicked it away. He stumbled down the hall, hitting the walls like a pinball, trying to get his bearings. I took a running start and wrapped him up by the waist, his arms pinned as I tackled him football-style. Unable to break his fall, his head bounced hard off the ground. It didn’t sound like an exploding pumpkin but his brain was jarred just the same. He lay motionless. I stood to my feet, brushed off my pants, and got to work.

“HOJOJITSU,” I SAID AS Rad came to. I suppose the hot water blasting from the shower had something to do with his awakening. He squirmed in the chair I had him tied to but was unable to escape the scalding spray. I had not bothered to gag him or tape his mouth, and so a tortured song escaped his lips. After several notes I was satisfied enough to turn the water off.

“There are four rules in hojojitsu,” I said calmly. Rad moaned and blinked water and blood from his eyes. “Don’t allow your prisoner to slip his bonds. Don’t cause your prisoner mental or physical injury. Do not allow anyone but the initiated to see your technique. Make your knots look attractive.” I smiled. “Three out of four isn’t too bad, wouldn’t you say?”

Rad did not say anything. His face was lobster-red, the skin broken and bloodied in places, his hair and clothes dripping water.

“This knot is called a cross,” I went on. “Loop the end of the rope at the back of your neck. Place the plain end through the loop and down, then around the upper right arm, under the arm and across the back of the left arm. Then you bring the rope across horizontally to hold everything in place, and through the part coming down from the neck. Wrap around your wrists two or three times. Voila.”

“You’re a dead man,” he said finally.

“I suppose so. What were you planning to do to me?”

“Assist you in leaving Newark,” he sneered.

“We tried that already. Somehow you led me off course.”

He looked away.

“I spotted you when I first drove up,” I said. “So I took a key off my ring. You played it just how I would have. Come up from behind on the sneak. Tell me to leave my keys in the door. You couldn’t have known I had a free key to use as a weapon. So…overall, well done, Rad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I looked around thoroughly as I walked to the house. Shepard isn’t with you. So it’s just you and me.”

“You’d like to think so.”

“It hasn’t been a good day for me, Rad. And you were looking to make it worse. That bothers me.” I reached behind me, the small of my back, came out with a switchblade I had trapped in the waist of my pants. “Fortunately you don’t get any say in how this day ends after all. I get to play God for the moment.”