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Mack saw his face in the papers and on wanted posters as he went outside. He hoped that the changes he’d undergone were enough. So far, it has worked.
Mack had tried and failed to establish contact with Greg, and he feared the worst. If Dimitri was on to Mack, he probably knew about Greg, too.
Mack's next option was to stalk one of the police officers. Mack decided to stick to the only cop he knew very well, the small, stern-faced Detective Boyce. Boyce seemed to live a pretty neat and law-abiding life. Mack was surprised to learn that the detective had a wife and a son, but Mack never saw him smile with them either.
After about a week of tailing Boyce, Mack was getting bored with the detective’s routine. Then one evening, rather than drive home straight from his shift, he took a detour. Mack followed him cautiously in a small sedan, until he saw Boyce drive into the walled compound of Dimitri’s noodle factory.
Gotcha, Mack thought.
He stayed and waited, never letting his eyes roam from the huge black gates the detective had gone through. Finally, the gates opened and Boyce drove out. But he wasn’t alone this time. Mack adjusted his baseball cap to obscure his face while still offering him a good view. He watched as Boyce drove by, and he got a glimpse of the stranger in the passenger seat.
Mack felt his heart leap. It took most of his strength to keep him from revealing himself. He waited until Boyce had driven down the road before he sat up. His face was still clouded by the expression of surprise. He looked back at Boyce's car as it slowed down at a red light. Mack couldn’t get the image of Greg from out of his head.
It was no figment of imagination. He’d seen the guy, complete with his facial tattoo. So he’d been there all the time, working and living freely.
Why didn’t the scumbag show up as agreed?
He felt the anger he’d kept off all this time slowly seep into his body in waves, like tremors from an earthquake. Mack couldn’t believe that he’d been going through all this difficulty to keep from being apprehended for something he didn’t do, and this criminal went about his normal life. All of a sudden, an idea popped into Mack’s head.
He started his car and took a turn.
You wanted to play, now it’s time to play.
Boyce’s light had just turned green. Mack stepped harder on the accelerator so he could keep up. He wasn’t going after Boyce anymore. He had Greg in full sights now.
***
Brenda stood in front of her mirror and poured a bottle of vodka on the long gash on her shoulder. She bit on the piece of cloth she’d put between her teeth as she grimaced in pain. The wound on her shoulder burned and felt like it was spreading.
Above anything else, she was grateful that she’d escaped the assault on her with nothing but a long gash to testify. Someone had been watching her. She didn’t know who, but she berated herself for being so careless all this while. Someone really didn’t want her talking to Mrs. Cumming, and she was certain it wasn’t just Boyce. Boyce couldn’t have ordered that attack. The men and the firearms they carried didn’t look like the police. Someone else had taken notice of her activities and was trying to snuff her out.
She still had a vivid recollection of all that’d transpired during the shooting. As soon as she ducked below the windows, she made her way through the rain of bullets toward the passenger door and burst out the other side. During her escape, a bullet zinged close to her, ricocheting off the side of the car.
Brenda’s tactical training took over. All she had on her was a Glock and an extra magazine, while her attackers had machine guns that seemed to have an abundant supply of bullets. Their bullets were of a bigger caliber than hers and could obviously do more damage. It was only a matter of time before the car she used for cover became the death of her. It was so riddled with bullets that chunks of it began to fall off. The fuel tank was on Brenda’s side, away from the full impact of the bullets, but it wasn’t going to stay that way for too long. With time, the bullets would eat through the bulk of the car and get to it. The way she saw it, she could either get killed by bullets or by a tank explosion.
Brenda realized that the gunmen had been shooting continuously at the car without slowing down for a reload. She assumed their goal was to kill her, make sure she was dead, and also make sure she remained that way. There was no way she would have survived if she’d still been in the car. It occurred to her that she could use their singular focus to her advantage. She pulled out her Glock, popped a bullet into the chamber, moved to her left and dove beyond the rear bumper.
Even before she hit the ground, Brenda visualized where her targets would be. As soon as the gunmen came into view, she squeezed the trigger and didn’t let go. The first series of shots hit the men in their legs, bringing them down and making the next shots fatal.
Brenda was safe, but she was no fool. She knew that was only the beginning. If they were willing to unleash that kind of attack in broad daylight, Brenda couldn’t safely take the time to search them.
Brenda checked the mirror again to make sure she’d bandaged the wound properly. She took a swig from the bottle of vodka and walked out. An FBI tactical support team was in the vicinity, but Brenda couldn’t call them in without an airtight case to support her. She couldn’t point a finger at who sent the men or who the men were, but she was sure Dimitri was behind the attack.
Let’s see what wonders that life of yours holds, shall we?
She picked up her gun and slapped a full magazine in.
She’d learned Boyce’s work schedule and routine by letting one of the cops at the precinct take her to dinner. The guy had made it a habit to bother her each time she visited the precinct, so she figured she would take advantage of the opportunity. By stalking Boyce, she was sure she’d learn a thing or two about Dimitri.
Chapter Five
“Yeah, you say you’ve found him?”
“Yes,” the sheriff replied. “We got an anonymous tip that he’s staying in a bed and breakfast. The anonymous caller didn’t know for sure that he was the one in the wanted posters. She just saw that they had an uncanny resemblance.”
“Resemblance?”
“Yeah, the suspect kinda looks different.”
