Ambush
- Автор: Паттерсон Джеймс, Борн Джеймс О.
- Серия: Michael Bennett #11
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Little, Brown and Company
- ISBN: 978-0-316-27398-5
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Ambush». Краткое содержание книги:
At the corner, she saw two cabs turn onto a side street. That’s where she needed to be. She stopped for a moment to get her bearings. She could see the Freedom Tower in the distance and the Brooklyn Bridge not far away.
She would take a cab to within a few blocks of her hotel, then walk the rest of the way. Just in case someone put some effort into finding out where she went from here.
She didn’t intend to waste any time after that. She would catch a bus south and then a flight out of Baltimore or perhaps Reagan National. It was extra work but would give her peace of mind. No one would be able to figure out who she was or where she went.
Alex kept a steady pace down the street, her right hand just outside her purse for easy access to her weapons. No one gave her a second look. Another police car flew by, followed by a paramedic truck.
She turned the corner and saw three cabs sitting along the curb near the middle of the block. As she approached, she caught the first driver’s attention and stepped directly to the rear passenger door.
Her survival instinct told her she wasn’t quite clear yet. She grabbed the stiletto from her purse and held it in her right hand.
Just as she grabbed the cab’s door handle, she heard someone from behind her say, “Police — don’t move.”
She let the stiletto rest on the cab’s roof in the crease where the door closed.
Chapter 96
As soon as I called out, “Police — don’t move,” I felt an odd mix of emotions. There was that taste of excitement any cop feels at the moment of making a big arrest, but I also felt anger. That was something strange for me. I could usually detach myself at a moment like this.
I saw her freeze, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I aimed my service weapon at her head. The taxi driver was a veteran of the New York streets — he knew to lie down in his seat to keep out of the line of fire.
The woman didn’t move and rested her hands on the cab’s roof. I knew she carried her pistol in her purse, so I immediately said, “Drop the purse on the ground. Do it now.”
She hesitated, then tilted to her right and lowered her right arm. The purse slipped off and plopped on the ground. I could tell by the way the purse thumped on the sidewalk that it had a gun in it. The same one that killed that young receptionist. The same gun used to shoot Father Alonzo in the stomach. The same gun she had pointed at my daughter.
Now I stepped a little closer. I kicked the purse away from her and leaned forward. I used my left hand to grasp her left arm so I could handcuff her.
Then I felt her weight shift. It was slight, but if you’d been in a street fight, you would know what it meant.
She pushed hard off the cab, knocking us both back on the sidewalk. I stumbled but kept my balance.
Then she spun and extended her right arm. It arced through the air toward my face. I ducked, and the blow missed me. That was when I realized she had a knife of some kind in her hand. It took me a moment to comprehend that it was the stiletto she’d used in the murders.
She wasted no time after the first strike missed me. The woman threw a front kick aimed at my groin.
I blocked it with my right arm, then tried to bring the pistol up again.
She brought the stiletto down and slashed my forearm.
My hand opened involuntarily, and my service weapon clattered to the ground.
The assassin kicked my pistol under the cab and out of my reach.
Blood soaked the shredded sleeve of my jacket. It took a second to register the pain as it shot up my arm.
I took a step back, a little dazed, then faced the assassin as she thrust the stiletto at my heart. She let out a grunt, or maybe it was a “Kiai” she’d learned from her Colombia-based martial-arts instructor.
I shifted a fraction and felt the stiletto skitter across my shirt. That was close.
I lifted my right arm and wrapped my hand around hers — the one that held the stiletto. She was faster than I was and had more pure fighting skill, so I had to use my size advantage. I held on to her hand even as she struck my face with her left elbow.
I lifted her off the ground, then both of us tumbled to the sidewalk. I landed on top of the woman, who, for all her skill, was still seventy pounds lighter than I was.
The stiletto made a clinking noise as it fell onto the sidewalk.
I felt the fight go out of her.
It was over.
Chapter 97
It took a moment to secure the assassin with handcuffs and make sure I had all her weapons. She stood up gracefully even with her hands cuffed. She faced me with a look of defiance.
I held my right forearm in an effort to slow the bleeding from the gash she had given me with that stiletto. Blood dripped onto the white sidewalk in a crazy red pattern.
I felt the anger rise off me. This woman had caused me so much pain.
“What’s your name?”
She gave me a pretty smile and said, “At this time, I’m not going to say anything.”
“You won’t tell me who wants me dead?”
“I think you might have already figured that out.” Then she looked at me as if we were having a conversation. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a police officer as relentless as you.”
“You gave me plenty of motivation.”
“You could’ve always taken your family and gone into hiding.”
“There was another reason why I couldn’t let you slip away.”
She looked intrigued as she said, “And what could that reason possibly be?”
“Antrole Martens.”
“Excuse me?”
“He was my partner who was killed by a hand grenade. Or do you not even pay attention when innocent people are killed?”
“I feel it. After my work is done.”
“His wife and two children feel it every day. And now continue to struggle. Maybe the rest of their lives. There’s no way I could ever run from someone like you.”
The woman shrugged and said, “Too bad. It would’ve saved a lot of heartache for everyone.”
I gave her a hard stare and said, “Will you talk to me? We might be able to do some good.”
She shook her head and said, “I’m afraid I can say nothing more until after I speak to my attorney.”
It was over. I felt a wave of emotion rock through me. I managed to say, “You’re under arrest.”
She just nodded. Then, after a moment, she said, “How did you know where I would run to?”
I saw a patrol car down the street racing toward me. I gave her a little smile. “I’m a New Yorker. I know where the tourists will head.”
Chapter 98
Two weeks after the shoot-out in Brooklyn, the entire family attended a ceremony for Father Alonzo at Holy Name. He had only been out of the hospital for a week, but the city seemed desperate to honor a brave citizen.
The local media had produced dozens of stories about the “hero priest” who’d risked his life. Even the young doctor who’d treated him at the hospital had gained some notoriety, interviewed by the Today show and Fox News.
The media coverage, as well as his storied career in the Colombian national police, attracted visitors from near and far. All the bigwigs from the NYPD, as well as the Catholic archdiocese, sat just behind us with the mayor, though he had a rocky relationship with the police department.
There were a dozen members of the Colombian national police who came to pay their respects. They seemed pleased that they could make a claim on the priest who had helped capture a killer.
Father Alonzo was not required to speak to the crowd, only to stand and accept an acrylic plaque from the police commissioner. He looked stiff and had told me he was a little sore from the bullet.