Chapter 10

I drove out of down as quickly as I could, before the local cops came to investigate the accident. Once I was far out of town, I pulled into a roadside gas station, next to some payphones. He hadn’t been there before, but I wanted to try Robles again.

I was at a loss as to how they found us. Even if Robles was the Russian’s guy inside the Marshal Service, I hadn’t given up enough information to find Renata at the hotel where we were staying. My only guess was either they knew enough to be watching the reporter, which seemed like an extreme long shot, or Renata called someone and said something that lead them back to her. That also didn’t seem likely. She clearly understood the danger we were under.

There was also the fact that no one showed up for our meet. It was obvious the Russians had figured out where Renata was, and used the fact that I was off at a meeting with the Feds to go after her. But why would their person inside the Marshal’s service shut down my meet? Maybe they didn’t want other agencies brought into this. It still seemed like a weird play.

I dialed Robles number and waited. I was surprised when a voice I didn’t know answered.

“Taylor,” the voice said.

Meaning they were expecting me to call Robles back and had someone waiting to talk to me.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Chief Deputy Stephen Barrett,” he said, sounding rather pompous about it.

“Where’s Robles?” I asked

“This case has been prioritized, and I am taking personal command of it. Your game time is up Mr. Taylor. You need to come in now, and bring the girl with you.”

Everything about this situation set me on edge. No one showing up for the meet and now Robles being gone just didn’t set right. I decided to play this close to the vest.

“I told Robles this and I will say the same to you, you have someone inside your office feeding information to the Russians.”

“Yes, I know about your accusations, Mr. Taylor and as far as I am concerned, the only person we are worried about working with the Russians is you.”

“That’s insane. I’ve been protecting Renata from them.”

“We only have your word on that. All we know for sure is you are holding her and there have been a string of bodies in your wake.”

“If you check, I guarantee those bodies had extensive criminal records when they were still people.”

“Maybe. If you are innocent and we can verify what you are saying, then you have nothing to worry about from us. But even if you did kill them in self-defense, ignoring my order to bring the girl back to us is in itself a crime.”

“I’ve been trying to get her back to you. It’s why I set up that meeting this morning. A meeting you guys didn’t show up for.”

“I canceled your absurd meeting as soon as I took over this case. We don’t need to involve additional agencies in this, and you have no place dictating the conditions of Renata’s return to us. She is a material witness to innumerable crimes and needs to be in our custody.”

“She is worried about a repeat of the other night and the Russian’s inside man handing her back over to them.”

“Again, I think you are mistaken about anyone in my organization handing information over to any criminal organization. Regardless of that, we are done with this. Bring her in now or be prepared to do serious time.”

This was getting nowhere. I hung up the phone and walked back to my car. This guy could just be a clueless, by the book guy. But the way he was playing it, I couldn’t help but put him high on my list of possible Russian plants; since I only knew of two people in the Marshal’s office at the moment, who only had my and Robles’ names.

Just as I was opening the car door a state trooper’s patrol car came tearing into the parking lot, ending up catty corner behind my vehicle.

The trooper threw his door open and stood up, pointing his weapon at me.

“Don’t move,” he said.

Seeing as how I was staring at the barrel of a gun, and had no intention of shooting an officer just doing his job, I did what he said and stopped moving.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”

I did both those things, while I worked through the series of events. This was either someone responding from the accident, having been given my direction of travel and a description of my car.

Alternatively, Barrett could have pulled the location of the phone I was calling from and sent the closest person he could to come apprehend me.

I needed to end this situation quickly. Depending on how he ended up here, I was either a wanted federal fugitive who had shot up a bunch of people in Miami, or I was a guy who fled the scene of an accident after shooting a guy from the other car.

Either way, odds were this guy had backup on the way. Thankfully we were in the middle of nowhere, so I didn’t have to worry about a cop from a nearby town, and troopers were spread out enough it would take time for one of his own to catch up on me.

The last thing I needed to do was end up in the back of a patrol car. That would pretty much kill what little chance I had of rescuing Renata.

“Walk back towards the sound of my voice,” he said after I had complied with his first command.

I did what he ordered, walking slowly, and waiting for him to get close enough for me to make my move. If he was smart, he would have just held me at gunpoint until backup arrived. Thankfully, he wasn’t doing that.

I heard his footsteps behind me, and considered my position. I was on the side of a fairly deserted gas station, just off the highway. This side of the station was away from the road, so unless someone was pulling around to use the phone or put air in their tires, I would mostly be unseen.

I felt him getting close to me and heard the sound of his gun slipping into his holster. Then one hand wrapped around my wrist, preparing to snap on one of the cuffs, I pulled away from him. His instinctual response was to clamp on harder, to keep me from turning away. Unfortunately for him, this was exactly what I wanted him to do.

I pulled harder with my arm, but didn’t move away from him. Instead I twisted to the side and, grabbing with my other hand, pulled him to the ground.

It wasn’t a fluid flip or throw you see in the movies. Maybe if I had some kind of formal training I could have managed that. Instead, I went down with him, both of us collapsing but with me on top of him.

I drove my elbow low in his gut, aiming for below his bullet proof vest. His grip loosened as the wind was driven out of him, and I followed it up by punching him hard with my free hand. I didn’t get as much power into it as I wanted ... mostly because it’s hard to really put your weight behind a punch when you are lying on the ground ... but I got lucky and positioned it right.

The blow dazed him for a moment and he released me completely, one hand going to the side of his head, trying to get his head clear.

I reached over to where his handcuffs were lying on the ground, dropped in our struggle. Grabbing them, I snapped one cuff on the wrist closest to me and rolled him over.

He started to fight back harder, having finally gotten his wits back. I drove my knee high in his back to hold him in place and pulled his other arm behind him.

He was resisting me, but this was a bad position for him and he had no leverage to fight me off. I locked the other end of the cuffs on his free wrist and stood up.

“You just made a big mistake,” he said as I rolled him over and dragged him over to his car, propping him up against the driver side wheel. “You can’t outrun the radio. Assaulting an officer is felony. Let me go now and it will go better for you.”

Getting a look at him, I realized I had been lucky. He was old, for a trooper. Had it been a younger guy, I might not have been able to get away.

“I know, but a girl’s life is on the line. If I don’t get to her, she’s dead. I’m really sorry about this.”

I’m sure in his years in law enforcement he had heard all kinds of excuses and explanations, so this probably meant very little to him. But I did feel bad about all the same.

I pulled his gun out of his holster and he looked worried for a moment.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I told him. “I just can’t have you getting loose and chasing me down.”

I want around and put holes in the three tires he wasn’t near, shooting down and through into the ground, trying to avoid the wheel itself and a potential ricochet.

That done I dropped the clip, ejected the bullet in the chamber and set both on the ground in front of his car.

“Sorry again,” I called out as I slid into my driver’s seat and took off out of the parking lot.

Now I had another worry. As soon as he got free he would put out a description of my car and my license plate number to other cops in the area. I needed to ditch this car.

I drove for about twenty minutes before seeing a chain truck stop, one of those places that had a restaurant and showers available for truckers driving stuff cross country. I needed to ditch this car fast. I also needed to get to a phone. This seemed like a good place to do both of those things.