Becoming Quinn

30

By the time they reached the clearing, twilight had settled over the mountains. There, on the eastern side of the range, the shadows were deep and black, as if night had fully engulfed the ground but not yet the entire sky.

Durrie halted next to a downed tree, setting his pack on it. From inside he pulled out a pouch, then removed two items and handed one to Jake.

“So we can stay in touch,” Durrie said.

“We’re splitting up?” Jake asked, surprised.

Durrie looked at him for a second, then nodded at the gear in Jake’s hand. “I’ll leave it up to you to figure out where the earpiece goes. That little square piece attaches to your collar. See the switch on the bottom?”

Jake twisted it around until he found what Durrie was talking about.

“Flip it into the other position. That turns everything on.”

Jake did so.

“On the side’s a pressure button. In, your mic’s on. Out and it’s off. Since you’re not used to the equipment, just leave it on at all times.”

Nodding, Jake activated the mic, then attached the square to his collar. Once that was done, he inserted the earpiece. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Durrie had just finished checking the mags on the two handguns he’d pulled out of his bag. As he shoved the last mag back into place, he looked out at the clearing. “I want you to move through the woods and over on that side.” He pointed across the clearing at the side farthest from the dirt road. “When you get there, find a dry branch about an inch thick.” He looked at his watch. “In exactly five minutes, snap it like you would if you’d accidently stepped on it. But only once. Quiet after that.”

“You took my watch.”

Durrie frowned at him. “You know how to count, don’t you?”

“What are you going to do?”

From Durrie’s pause, Jake sensed the man wasn’t used to sharing his plans.

“I’ll be on the ridge on the other side of the road,” Durrie said. “When I see him go by, I’ll follow him. Once he’s between us, we’ll take him down. If you end up firing your weapon, try not to shoot me.” He strapped his pack back on. “You can start counting now.”

He took off.

With little choice, Jake headed around the perimeter of the clearing, counting down the seconds in his head. On the way, he found a branch that would do what Durrie had requested. He reached his assigned position with about thirty seconds to spare.

Propping the branch on a rock, he raised his foot, holding it in the air as the final seconds ticked off. Three…two…one…crack!

Even as the sound was still reverberating across the clearing, Jake started looking for a place to hide. He found a spot about thirty feet away, where he could see both the clearing and the area where he’d snapped the branch.

He wasn’t nervous, in fact, far from it. He was…energized, he realized. Focused, alive, and energized.

Durrie was scrambling up the ridge when he heard the crack. He checked his watch. Right on time. Durrie was the one who was slow.

He saw a shallow depression to his left, and angled over to it. He had barely lain down in it when he spotted a dark shadow race across the dirt road. He brought his rifle around, but was too late.

Son of a bitch! He’d been expecting to catch Larson coming over the ridge, putting Durrie in the position to end it right there. He hadn’t expected to see the other man already halfway to the clearing. So much for his plan.

He quickly got to his feet and started down the hill. As he did, he clicked on his mic.

“Oliver?” he whispered.

“Here,” the kid answered back.

“I just spotted him on the road. He’s heading in your direction.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. In fact, just stay down. I’m coming in behind him.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it.”

“I said, I got it.”

Durrie clicked off his mic.

When he reached the road, he paused. This was the most dangerous part. Larson could be just on the other side waiting for someone to show up. Though it was now full dark, the mountain sky was full of brightly shining stars, making the road the one place a person wouldn’t be able to hide.

Crouching low, Durrie made a quick dash to the other side. No bullets, no sound of a gun. Just the breeze through the top of the trees, and the underlying buzz of insects.

Durrie made his way as quickly as he could toward the clearing, while being careful not to make any noise that would betray his position.

“I think I see something,” Oliver reported.

Durrie pushed the mic button twice so that the radio would broadcast an audible click. It was a signal to say that he heard, but couldn’t talk. He hoped Oliver would understand.

Apparently, he did. “Movements on the side nearest the road,” Oliver said. “It was in the trees, but I don’t see it now.”

Durrie double-clicked again. He wanted to say, “Get the hell out of there,” but he was too near the clearing to risk it.

He dropped into a half crouch to lower his profile as he weaved through the trees, then stopped when he finally spotted the clearing twenty feet away. He had taken a much more direct path than Larson’s to get there, so there was a chance the assassin hadn’t reached that point yet.

Durrie searched the area, but nothing caught his attention. After several seconds, he rose, intending to move closer to Oliver’s position. That’s when he finally heard a noise. But it wasn’t a footstep or clothes brushing against a tree. It was the whoosh of something moving through the air.

Instinct kicked in, and even as he turned toward the sound, he dropped his head down and raised his arm as protection. The move probably prevented his skull from being crushed, but the glancing blow of the thick branch against the side of his head was enough to knock him out.

Jake heard a noise off to his left. A thwack followed by something falling to the ground.

“Durrie?” he whispered. “Was that you?”

No response.

“I heard something. If it’s Larson, he’s about fifty yards from me.”

Still nothing.

Jake’s hand involuntarily tightened on the grip of his pistol. “Durrie?” he said again, but received the same lack of response.

This was not good.

He considered investigating the noise, but held his position. The sound could have very well been part of the same kind of trap he and Durrie were trying to use on Larson.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” Larson said playfully over the radio. “Hello? Is that you out there, Officer Oliver? If so, I have your friend here, the one you said made a run for it from the cabin. You lied to me, Officer. I’m impressed.”

Jake pulled his earpiece out, holding it close enough so that he could hear anything coming over it. When Larson spoke again, he listened carefully to the forest to see if he could determine where the man was.

“I’m sure your conscientious mind would be glad to know Durrie’s still alive. Whether he stays that way is up to you.”

There was a faint sound coming from the direction where Jake had heard the thwack. He put the receiver back in his ear. Then, leaving his bag, he moved deeper into the woods, and began circling around so he’d come at the sound from the side opposite the clearing.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Larson said. “I know you’re close to the meadow. That little trick you tried to lure me in with? It did the job. Here I am. Now, step out of the trees, and walk all the way to the center.”

Jake needed to keep him engaged, so he whispered, “Why would I do that?”

“Officer Oliver, so good to hear your voice. Why? Because I’ll kill him otherwise.”

Jake paused behind a dying tree. “Why would you think I’d care? He kidnapped me.”

Larson laughed. “I’m not buying that. You’ve got a cop’s mind, which means you can’t let someone die if you think there’s something you can do about it.”

Jake could hear the man’s voice ahead, not quite loud enough to make out the words without the aid of the radio, but definitely recognizable as Larson. “I’m not a cop anymore.”

“You think getting fired changes the way you think? I know your kind. I know what goes on in a cop’s head like yours. It’s all about saving lives.”

Jake said nothing, worried he was getting too close to respond without giving away his position.

“What’s wrong, Officer? A little too close to the bone?” He paused. “Enough chat. Move into the meadow where I can see you, and do it now.”

Jake circled to the left, moving closer as he did.

“Oliver!” Larson shouted. Jake froze, thinking he’d been spotted. But then the man said, “Stop wasting time, and move out where I can see you! Goddammit! You do not want me to come looking for you!”

Jake could now see Larson standing next to a low, dark rock. Though the man’s tone indicated a person losing control, his body language told a different story. The shouts were an act, Jake saw. Larson was very much under control.

Using a wide pine tree to cover most of his body, Jake leaned out just enough to take a better look. Larson was looking toward the meadow, his gun in his hand by his side.

“Oliver! Now!” He looked bored as he yelled the words.

Movement. Not Larson, but at his feet. It was a rock, only it wasn’t. It was Durrie.

As Durrie tried to stagger to his feet, Larson put a foot on his back, looking like he was going to push him down, but then he paused and moved his foot away.

With his empty hand, he pulled Durrie up. “Tell him to walk into the meadow where I can see him,” Larson ordered. He plucked the mic off his collar, and held it out to Durrie. “Tell him.”

“Go to hell,” Durrie said.

Larson smiled. “Tell him.”

Jake raised his gun.

“I said, go to hell.”

Larson shoved Durrie to his knees, then whipped the gun around and pointed it at Durrie’s head.

“Drop it,” Jake said.

Both Durrie and Larson looked over.

“Well, how about that?” Larson said. “Nice job, Officer. I see Durrie’s done a little work with you.”

“Drop it,” Jake repeated.

Smiling broadly, Larson quickly yanked Durrie back to his feet, turning him into a human shield. “Why don’t you drop yours?”

Jake didn’t move.

“Is that what they taught you at the academy? To endanger the life of a hostage?”

“Put the gun down,” Jake ordered.

“You are one big pain in the ass, you know that?” Larson said. “I should have terminated you the same day I removed your girlfriend.”

After everything that had been going on, Jake’s mind took a second to process what Larson had said. When it did, a chill overtook his body.

No! Dear, God! No!

Larson tilted his head to the side. “What? You didn’t know? What do you think happens to people who get involved in things they aren’t supposed to? If you hadn’t involved her, you would have been the only one who needed to be dealt with. But you did, so…” He shrugged.

Jake glanced at Durrie. “Is he telling the truth? Is Berit…is she…?”

“Yes,” Durrie said. “It was…unsanctioned.”

“Unsanctioned? What the hell does that mean?” Jake asked.

Larson let out a laugh. “It means no one else had the balls to make the call so I made it myself. Same with you and this old asshole. I’m cleaning up trash all over the place.” His face hardened. “The end’s inevitable. This is what I do, and I’m very good at it. So toss the damn gun, and step out so we can finish this.”

Jake didn’t move, his eyes locked on Larson’s.

“You can run if you want. That’s an option, too. But that will only delay the end by a few minutes. Could be fun, though.”

Jake still didn’t move.

“Come on, Officer Oliver. What are you going to do? Shoot me through the hostage?”

Larson may have been a professional, but like Durrie had told Jake before, the assassin was a little too impressed with his own skills, which explained why he was woefully underestimating a twenty-two-year-old, ex-rookie cop.

“No,” Jake said. “We’re trained never to shoot the hostage.”

The bullet that left Jake’s gun passed even closer to Durrie’s head than the one back at the cabin. But, as before, it missed Durrie and hit what was behind him.