Tunnel Vision

82

Roman drove from the Watertown Mall to a Bank of America in Watertown Square to deposit the cash from Babcock and Gladstone in a safety deposit box.

The parking lot was nearly abandoned because the bank was closing shortly. He had a few minutes and pulled to the rear of the building. Before he got out, he slipped the DVD of Zack Kashian’s first suspension into his laptop. Something in that first interview had stuck in his mind like a thorn. And for the third time he reviewed the kid’s emergence.

“Hey, Zack, you’re waking up.” The voice came from a woman off camera. “Zack, can you hear me?”

He grunted.

“He’s coming to,” said an unseen male.

“Come on, Zack, wake up.”

The kid opened one eye.

“That’s it, Zack, open your eyes.”

“Welcome back. How do you feel?”

“If your mouth and tongue feel tingly, that’s normal. Can you tell me your name?”

Kashian gave the woman a blank look but said nothing.

“Okay, you’re still a little foggy.”

“Can you tell us your name?”

He shook his head.

“No? Sure you can. It’s Zack. What’s your last name?”

After a moment he said, “Kashian.”

“What was that?”

“Kashian.”

“Right. Good. And do you know where you are?”

At that moment, Roman paused the video. From the far entrance, he spotted a silver BMW sedan with Bruce behind the wheel and some guy he didn’t recognize. Before they could block him in, he spun the car around and pulled into the street.

He shot up Mt. Auburn, and the BMW kept right behind him. Roman pushed the bag of cash onto the floor and raced up the hill with the BMW still on his tail. The sons of bitches had followed him from the drop. It was a setup from the start.

Ahead he saw Watertown High School and turned down the side street and into the large parking lot. Because it was the weekend, the place was abandoned.

He cut a half circle so that his car faced the entrance from the street.

A second later, the BMW pulled in. Before he could give Bruce a target, Roman turned hard to his left, then cut a sharp right. He could see the passenger aim a gun at him. But Roman zigzagged his car, floored the accelerator, and rammed the BMW broadside with the grille guard, crushing the passenger door and pushing the car to a screeching stop.

Roman jumped out with his silenced pistol and ran around the rear of the BMW. Before Bruce could recover, he smashed in the driver’s-side window, shot dead the passenger, and rammed the gun into the soft of Bruce’s neck.

“Don’t, please. I didn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, you did.” And Roman pulled the trigger.

Ten minutes later he was back in the bank parking lot, but it had just closed. Furious, he pulled out his cell phone and called Babcock. “You send any more of your frat boys after me, and you’re dead. You got that?”

“Roman, I swear I had nothing to do with that. They must have followed me. I swear. They were acting on their own.”

“Well, it won’t happen again. They’re permanently flatlined. And if you want this kid taken out, don’t fucking mess with me.” He clicked off.

All the banks were closed and he had $1 million in cash with him. He’d have to drive home and drop it off.

In the meantime, he went back to his laptop and turned on the DVD again.

“Okay, you’re still a little foggy.”

“Can you tell us your name?”

“No? Sure you can. It’s Zack. What’s your last name?”

“Kashian.”

“What was that?”

“Kashian.”

“Right. Good. And do you know where you are?”

The kid responded.

Roman paused the video, went back, and played that part again. Then he thumbed through a folder of data he had gotten from Morris Stern. After several minutes, he found what he was looking for.

“Oh my,” he said aloud.

He turned on his GPS. There was no time to head home. Suddenly this had turned into a religious pilgrimage, he thought. And he pulled onto the street and into the fast lane.