Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [16]
Jack shot Fredo Mangella twice in the chest. As the restaurateur dropped back into his chair, the standing white-haired man pulled a .45 and aimed it at Jack.
Before he could fire, the door next to him opened, striking the Albino's arm. His .45's barrel dropped as the woman who'd greeted Jack appeared. She stepped forward, preventing Jack from getting a clean shot, then screamed when she saw the guns, screamed louder when she saw Mangella's corpse flopped in the chair.
Jack heard the shouting voices of Mangella's men. He slammed the broken door shut with a spinning kick, then pressed his back against the wall next to it.
"Don't move," he cried, trying again to draw a bead on the Albino.
But Jack couldn't shoot. The pale man had curled his long arm around the woman's throat and was using her as a shield.
"Pull the trigger and she dies," he rasped, his .45 back up. "Throw your weapon onto the desk and step away from the door or you'll die, and then she dies."
Looking into the Albino's ghostly eyes, Jack knew the man wasn't bluffing. He tossed his Glock on the desk beside the laptop and raised his hands.
4
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 10:00 A.M. AND 11:00 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
10:00:06 A.M. EDT
Rural Route 12
Hunterdon County, New Jersey
"Hang back, Leight, I don't want them making us."
For ninety minutes now, FBI Agent Jason Emmerick had been driving across the Jersey countryside, his twenty-six-year-old partner, Douglas Leight, at the wheel of their white Saturn.
"We've been following this Hummer since it left the airport," complained Leight after they hit another bone-jarring bump. "If they didn't make us, they're blind."
They were off the highway now, surrounded by trees and plowed fields, wooden fences and cows. The rural road was narrow and dusty and in disrepair.
"It may not matter, either way," Emmerick said. An African American in his late forties with a lean, strong build, Emmerick was clad in pressed khakis and an Izod shirt, a navy-blue blazer over it. He reached into the blazer, his hand brushing the butt of his weapon as he pulled out a pack of Juicy Fruit. "Now that their precious package has arrived from Montreal, I don't think these guys will be changing plans."
"Well, they must know we're tailing them," said Leight, his sandy eyebrows knitting beneath his light brown crew cut. "And I think they're leading us on a wild-goose chase."
"They may know we're tailing them, but they've got a destination. This is the way to Kurmastan," Emmerick replied, shaking out a stick of gum and unwrapping it. "And if this Hummer isn't going there, it may take us to someplace new, which means it's someplace we should know about."
"Yeah," Leight grunted. "Like the Slurpee counter at the 7-Eleven."
"Okay, so they stopped at a convenience store," Emmerick snapped the stale stick of gum and popped it into his mouth. "Get over it. Everybody's got to take a piss sooner or later. Even terrorists."
Leight gripped the steering wheel. "I just wish I'd had the chance to grab a hot dog. I haven't eaten since last night. Good food, too — Val's a great cook. You should take me up on my invite, come on over for dinner some night."
"You two are getting married next month, aren't you?"
"Right, but it's the honeymoon I'm looking forward too." Leight grinned. "You're invited. Remember?"
"To the honeymoon?"
Leight smirked. "You wish. You got the invitation, didn't you?"
"I don't know. I'll check with Bettina. She's got her hands full lately. Our au pair went back to Ireland, and now she's trying to take care of the twins and her keep her freelance business going. And, by the way, for future reference, the 'terrible twos' aren't a myth. Want some gum?" Emmerick held out the pack.
Leight took a stick. "So this guy we're tailing. You said his name's Amadani. But you didn't know it was him we were waiting for, right?"
"Right."
"Yet you recognized him?"
Emmerick nodded. The second he saw Amadani at baggage claim — five-eleven male, late forties, gray hair,