Judge & Jury - James Patterson [86]
The killer smashed against the edge, still trying to right his gun toward me, and toppled over, jerking a shot wildly into the air.
Like a dead weight, he landed on top of a parked car below.
I went over to the railing. People were screaming, running out of the way. I was exhausted, out of breath, gasping for air. For a second, I didn’t care who saw me. I didn’t care if I heard a police siren or if the cops found me.
Then I came to my senses. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing.
The crazy bastard opened his eyes. He looked up at me. He wouldn’t die. Blood was matted in his hair and on his shirt. He rolled off the car and, with legs like jelly, staggered backward toward the street, somehow still in possession of his gun, arcing his arm upward.
Toward me!
I didn’t move. I just stood there staring at him. “Die, you sonovabitch,” I said. “Die!”
He crouched between two cars. I could see he was having trouble breathing. Then he quickly stepped out and aimed to shoot at me. There was a smirk on his face.
I heard the beep. And the chilling screech of brakes. It was sharp and penetrating, bone-rattling loud.
The killer spun. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The look on his face was one of disbelief.
The bus careered into him, throwing him fifty feet into the street. His gun flew out of his hand and hit the pavement with a crack that sounded like a shot.
I heard screaming. I took a last look. He was just a crumpled, bloody mound.
This time I wasn’t waiting around for another encore. When the crowd looked up, the balcony was empty.
Chapter 107
MINUTES LATER, I was knocking on the door of our hotel room. “Andie, let me in!”
The door opened, and I almost fell through, collapsing into Andie’s arms. “God, Nick, I didn’t know what to think,” she said, throwing her arms around me. She stared at my bloodstained shirt, the black-and-blue marks on my neck.
“Nick!”
“I’m all right,” I said. “But we have to get out of here now!”
I changed quickly. We dragged our bags downstairs and paid. In minutes we were weaving back through the streets, Andie driving, to the coastal highway, headed back toward Tel Aviv. We had a ten-o’clock flight out of there. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back on the headrest, and blew out an exhausted breath.
“You weren’t supposed to stay.” I turned my head and opened my eyes.
“What?”
“I said an hour. I was thirty minutes late. I told you to get out of there. You weren’t supposed to stay.”
Andie stared at me as if she’d misheard. Then a smile creased her lips. “Braveheart was on the movie channel . . . I got caught up.”
Andie took one hand off the wheel and briefly patted my arm. “I told you I wasn’t leaving you, Nick.”
We drove a little longer, the lights of Haifa fading into the darkness. I felt as empty and exhausted as ever before in my life.
“Did we get it?” she finally asked.
I hesitated a little. “Yeah, we got it.” I smiled.
“So are we headed to Paris?”
“Stopover.” I nodded.
“Then where?”
“Still love me?” I asked.
“You scared the hell out of me, Nick. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“You should have been in my shoes.” I paused. “No. Not really.”
A smile edged across my lips. A wide one—triumphant. I couldn’t believe we had pulled it off.
Then Andie was smiling, too. “Yeah, I still love you,” she said. “So where?”
The end of the earth. Cavello had taunted me. Come and get me, Nicky Smiles.
That’s what had made me laugh. Why I knew Remlikov had told me the truth—the name of Cavello’s ranch: El Fin del Mundo. The End of the World.
“Patagonia,” I told her.
“Patagonia?” Andie looked at me. “I’m not even sure I know where that is.”
“Don’t worry. I do.”
Part Five
EL FIN DEL MUNDO
Chapter 108
THE YOUNG GIRL’S pathetic wails echoed through the large stone house. Her name was Mariella, and she was still curled up on the bed, blood on the pillow from the cut he’d opened on her face.
“Shut the hell up,” Dominic Cavello finally barked at her, wrapping