Kill Me if You Can - James Patterson [67]
But as soon as he opened the door, five insurgents riddled him with bullets. He dived forward, letting the armed grenades fall from his lifeless hands.
In all my years in combat, it was the finest act of courage I had ever seen.
The explosions rocked the building, and the insurgents were either killed or stunned enough for the rest of the squad to finish the job. An hour later, the tanks got through and cleaned up the snipers’ nest.
Jody Middleson was awarded the Medal of Valor.
I learned a hard lesson that day, one that neither the Ghost nor I ever forget. Consider every possible angle. Think the unthinkable.
Adam was right. It was déjà vu. But this time, I was on my home turf, and I had no excuse for being trapped in a desperate situation.
I made a promise that afternoon in Fallujah never to lose another man to poor planning.
The Russians were coming. And we’d be ready for them. We knew we had one big advantage. No matter what Chukov threw at us, we still had the element of surprise.
“I’m not going to second-guess you,” Adam said, “but do you think this is the best idea?”
“What do you mean?”
“You let Chukov know where you are. We’ll win this battle, but these guys are like cockroaches. You squash one, and the next day ten more crawl out of the woodwork. These maniacs will keep after you until they get their money or kill you—or, most likely, both.”
“I have no choice,” I said. “I need to get their focus off Katherine.”
Adam shook his head. “All these years you’ve managed to keep the Ghost off everybody’s radar. But the way this is shaping up, the Russian Mafia will be chasing Matthew Bannon. You’ll be running for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not running anywhere. Not until I can convince the woman I love to run with me.”
“And if she says yes?”
I smiled at the thought. “They’ll never catch me. I’ve got plenty of money and the three best bodyguards on the planet.”
Adam put both hands to his heart and fluttered his eyes at me. “And the woman you love.”
I punched him in the shoulder. It was like hitting granite. I’m sure I felt it more than he did. “Are you making fun of the guy who signs your paycheck?” I said.
“No, sir. Just let me and the guys know if you decide to change your handle from the Ghost to the Hopeless Romantic.”
My cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID. It was Katherine.
I grabbed it. “Hello.”
I heard her say my name, but it was a terrible cell connection and she was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Katherine, what happened?”
“Leonard…Leonard Karns. They shot him. He’s dead.”
This was no coincidence. Karns was about one degree of separation from me—the same as Katherine. I had to get to her. “Where are you now?” I said.
“Subway station. I just got off the—”
And then the phone went dead.
“Damn it!” I turned to Adam. “They killed one of the guys in my art class. An asshole, but still. We’ve got to find Katherine. We’ve got to find her right now.”
I started to dial again, when my walkie-talkie crackled.
“Bartender to DJ, over.” It was Ty on the roof.
Adam answered. “This is DJ. Go ahead, Bartender.”
“I’ve got five dancers headed our way, looking to tango. They’ve come to the right place.”
“Roger that. We’ll start the music. Have Doorman let them in. Let’s do what we do best. Over and out.”
Chapter 79
THEY ARRIVED IN three cars—an Escalade, a Crown Vic, and a Mercedes S550—all black. They parked a block away, out of sight, but not out of camera range. Ty had a top-of-the-line Pelco surveillance camera pointed down onto Perry Street.
Adam and I went to the video monitor.
“Let’s see couple number one,” Adam said.
The two men in the Escalade were standing next to the car. Ty pushed the 22x optical zoom in on the first one, a black guy with a scar running from his left ear down past his collar and beyond.
“Umar Clarke,” Adam said. “Jamaican hit man. Operates out of Brooklyn.”
The camera panned to his partner. “Rosario Virzi,” Adam said. “Complete scumbag. And from what I hear, racist. Chukov must be desperate if he threw those two