One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [126]
She said, “Get ready. I’m going to set this guy up for you.”
Huh? What the hell is she talking about? “Jennifer, listen to me—”
Before I could say anything, she dropped our backpacks and the laptop and took off running toward the wall below the third-level balcony. The killer began sprinting, rapidly closing the distance to her. I dropped the phone and followed suit, running flat out, as fast as I could. What the hell is she doing? There was nowhere for her to hide or defend herself. The killer closed the distance to five feet just as Jennifer veered directly at the corner. Now she zigzags.
I was thirty feet back, unable to do anything to prevent the man from catching her. I was just about to scream to distract the man when Jennifer launched herself in the air. She planted one foot on the left wall of the corner and pressed off, rising another four feet. She repeated the sequence with her right foot and got high enough to grab the railing of the third-floor balcony. She pulled herself over the rail, leaving the killer looking up, stunned. And alone.
I sprinted right at him. He was two feet off the wall, his head cocked back, completely unaware that I was coming. Wow. This is going to leave a mark. I hit him just below the shoulder blades like an NFL linebacker, snapping his head straight back and driving him completely unprotected into the wall. I heard his ribs crack like dry kindling and felt a spray of blood from something damaged. When I dropped him, I saw his face was a gory mess. Ouch. I looked up and saw Jennifer, white as a bedsheet but smiling.
I smiled back, showing her that I thought this was just business as usual, although my face was probably white too. Jesus, that was close.
“Get your ass down here, spider monkey.”
“I can’t get down from here. Only up. Keep heading around the corner. There’s a stairwell in back. Meet me there.”
I ran back and gathered up my phone and our luggage, then ran in the direction she had indicated. I met her coming out the door. Knowing we were about five seconds from being seen by the other guys tracking her, I grabbed her hand and began dragging her toward the nearest exit.
“Come on, we aren’t out of the woods yet.”
We made it to the garage and the rental without getting spotted. I jumped into the driver’s seat while Jennifer ran to the passenger side.
After closing her door, Jennifer leaned over and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce squeeze. She was trembling, adrenaline still coursing through her.
She said, “I thought you were dead or in the hospital. What happened? Why did Kurt call?”
I said, “Let’s get the hell out of here while we still can. I’ll tell you while we drive.”
I started the car and exited the parking garage. “Before that, though, what on God’s green earth was that Flying Wallendas bullshit back there? What were you going to do if you missed? Fall on top of his head?”
“No way was I going to miss. I told you, I used to do that stuff for a living. And somebody had to do something after your brilliant plan went to shit.”
“Touché. So we had to flex a little bit. All part of the strategy.” I grinned at her. “I will say that was some pretty switched-on thinking back there. Scared me to death, but worked out very well.”
I told her what had happened and my fears about the Taskforce.
Jennifer didn’t seem to buy the theory. “You were the one that said it couldn’t be the Taskforce. Now you think it is?”
“I can’t come up with any other explanation.”
“Why on earth would the Taskforce do that? What possible good would it do?”
“I have no idea, which is why I’m going to call Kurt right now. Where’s his number?”
Jennifer got out the number and dialed the phone, handing it to me.
I heard Kurt answer and said, “Guess you missed, huh, asshole?”
“Pike, is that you? What happened at Four Courts? Where are you?”
“You’ll find me soon enough, you son of a bitch. I still want to meet, but on my terms.”
“What’s your problem? What’s going on?”
“My problem is that