The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [157]
Cautiously, Ben inched up the block, trying to identify the approaching stranger. The man appeared to be Rick’s height, but heavier. But then, it was a heavy coat, Ben thought. As his heartbeat accelerated, Ben tried to convince himself that it was just his imagination. Relax, he told himself. There’s no reason to get crazy. When they were ten feet apart, Ben pulled off his right-hand glove and made a tight fist, determined to swing if the man made a suspicious move. When he was five feet away, Ben was sweating furiously. As they were about to pass each other, Ben was frantic, his mind preparing for every possible scenario.
Holding his breath as the man walked by him, Ben fought the urge to turn around. It wasn’t until he was well past the stranger that he finally breathed a sigh of relief. All that perspiration for nothing, Ben told himself, forcing a laugh. As he was about to turn to get one last look at the man, Ben’s neck snapped back as he was grabbed from behind. He felt an arm wrap firmly around his neck, while a hand in a navy coat sleeve shoved a pungent handkerchief into his face. Instinctively, Ben threw his head back, slamming it into his attacker’s nose.
“Son of a bitch!” the man yelled, releasing Ben and grabbing his bleeding nose.
Coughing as he ran up the block, Ben struggled to catch his breath. As he passed the supermarket, he looked back and saw that his attacker was in pursuit. Ben dropped his briefcase and grabbed the snow shovel from the hands of the supermarket employee. As the man approached him, Ben swung the shovel wildly. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Calm down,” the man said. “I’m not here to hurt you.” As the man tried to keep Ben’s attention, Rick turned the corner and was slowly sneaking up behind Ben.
“Who are you?” Ben asked. “Who sent you?”
“I’m on your side,” the man said. “I swear. I’m from the Justice Department.” His eyes were locked over Ben’s shoulder.
Following the man’s gaze, Ben spun around, swinging the shovel blindly as he turned. To his surprise, the flat side of the shovel connected with Rick, who would’ve otherwise grabbed him. “I don’t believe it,” Ben said. When Rick fell to the ground, Ben took the shovel and hit Rick once more in the head. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Ben screamed. “This is my life!”
Ben yelled at the supermarket employee. “Call the police!”
“We are the police,” Rick’s accomplice said to the employee. “Don’t call anyone.”
“Grab him already, Claremont!” Rick yelled, holding his ear, which was covered in blood.
Throwing the shovel at Claremont, Ben turned around and ran down the block.
“Follow him!” Rick yelled, even though Claremont was already in motion.
Faster and more athletic than either of his attackers, Ben ran back toward the residential part of his neighborhood. Hopping fences and racing through backyards, Ben crisscrossed between houses so his pursuers never had him in sight for longer than a few seconds. He turned down one driveway, made a left when he reached the backyard, hopped over a fence into the next-door neighbor’s garden, ran to the back of the garden, hopped over a fence that put him in a connecting backyard, and ran back out another driveway. Weaving through the neighborhood, Ben knew that the only house he had to avoid was his own. If his two attackers had split up, one of them would definitely be waiting there. As the cold