Chapter 66

The clearing had a name: Delano Landing. It was the point where the Mullica River began breaking up into various side channels, separated by small islands covered with marsh grass. It was a beautiful spot for bird-watching or fishing for striped bass in early spring. A painter would have been thrilled with the subtle shadings of green and yellow, contrasting with the white sands and the lead-gray waters of the bay.

It was also a good spot for a shootout. The clearing was flat and open for 100 yards in every direction. A lonely spot, with no other buildings in sight, Hamilton and Burr could have used it for their duel—pistols at 15 paces—if they hadn’t been typical New Yorkers, insisting on staying close to the city.

The house was built right at the water’s edge. It was an old wood frame structure with boarded-up windows. No Trespassing and No Littering signs were plastered across the exterior. At some point, a second story had been added. This was an awkward-looking addition, with only a few functioning windows. Behind the house was a yard enclosed by a galvanized metal fence about seven feet high. It appeared to contain various vehicles, old trucks, dredging equipment.

When Jurevicius arrived he must have been in too much of a hurry to bother unlocking the gate. He’d parked the BMW about 25 yards from the house, front facing the water.

Randy didn’t like the idea of putting Bruno in harm’s way, but he couldn’t think of an alternative. They needed one person to talk and the other to shoot. The choice of roles was obvious; he just hoped Bruno would be able to keep his nerve. Ten minutes, even five, might make all the difference.

However, he couldn’t send Bruno marching across the clearing. What if they did have a sniper? Apparently, Bruno was thinking along the same lines. He stammered, “What if she’s … still in the trunk?”

“Meaning we wouldn’t have to engage the hostiles if we can find Alison and bring her to safety.”

“Exactly.”

Randy studied the BMW through his binoculars. “It’s not bouncing up and down like before. But that could mean she’s saving her strength.”

“Or got bored and fell asleep.”

The plan was for Randy to drive right up to Jurevicius’ car, wait while Bruno forced open the trunk, and then drive back, ideally, with two healthy passengers. Randy did not like the fact that both of them would be exposed to gunfire from the house for a substantial period of time. However, the house’s windows were all oriented toward the water; if somebody wanted to shoot at them, they’d need to expose themselves, too. And, if Alison wasn’t there, which Randy thought—but did not tell Bruno—was the likely scenario, at least Bruno would be properly positioned to execute Plan B, which was the stalling tactic with Jurevicius.

In addition to his own police duty pistol and the revolver he’d lent Bruno, Randy had a Remington pump action patrol rifle and a brand-new 870P Max police shotgun. Good weapons, but certainly no match for the firepower the Chief said they’d found on the NGBS commandos. Too bad there was no Kevlar body armor: Gardenfield just wasn’t that kind of town.

Randy started the Charger as gently as possible. Muscle cars aren’t known for being quiet, but there was a chance the water and wind would cover the sound of their approach. They had to act fast. Randy floored the Charger for the dash across the clearing. He made an oblique approach on the far side of the BMW, then hit the brakes so the Charger went into a controlled skid. It spun around 270 degrees and stopped dead. Randy had his revolver in his left hand, ready to return fire if any came from the house.

All quiet so far.

Bruno sprang from the car and attacked the BMW’s trunk with the crowbar. He was having difficulty finding the seam. The bar kept slipping. Randy cursed. “Don’t worry about the paint job,” he hissed at Bruno. “Ram it in there.”

Using more force, Bruno found an edge and leaned on the pry bar with all his weight. The trunk popped open with a shriek of tearing metal. It was empty. “No sign of blood,” he called, crouching behind the BMW for cover.

“Good luck, pal,” said Randy, who handed him the shotgun and roared out of the clearing.

The dust settled and all was strangely silent. Had Jurevicius left already? From this vantage point, Bruno could see that there was a dock, which acted as a front porch for the house. He crawled to the front of the car. A fast-looking boat was moored there. What was Jurevicius up to? It was time to engage.

“Jurevicius,” he cried. His voice sounded weak and feeble in the vast space of the clearing. He tried again. There was a churning in the pit of his stomach, and his second attempt was more pathetic than the first.

Bruno looked behind him. Randy was crouching behind the Charger’s fender. When he saw Bruno looking at him, he jumped up and started shaking his fist: “Bash the roof in, break the windshield, shoot the doors off.”

This is insane, Bruno reflected. He thought of the people Jurevicius had killed and those he might still be harming. Alison was in there; and Bruno’s own life was in danger—whether he acted or not. Randy’s life was on the line too. Now Bruno’s strength came surging back. He liked the heft of the crowbar; he couldn’t wait to use it. He walked to the front end and started smashing things. The headlights, one after another. Then the windshield. “Jurevicius,” he croaked. “Look what I’m doing to your car.” He took the sharpened end of the crowbar and raked it across the hood, producing a horrible metallic screech.

The door to the house flew open, but Bruno didn’t dive for cover. Randy shouted for him to get behind the car. Bruno didn’t hear him. He was focused on Jurevicius. The doctor stepped out of the house. He’d traded his business suit for some sort of waterproof boating outfit, and he was pulling something behind him. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but your friend wasn’t dressed for the occasion.” With that, he jerked a chain he was holding in his left hand. Alison stumbled out behind him, screaming and cursing. Her hands were cuffed behind her back; the chain was attached to a metal dog-training collar that was fastened tightly around her neck. It was the kind of collar designed to control the strongest, most stubborn dogs, using a ring of sharpened metal spikes pointed inward. Alison was squirming and trying to kick Jurevicius, who brought her up with another tug on the collar. She howled with pain. Bruno instinctively started forward but was driven back as the ground in front of him came alive with a hail of bullets.

“Put your weapon down gently,” Jurevicius hissed, brandishing one of those nasty Russian submachine guns. Bruno had no choice but to comply. Jurevicius forced Alison to her knees, snarling, “Be silent or I’ll blow your brains out.”

Now he stood behind her, the chain in one hand, the barrel of his weapon within inches of Alison’s temple. He shouted in Randy’s direction, “Put down your gun and come out in the open or I will shoot her.”

Randy laid down his rifle. He positioned himself half hidden behind the Charger’s front fender, but Jurevicius didn’t seem to care. From his position, Randy could see that Bruno still had the backup revolver shoved into his belt above the small of his back. “Don’t try anything,” Randy prayed inwardly. “Just say something. Talk to him. Distract him.”

That was exactly what Bruno wanted to do. But he couldn’t think of anything to say. Jurevicius relieved him of the burden. “Put your hands on top of your head where I can see them. Interlace your fingers.” He turned toward Randy. “You do the same.”

Bruno focused on Alison. He could see her chest heaving. She seemed on the verge of a panic attack. Other than the lacerations on her neck, though, she appeared to be unhurt. “Alison,” he called out. “You’re going to be OK. Others are coming. Just hang in there.”

Jurevicius tightened his grip. He forced the muzzle of his weapon deep into her rib cage and growled at her to be still.

“Why is this happening to me?” she sobbed.

Bruno winced. “Don’t hurt the girl. She has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”

“You are a fool,” Jurevicius snapped. “She has everything to do with this. Her practical joke will end up depriving me of everything I’ve worked to build for the last 15 years. Now I will have to leave my nice job and my comfortable home, and start over someplace else.”

“Spare us the self-pity,” Bruno answered with genuine indignation. “You’re the one who’s been running around killing people. Don’t try to say that Alison made you do it.”

“But in truth, she did,” Jurevicius said. He lifted his weapon away from Alison and pointed it at Bruno. “I don’t need to be lectured by you. And if you don’t put your hands back on top of your head, I will shoot you.”

Bruno had actually forgotten he was being held at gunpoint. He’d been gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Now he replaced them as Jurevicius directed.

“That’s better,” said the Frenchman. “Neither you, nor anyone else, understands what happened that night. The girl … it’s no use talking about it. You are in no position to judge. It was nobody’s business, and if she …” he again prodded Alison with the weapon “… had not been trespassing, none of this would have had to happen. She had many warnings, but still she pursued me. Fortunately, you and your friends were too obtuse to understand.”

Bruno stole a glance at Randy. He had moved to a better position by the car and Jurevicius hadn’t noticed. With his good hand, Randy was signing like a bird’s beak flapping. He wanted Bruno to keep talking.

“Obtuse? What do you mean, obtuse?”

“Do I have to explain everything?” Jurevicius’ expression betrayed a mixture of anger and amusement. “She moved the body to the meeting house hoping to direct your attention to Dr. Fischer who, she assumed, was responsible for everything at NGBS. Fortunately the police didn’t get it, but it was too close for comfort, especially when you started spouting off in the paper about the Quaker connection. We killed the boy to keep you focused on the school and the meeting house, rather than on us. I was rather hoping you’d arrest Master Quentin, but you disappointed me.”

“No one in their right mind would suspect Master Quentin. He’s a pacifist,” Bruno objected.

“Obtuse.” Jurevicius shrugged. “Just like I said. Your imagination is limited—unlike your young friend here.” He tightened his grip on Alison’s chain. “She is persistent, rather than intelligent, but she uses her imagination. I’ll give her credit for that. If she had only heeded our warnings and stayed away from our meeting today, this might not have been necessary …”

Bruno struggled to think of a reply. “So this is about revenge?”

Jurevicius wound the chain one more turn around his fist. “No, you fool. This is about hostages.”

Just then a shot rang out. Bruno heard Randy falling heavily and a loud “Damn.” Instinctively, Bruno moved in that direction, but a burst of live ammo kept him glued to the spot. A commando rushed to Jurevicius’ side and whispered urgently. The doctor nodded and sent the man away.

“I’ve just been told that your friends are on their way.” His manner was so nonchalant, he could have been simply confirming that he wanted an egg salad sandwich and a pickle, no chips, for lunch. “As a result, you now have a man down.” “Just a flesh wound,” Jurevicius mocked. “Nothing serious, but it focused your attention. I have no doubt my boat can outrun even the Coast Guard. Yes, I know they too are coming. But it would be simpler not to have to worry about them. So I want your friend to radio his superiors. Tell them that we overpowered you and escaped by car. Tell them we’re headed for New York.”

“Why should we do that?” Bruno asked. It was an inane thing to say—and he knew it.

Poor Alison paid the price. Jurevicius gave the chain a vicious yank. It practically choked her, in addition to the painful injuries inflicted by the spikes. She fell forward at his feet, gagging and writhing in agony.

“You are my hostages,” Jurevicius explained. “If you want to live, you will do as I tell you.”

“I’ll do it,” shouted Randy. He struggled to his feet. He was clutching his left forearm with his right hand, trying to staunch the bleeding. Somehow he managed to pick up his radio, and Bruno heard him make the call. By now the adrenaline was wearing off. Jurevicius was torturing Alison to death before his eyes. Randy his trusty sidekick was injured. And worst of all, he could no longer count on backup arriving in time, if at all. There was no point in stalling anymore. He had to do something, right away. But what? How about a Golem? If ever he needed a supernatural helper, now was the time. He could have laughed at the absurdity of it. How could anything as horrible as this actually be happening? He felt a wave of cold passing through his body from head to toe, as his last hopes died away.

The commando reappeared and urged Jurevicius to hurry. The Frenchman seemed to be mulling over some decision.

“You have nothing to gain by killing us,” Bruno pleaded. “We did what you asked us. Now let us go.”

Jurevicius frowned. He didn’t reply.

A bad sign. Bruno shut his eyes and let the words come without thinking about what he was saying. “Be a mensch for once—a human being. That woman in the hospital bed. The one you think about all the time. She must love you very much. What will she say when you tell her about all the people you’ve been killing?”

Jurevicius glared at Bruno. “What do you know about that? You’re just guessing …”

Bruno could tell he’d hit a nerve and tried to press his advantage. “I observed you many times, but you didn’t know it. She is always in your thoughts.” He described the hospital room in detail and watched closely as astonishment registered on the Frenchman’s face.

“She’s your wife, isn’t she, Serge? You had an accident and though she survived, you still feel like you’ve lost everything. This whole thing is about her, isn’t it? But why? Why’d you kill the girl? I still don’t get it …”

A picture was forming before Bruno’s eyes, but he couldn’t bring it into focus. The more he struggled to catch hold of it, the slipperier it became. Finally, he blurted out. “Ginnie Doe must have been your daughter. You killed your own daughter!”

Jurevicius roared with anguish. “No! Not my daughter, you babbling idiot, she was my wife!”

Jurevicius forgot he was holding a gun. He wanted to destroy Bruno with his bare hands. He lunged forward, forgetting about Alison as well. The chain brought him up short. It tripped him and sent him sprawling onto the sand. Alison began shrieking woefully. Bruno rushed to her side. Her neck was bruised and bleeding. He fumbled with the collar, trying to remove it so he could treat the wounds.

From the corner of his eye, he saw three commandos rush out of the building. They picked up Jurevicius, who was struggling to free himself from the chain. He pulled a gun from his waistband. Bruno did the same.

Then something unexpected happened. The commandos pinned Jurevicius’ arms behind him and took his gun away.

Bruno stared in astonishment. Why are they protecting us?

Then he heard it. Over his right shoulder came the unmistakable sound of chopper blades slicing the air. He stole a glance over his shoulder. They were approaching rapidly. It looked like they were going to arrive just in time.

A shot rang out. He felt Alison’s body shake with violent spasms in his arms. One of the commandos had raised his weapon and, rather casually, shot her in the thigh. The wound was spurting blood. Bruno dropped the revolver and pulled off his jacket. He shouted to Randy, “Make sure the helicopter lands here! She needs help!” Then he forgot everything except the need to stop the flow of blood.

A roar coming from the water forced his attention back to Jurevicius. The commandos had retreated to the boat, dragging Jurevicius with them. Suddenly, they cut back on the throttle. Bruno saw Jurevicius staring at him. The Frenchman reached into his pocket.

Bruno reacted instinctively. He pulled himself on top of Alison’s prone figure and braced himself for a final round of gunfire. Instead, he saw Jurevicius pull out a small blue package. Apparently, there was only one Gauloises left. Jurevicius lit it and tossed the empty package contemptuously in Bruno’s direction. The boat throttled up with a roar that carried Jurevicius and his men at top speed into the open water.