fifty-one

I ran, tripping and skittering on the uneven pavement. The car’s engine roared as I heard the same quiet popping sound that had killed Kevin. The air behind me whistled with bullets that clanged off the iron fence. I glanced at the street. The hood of the car blocked me in. I ran on down Beacon Street.

My toe caught on a brick and I lunged forward, falling down the street with long, loping steps. More popping, more whistling bullets. The nose of the car pulled next to me. The tinted driver’s window was black and reflected the streetlights. Over the rain, I heard Dmitri’s voice: “Goodbye, Mr. Tucker!”

Then came the gunfire, loud, and earsplitting. I winced and ducked as the car’s windshield fractured in spiderwebs of glass. More gunfire and the windshield was gone, the exploding safety glass splashing into the car. Thank God for Jael.

I reached the entrance to the Boston Common and turned into the park. The car stopped behind me, and the car door opened. I heard some yelling in Russian and another burst of sound from the machine gun. I ran toward the Frog Pond as bullets plowed geysers out of the shallow water.

I risked a glance over my shoulder through the pelting rain and saw Dmitri slip to one knee on the wet grass and mud. He raised the gun to his shoulder. I turned away and ran as pain ripped across the skin on my upper arm. The force of it knocked me off balance. I sprawled across the grass.

I scrambled to my feet and ran, dodging among the trees. Bullets splintered wood around me. Warm blood slicked my arm as I darted among the uneven roots. I paused as the Common opened into a broad expanse in front of me.

The empty black lawn spread before me, offering me nothing in the way of a hiding place or help. The only break in the grass was a stone shed that led down to the underground parking garage. I ran for the shed, a plan forming in my mind. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Dmitri was getting closer. He had tucked the gun under his arm and was running full tilt, following me over the grass and paths as I cut across the open space.

I reached the entrance and pulled one of the doors open. Inside were a payment machine, an elevator, and a door leading to the staircase. I pulled on the staircase door. It was locked. A sign said something about using a parking ticket for entrance. I had screwed myself. I looked outside the kiosk. Dmitri was standing in the rain, his gun level with his gut. I flinched away from him and opened the other door. He fired, and the kiosk glass shattered. Bullets ricocheted, and something tore at my scalp as I ran back out into the rain. There was another burst of sound, but the kiosk was between me and Dmitri.

I lowered my head and ran down the concrete path, head down, arms pumping. I flew through the Common exit, and across the slick, empty street and into the Public Garden. I kept running straight and fast, no dodging, no hiding. But when I reached the bridge across the Swan Boat pond, drunkenness and exhaustion took me down.

I tripped, my foot hooking across the back of my calf, and sprawled across the rough concrete. By the time I had climbed to my feet, Dmitri was standing on the bridge, his machine gun swinging into position. He smiled and pulled the trigger as I bolted toward the low green fence that framed the bridge.

I heard bullets hit concrete and Russian swearing. I vaulted at the fence, kicked off of it with my foot, and threw myself into a long belly flop into the hard water. Water punched through my nose into my brain. I tried to gasp, filled my lungs with water, coughed, and dove. Bullets splashed around me as I swam along the bottom of the pond. Something cracked at the back of my head as a water-slowed slug hit me and bounced off. Then I swam up into darkness.

My shoulder grazed a pontoon. I was under a raft of Swan Boats that had been stored in the middle of the pond overnight. Gunfire burst from the bridge, chipping at the benches on the boats. Then silence and swearing. Dmitri was out of bullets.

Dmitri called out, “You are a dead man, Mr. Tucker!”