17

Jennifer looked at me like I was from a distant planet and said, “How on earth did you get Shoshana out of those tidbits? Pike, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah, maybe, but we’ll know soon enough.”

We reached the promenade, and I saw the target walking up it, about a hundred meters away. She said, “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to wring that guy out.”

“What?”

I stopped and looked at her. “Look, I can’t explain it, but I’m right. I know I am. I can feel it. I just need to confirm.”

She scrunched her eyes and said, “You sound like Shoshana.”

That brought me up short. I said, “Stop it. I’m not saying I’m some empath. I’m saying the evidence is there.”

She saw the guy getting away and started walking, saying, “There is no evidence. You have two sentences.”

I said, “So, you want out?”

We saw the guy mount some stairs, moving toward the surface streets of Tel Aviv. She picked up her pace, closing the distance to the staircase, but said nothing. We rounded the turn, now headed back the way we’d come, going up the stairs. He was already lost from sight.

I said, “Jennifer, I’ll do this alone.”

She turned to me and said, “No. I can’t have you execute something heinous. You’ll probably lose it and kill him.”

She started taking the stairs two at a time, and I followed, saying, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She kept striding forward, saying, “Whenever you get around Shoshana, you devolve into what you once were. It’s like you guys compete to see who can be the most sociopathic. I’ve seen it, and I’m not allowing it to happen here.”

I jogged behind her, saying, “That’s not what’s happening. She’s in danger. I can feel it.”

We reached the top, and she sighed, saying, “I know. I believe you.”

Confused, I said, “Now you believe me?”

She smiled and said, “I always believe you. Shoshana is right. You are like her in some ways. I just don’t want to see the other side of her come out in you.”

I swiveled my head left and right, looking for the target. I said, “You have such little faith.”

She did the same thing, saying, “Best predictor of future performance is past performance. And I’ve seen your past performance.”

Before I could answer, she said, “There. Going toward the parking garage.”

We were on an open deck that was decrepit, looking like its heyday had been in the eighties, the area falling into disrepair. I saw the target headed to a structure that was empty, with a FOR LEASE sign in every window. It looked like an entertainment center that had gone bankrupt, with crumbling concrete and graffiti left behind.

It didn’t take long to assess my options. This place was perfect. I said, “We take him here. Before he gets to the street.”

She nodded, agreeing. She said, “Let’s do it. But don’t kill him.”

We waited until he disappeared into the shadows of the abandoned structure, then sprinted forward. We entered the dark, the concrete strewn with detritus, and I held up a hand, listening. I heard the footsteps to my right and slid forward. He was now shuffling through the gloom. I heard him inadvertently kick some trash, and I sprinted forward, running past an open area full of pillars and balconies that might have been pretty cool in the day but now looked like a set for Planet of the Apes. I heard the traffic of the street below, and I knew I had to get him before he reached it.

I caught a glimpse of him through the pillars and then saw a spiral staircase headed down. He was almost to it. He was going to make it to the street and prevent me from taking him down. I improvised. I shouted, “Hey! Help me.”

He heard the words and whipped around, trying to find the source. To Jennifer, I said, “Lie down, now.”

She did. I said, “Help me! My wife has collapsed! Help me!”

He paused, looking at the stairwell, then at us. He made up his mind, running back to our location, Jennifer prostrate on the ground and me kneeling over her.

He said, “What happened?”

I said, “Nothing,” then exploded upward, throwing a wicked uppercut that lifted him off his feet. Jennifer leapt up, and I said, “Cover the rear.”

She did.

I turned my focus to the target and said, “Who were you chasing? Who did you give to the men at the restaurant?”

He struggled to ascertain what I’d said, my earlier blow clouding his head. I slapped his cheek and said, “Answer me.”

He covered his face and said, “What are you talking about? Why are you attacking me?”

I jerked his hands apart and began searching. I found a slip of paper with a name, and I saw I was right.

Shoshana Weinberg, room 747, Dan Carmel, Haifa. Reservation for seven days.

I became incensed, batting the guy’s head back and forth. “Why are you hunting her? Why did they want this?”

He waved his hands around, trying to prevent my strikes, whimpering. He said, “It’s a drug thing. She’s causing issues with that organization. They aren’t going to hurt her. Just scare her. I promise.”

That really set me off. Fucking liar. I started punching, hard, snapping his head back. I felt his nose break, and Jennifer sprang back to us, grabbing my arm and shouting, “Don’t!”

I calmed down and returned to the target. “I want the truth, or you’re fucking dead. Why. Are. You. Hunting. Her.”

Through the slobber of snot and blood, he said, “I told you. Don’t kill me. All I do is find them. I don’t do anything else. I get paid to find people. You should talk to the drug guys.”

And I realized he thought he was speaking the truth. I said, “Where’s your phone?”

He pulled it out, saying, “Take it, take it.”

I did, then said, “Show me the number of the man you met in the restaurant.”

“I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Show me.”

He did, and I noted it. I then said, “Show me the number of your partner. The one who sent you here.”

He scrolled through the call list and pointed again.

I pulled his wallet out of his pocket, thumbed through it, then stood up, towering over him. I said, “You leave here, and never mention a thing to anyone. You did your mission, and it was uneventful. You understand?”

He nodded, hope flooding through him.

I said, “If I find out you’ve spoken to your crew, if I see they’ve been warned, I’ll come back and carve you up. You understand?”

He nodded his head hard enough to cause bloody snot to fling off, saying, “Yes, yes, yes.”

I squatted down again, getting close to his face. I tapped his head with his wallet and said, “If I have any trouble in the next few days, I’ll know why. And I’ll hunt you. Trust me, you think you can find people, but you have never met anyone like me.”

He sagged back and said, “I won’t talk. I promise.”

I stood up and said, “You picked the wrong girl to chase. If she were here, you’d get a lot worse than this.”

And I hammered my boot straight between his legs, hard enough to lift him an inch off the ground. He screamed and rolled into a ball.

Jennifer jumped at me, jerking my shoulder back and shouting, “What the hell are you doing?”

I said, “Making a point. Come on. We don’t have a lot of time.”