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I really hate being proved right.
I hadn’t heard the phone, but the minute Simon cracked open the door to the bedroom I was using, I was fully awake.
“What’s wrong?”
“Russell,” he said in a hoarse voice, exhaustion clear. “He’s surfaced.”
“What? Where?”
“He fire-bombed the Legion, right here in Lancaster!”
“That son-of-a-bitch,” I growled, throwing the sheets aside and reaching for my pants.
Forty minutes later, we sat in an armored Escalade, a twin to the one with the shot-up windows, down the street from the building. Dark smoke drifted across the roadway, red and blue emergency lights creating a kaleidoscope as it cut through the gloom. The street was a tangle of hoses as fire fighters moved back and forth across the scene.
A large white fifth-wheel trailer sat along the curb downwind of the building. COMMAND CENTER was stenciled in large red lettering. A uniform at the perimeter directed Mack to the trailer, and we sat waiting to hear any news.
“We can only be thankful that this happened so late at night,” Simon said, trying to lift my spirits. “At least the building was closed and there would have been no one at risk.”
I didn’t bother to answer, and he fell quiet again. I was beyond being pissed off. Now, the urge to kill was strong within me. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I was at a point that I didn’t give a rat’s ass. This all had to end before Russell hurt anyone else.
I wanted to lash out at the cops and the FBI, but knew they were doing everything they could. Even from our distant vantage point, I could sense the frustrated expressions and body language of the detectives as they met at the entrance of the Command Center trailer. Even Pointer and Gilpin seemed worn-out and tattered. No one was getting much sleep. For all the technology and manpower, Russell was a ghost that seemed to move freely without concern of being exposed.
At long last, the trailer’s door opened, and Mack dropped to the street. He made his way to where we waited, his eyes roaming the neighborhood. He stopped beside our vehicle and spoke through the driver’s side window.
“It was definitely our friend,” he said without preamble. “Fire and police have identified and confirmed the device as the same type used a few months ago to firebomb the synagogues and mosque. The place was alarmed, but even the fire department arrived well before the inept security company that monitors the building. The place is a total write-off.”
I thought about all the history now gone forever. Many of the photos that covered the Legion’s walls were one-of-a-kind, with most of the service personnel displayed in them already passed on. There might be some digital record, but unless someone had safeguarded that record on a cloud service, the important memories of my generation would be gone forever at the strike of Russell’s match.
“No one got hurt, Mack?” Simon asked, and I knew it was for my benefit.
“No, a working smoke-alarm gave the tenant in the upper apartment plenty of time to get out. He’ll be looking for a place to live, but he’ll live to talk about it.”
Listening with half an ear, I watched the scene down the street with creeping defeat as exhaustion pressed me down. I knew I was allowing myself to descend into self-pity and despair. The continuous attacks were taking their toll. All this wouldn’t have bothered me thirty, or even ten or fifteen, years ago, but now it was becoming overwhelming. Between the mix of anger and frustration and the constant pain that gnawed at my innards, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last.
What was worse was the guilt I had for those who were there for me. For Simon and Mack and his team. And for poor Jeremy, who paid the ultimate price for my pride.
A vehicle’s movement shook me from my dark thoughts. A light blue Dodge Caravan crept past our position to park three car lengths ahead of us. I cursed under my breath as I recognized the van.
“What is it, Donald?” Simon asked.
I lifted my head towards the Caravan. “That’s Decker’s van.”
Sure enough, the driver’s door swung opened, and my friend extracted his long frame from the vehicle. He turned towards us, but only to pull open the side sliding-door. Benny and Edith exited from the open door, while Rita and Frank walked around the van from the passenger’s side to cluster together, all eyes on the smoking ruins down the street. With them was the Legion Commander who immediately headed toward the command trailer.
“Damn it!” I muttered.
“Donald, what does it matter. It’s only natural that they come out to see this. From all that you and they have told me, this place has meant a lot to all of you.”
“That’s not the point. If Russell is anywhere near here and sees them with me, he’ll target them just to hurt me.”
Mack leaned lower towards the window. “Donald’s right. Windows are tinted, so stay inside and out of sight, Donald.” He reached in and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Give it ten minutes and then head back to base. I’ll have Drake shadow you home to make sure you haven’t picked up a tail.”
Our driver nodded, but said nothing, his eyes on the scene ahead.
Mack looked back at me. “Your friends never met me, so it shouldn’t be a problem if you stay out of sight and if they stay away from the car.”
I nodded and stared ahead at the cluster of my friends who stared at the devastation of the building we all considered our own. So many memories, both good and bad, had played out inside those walls over the years. Celebrations, last farewells, and remembrance for all those who came before us—and those still serving in a country that no longer appreciated the sacrifices they often asked us to make.
Mack stood up and made his way back to the command center, passing my friends on the opposite side of the street so they never even noticed him, their attention on the dense smoke and flames and flashing lights just down the block.
I watched with mixed emotions as my friends dealt with this latest blow, and I wanted to be with them, to share their grief. Even from here, I could see wetness on Rita’s cheeks and the slack expressions on Frank and Benny’s face, as if someone had kicked them in the collective gut, which, in a way, the assholes had with the loss of our sanctuary. Our home. I wanted call out to them, to exchange stories and memories, anything, to keep alive what that building had held, not in the torched building, but at least within our hearts. And I wanted to lend my shoulder to help carry the awful expression of pain I could see in my friends.
But the cynical side of me knew that piece-of-shit, Russell would pray I would do just that. It would give him another reason to hurt someone else I cared about.
And I would not give him that opening, even though it broke my heart to stay hidden in the dark. It wasn’t out of fear of him, but of what he might do to my friends.
As the driver pulled away from the curb, I caught a flash of lighter material against the night. When I recognized what I saw, I yelled out for the driver to stop. The car rocked on its suspension as he did, and as I pulled my phone from my jacket. Hitting speed dial to Mack’s phone, I ignored Simon’s look.
“Knight,” Mack answered.
“Russell is here,” I said in a rush. “He’s heading towards Rita and the others.” I twisted in my seat and could see the flash of a cell-phone camera tearing apart the night. He stood only feet away from my friends, casually taking photos of their surprised faces. Dropping my phone to the car seat, I groped for my pistol.
As the pistol cleared my jacket pocket, Simon’s eyes went wide, and he placed a hand on my arm.
“Don—”
“Stow it, Simon!”
I hit the window button, but nothing happened. Turning to the driver, I snarled an order. “Open my window.”
“The rear windows don’t open,” he said. “Mack’s on his way.”
“Then unlock the damn door.”
“Sorry, Mr. Wilson. Mack would fire me on the spot if he didn’t shoot me first. Let him deal with this.”
I was so upset that I saw spots in my vision, my gun visibly shaking.
But then Mack was there, his weapon trained on Russell’s head. Around him, the two FBI agents, Pointer and Gilpin, spread out to one side, while Lancaster’s top cops, Nguyen and Torres, flanked the special ops man, each with their weapons leveled.
“Russell!” Torres barked. “Get down on your knees.”
Even with the rush of the police towards the group, Russell was unperturbed, continuing to center his cell-phone camera on my friends. With a last flash aimed at Decker, he calmly turned to face the gauntlet of weapons. His face held a sick expression of amusement, like a child who was watching the activity of an anthill just moments before he stamped on it.
Torres leaned into his firing stance. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Russell.”
Russell’s eyes slid to Torres briefly before centering on Mack’s. Those dark eyes resembled a snake’s, not giving away a thing.
He slowly raised his hand, like a child ready with an answer to the teacher’s question. He grinned as two red dots floated across Mack’s face, causing him to squint at the brilliance. The soldier stiffened and his weapon dropped off its mark.
I swiveled in my seat but could not make out any threat in the street's darkness.
“What is it?” Simon asked, confusion sweeping his face.
The driver was whispering into his radio. “Car One to Shadow.”
“Shadow here.”
“We got at least two tangos with IR, marking Maestro.” He was telling the others of the team that the enemy was using infrared scopes and that Mack was the target of at least two of them.
“Stand by, Car One.”
Outside, one of the red dots danced across Mack’s chest while the other seemed to play tag on the other officers, first skating across Agent Pointer’s torso and then climbing Torres’ chest, clearing his Kevlar vest and centering on his forehead. At that, Russell laughed out loud.
“I’m guessing that vest won’t help you with a head shot,” he said with more of a snarl than a smile. “Of course, with metal-jacket rounds, the vests won’t help you much, regardless.”
“Shadow to Car One. I have one shooter. He’s at your six, three stories up. Can’t find the other shooter. Lights from the fire and responding vehicles are interfering.”
“Roger. Standby. I have eyes on Maestro.”
Outside, the stalemate stood, with both sides eying the other.
Behind Russell, Decker and the others stood frozen in either fear or indecision, or both. Edith clung to Benny with no recognition on her face that she understood what was happening around her. But I could see fear in Benny’s eyes as he tried to keep himself in front of her frail body. Rita was holding Decker back as if the man was ready to take on Russell barehanded, and I knew that was exactly what he was thinking.
“If any of you heroes are thinking about getting brave,” Russell said, “Remember, there are others you’re responsible for.” He half turned towards Rita and the others, and one of the red dots flickered across the profiles of my friends. “Just kidding!”
“What are you hoping to gain with this?” Agent Gilpin, her voice tight with tension.
“I just wanted to meet the people who call Donald Wilson, a friend,” he said, waving his hand towards Rita and the others. “I figured if I burnt down their watering hole, they’d come out and introduce themselves. And rats always show themselves once you torch the ship.”
He slowly backed towards my friends and the others followed until he raised his hand. “The way this ends is entirely up to you. Try to stop me and these five are the first to die. My men have their orders.”
Mack had taken his eyes off Russell and was staring intently at our vehicle. The driver gave an abrupt nod and Mack returned his attention to the Nazi.
“Car One to Shadow. Any luck on second shooter?”
“Negative.”
“Waiting on Maestro. When we get the light, take the shot. Watch for muzzle flash and engage.”
“What are you planning?” I demanded.
“If Mack gets an opening, we’re going to back this car up to cover your friends. It’s armored, so should give us and them some protection until we can get rid of the other shooter,” he said, looking at me in the review mirror. “Mr. Wilson, when we stop, throw open your door to let your friends take cover.”
I licked my dry lips and nodded.
Russell had reached my friends and gave Benny a vicious shove. The tank man tumbled backwards, glancing off Edith, who went down as well, like a pair of bowling pins. A weak shriek came from Edith as she hit the ground beside the Caravan’s front wheel. Russell was reaching for her when Rita stepped in between them.
“Leave her be, you animal,” she screamed.
From behind his back, Russell drew a pistol that his sweater had hidden. He shoved it roughly into her neck. “Then you’ll take her place, hag!” Without waiting, he twirled around to face the law enforcement officers who had moved forward.
“I don’t think so, people. Did you forget my two friends? You try to follow, they’ll start shooting. I got what I came for.” He pointed his gun at our car. “Too bad, Donald didn’t want to come out and play, but at least I have one playmate.”
With a savage tug, he pulled Rita into a tighter embrace his pistol tucked under her chin. He pulled her after him as he plunged towards the same park I had first glimpsed him at.
“Rita!” I screamed.
From the corner of my eye, Mack gave a sharp nod and the driver put our car into reverse and tramped the gas pedal while crying into the radio, “Weapons hot.”
If I expected the crack of a rifle, I was disappointed and it unnerved me as I thought that Mack’s man, Shadow, hadn’t heard the command.
The car plowed backwards, throwing Simon and me forward against our restraints. I managed to put up my hand to avoid hitting the back of the front seats before the car impacted with Decker’s Caravan. I bounced off the rear cushion, glasses flying off, scrambling for the passenger rear door. Above us, there was a loud crack of a rifle and Simon’s window ballooned like a white blossom, but the thick poly-carbon glass held against the titanic force of the high-powered slug. The impact caused the car to shudder, and Simon let out a cry of surprise.
I screamed to my friends, “Decker, Frank, get in!”
The two hobbled forward, bent over towards the sanctuary of the limousine, herding both Edith and Benny, who crawled on hands and knees.
The radio crackled. “Sniper one down. Sniper two, down.”
I glimpsed Pointer and Mack running all out after Russell and Rita but lost them once they entered the foliage of the park. Other officers crouched behind the two vehicles, weapons at the ready, scanning surrounding buildings for threats. Torres had a portable radio at his lips and was shouting orders. From a distance, multiple sirens pierced the night.
I helped Edith into the car, her terrified sobs wracking her frame. Benny crawled in beside her, blood oozing from his hands and one cheek that had met the pavement. Seeing the messy scrapes caused Edith to wail, even louder, in the enclosed space.
“It’s all right, Edie,” Benny said, trying to comfort her. “At least nothing’s broken. I think.”
Decker and Frank crouched low against the car outside the open door since we’d run out of room in the rear compartment. With luck, there would be no third sniper.
“Damn it, Donald,” Decker said in a growl. “Just in case you need it said out loud, I think you got that asshole’s attention.”
I looked over Edith’s shuddering shoulder at my old buddy with an expression I hoped showed how pissed off I was.
It was then that we heard two distant shots, fired one right on top of the other.
There are times when you feel with all certainty that you know something, even though you have no proof of what’s transpired. I remember that during the Korean War, a New Yorker named Tony Benzo had ducked into a cluster of trees to take a shit in relative privacy. Then we heard the crack of the rifle. To a man, we knew without even seeing the corpse that he would not return home and marry Maria, his childhood sweetheart.
It was that same feeling when I heard that double tap in the night.
Rita was dead.
I wasn’t alone. With looks of open-mouthed, mute horror on their faces, Frank, Benny, Decker, and I exchanged knowing glances. Only Edith, now quiet, seemed blissfully unaware. At that moment, I was jealous of her affliction.
Around us, the chaos of more law enforcement officers arriving on the scene seemed like the calvary that always arrives too late. I caught glimpses of Torres directing his men in the direction of the park while Agent Gilpin held a cell phone pressed to her head, the other hand blocking her other ear. A curtain of blue uniforms surrounded our vehicle, but the shield of police officers was a waste of time and energy.
Russell was long gone, and he’d left my friend, dear Rita, dead behind him.