Takedown, page 27
“Let him go, Krogan,” Amy screamed.
To Gavin’s surprise, he immediately felt Krogan’s grip loosen. But any appreciation for Krogan’s being dealt another blow was lost on the fact that Amy was stressed and angry. All he could remember was her doctor telling him that she needed to spend the rest of her pregnancy mummylike in bed. He turned toward Krogan, but for the sake of the counsel everyone had given him today, he restrained from kicking him in the head with his heel. Really restrained. He didn’t understand how Krogan could be hurt more by not physically hitting him, but the surrender to the spirit-world approach seemed to be working. “Release me and confess,” Gavin ordered.
Krogan cried out, as if in pain as his fingers sprung open from Gavin’s ankle. Gavin didn’t understand how any of this speak-respond dynamic worked, but he had a strong feeling Krogan understood it well.
Gavin heard a woman’s scream and he whirled about. This time it was Amber. She was standing over a kneeling Amy. Praying, Gavin thought. Amy’s praying for me.
“Her water broke!” Amber yelled at Gavin, as if he would know what to do. For a moment Gavin was furious with Amber for having brought Amy. She should have known better. But then again, nobody could tell Amy not to do something once she was determined to do it. “Jesus!” Gavin cried. “Not now… not here!” He sprang to his feet, but again before he could get out of the ring, he was stopped, his shirt grabbed from behind. He continued forward, his shirt ripping off his back. He had to get to Amy. He had to get her to a hospital. He had to get her there now.
Krogan’s arm was around Gavin’s waist, pulling him off the ropes and throwing him hard to the mat in the middle of the ring, knocking the wind out of him. After a moment of respiratory paralysis, he gasped, stunned and sucking hard for air. This wasn’t working. The more attention he paid to Amy, the more strength Krogan gained. And apparently Krogan was not interested in anything less than a fight to the death. Gavin’s death. But how could he focus on both Amy and Krogan? Clearly, the fastest way out of the ring was through Krogan, who was now dropping like a rock through midair, right at him.
“Cease,” Gavin ordered, remembering the word Buck had used in their last battle. He rolled and sprung away from the slam as quick as a cat.
Krogan, writhing in pain, managed to get to his hands and knees. Gavin was beginning to understand that his words brought more pain than physical impact ever could.
Now what!
Beyond Krogan, Gavin could see uniformed police streaming down the aisles toward the ring. The announcer was speaking, but Gavin couldn’t catch what he was saying. A horn blared. The crowd erupted. Police surrounded the ring. Gavin yelled desperately to one of them, pointing, “She’s having a baby! Help her! Help her!”
Krogan was on him again, and Gavin was on his back, his head slamming on the mat. He felt dazed. He heard the cops yelling to Krogan but couldn’t understand what they were saying with the loud ringing in his ears. Krogan had three heads… then two. The world was coming back into focus, but before he could utter another word, cops were grabbing Krogan’s arms. He shook one of the officers off like a toy.
“Stop!” Gavin tried to yell but could only whisper as two more cops were on Krogan’s free arm.
“Hold it right there, big guy. You’re under arrest,” said a familiar voice.
Gavin turned to see Chris standing in the ring. “Arrest?”
“Easy, Gav. We’ll take it from here. He’s under arrest for the attempted murder of Gregory Robertson, this morning in Hamden, New York,” Chris said, not taking his eyes off Krogan.
Krogan frowned, then looked to the side of the ring, probably assessing the situation. Even by his standards, he was vastly outnumbered. Angels, cops, the Salt guys, and who knows who or what else?
“Gregory?” Gavin said incredulously, realizing Krogan had found Buck’s farm. He’d probably—
“She’s got my gun!” shouted one of the uniformed cops outside the ring. All heads turned to see the woman in black who had entered with Krogan now pointing the officer’s gun at those standing around her.
“Easy, now,” one of the cops said. “No one has to get hurt here.”
“There’re a lot of people around you, lady,” another cop said.
Without warning, she threw the gun into the ring. In the same instant, Krogan shucked the four cops holding him as if they were Styrofoam mannequins and grabbed the gun. Everyone immediately froze and backed off.
Krogan smiled. “You lose, Pierce,” he said, pointing the nine-millimeter’s deadly barrel between Gavin’s eyes.
“Cease,” Gavin ordered.
Krogan was straining to hold the gun outstretched and steady. The veins in his arms and hands swelled, his face deep red, his eyes growing, growing.
The gun fired. There were screams. The audience gasped, then hushed eerily.
Unable to pull the trigger on Gavin, Krogan had turned the gun on himself. The gun fell from his fingers, blood dripping from a hole in his chest. Krogan stared into Gavin’s eyes and with a crooked smile, repeated, “Like I said, Pierce… you lose.”
44
… Pierce, you lose .…”
Krogan’s words were still echoing in Gavin’s ears as he stared at the dead body of Jackhammer Hoban.
“What did he mean by that?”
“Huh?” Gavin said to Chris, who was standing next to him, also staring at the body.
“What did he mean by ‘you lose’?”
“I already explained this to you, Big Dog. He’s gone. He’s escaped. The murderer’s gotten away,” Gavin said, looking Chris in the eye.
Chris sighed, shaking his head. “I knew you were gonna tell me this. I have to admit that none of this makes any sense. When I got the call from the state that this guy was at Buchanan’s farm, I got an ice pick in my spine. I couldn’t believe it. But how can your explanation be true? Last I looked, I wasn’t a character in a horror movie or something. I mean, a real demon? Next you’ll be telling me about ghosts, aliens, and angels.”
Gavin just stared at him, then said, “Do the DNA on him. You’ll find he’s the guy who drove through my house. I gotta go.” Gavin turned and started walking away.
“Go! Now where are you going?”
“I don’t know, but somewhere my wife’s having a baby.”
Just then a cop came running up to the ring. Gavin recognized him as Officer John Kelly, whom he’d see at the train wreck. He was sweating and breathing hard. He caught Gavin’s stare and said, “Detective… your wife… she’s calling for you.”
Gavin ran to Kelly and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Where is she?”
“We couldn’t get her to the hospital… too late .… She’s… she’s in a dressing room. Come on… I’ll show you.”
Moments later Gavin was running in Kelly’s wake through a rubbernecking crowd and then backstage, Chris right behind him. Another crowd in a curving hallway, mostly cops and WWX staff, parted as Gavin approached. He tried to read their faces but couldn’t since most of them were busy looking at his ripped clothes and scratched body. Kelly opened a door and went in.
The first thing Gavin saw was the back of a woman paramedic standing over an ambulance stretcher.
“Here he is!” Kelly said, sucking in air.
The paramedic turned and stepped away, letting his searching gaze find its mark quickly. Amy’s eyes met his. She looked exhausted, eyes at half mast, but she had a glow not unlike that of the angels.
“You okay?” she said weakly.
“What’s happening?” Gavin said desperately, unsure of what kind of attention she needed.
“The question isn’t what, Gavin… it’s who,” she said with a sly smile. Gavin frowned. Was the whole universe in on some kind of joke where he was the punch line? “What do you mean?” He drew close to her.
“Easy, Gavin. You don’t want to disturb your daughter’s first meal, do you?” Amy smiled at him, peeling back the white blanket just enough for him to see the newborn infant enjoying nourishment from her mother’s breast.
Gavin couldn’t move… couldn’t breathe… couldn’t blink. Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt the need to swallow. “Is… is…”
“She’s perfect,” Amy said with a broad smile, her own eyes glazing. “Do you want to hold her?”
“No… I mean, yes… not yet. She looks so…”
“She’s yours, Gavin. And she’s got your appetite.”
“I… I can’t believe it.”
“Well, you can thank Barbara over here.” Amy motioned toward the paramedic. “She’s a real pro.”
“Thanks,” Gavin said to the paramedic, a thirty-something black woman with a beaming smile.
Barbara shook her head. “Mom’s the hero. I was just here to catch. And I’m sorry to break this up, but we need to get to the hospital. This room gave us some privacy in a pinch, but it’s not exactly where we’d like to set up shop, if you know what I mean.”
Gavin nodded as he looked around the dressing room for the first time. The place was a wreck, and he was just now realizing it smelled of liquor. He held Amy’s hand as Barbara gave instructions to start clearing the path for the move to the ambulance.
“Congratulations, Pop! And you too, Mrs. Pierce,” Chris said, slapping Gavin on the back. “There’ll be plenty of time to see baby, so I won’t ask you to disturb her meal. Having just been born, right now she probably looks like you, Gav, but don’t worry, that’ll change in time. With any luck, she’ll look like her mom.”
“Thanks, Chris,” Gavin said, still looking about the room. “Whose dressing room is this, anyway?”
“I don’t think you want to know,” Officer Kelly spoke up, standing guard by the doorway.
Gavin looked at Amy, who didn’t seem to hear what Kelly had said, then at Barbara as he whispered to her calmly, “Get them to the hospital now. I don’t want them in here.”
Catching the seriousness in his demeanor, Barbara nodded and began wheeling Amy out.
But not before Gavin could give Amy a kiss and tell her he’d be riding behind the ambulance. They kissed again and then both gave the baby a little kiss on her head. He just couldn’t believe it. He was a father, Amy was fine, and the baby was thriving. He thanked God in his heart, gave another little kiss, and let them leave.
As the room emptied, Gavin fell back and kept Chris with him. “This was Krogan’s dressing room,” he said, looking around.
Chris nodded. “I heard.”
“You mentioned to Krogan that he was under arrest for attempted murder.”
“Yeah, he flipped over and crushed a chicken coop this guy Gregory Robertson was in.”
“Gregory is Buck’s farmhand. He’s deaf. From the back, he’d look a little like Buck, and Krogan must have mistaken him. You said he lived?”
“Yes. From what I understand, he wasn’t even hurt, just scared.”
Gavin nodded. Wow! I guess the angels had more than just his bases covered today, he thought. “Now he knows Buck is still alive.”
“Who?” Chris looked startled. “The demon?”
“Yes, the demon. Who else?” Gavin sounded a bit agitated.
“Sorry, Gav, but this whole business takes a bit of getting used to.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So you think Buck is in danger?”
Gavin stared at Chris, trying to keep in mind that he was new to this. “Nothing’s changed, Big Dog. He’ll be back… and he doesn’t seem to waste much time.” Gavin picked up a newspaper off the makeup table that was open to page three, with a picture of the capsized ferry. He turned the paper over to confirm it had a picture of Krogan on the back, then laid the paper down.
“Where did Hoban live?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know. I’m new here, remember?”
Gavin nodded. “Let’s find out where and take a ride.”
“I can’t, Gav. I’ve got to get back on the Hess case. I don’t want to remind you after all you’ve been through today, but tomorrow’s the Fourth and this guy’s still out there.”
“This is the Hess case, Big Dog. Trust me.”
As Gavin and Chris were about to leave the room, the door opened and a balding man in a blue business suit entered. He looked as if he’d lost his way to a deposition, with his power tie, ring, watch, and cologne.
“Detective Pierce?” the man said.
“Yes.”
“Mark Bodder. I’m Michael Grossman’s attorney.” He extended his hand.
Gavin took it tentatively. “We’re in a hurry, Mr. Bodder. What’s up?”
Bodder cleared his throat. “As you might imagine, what happened here tonight came as a complete surprise to us, and quite frankly, we’re not looking for any further trouble. Especially from you.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”
“Well, you were the challenger. And despite the unorthodox bout and the eventual outcome, you lasted beyond the required three minutes while the bout was still under way. Didn’t you hear the horn sound and the announcer declare you the winner?”
Gavin just stared, saying nothing.
Bodder reached into his suit jacket and produced a piece of paper. “This was supposed to be presented to the winner in the ring, but under the circumstances…”
“Are you telling us he won a million dollars?” Chris said, incredulous.
“Well, yes. Congratulations,” Bodder said, then handed Gavin a check. Gavin just stared at it.
“Well, Gav,” Chris said, giving him another pat on the back. “Looks like you won’t need me to rebuild your house.” He laughed.
Gavin pocketed the check and looked at Bodder. “Where did Hoban live?”
45
Walter Hess had seen enough. More than enough. His abdomen felt like he had eaten a brick and he wanted to vomit. He got up from his seat, picked up his small television, ripped the plug out of its socket while the pretty young newscaster was still speaking, walked out on the deck of his small cabin boat, and with a loud scream, threw the TV into the middle of Long Island Sound. He raised his fist toward the sunny blue sky and yelled angrily, “I did everything you told me to do! I thought you were protecting me!”
Hess fell to his knees and dropped his forehead to the hard fiberglass deck, the hot sun cooking his naked back. What had he done wrong? What clue had he left behind that led them to him? His face was everywhere… everywhere. He’d been betrayed. Forsaken.
He put all his weight onto his forehead, rocking, allowing the coarse, nonskid surface of the deck to dig in… hurt. He needed to feel the pain. In tears, he prayed, “Why did you allow my clients and neighbors to lie about me the way they did? All I did was speak your truth to them. Even the people in my own church sold me out. The church you brought me to. Why didn’t the pastor speak up… defend me? Where was he? Where were you? I’m your soldier. Your tool. Now they know my name, my face, my family… and they’ll hunt me down like a dog. Why have you forsaken me this way?” he repeated over and over.
An unexpected icy breeze blew over his back and lingered, cooling the sun and causing goose bumps to rise. More discomfort, he thought. Good. He welcomed it. Bring it on. Why not?
“What!” He snapped his head up and swung around. “Who’s there?” he shouted, suddenly paranoid. He didn’t understand why he thought someone was there, but he definitely did. Strange. Like a commercial jingle that wouldn’t leave, he heard words in his head. Not just words, but sentences. And not just sentences, but dialogue. Voices. Was he losing his mind? Was the stress of having his name and face publicized as a terrorist causing him to crack?
“Krogan?” he heard a voice say in his mind. He recognized the voice as being familiar, even his own. But why would he be saying that word, that name? The name of a serial killer, and more recently a name taken on by the wrestler who’d killed himself yesterday, according to the news. That must be it. The news had just mentioned his name and his mind was regurgitating useless information… just like one of those jingles.
“I have come to stay,” said a voice. A different voice this time, definitely not familiar. Not his own. Stronger… more dominant. But, hey, the mind gets weird stuff stuck in it all the time.
“He’s mine.”
“No longer. You will both serve me.”
The voices were becoming confrontational… territorial… like two animals vying for a piece of meat. Like two—
“Ughh,” Hess gasped as icy cold shot through his body like voltage. He flipped onto his back and began to shake violently, his eyes rolling back and his teeth locking down on his tongue. He grabbed the sides of his head as a thousand thoughts rushed by like faces staring out the windows of a speeding train from two feet away. He was no longer in his boat, his natural senses ripped away to what seemed like other times and places. His ears heard screams, and his eyes saw flames engulfing everything from straw huts to modern jets. He saw bare, bleeding knuckles gripping the reins of a horse as it galloped through smoke and pain. He inhaled pain. It had a taste that was strangely pleasurable.
Hess bolted upright. He was back in his boat… and no longer shaking. Froth and drool and blood from his bitten tongue dripped from his chin. But before he could gather his thoughts, another wave of cold energy washed through him, the same energy, but this time not as violent, as if he had somehow adapted to it. An image appeared before him. An image so vivid, a vision so real, that he could not see his boat or even the deck he was sitting on. Indeed, he felt as if he were sitting on dirt, feeling the grit between his fingers. Before him were three crucifixes. He knew the man in the middle was Jesus. There was no question. He was at Golgotha. There was weeping and laughing. He heard mocking. Jesus lifted His head, His face swollen and bruised. Lines of dark blood carved His face from the crown of thorns digging into His head. He yelled with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.”
