“We need a word with you,” says the one with the stubble.
I catch a glimpse of the photo he’s holding. It’s a grainy, black and white picture of my face. Its poor quality tells me it’s likely a printout of a screenshot from a video, given the poor resolution. In a split second, I realize that they must’ve had access to the security footage from Trent’s club from yesterday in order to get that picture. IF I’m to make an educated guess, I’d say these cops are in Trent’s pocket, which means guessing arresting us probably isn’t high on their agenda. I have no idea how these guys found us so quickly. We’re not exactly hiding, admittedly, but I kinda hoped it’d take Trent longer than this to get to me.
I instinctively reach behind me, going into survival mode and getting my guns, but I don’t have them, do I? Seriously, the one time I leave them somewhere…
Josh looks at me, and my jaw muscles tense. The two cops are halfway to us now, but we’re closer to the entrance than they are to us… I think that’s my decision made…
“Josh, run!” I yell, breaking into a sprint and slamming through the doors, stopping momentarily on the sidewalk outside.
The rain is torrential, and I’m instantly soaked, squinting to stop the water dripping into my eyes. Josh appears next to me; the cops are a second behind us.
“I’ll go left, you go right!” I shout to him over the noise of the weather and the traffic. “Give them a runaround for five minutes then meet back at the Winnebago.”
“Got it,” replies Josh, breathing heavy as his adrenaline starts to pump.
We split up, running off in our respective directions. I hope he’s going to be okay — he’s still likely feeling the effects of the wounds he sustained back in San Francisco…
There’s an old saying — discretion is the better part of valor. I know I’m not a coward. I’m not running away because I’m scared. I’m simply avoiding a confrontation until I’m better prepared to win it.
I run to the end of the street, nearly slipping on the wet sidewalk. I weave and dodge through the crowd and take the first left turn I come to. I chance a look over my shoulder and briefly see one of the cops in pursuit. He isn’t as fast as I am, which is a blessing. I pause a moment, giving him a good look where I’m going, then set off again. People stare at me as I run past them, obviously disturbed by the sight of a police officer chasing after someone. Halfway up the street, I spot a trashcan near the curb. I slow down enough to take my jacket off and I throw it away as I pass by. I’m completely soaked and freezing. My t-shirt is clinging to my torso, almost see-through from the rain. I look over my shoulder again, but I can’t see the cop. I can, however, see the crowd of people behind me parting hurriedly, so he’s definitely still in pursuit.
It’s a long street, lined either side mostly by shops and bars. I know I need to get off this main stretch and find a way to double-back to the hotel. Up ahead, I can see an alleyway just after a McDonalds on the left.
Perfect!
I stop and move quickly into the doorway, turning my back to the street. I pretend to open the door, using the reflection in the glass to see behind me. I wait for the cop to run past me and set off again, chasing him now. I come up directly behind him as we approach the alley. I speed up to draw level with him on the outside, and with a strong shoulder barge, I push the surprised cop into the alley, his own momentum causing him to stumble and fall to the ground.
I move in quickly after him, dragging him up, and manhandling him farther into the alley, away from the street. I push him against the wall, and as he turns, I launch a straight right that catches him flush on the side of the face. He hits the wall and I move in again, standing close and pressing my right forearm against his throat, pinning him to the spot.
His face is inches from mine. Like me, he’s drenched. He’s breathing heavy, gasping for air through gritted teeth as he struggles to get free from my grip, although that’s a futile effort. I apply more pressure to his throat, making it harder for him to get the oxygen his body is screaming for.
“How did you find me?” I ask, shouting over the noise of the downpour.
He growls like a trapped animal, unable to get his words out as his lungs burn for more air. I ease off a little, ensuring I keep him firmly trapped against the wall.
“Answer me!” I demand.
He takes a deep breath, then another. “We — we tried every hotel in the… in Pittsburgh,” he says, barely managing to get his words out in between breaths. “Mr. Trent’s got… the entire city looking for you.”
I feel the look of concern creep over my face as the scope of what I’m up against hits me, and he must’ve seen it.
“You’re… fucking dead,” he rasps, smiling through his obvious discomfort.
“Whatever,” I reply. “Where can I find Trent?”
“Fuck… you!”
I press down again on his throat, holding him upright as I jab him in the kidney with my left hand. “Don’t be silly,” I say. “Tell me where I can find Trent.”
“He’ll find you soon enough,” he winces. “Why are you in such a rush to die?”
I jab him again in the kidney. “You might think you know me, but let me assure you — you really don’t. I’m a fucking nightmare. I’m a whirlwind of misery and suffering and hatred, and I’m here to send Wilson Trent to hell. And I will, I promise you. Now, tell me where he is, or I’ll leave you here, bleeding to death — your call.”
He frowns with confusion. “I’m not bleeding,” he says.
“Give it a minute,” I say, smiling.
For the first time since I caught up with him, I see the first hint of fear and doubt flash in the cop’s eyes. He looks left and right, weighing up all his options.
“Mr. Trent owns a luxury high-rise near the Ohio River,” he says finally. “The top floor is all his. If you wanna find him, that’s where he’s likely to be.”
“Thank you,” I say, pausing to shake my head sharply from side to side to remove some of the rain that’s dripping into my eyes. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I step back and, without any warning, kick him hard in the stomach with my right foot. As he doubles over, I step forward again and clasp my hands behind his head in a clinch, pulling it down and holding him steady. I whip my right knee up and connect squarely with his face. Something gives as bone meets bone. I let him go and he drops like a stone, landing face down on the wet, muddy alley, unconscious.
I walk back and forth, taking some deep breaths and rubbing my hands over my face to clear any rain from my eyes. At least now I know where that sonofabitch lives… I just need to plan how to get to him.
I walk back over to the cop and roll him over on his back. Christ, his face is a mess! That knee must’ve broken his nose and… yup, dislocated his jaw as well. He looks like he’s run face-first into a brick wall.
I check his pockets and take his badge and cell phone. I look around and, happy no one can see the body from the street, run through the alley, out the other side and back toward the hotel. After a couple of minutes at a light jog, I make it to the parking lot, where I see Josh leaning against the Winnebago.
“What took you so long?” he asks, smiling but unable to hide the relief in his voice.
I throw him the badge, which he catches and opens up.
“Well, they were real cops, albeit on Trent’s payroll,” I say. “I had a little talk with him and managed to find out where Trent bases himself.”
“Really?” he asks. “That’s brilliant!”
I nod. “I know. Didn’t shoot anyone, either…” We both smile. “What happened with you anyway?”
Without a word, Josh opens the side door to the Winnebago, revealing an unconscious police officer on the floor. He looks back at me and shrugs. “I had to improvise.”