“What did you tell them?”
“I decided that after the debacle with Shayndie, I’d talk to you first. So I haven’t opened my mouth to anyone. Things are frantic over there. When no one was looking, I took off. My question to you is… where do we go from here?”
“Not back to Quinton,” Decker told him.
“No, not unless you want to be detained for hours.”
“Do you know where Chaim would be hiding, Jon?”
“No idea. My first thoughts were maybe one of his stores-in Manhattan or in Brooklyn. I’m sure both places are swarming with Feds right now.”
“So that would be useless.”
“I think so,” Jonathan agreed. “Maybe we should meet Hershfield down at the airport.”
“Did he ask you to come meet him?”
“No.”
No one spoke.
“Well, what the hey!” Decker slapped his wet thigh. “Sure, let’s try the airport.”
“Think they’ll tell us anything?”
“No. But if they have Weiss, Harabi, or Ibn Dod in custody, I’ll call up my brother. Those guys are wanted big time in Miami. If I get him on the phone, and he starts in with official extradition processes, it’ll give us some credibility.” Decker regarded his sodden lap. “Before we do anything, I need dry clothing. Since Quinton by now is Fedland, how about the Bainberry mall? Something over there should still be open.”
Jonathan turned the van around.
They rode a few moments in silence. Decker leaned forward and stared out the windshield.
“Your brother will be happy then,” Jonathan said. “That the police captured these guys… if they did capture them.”
Decker didn’t answer.
“But Chaim wasn’t a part of their Miami ecstasy ring, so far as your brother knew, right?”
Still no response.
“Akiva-”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Silence.
“Akiva, did you hear what I-”
“Just a minute…”
“What is it?”
“Hold on…” Decker’s eyes swept from the windshield to the rearview mirror, to the side mirror, then out the windshield again.
“Akiva, what’s going on?” Jonathan asked.
“I’m not sure…” Decker’s mind was reeling. “There were headlights behind us before you made a U-turn. One headlight, not a pair… which I thought was peculiar because it’s pouring outside.” Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the snub-nose.
“Wha… when did you get that?”
“It’s a long story, but right now I’m glad I have it. Can I dry the grip off on your jacket?”
“Hold on, I’ll take it off.”
“Don’t bother, I just need the hem.” He wiped moisture off the gun. “Since the vehicle was in the distance, I thought maybe it was a car with a busted headlight. Now you just turned around, so it should be facing us. But it’s not there.”
Outside, the world was shades of charcoal and black. Even the sky failed to bring forth any illumination, the cloud cover blocking out the stars and the moon.
“Jonathan, cut your lights. Then coast a minute or two and pull over.”
The rabbi killed the beams. They were encased in total darkness. Decker turned on the flashlight and shone it out the windshield. It wasn’t much, but it was better than a blackout. “Coast a few minutes, then pull over.”
A warm flush swept through Jonathan’s body. His hands were shaking. “Here goes nothing…”
The van bumped and dipped and finally stopped, askew in the mud, just inches from a tree trunk.
“Switch places with me,” Decker told him.
Jonathan started for the door, then stopped himself. “You mean I should crawl over you.”
“Yes, of course. Stay down.”
Falling over one another, they switched places. Decker was on the floor of the driver’s seat; Jonathan had hunkered down on the passenger’s side. Decker could hear his brother breathing hard… or maybe he was hearing his own exhalations. A moment ago, he had been exhausted, completely spent. In a few seconds’ time, adrenaline had put speed and force into his heartbeat.
“What-”
“Shhh…” A pause. “Hear that?”
“What?”
“Listen!”
Finally, Jonathan heard it, the low growl of an engine grumbling through the rain. Decker peered over the dashboard, but nothing came into his field of vision. He lowered the driver’s window halfway down, more than enough to liberate the barrel of the snub-nose. Then he looked over the dashboard again.
The motorized whir grew a bit louder, then abruptly all was silent except for the rain.
“Uh-oh… this doesn’t look good…”
“Wha-!”
“Shhh…”
Jonathan would have thrown up his hands had there been room. His armpits were soaked through.
“Okay, okay… Where’s the flashlight?”
Jonathan gave it to him. “What are you going to do?”
“I gotta see him first.” Decker was talking to himself. He patted the battery pack. “Let’s hope this motherfucker’s strong.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“Don’t know.” He put the driver’s window all the way up, then unlocked the doors. Again he peeked over the dash. He couldn’t really see anything, but the darkness in front of him seemed to shift, as if the air molecules were rearranging themselves. Could be his imagination playing games. But then something shifted again. “Get way down, Jonathan. Tuck your head between your legs and your hands over your neck.”
The rabbi did as told. Decker noticed that his brother was moving his lips, but no sounds were coming out-silent prayer. He hoped Jon was saying one for him, too. “I see something. Hold on, baby… C’mon, you mother…”
The shape-presumably a human and most probably a male-was nearing the van, walking with a bowlegged gait as if he were about to draw a gun in an old-fashioned Western. Then Decker realized that the legs were straddling a seat. The motorcycle was a small one. Looked to be a Honda… something nimble. He was approaching them from the driver’s side, most likely because the van’s passenger wheels were stuck in a rut of mud right next to the woods.
“C’mon, c’mon…,” Decker urged.
Inching closer.
“Just a little more, baby…”
“Oh God!” Jonathan moaned.
“Hold on.” Decker swallowed hard. “He’s almost here.”
The seconds ticked by.
One… two… three.
He peeked out again. “C’mon, motherfucker. Move a little closer to the door…”
Four… five… six.
The Honda was at the front bumper on the driver’s side. A figure looking through the window… to the dash. Even though Decker couldn’t see out that well, he knew there was no way that the biker could see in.
“Keep going…”
The figure was moving toward the driver’s window.
“A little closer…”
Springing into action, Decker hurled the door, clipping the front wheel of the motorcycle, spinning the entire ensemble off balance. Then he aimed the light’s beam on the driver’s face, features hidden behind a ski mask. “Freeze!”
Abruptly, something sped past Decker’s head.
“Shit!” He dropped the flashlight and ducked behind the safety of the metal door. Vaulting out a second time, he shot from the hip, discharging a bullet at the bike, but a volley of flying metal forced him to retreat another time. The biker’s bullets hit the front of the van, sending a deafening clatter throughout its interior, some of the ammo ricocheting off, spitting fire into the wet, raven night. Decker covered his head as hot lead flew past him.
“Fuck!” he screamed. “Fuck, fuck!”
He leaped out, returning fire: two rapid shots that took off a section of the cycle’s back fender. Still, the biker had kicked the motor into gear and sped away, screeching tires that burned rubber even though the asphalt was wet. Decker decided not to waste his last bullet on a fleeing target.
Panting heavily, he would have felt the wetness of sweat throughout his entire body except that he was soaked from the rain. He picked up the flashlight, which had survived the battle without injury, then dragged his body into the driver’s seat. “Are you okay, Jon?”