“I think so…,” the rabbi whispered. “Other than uncontrollable shaking, I think I’m fine.”
Decker lowered his head on the wheel, fatigue covering him as oppressively as a sodden blanket. “I’m shaking, too.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m whole, and that’s all that counts right now.” Decker was trying to steady his heartbeat. He lifted his head up and turned the key in the ignition. The motor coughed lazily, then decided to fire up. “Well, that’s a good start.”
Jonathan uncoiled from the fetal position and slithered into the passenger’s seat. He belted himself in.
“Here goes nothing.” Decker strapped on the seat belt, then put the van into drive and coaxed it out of the embankment. Once he got it onto the asphalt, he depressed the gas pedal slowly. The car bucked, then limped noisily for about twenty feet before Decker applied the brakes.
“We’ve got a flat,” Decker said. “Hopefully, only a flat… as in one tire. Do you have a spare?”
“I have a spare,” Jonathan said. “I’ve never changed a tire, but I’m assuming that you have.”
“You assume correctly.” Again Decker pulled the vehicle to the side of the road. He went out and inspected the damage-a Swiss-cheese hood and one flat tire. Decker didn’t bother looking under the hood. At this point, it was probably best if he didn’t know. Jonathan had gotten out, staring at his newly ventilated van.
“I’ll change the tire,” Decker told his brother. “No sense in both of us getting wet.”
“Nonsense. At the very least, I can hold the flashlight.” Jonathan paused. “Although I’m still trembling. Think of it as a strobe.”
Decker laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He was as rigid as a stone post. “You’re holding up great.”
“Thank you.” He turned to Decker. “Who do you think it was?”
“Don’t know.”
“Donatti?”
“Maybe.”
“Merrin?”
“Quite possibly.” He exhaled. “I also borrowed… well, more like swiped the gun from an obnoxious taxicab driver. It could have been him, too.” He brushed rainwater from his eyes. “I would even say maybe it was Chaim, but I think your brother-in-law has other things on his mind right now.”
Together they pulled out the spare tire and the kit. An hour later, on four inflated tires, they made their way into the Bainberry Mall parking lot. They settled upon the first store that looked promising, a unit that specialized in athletic gear that was GOING OUT OF BUSINESS. They rooted through the deeply discounted items, stocking up on sweats, T-shirts, lightweight waterproof jackets, socks, sneakers, and an umbrella. By seven in the evening, they were back on the highway in dry clothes, wolfing down bagels and sipping hot coffee from paper cups. Warmth on the skin, warmth in the belly: Heaven had many forms and shapes.
Jonathan was driving. “Where to?”
Decker thought a moment. “With the van in such poor shape, it makes sense for us to go back to Quinton. Maybe I can squeeze something from the Feds.”
Jonathan blew out air. “So JFK is out?”
“I doubt if Hershfield’s still there,” Decker told him.
“True, true.” Jonathan tapped the steering wheel. “If we go back to Quinton, we’ll be stuck there for hours.”
“I know.”
“Also, you said this could be Merrin’s doing.”
“Possibly.”
“So maybe it’s not too safe for us to be there now.”
“Jonathan, if Chaim’s house is crawling with Feds, I think we’re okay for a while.”
His brother was silent. Decker said, “What’s on your mind, Jon? You have a look on your face.”
“The Liebers have a warehouse. It’s in the middle of nowhere-an old converted barn-about twenty miles north of Quinton. So maybe around fifteen miles from where we are. You wouldn’t know how to get there unless you’ve been there before.”
“And you’ve been there before.”
“Raisie and I get our TVs, VCRs, computers, cameras, et cetera, et cetera from the overstock-last year’s models. Sometimes it’s cheaper to get rid of items than to ship them back. We’ve always gone down after hours.”
“You have a plan.”
“Well, I have a location.” Jonathan finished his bagel. “I also know where the back door is. I’m sure it’s locked and alarmed if no one’s there. But if Chaim is there, we can talk to him through the intercom.”
“And what are we supposed to say to him?” Decker asked.
“I don’t know,” Jonathan answered. “Convince him to give himself up.”
Decker laughed. “A man who set up his brother-and possibly his daughter-”
“Nonsense.”
“Fine. Be delusional. But I will tell you this. Chaim’s scared, wanted, and probably irrational. I don’t see him just… giving up.”
“Well, then, maybe we can convince him that we’re a better bet than the police.”
Decker sipped coffee as thoughts tumbled in his brain. “I suppose we can check it out. Think the van can make it?”
“You’re the mechanical one,” Jonathan answered. “I’m a rabbi.”
“Who said rabbis couldn’t be mechanical?”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Fifteen miles one way,” Decker said. “Then, if we don’t find anything, we’ve got to make it back to Quinton. That’s forty miles in a van with a shot-out hood and driving on a spare in the rain.”
No one spoke.
Jonathan said, “I’m willing to try it.”
“Well, we have rain slickers now…” Decker ran his fingers through his damp hair. “All right. Let’s give it a whirl.” They drove several miles without speaking. “And what do we do, Jon, if he resists? What do we do when he starts shooting at us?”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know psychos.” Reaching into the glove compartment, Decker took out the snub-nose. “I have one bullet left. If it’s him or me, I go for the kill. Can you accept that?”
“Better he be shot by you than by the police. At least, that way I’ll know that the shooting was justified.”
“Maybe better for you, Jon.” Decker felt his jaw tighten. “Not necessarily better for me.”
34
Everything was stacked against them. The van was straining at thirty, bouncing on a compromised set of tires, each bump and grind sending shock waves up their spines. On top of that, the road was oil slicked, and it was as dark as sin outside. So Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was the right way. He summed up the situation perfectly.
“This was a terrible idea.” The van landed with a thud as it took a jump over a pothole. The engine stalled for a moment, then continued to chug along. “I just want to reach Chaim before the police. Maybe less chance of his getting hurt.”
“If he doesn’t hurt us first.”
“Akiva, I asked you no less than a dozen times if you wanted to turn back-”
“I know you have. I’m conflicted.”
“So am I.” Jonathan gripped the wheel. “I want to help Chaim. He’s my wife’s brother. The family has been through hell. I’ve been through hell. But I don’t want to get killed.”
“Succinctly put.” Decker tightened his coat around his body.
“Do you want to go back?” Jonathan asked him. “Your call.”
“Now there’s a switch. The rabbi daring the cop.”
“Not strange at all. Haven’t you read the Kemelman series?”
Decker smiled. The rain had abated to sprinkles, leaving the asphalt as shiny as polished onyx. Because one of the biker’s bullets had knocked out the heating fan, the windows were kept open to prevent the windshield from fogging up. Arctic cold, but at least Jonathan could see. Since the windows were rolled down, Decker could hear the strong whoosh of water roiling downstream as it cut deep ruts into the roadside mud.
To Decker, New York had always been synonymous with Manhattan. But the state was big and wide and full of open space. Long stretches of glens and valleys sided rolling mountains and dense forest. Because it was dark, the terrain showed only shapes and shadows, but occasionally he could make out a New England clapboard house lit from the inside, or even a small brick structure that sat on the edge of the highway. Once he saw a barn illuminated by several exterior lights, in front of it a hand-painted sign boasting antiques as well as fresh farm products. He could see the mist falling in the light’s beam, the sign streaked with water. In the background, he caught glimpses of fields, but nothing appeared to be growing.