Jonathan nodded. “I’m okay.”
“All right, this is the deal,” Donatti whispered. “There are five doors-front door, one emergency exit on each side, and two doors in back. The emergency exits are alarmed to go off when you leave and the front door is where the powwow’s being held. That leaves the back doors. Go for the closest one.”
Silence.
Donatti continued. “There was a cop on each alarmed side door, a pair of kids on each back door, and maybe a couple of cops at the front entrance. I’ve taken care of one cop and a kid-You know, you’re damn lucky I recognized you when you came in.”
Decker said, “It’s your artistic eye. Where was that kid stationed?”
“The one I took out? One of the back doors, which means his partner’s gonna get antsy if he doesn’t come back soon. Let’s put some lead in it.” He slipped off his backpack and pulled out a small set of binoculars. “It should be a piece of cake with two of us… if your eye is good.”
“Are you asking me if I’m a good shot?”
“Yes.”
“I’m good.”
“Then we’re fine, because I’m great.” Donatti handed Decker the infrared binoculars. Through them, the warehouse looked like daylight. “See that red wooden sign? The letter N.”
“Got it.”
“Put it center in the crosshairs.”
“Okay.”
“Clockwise one-fifty degrees.”
“There are two of them. What are they? Like a couple hundred yards away?”
“Yeah.” Donatti looked at Decker’s gun. “You can’t use that in the dark.” He took a case out and opened it up, pulling out a pistol. “Basically, it’s a Walther double-action automatic except I’ve modified it for accuracy at longer range and added an infrared scope and silencer for obvious reasons. Swap you?”
They exchanged firearms. Decker hefted the gun. “Not too heavy.”
“No need for overkill. Standard nine-millimeter Parabellum and twenty-two LR. With all the customization, it cost me about fifteen hundred bucks. I’ll probably have to lose it after this is all over. Damn shame.” He stowed the kid’s gun in his backpack and took out his own customized handgun, complete with scope and silencer. “We do them; then you can make your move through the back entrance.”
Decker studied the faces in the scope, feeling his heart drop. Two lanky boys, one maybe a couple of inches taller than the other, both of them holding that gaping-mouth confused expression commonly stamped on teenage males. Their cheeks still held a smattering of adolescent pimples. His brain flashed to his own sons. “They’re kids. Eighteen tops.”
“I was that age once,” Donatti pointed out.
A very convincing argument, but Decker wasn’t ready to make the jump. “I’m a police officer. I can’t shoot them without warning.”
“Oh, that’s clever,” Donatti mocked. “Why don’t you go all the way and paint a bull’s-eye on your forehead?”
“I can’t shoot them without giving them warning first.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Donatti, I’ll announce myself. If they don’t drop immediately, then we can-”
“If we give them warning, they’ll shoot, then scatter. Then we’ll have a real problem.”
“I’m not going to argue this-”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re repeating yourself.” Decker remained firm. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Donatti picked up a pinecone-shaped piece of concrete and hurled it, the cement whizzing by the bigger of the two boys. As it hit a box and broke into smaller pieces, both of the teens spun around, the taller one raising his gun in Decker’s direction. He never stood a chance. Donatti picked them off in two clean shots-zzzzpt, zzzzpt. They walked a foot or two, then dropped-plop, plop. The shots were so smooth that there wasn’t any discernible blood spray. Donatti must have been using hollow points-the kind of bullets that bang around in the skull, turning the entire brain to pulp.
Decker glared at him, his eyes burning with anger.
“I gave them warning.” Donatti was expressionless. “Self-defense. Now I’ll cover you while you get your brother out.”
“That means I walk out with my back to you. I just saw you murder two kids.”
“If you don’t leave now, you won’t make it.” Donatti adjusted his scope, squatting as still as a stone frog. “I’ll wait a few minutes. If you don’t come back by then, I’ll just assume that we’ve parted ways.”
There was no time for contemplation.
“I’m keeping this.” Decker held up the gun. “Go, Jon. I’ll follow you. Be careful!”
“I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Just move!”
Once they had made it down the stairs and onto the ground, Decker, looking through the scope, scanned the area. Then he grabbed Jonathan’s hand. Using the IR lens for visibility, he twisted and turned around aisles and aisles of tall shelving, around boxes and machinery-gingerly and quietly. He dragged Jonathan along as he negotiated the path to the back. Time took on a surreal quality. It was without parameters like hours spent in a casino; in reality, it took only a few minutes to reach the back door.
Pushing it open, stepping over the threshold and then out into a wet and chilly freedom. The rain was coming down in cold, big drops, the ground beneath them slick and filled with mud holes, forcing them to tread with caution. Still, they jogged and didn’t stop until they were at the van. Jonathan’s hands were shaking as he pulled out the keys.
Decker opened the driver’s door. “Go find a phone booth and call up the State Police. Then call up NYPD and ask for Detective Mick Novack from the two-eight. Don’t tell him any details, just to get his butt out here. Don’t come back here. The less you’re involved, the better.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I can’t leave him alone.”
Jonathan stared at him. “You can’t be serious. Didn’t you just tell me this wasn’t worth getting killed for?”
“I don’t intend on getting killed-”
“You’re relying on Donatti for protection?”
“If I don’t go back, Jonathan, your brother-in-law is dead!”
Jonathan looked away. “My wife’s obligation may be toward her brother. My obligation is with my brother. You’ve got a wife and children. You’ve got to leave.”
“I can’t do that.”
Jonathan regarded him with tears in his eyes. “And how do I comfort Rina at the shiva?” He hugged him tightly. “You don’t know what’s going on. He could be setting you up.”
“Perfectly true. But if I don’t return, he’ll think I froze. I can’t let that maniac have that kind of superiority over me.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Then you should be concerned. Insanity is genetic.” He patted the driver’s seat. “In.”
Jonathan paused, then climbed into a damp, cold seat. Though clammy, it was still better than squatting, taut with terror. He regarded his brother. “I still have the gun you gave me.”
“I have protection, so you keep it.” Decker shut the van’s door. “With God’s help, you won’t need it. Go!”
Jonathan placed the key into the ignition. It coughed, it sputtered, it choked, but eventually the pistons kicked in. The motor was breathing, albeit asthmatically.
“Drive carefully,” Decker cautioned.
“You be careful,” Jonathan cautioned back.
When the taillights were dots in the distance, Decker started a gentle jog back toward the barn, gun in hand.
Armed and dangerous, he was a force with which to be reckoned.