The bus driver had always driven carefully through Pitt’s campus. She knew several students had died over the years walking into the bus lane that ran against the flow of traffic on Fifth Avenue. But in this case, her caution didn’t matter because the man darted in front of her like a deer on the highway. One second he wasn’t visible, the next he was splattered on her windshield.
The noise the body made was unlike any that Payne had heard before. It was a mixture of a meaty thud and the splash of a spilled drink, all rolled together with the crack of a wishbone. By the time the driver skidded to an icy stop, the surrounding snow looked like salsa.
‘Holy shit,’ Payne muttered as he moved forward to inspect the carnage.
Although he was thrilled that the drama had ended quickly, Payne was smart enough to realize that the man’s death had left several questions unanswered. Not only his identity — which would take a while to determine based on his current lack of a face — but also why Ashley had been murdered. Was she the intended target? Or was she simply collateral damage?
During their careers, Payne and Jones had made a long list of enemies. Their time with the MANIACs guaranteed they would live the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders. Most of their missions had been classified, but rumours about their exploits were well known in the military community. Sure, some of the stories were untrue — nothing more than lies that had become a part of their legend — but enough facts were sprinkled in to put them in harm’s way.
‘Oh my God,’ the driver wailed as she stepped off the bus. She was white and pudgy, the female equivalent of Ralph Kramden from The Honeymooners. ‘I swear I didn’t see him!’
Payne walked over to comfort her. ‘Don’t worry, ma’am. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she shrieked. ‘They’re going to fire me for sure! Oh my God, I can’t believe I killed a man!’
He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I swear, you’re not going to get fired. In fact, you’re liable to get a medal for this.’
She looked at him like he was crazy. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘That monster,’ Payne said for effect, ‘just killed a woman. And he would’ve killed several more if it wasn’t for you. You, my dear, are a hero.’
She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her coat. ‘He killed someone?’
Payne nodded. ‘In cold blood.’
‘And I stopped him?’
‘With your massive bus.’
She glanced at the red pulp that stained the asphalt. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Completely.’
She let out a sigh of relief, then broke into a wide smile. ‘Oh my Lord, thank you Jesus. I can’t believe I’m a hero… Do you think I’ll be on TV?’
‘I’d bet on it.’
‘Oh my goodness, I gotta call my sister. She’s gonna be so jealous.’
‘Before you do,’ Payne suggested, ‘you better call your supervisor. This lane needs to be shut down for the rest of the night.’
‘Oh my Lord, I never thought of that.’
He pointed towards her bus. ‘You also need to calm your passengers. Tell them what happened, and tell them they need to stay on board until the police arrive. The last thing we want is for them to be walking through any evidence.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘What else should I do?’
He gave it some thought. ‘Tell me, do you wear glasses?’
‘Why? Do you think I need ’em? I’m telling you, the guy ran right—’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. What about sunglasses? Do you have sunglasses?’
‘Why? Should I wear them on TV?’
‘No, ma’am. I’d simply like to borrow them.’
‘Why? Are you gonna wear them on TV?’
He growled in frustration. ‘Ma’am, this has nothing to do with TV. I need to make sure the guy is dead, and when I do, I don’t want any blood to splash into my eyes.’
It was a lie, but he didn’t have the patience to explain the truth.
She glanced at the body. Chunks of carcass littered the bus lane. ‘I’m telling you, sweetie, that boy is dead. I caught him flush.’
Payne tapped his watch to make his point. ‘The cops will want a time of death for their report. It can’t be official if I don’t check his pulse.’ He knew she would believe him. ‘Of course, if you’d rather do it yourself, go right ahead. I’m not going to stop you.’
‘No way,’ she argued, ‘that’s okay. You can have my sunglasses. I’ll get ’em right now.’
‘Thank you, I’d appreciate it.’
As she hustled to get them, Payne pulled out his phone and called Jones. He answered on the third ring. ‘Jon, are you all right? I heard multiple shots.’
Payne nodded. ‘I’m fine. The shooter’s dead.’
‘How?’
‘I lured him in front of a bus.’
‘You what?’
‘Long story,’ Payne said dismissively. ‘The important thing is he’s dead.’
Jones paused. ‘Did you recognize him?’
‘I’m still working on that. Things are kind of messy here.’
‘Here, too. The janitor is going apeshit over the crime scene. I told him he was in charge of cleaning everything up. I even told him to get his shovel.’
Payne smirked. Their years of service had darkened their sense of humour. It was a trait they shared with half the military, especially those who saw combat. ‘Why’d you do that?’
‘Why? Because I don’t like the guy. He’s too lippy.’
‘Lippy? Look who’s talking! Mr Pot, meet Mr Kettle.’
‘Hold up! Is that some kind of black joke?’
Payne laughed, realizing Jones was teasing. ‘Have the cops arrived yet?’
‘Any moment now. I see their lights on Bellefield.’
‘Then we better talk quick. What’s our story?’
‘Our story? I didn’t know we needed one.’
‘Just a second.’ The bus driver returned with her sunglasses and handed them to Payne. He thanked her then walked away so she couldn’t hear what he was saying. ‘A mystery woman drives across the state to chat with us and gets her head blown off. I don’t know about you, but I’m slightly suspicious.’
‘Wait. You think this was about her, not us? I’m not sure about that.’
‘Me, neither. But until we ID the shooter, what can we say? If he’s from our past, we can’t tell the cops anything. We’ll have to get the Pentagon involved. And if that happens, you know damn well our statements will have to be cleared by them.’
‘And what if he isn’t from our past?’
‘Then he might’ve come for the letter. I mean, that’s why she was here, right?’
Jones nodded. ‘By the way, I’ve got it.’
‘Good. We’ll deal with it later. In the meantime, what should we say?’
‘Let’s stick to the basics. She showed up at your party and was embarrassed by her clothes. So we went to the chapel to talk. When we came out, she got shot.’
‘And what were we discussing?’
‘You tell me. I came up with everything else.’ Payne paused in thought. ‘Let’s keep it simple. She was a schoolteacher interested in Greece, and she asked us about our treasure. Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘Anything else to worry about?’
‘Just one thing. But it’s kind of big.’
‘What is it?’ Payne asked.
‘That gun you’re holding? I bought it on the street and never registered it because the serial number was filed off.’
‘What?!’ Payne blurted, suddenly panicked. The last thing he needed was to be arrested on a weapon’s charge.
Jones stayed quiet for several seconds before he cracked up with laughter. ‘Nah, I’m just messing with you. Serves you right, though. I can’t believe you stole my gun. If I’d had a backup piece, I would’ve shot you in the ass. You sneaky bastard!’