She looked at him as if they had just conspired to an actual murder. “You can do that?”
“I can make sure it happens.”
Sighing deeply, she dug her face into his chest and wrapped her arm tightly around his back.
They lay there like that, her falling asleep first, and Jake wondering if he could get them out of the country and then out of Korea. He would have to make it happen. He had to get the shots he took to Alaska. Keep his promise to Armstrong.
33
Parked on South Washington Street, a half a block back from the white Trooper, Fisher had watched Li jump out and climb a set of steps, going into an old brick building that appeared to be a mix of businesses and apartments. They were in the heart of the Pioneer Square section of downtown Seattle, a few blocks from Pike Street Market. Even at this late hour, nearly midnight, the streets were alive with people and cars.
A homeless man approached and knocked on Fisher’s window. He powered the window down.
“Get lost,” Fisher growled at the man.
This didn’t intimidate the guy, so Fisher pulled out his gun and pointed it in the man’s face.
The man moved his head closer to the 9mm automatic. “Is that any way to treat your back up?” The man flipped his hand sideways, revealing an Agency I.D. “Just give me a five and send me on my way. I’ll be across the street on that bench. We’ve got the back covered and two more out front. A couple.”
Fisher handed the guy a five and pushed him back from the car, closing the window.
“You guys are fucked up,” Cliff said from the back seat. He was laying down with a coat over him.
“Listen. Anything goes down here and you better stay put or I’ll hunt your ass down.”
“You got me cuffed to the door. Where could I go?”
Good point. Fisher was confused by the woman’s actions. Just before coming here, the Asian woman had stopped at a used music shop, pounded on the door for a moment, and then, more than a little pissed off that the place was closed, had hopped back into the Trooper and sped off. “What in the hell is she up to, Cliff?”
“How should I know?”
“Ya fucked her.”
“Yeah, but she mostly did the fucking. It’s not like she gave me any information. The flow went from me to her and not the other way.”
“Hang on.”
A man and woman walked past and seemed to stare for too long. Must have been the couple, Fisher thought.
Fisher kept his eyes on the door to the brick building, only shifting away to scan the Trooper against the curb in front of them.
It must have been at one of those brief moments when his eyes had turned away when she came out the front door, because when he first saw her she was skipping down the stone steps and then getting into the Trooper.
Fisher’s phone rang. Picking up, he said, “Yeah.” He listened for a moment, watching the brake lights on the Trooper shine brightly. “I can’t get the cuffs off and still follow her. As you can see, she’s leaving right now.” He listened and put the car in gear, pulling out after the Trooper. “Gotcha.” Then he flipped the phone into his pocket.
“You tryin’ to get rid of me?” Cliff said.
“Not now.”
Fisher followed the Trooper around a corner, keeping way back. They drove up the hill underneath I-5 and then north, parallel to the freeway.
“Where the hell are you going, Bitch?” Fisher said to himself.
Cliff sat up in the back seat. “I told you. The airport.”
“She’s goin’ in the opposite direction,” Fisher said.
The phone rang and Fisher tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go away. Finally he picked up and listened. “Shit! We should have taken her there.” Pause. “Gotcha.” He hung up.
“What?” Cliff asked.
“Your friend just killed two people in that apartment. A young Chinese couple.”
Cliff sank into his seat.
Fisher kept the car back, not wanting her to see them, yet on one level he hoped she’d pull over like she had in Portland. Give him another chance to take her out. But he knew they needed more from her. Needed to find out who employed her. Without that knowledge, all of his work over the past few months would have been for no reason. All that time schmoozin’ with computer geeks a lesson in futility.
The Trooper turned right up a hill and picked up speed. When it reached a heavily treed area by Seattle University, it slowed and pulled over to a curb.
Fisher held back, took a right on the first street on the edge of a campus park and then pulled over and hit the lights. He was careful not to put pressure on the brakes to give away his position.
Almost a block away, through the trees, Fisher watched the woman get out of the Trooper and hurry into the campus park, her gate purposeful. Was she going to kill someone else? This had to stop.
He pulled his phone out and called his Portland boss, relayed his position, and told him he needed back-up at this location.
“What do you mean not yet,” Fisher said loudly. “She just killed two people in Seattle. Who knows what the hell she’s up to now.” He listened for a moment, his head nodding agreement. “That’s good news.” A pause. “She what? She’s crazy. Right. Gotcha. Give me her number.” He listened carefully now, his eyes closed for a moment to memorize the sequence of numbers. “Got it. Thanks.”
Fisher hung up and returned his phone to his pocket.
“Was that about your friend?” Cliff asked. “She okay?”
Fisher tried to ignore the little puke in the back seat, but he just wouldn’t go away. Like a cockroach, he was. “Better than expected. Treated and released. Bullet missed the major artery in her arm. The Kevlar stopped the one in her chest, but she’ll have one helluva bruise.”
“I guess large breasts come in handy,” Cliff noted.
Fisher ignored that and checked his watch. His back-up, those who would take this annoying geek off his hands, were about five minutes out. He only hoped the Asian woman, Li, would wait at least that long before jumping back into the Trooper and heading off to who knows where.
Where was she?
The first indication Fisher had that something was not right happened so fast he couldn’t comprehend what was going on.
The first bullet smashed through the rear window.
Fisher ducked and pulled his gun in one motion. If the shooter was right outside the car, she could just walk up and it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. He had to move.
Leaning down, he cranked over the engine and shoved it in gear. Then he hit the gas, lurching the car forward. He sat up just before crashing into the back of a truck and cranked the wheel hard to the left, running up the curb and into the park’s grassy bank.
He jumped out and crouched behind the door.
Nothing.
A Chevy Impala rounded the corner and headed toward them. He jumped out into the street, aiming his gun at the driver until he jammed his brakes and stopped.
Running to the driver, Fisher realized it was his back-up, the agent dressed in homeless garb.
“What’s going on?” the Agency officer asked.
“The bitch just shot at us,” Fisher yelled. “Was the Trooper gone from that street?” He pointed off across the park.
“Didn’t see it.”
“Shit.” Fisher finally looked around at his car and saw Cliff slumped over in the back seat.
Hurrying to him, Fisher opened the back door. There was blood everywhere. The bullet had taken off a chunk of Cliff’s head. But he checked for a pulse. He was still alive.
By now, the homeless agent was behind him.
“Give me your keys,” Fisher ordered.
“But…”
“Give me your fuckin’ keys and call an ambulance.”