After the Execution (7 page)

I
WAS LUCKY
. The would-be assassin must have thought that he was too close to miss his target because he was holding the gun in one hand instead of two. And as everyone knows – especially FBI agents – that leaves too much room for error. His arm was not as steady as it should have been and when the Dodge screeched away from the curb the noise appeared to distract him.

It caused his trigger finger to hesitate for a fraction of a second. Time enough for me to already be moving as he fired off the shot. The bullet sliced a path right where my body would have been if I’d stayed still. I felt the slug whizz above my head as I ducked down. I sprang forward, slamming into him with considerable force. The guy fired a second round, but he was off balance and the bullet went skywards.

He let out a sharp grunt of pain as his knees buckled and he fell onto the pavement. But I managed to stay on my feet, my ears ringing from the blasts. I dropped the briefcase and grabbed his wrist with one hand while seizing the gun with the other. Panic and rage cut through me like a hot knife. I took a step back, threw off the glasses and pointed the gun at him.

His face was visible beneath the hood and he stared up at me in slack-jawed disbelief. I saw that he was middle-aged and pale-skinned, but nothing else registered. I had no intention of shooting him, but I had no intention of hanging around so that someone else could try to shoot me.

I looked around, my heart drumming frantically. I saw diners in the restaurant looking out at me, some of them standing. I felt giddy and disoriented. Cold fear hardened in the centre of my stomach.

Then I heard a car door open. I turned and saw the Taurus across
the road. Two of the suited men I’d seen earlier had got out. My gut told me that they were not coming to my rescue.

They’re going to kill me,
I screamed at myself.

So I did the first thing that came into my head – I raised the gun and fired off a shot in their direction, making sure the bullet went well above them.

As they both ducked behind the Taurus I broke into a run, moving like a panicked deer. My heart was pumping its way out of my ribcage as I hurtled along the street with no idea where I was going. I knew only that I had to put distance between myself and the FBI agents.

The muscles in my thighs burned as I hammered my feet on the pavement. At the same time the shoes they’d given me were hurting like hell.

The street was quiet. Too quiet. I was far too exposed. I came to a cross-street and chanced a look back over my shoulder. What I saw flooded my veins with ice. The Taurus was bearing down on me with its headlights blazing.

Without thinking, I turned left and went at full sprint along a street that was better lit and busier. As I ran, I shoved the gun into my jacket pocket, but not before the sight of it alarmed a bunch of people. One guy jumped out of my way and tripped over the curb, landing on his ass.

I saw a road bridge up ahead and a sign for the River Walk, with an arrow pointing down. I remembered how crowded the walk was when I came here with Marissa, so I followed the arrow and dashed down a long flight of steps. Behind me I heard the Taurus screech to a halt on the road.

At the bottom of the steps was the river that meanders through the downtown area of the city. On either side it was lined with restaurants, bars and boutique shops. A steady stream of people was moving in both directions, most of them tourists. The air was filled with the sound of flamenco music and the smell of exotic foods. But I did not stop to admire the colourful scene. Instead I ran straight onto the pavement and jostled my way into the crowd.

Someone swore at me. Someone else yelled for me to slow down. But I ignored them and pressed on, praying that I’d eventually shake the men who were pursuing me.

Brightly lit pleasure barges cruised along the river, and families and couples sat at outside tables soaking up the atmosphere, unaware of the
drama that was unfolding around them.

I continued to attract attention as the throng dispersed to let me through. After about a hundred yards I came to a small footbridge over the river. I veered onto it and as I crossed it I slowed to a fast walk so that I could look down along the route I’d come.

I saw two dark suits cutting through the crowd of bright shirts and dresses. One of them looked up and pointed at me. That was my cue to break into another run.

The other side of the river was just as busy and the bars, cafes and shops were doing a roaring trade.

By now my breath was rasping in my throat and it felt like there were daggers in my lungs. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the pace. A decade on death row meant that I had very little stamina. It was proving to be a real struggle. Could I outrun them? I didn’t know. But I had to try. I had to push myself hard and fast.

But I quickly felt myself slowing, and as my breath became more laboured my head started to spin with the effort of staying on my feet. Trauma and exhaustion were taking their toll. Then I suddenly collided with the edge of an outside table and stumbled. There was nothing to hold onto so I went over and ended up splayed out on the path.

It caused a fair amount of commotion. People scattered, probably thinking I was drunk. A thought flashed in my mind.
Would I be recognised?
Surely that wasn’t possible. Or was it?

‘Are you all right, sir?’

I rolled on my side, looked up. The voice belonged to a black girl in a skimpy summer dress. She was holding a pile of menus under one arm and standing outside a Mexican restaurant. Just as she extended her free hand to help me up she was elbowed out of the way by one of the suits who’d been chasing me.

‘OK folks,’ he shouted, holding up his badge. ‘No need to be alarmed. We’ve got this situation covered.’

His partner stepped into view, a cellphone pressed to his ear. No doubt he was telling Special Agent Vance that they’d caught me.

They hadn’t taken out their guns. Was that because they didn’t expect me to resist or they didn’t want to cause panic? As far as I was concerned it was a mistake on their part.

I raised both arms, palms out, in a gesture of defeat. The two agents seized an arm each. They were both big guys with army-short haircuts. As they lifted me to my feet one of them leaned close and said, ‘Don’t
make a scene, pal. If you do you’ll get hurt.’

I let them think I was resigned to my fate. But when I was standing up I went for it, catching both of them off guard. We were all just a few feet from the edge of the walkway. One of them had his back to the river and I took a deep breath and then pushed at him with my shoulder. As he teetered backwards I jerked my arm free and gave him another shove to send him splashing into the river.

Then I twisted my body and drove my forehead straight into the other guy’s face. He let go of my arm and staggered backwards, blood spurting from a broken nose. I leapt forward, grabbed his jacket, and whirled him round so hard and fast that he couldn’t stop himself plunging into the river along with his partner. The river wasn’t deep at this point and when I looked over the side they were both standing up, with the water reaching their chests.

A woman behind me screamed and there was shouting. Fear pulsed through me and my knees felt weak.

Fresh panic sent me plunging ahead along the river bank. When I’d covered maybe sixty yards I slowed down and looked to see who was on my tail. I saw no one.

The River Walk became less busy. I passed a couple of smart hotels and a few more restaurants. When I came to some steps I dashed up them. I found myself on a busy road. I heard a police siren in the
distance
, maybe a few streets away.

I had no idea where I was or how many people were looking for me. But I did know that if I didn’t make myself invisible soon I’d be snared like a wounded animal.

I crossed the road and ducked into a doorway to catch my breath. I was completely winded and gasping for air. I ran the splayed fingers of both hands through my hair. I kept a sharp eye out for the Dodge and the Taurus. Where was Vance? Where were the other agents? Were the cops also looking for me?

I was certain of only one thing. Aaron Vance had set me up. He and Daniels had sped away from the restaurant because they had known what was going to happen. I’d been taken there not to have dinner with a mystery man but to be murdered in cold blood by a guy in a hood who was supposedly working for the FBI. I’d been an easy target. But the would-be assassin had messed up. He’d either been over confident or inexperienced.

None of it made any sense. Why go to extraordinary lengths to keep
me alive only to have me gunned down just over twenty four hours later? And why do it outside a busy restaurant in the centre of town? And what did the guy I was supposed to meet have to do with it? Mr Martinez was the name I was given. Was he the guy who had waved at me through the window?

It meant I was on my own now. I couldn’t expect help from anyone – not even the cops. I was supposed to be dead. My body cremated. And those who knew I was still alive – including the FBI – were going to be desperate to ensure the truth did not get out.

Their diabolical plan had backfired. I’d got away, and they now faced the threat of exposure. For them the consequences could be
catastrophic
. Faking an execution was not an acceptable practice – even for the FBI.

But what about me? I was a man who no longer officially existed. What was I going to do? I had no name, no money, no friends, no home, no prospects. I couldn’t approach anyone I knew. The Feds would put everyone from my past under surveillance. They’d know everything about me – right down to my old haunts and the names of people who might be willing to help me. So how would I survive? Where would I go? What did the future hold for me, assuming I was still alive by this time tomorrow?

I stood there, feeling dread pour through me. A drum was beating in my head and my scalp felt tight. I could taste the fear in my mouth. I could feel the excess adrenaline burning me up. I had no plan of action other than to stay one step ahead of Vance and his crew.

Stay calm,
I told myself.
Think. Think fast
. But my head began to ache as my brain grappled with what was a hopeless predicament. And
suddenly
I was struck by a strange truth – that there had actually been an upside to life on death row.

At least there I had never had to think for myself.

I
CHOSE THE
wrong moment to step out of the doorway. As I started walking along the pavement a grey Dodge with tinted windows came crawling out of a side street up ahead.

I breathed a sigh of relief when it turned left and started moving away from me. But then the brake lights suddenly came on and the vehicle did a frenetic U-turn in the road. I took to my toes again and ran at full pelt in the opposite direction. My heart surged into fifth gear.

A part of me wanted to stop and confront Aaron Vance. Find out why he now wanted me dead. But the other part of me, the rational part, told me it would be suicide.

So I took a determined breath to stiffen my resolve and picked up speed. But I couldn’t outrun the Dodge. Its engine was soon roaring in my ears as it closed in.

As luck would have it I came to a low wall just in the nick of time. I scrambled over it, dashed across the forecourt of a clothes store, then charged head first into a narrow alley alongside it. The Dodge couldn’t follow, but I didn’t pause to find out if it had stopped. I tore through the alley, which was unlit and smelled of something rotten.

My chest heaved, thirsty for oxygen, and my legs hurt. I wondered if Vance or Daniels, or maybe both of them, had got out of the Dodge and were now coming after me on foot. If so I was in trouble. They’d be faster and fitter than me, and they would obviously know their way around the city. Whereas I was lost, with no idea where I was heading.

The alley discharged me onto another street. It was lined with trees and parked cars. I spotted the entrance to a hotel on my left. To my right was an intersection. I darted across the road, dodging a couple of cars. One driver blasted his horn because he had to swerve to avoid me.

I was looking back after every few strides, but I didn’t see the Dodge or any Feds. Had I lost them? I doubted it. I feared it was only a matter of time before I was spotted again. The city centre was too bright, and away from the River Walk the streets were fairly quiet. There were too few pedestrians which meant I was pretty conspicuous.

Exhaustion forced me to slow down. I walked past an office block and then a fast-food restaurant. Beyond that I turned right onto another street that was part of a square. In the centre of the square there was a grassy area and a small water fountain with coloured lights. On the other side of the square I saw a large retail grocery store.

I stopped to look around. There was some traffic but no sign of the Dodge or the Taurus. I quick-stepped across the road and onto the grass, pausing next to a tree to catch my breath. From there I had a good view of the square and all the roads leading onto it. It looked like any normal weekday night away from the tourist area. There wasn’t much action. Very little noise.

If the FBI had ordered a lockdown of the city centre to stop me escaping then there was no evidence of it. That probably meant the police had not been told about me. The cops were therefore oblivious to what was going on. That was why the streets were not swarming with uniforms and cruisers.

It made sense if my faked execution was part of a secret
operation
known only to a small team inside the FBI. A team headed up by Special Agent Aaron Vance. The last thing he’d want now would be for me to be arrested by the police who would quickly discover that I was Lee Jordan. The same Lee Jordan who was executed yesterday evening at 6 p.m. in Huntsville.

I suddenly caught sight of the Dodge. It was cruising along the road I had just crossed. I stepped back behind the tree, waited a couple of seconds, then peered out to see where it was.

To my dismay it had stopped at the curb. I had to assume they were looking out through the darkened windows, trying to decide which way to go. They were uncomfortably close. It made me wonder if they’d seen me and had radioed or phoned the other members of the team in the Taurus. If so I could soon be a sitting duck. I had to get out of the square.

Keeping the tree between myself and the Dodge, I started walking backwards, conscious of the fact that it was a risky manoeuvre. I got to within a few feet of the road, and was about to turn and hurry across
it, when the Dodge suddenly lurched forward with a screech of rubber.

They’d spotted me.

My stomach did a backflip. I threw caution to the wind and hurtled full-throttle across the road towards the retail grocery store. It was a big, two-storey building and there was a large parking lot in front that was almost full.

I was wheezing with every breath as I jogged through the entrance. I then lowered my head and tried to lose myself amongst the vehicles. I moved as quickly as I could between cars and trucks and vans. I passed a couple of people loading groceries into their trunks and it gave me an idea.

But as I rushed forward I began to panic because I felt sure the Feds were about to entrap me. I was on the verge of bolting back out onto the road when I saw a woman who was by herself. She was piling bags into the back of a dark blue Ford Explorer.

I stopped in my tracks about twenty feet from her and watched as she unloaded her trolley. I couldn’t see anyone else in the car. She was in her mid to late thirties and was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt. She had coppery brown hair that was tied back and beneath it I noticed her neck was pale and slender.

When her bags were packed she left the trolley where it was and moved towards the driver’s side door. That’s when I rushed forward, whipping the gun from my pocket. Just as she closed her door I wrenched open the door on the passenger side and slipped into the seat next to her.

She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

I pointed the gun at her face and said, ‘If you scream you’ll be very sorry.’

Fear contorted her features as she locked her frightened gaze on me. Her hand started to shake and a low moan issued from between her lips.

‘I want you to switch on the ignition and drive out of the parking lot,’ I said in a soft, controlled voice.

‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘I have money and credit cards in my purse. Take them and go.’

‘I don’t want money,’ I said. ‘There are people after me and I need to get as far away from them as possible. If you cooperate you’ll be OK.’

Her eyes shifted nervously to the left and I followed her stricken gaze.

Damn
.

There was a young child strapped into a safety seat in the back. A girl, aged between eight months and a year I guessed. She was fast asleep with her mouth open.

‘Oh my God please don’t hurt us,’ the woman said, her voice cracking.

I looked at her and gritted my teeth.

‘Either you start driving or I kick you out and take the kid.’

That did it. She turned the key and the Explorer came to life.

‘Don’t rush it,’ I said. ‘Drive slowly and carefully. And for your sake don’t try to signal to anyone.’

She shoved the stick into drive and we moved forward. Thankfully she stayed calm and gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. I saw the Dodge as we rolled towards the exit. We had to pass it and as we did I slunk down in the seat and hoped to God they didn’t see me.

I focused my eyes on the wing mirror as we eased out of the parking lot onto the road, then let out a shaky breath when I realized the Feds weren’t following us.

‘I’ll give you anything you want, mister,’ the woman said, her voice so thin I could barely hear it. ‘Just don’t harm my baby.’

I put the gun back into my pocket, said, ‘I won’t harm either of you so long as you do as I tell you.’

She turned to look at me with a mixture of fear and confusion.

‘Just keep your eyes on the road,’ I said. ‘And don’t even think of crashing the car deliberately. It’d be a big mistake.’

She faced forward again and said, ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘Good question,’ I replied. ‘Just keep driving. I need to think this through.’