BLACK COBRA (Aaron Quinn thriller series, No. 2) (2 page)

“So, where we headed?” he asked brightly, his question directed at the driver of the car, Michael St. John, whom Aaron had known for just three days, yet loved like a father. It was a good question, and Aaron’s beautiful, loving mother, Ashley, and his best friend, Willy, sat up in the back seat and listened for Michael’s reply.

Michael checked his watch. 7:05 p.m. He considered Aaron’s question for a moment. His immediate goal after leaving Sally’s Diner had been to put as much distance between themselves, the dead man, and the approaching sirens as he could. He looked at Aaron, then back at the road, and decided to try a more comforting answer.

“We’re headed to a faraway place where no one can bother us ever again,” he replied, and Aaron and the others thought that sounded really good.

Ashley had seen Aaron take out the photo of her and Danny. “May I see the picture, Aaron?” she asked over his shoulder, and he handed it to her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she took a long look at the photo, imagining herself wrapped in Danny’s loving arms once again.

---

Just then a large black Hummer moving at high speed skidded wide around the flooded corner ahead of them and crossed into their lane. Aaron caught a fleeting glimpse of the oncoming driver’s face just before they collided head-on, sending the Aston spinning violently in a shower of glass. The Hummer zagged hard, jumped the curb, and careened through a street-light pole before crashing to a stop against an overflowing dumpster. The Aston Martin slid to a stop in the middle of the block, doors flung wide open, its fabric top mostly torn away, and for a moment nothing moved except for the falling rain ...

Then
BOOM!

The Aston’s fuel tank blew with enough force to heave the car several feet into the air where it rolled onto its side before returning to earth with a violent
whump,
flames roiling from its shattered windows.

Jason stumbled out of his Hummer, stunned, but unhurt. He approached the Aston’s fiery wreckage; but the heat was too extreme and there was nothing he could do, so he backed off.

---

As he turned back toward his Hummer, Jason was surprised to see what appeared to be a boy, about thirteen, lying in the shadows on the wet sidewalk a few feet from him. The boy’s face was blackened and bloody, but he was still breathing and appeared to be in one piece. Jason checked the boy’s pulse, finding it weak but steady. He spotted a curious bandage wrapping the boy’s chest and shoulder — it was soaked with fresh blood but appeared to be controlling any excessive bleeding.

Jason lifted the boy into his arms and carried him to the Hummer, laying him gently across the wide rear seat and covering him with a wool blanket. Then he swung the door shut.

He checked the front of the Hummer for damage: It was smashed in, but not severely. He climbed into the driver’s seat and tried the engine, which started easily, and then he backed away from the dumpster and onto the street, heading west with the intention of finding the nearest hospital.

---

After rounding two corners, Jason remembered why he’d come downtown in the first place. He pulled over and skidded to a stop in front of Sally’s Diner.

In the distance,
sirens
...

Chapter 4

The old, black, desk phone rang, shaking Detective James Harness out of a good sleep. He checked his watch, 7:10 p.m., and then slid his feet off his desk and sat up, fumbling for the receiver.

“Detective Harness,” he said in a gruff voice, pinching the bridge of his nose to help ease his headache.

“Harness, it’s your Captain. Several calls just came in concerning gunfire downtown at Sally’s Diner, and I guess there’s been a fatal automobile accident two blocks from there. You and your partner get your asses down there. Got it? Backup’s on the way and emergency services have been notified.”

“Roger that, Captain,” Harness said, yawning deeply. He’d been cooped up in his hot, tiny office all afternoon and welcomed the evening’s first real diversion.

He hung up the phone and called to his partner. “
Roberts? You out there?
”

Officer Roberts was just outside Harness’s door in the deserted precinct office refilling his coffee cup. He was nursing a huge hangover and a steady stream of black coffee was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Right here, sir,” he replied. “No need to yell.”

“Pour me some joe to go and grab your shotgun,” Harness ordered. “We have a situation.”

Chapter 5

Jason listened to the approaching sirens, judging their distance at two minutes. He pulled his .45 caliber pistol out of the Hummer’s glove box and stepped out into the rain.

Brandy Fine had been right to be concerned, the front of Sally’s Diner looked like a war zone: the green canvas awning hung in tatters; the huge, plate-glass front window was blown out; and two rusting bicycles lay tangled on the sidewalk amid piles of broken glass.

Jason raised his pistol and stepped cautiously through the shattered window into the diner.

---

Inside, Jason saw the familiar signs of recent mayhem and brutal violence: fresh blood spattered the floor, walls and ceiling, and the entire room was riddled with bullet holes.

Two bodies lay sprawled on the floor: The first, lying under one of the stools at the counter, appeared to be an old man. Jason tried to check the gentleman’s pulse, but the old geezer jerked awake and abruptly stood and wandered out the front door, as if he’d simply finished his donut and was heading home.

Jason turned to the other body and saw lying next to it a familiar, worn leather fedora, and, although the dead man’s face was obscured with blood, he knew at once who it was. He leaned down and knelt next to his dead brother.

---

“
Drop the gun and put your hands in the air!
”

The booming voice from behind sent a sharp chill up Jason’s spine.
Damn it!
he thought, kicking himself for forgetting about the police. He let the pistol slide through his fingers and onto the floor and then slowly raised his hands.

“Now, stand up and turn around so I can see you,” the voice said.

Jason did as he was told, and as he turned he was surprised to see only two men: one, about 5’7”, wearing plain clothes, pointing a pistol at his face; the other, approximately 6’2”, in uniform, wielding a shotgun.

The one in plain clothes was clearly in charge. He glanced around at the disaster that used to be a diner. “
Damn
, Roberts,” he said. “I’d say this guy’s one
mean
son-of-a-bitch.”

Officer Roberts smiled and leveled his 12 gauge on Jason, cherishing the moment. Action like this was scarce in the Podunk 3rd Precinct, and it was a rare pleasure to aim a gun at a real person as opposed to a cardboard cutout. Wielding that kind of power made up for his deep lack of self-confidence, and the adrenaline rush felt really good.

“You went a little too far this time, my friend,” he said.

Jason hated when strangers called him
friend
— especially cops. He looked at Roberts and his shotgun, weighing his options. “I’m not your friend,” he said.

Roberts’s eyes narrowed and his finger twitched on his shotgun’s hair trigger.

“I’ll need to see some I.D.,” the man in charge said.

Jason wished he’d gotten around to changing the name on his driver’s license to the pseudonym he used around Brandy: ‘Jason Beckham’; but it was too late now, so he reluctantly handed the license over.

 “
Jason Souther
,” the one in plain clothes read aloud. “I’m Detective Harness, Third Precinct. This is Officer Roberts.” He indicated his partner.

Jason did not respond. Not counting visiting rooms, he had never set foot inside a bonafide state prison, much less done time in one. Sure, he’d overnighted in a few county jails, and there were the three months in the brig awaiting his dishonorable discharge from the Navy; but whenever there’d been serious trouble, his big brother had always figured out a clever way to take the fall for him — spending half his life behind prison bars so that his little brother could remain free. Jason had always loved and respected Johnny for that.

But his big brother was dead now, and he couldn’t take the fall for him this time. Jason was finally going to experience, first hand, what Johnny Souther had tried so hard, and for so long, to protect him from.

Always the teacher, Detective Harness looked at his partner. “Roberts,” he said. “Pretend you’re in charge. What would you do in this situation?”

Roberts’s grin widened. He had always thought he
should
be the one in charge. “I’d waste this fucker right here, right now,” he said, without hesitation.

Jason swallowed and glanced at Harness.

Harness returned Jason’s glance. “I’m not sure I’d recommend that, Roberts. In case you missed that chapter in the handbook, police brutality is frowned upon in this city.”

“No one would ever know,” Roberts said, eyes widening at the thought. “Basic self-defense ... stands up in court like a dick on prom night.”

Roberts’s clever bits of humor always put a smile on Harness’s face. That, and the fact that he was fearless, were why he had chosen Roberts as his partner in the first place.

Beads of cold sweat had formed on Jason’s brow; his chances for escape were diminishing by the second. If he was going to make a move, he’d have to make it soon.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his pistol lying on the floor, three feet from him, and, in spite of a serious adrenaline rush, he forced himself to stay calm.

“Cuff him,” Harness said to Roberts. “And be quick about it. We have that fatal car crash to attend to. I’ll meet you in the car.”

“Yes, sir,” Roberts said.

Harness turned to leave.

Roberts glanced down to pull two long, white zip-ties out of his equipment belt. Jason saw him, dove for his gun, rolled over, and fired, the bullet smacking Roberts square in the chest, sending him flying onto his back as his shotgun discharged harmlessly into the ceiling.

Harness wheeled around and fired, catching Jason in the thigh as he leaped to his feet. Jason tackled Harness, sending the two of them crashing over a table and onto the floor. Both pistols came loose.

Harness scrabbled for the shotgun, but Jason outweighed him by forty pounds, catching his arm as they rolled over again and again in a desperate struggle. At last Jason managed to grab a handful of Harness hair and slam his head into the chrome base of a barstool, knocking him unconscious.

Just then Harness’s backup arrived in a blaze of flashing lights and deafening sirens.

Jason took one look, and then limped out the back door just as the front door exploded open.

Chapter 6

When Detective Harness came to, two uniformed officers were kneeling next to him. “Roberts?” he said, looking around. He tried to sit up, but the officers gently held him down.

“Officer Roberts is dead, sir,” one said. “Please don’t try to move.”

Harness waved the officers off and sat up, his head pounding. He spotted Roberts lying motionless a few feet away. It was true: his partner, and long-time friend, had taken a bullet through his heart. He looked at the officers urgently. “The suspect,” he said. “Where’s
the suspect?
”

“He evaded us, sir.”

“
What?
” Harness demanded. He glanced outside and saw the black Hummer still parked in front of the diner. “He’s on foot and bleeding from a fucking gunshot wound to the leg! How the hell could he evade you?”

 “We’re sorry, sir. H-he was gone when we arrived. There’s an APB out and at least three units are —”

“
FUCK!
” Harness shouted, pounding the floor with his fist. “
They’re wasting their time!”
He got to his feet and looked around, disgusted with himself. “You’ve got this covered?” he said, indicating the crime scene.

“Yes, sir.”

Harness headed for the door, throwing Roberts’s body a quick salute on his way out.

---

Exiting the diner, Harness was blinded by the flashing lights of an ambulance parked halfway up on the sidewalk. Two harried paramedics, the oldest no more than twenty, were heading his way, pushing a heavy gurney. He stepped aside to avoid losing some toes.

 He walked over to check out the black Hummer, noting that the front end was smashed in and there were fresh streaks of silver paint scraped into the chrome and down the right side.

He and Roberts had cruised by the accident scene on their way to the diner, and one look at the gruesome wreckage had told them three things: 1) It was a felony hit-and-run; 2) There were no survivors; and 3) The other vehicle had been big and heavy. Could it be he was standing next to the other vehicle?

He checked the glove box for the registration. The Hummer was registered in the name of Jason Souther.

I knew it!
Harness thought miserably. He had had the guy in his grasp! The thought sickened him.

He shined his light around the vehicle’s interior and was shocked to see a young boy, twelve or thirteen maybe, asleep on the back seat covered in a wool blanket. He quietly opened the rear side door and laid a gentle hand on the boy’s leg, speaking softly.

“Kid ... are you all right?” he said.

Aaron jerked awake and tried to lift his head, but the pain was too great and all he could manage was a feeble groan through gritted teeth.

Harness lifted the blanket gently to see what he was dealing with: The boy looked bad, his face blackened and bloodied. Two purple gashes were obvious on the left side of his face: one, partially healed, across his upper left cheek bone, and a fresh laceration running vertically from there to his lower jaw line. But both had clotted over and could wait.

 Harness opened Aaron’s oddly oversized, black overcoat. It was damp and smelled like wet dog. Fresh blood seeped from a bandage in the area of his chest and shoulder. He closed the coat and replaced the blanket, and then he pulled his sleeve down over the heel of his hand and wiped some of the dirt and blood from Aaron’s face.