The Assassin's Prayer (13 page)

Macklin
walked backwards until the darkness swallowed him. His voice floated out of the
shadows. “She’s just another blind bitch to me, Kain.”

Kain
crawled around in the dark for the next five minutes, searching for his
magazine. When he finally found it, there was a slight ding in the metal where
the magazine had struck the stone. But it was just cosmetic damage, nothing that
would prevent it from working. Kain slammed the magazine up the well of the .45.
He wished he could empty every last round into Macklin’s body. He had learned
secrets tonight, secrets that demanded a reckoning, and the knowledge weighed
heavy on him.

He
walked over and put his hand on his wife’s marker. The stone felt cold, but not
as cold as the rage seething inside him.
One day,
he vowed.
One day
I’ll settle all debts with that son of a bitch.

He
waited in the cemetery another ten minutes, alone with the ghosts and his own personal
demons, then ran to the Jeep. It was twenty minutes back to the motel. As his
headlights carved through the night, Kain knew they were going to be the
longest twenty minutes of his life.

******

When
Kain opened the door to the motel room, he found the gaping bore of a shotgun
shoved in his face, close enough to kiss. He instantly froze. “Larissa,” he
said quietly, “it’s me.”

With
a look of relief, she lowered the SPAS-12. “Better safe than sorry,” she said.
Her apologetic smile softened her features and amplified her beauty.

“When
did he leave?”

Larissa
laid the shotgun on the bed. “Who?”

“The
guy who was here.”

“What
are you talking about?”

He
told her what had happened.

“There
was nobody here,” she said.

Kain
cursed, realizing he had fallen for a bluff. Macklin must be laughing his ass
off. He took off his duster and hurled it angrily across the room. He sat down
on the edge of the bed and clasped his head in his hands. He didn’t think it
was possible to hate someone more than he hated Macklin right now. This hatred
eclipsed even the hate he felt toward Silas.

Kain
suddenly realized some of his hatred toward his former best friend was
misplaced. Kain had spent five long years believing Silas had not only slept
with Karen, but had also caused her to take her own life. But that sin did not
belong to Silas, it belonged to Macklin.

He
felt some distant part of his heart tugging at him to forgive Silas, to lay the
past to rest. But he had hated Silas so long he didn’t know how to
not
hate
him. Besides, Macklin might have killed Karen, but Silas had bedded her, and
that was a hatred Kain could still cling to.

Lost
in his thoughts, Kain didn’t realize Larissa was standing in front of him until
she soothingly touched his face. He winced when her fingers touched the gash
above his eye where he had fallen against Karen’s gravestone. She pulled her
hand back. “You’re hurt,” she said.

“Just
a scalp wound. No big deal.”

“Well,
come into the bathroom and let me clean you up.”

Kain
followed her into the bathroom, lowered the toilet lid, and sat down while she
ran a washcloth under some warm water. She wrung it out and turned to him. “Hold
still,” she said, leaning forward and, with remarkable accuracy for a blind
woman, finding the cut. She gently scrubbed away the crusted blood.

Her
closeness made Kain uncomfortable. She was close enough for him to feel the
heat of her body, smell the scent of her skin, and both were leading him down a
road of thoughts best left untraveled. The bathroom suddenly seemed stifling
hot.

He
abruptly stood up and pushed her aside, rougher than intended. Larissa stumbled
and grabbed the towel rack to keep from falling. Kain instantly felt lower than
snail shit. He reached for her. “Larissa, I’m sorry.”

She
looked shocked and angry but more than anything else she looked hurt. “What the
hell is wrong with you?” she snapped.

Kain
looked away. “Nothing,” he said. “I just … you and I …” He shook his head. “We
just need to get out of here.”

“I
haven’t finished cleaning your cut.”

“It’ll
have to be good enough.” Kain exited the bathroom. “We need to hit the road.
Talon knows where we are.”

“Sometimes
I think Talon will always
know where we are.” Larissa followed him out
of the bathroom. “So where are we going now?”

Kain
shrugged on his duster, slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, and picked up
the shotgun. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Did
you get a new vehicle?”

“No,
the Jeep will have to do for now.” Kain felt fresh blood welling up in the gash
over his eye and wiped it away. Once they found someplace to hole up he would
have Larissa put a couple stitches in it. Another scar to add to his
collection. He reached for the door knob, then froze.

He
telegraphed his tension to Larissa. “What is it?” she asked.

Kain
listened to the
whap-whap-whap
of approaching rotor blades. Their
numbers had just run down to zero. “Chopper,” he said.

“Talon?”

“Who
else?” Kain felt the hot rush of pre-combat adrenalin surge through him in
sharp contrast to the coldness of self-rage. He’d played right into Macklin’s
hands like a fool, allowing himself to be herded back to Larissa so that
Macklin could take them both out together. The bastard could have easily killed
him at the cemetery and then offed Larissa at his leisure, but that wasn’t good
enough for a fucked-in-the-head psychopath like Macklin. He wanted Kain to hold
another dead woman in his arms. That was Macklin’s sick, twisted little game
and Kain had played along like a puppet blind to who was jerking his strings. The
thought enraged him and drove him into explosive action.

He
dragged Larissa down between the beds. The chopper was right outside, the rotor
blades concussing the air, the sound deafening. The window suddenly exploded, blown
apart by machine-gunfire. A .50 caliber, judging from its sound. Bullets chewed
into the beds, shredding the sheets and pillows.

Kain
pressed his hand against Larissa’s back, keeping her down on the floor. He
could feel her trembling. “Keep your head down!” he barked, drawing his Colt
.45 and raising his own head just enough to see the chopper, an unmarked UH-1
Huey similar to the gunships used in Vietnam, hovering just outside the
shattered window. The rotor-wash whipped up clouds of churning dust from the
parking lot, forcing Kain to squint through the grit.

A
spotlight mounted on a swivel under the chopper’s nose suddenly powered on and
probed the room with a lance of harsh white light. Kain immediately
double-tapped two rounds straight up the beam. The light went out in a burst of
glass and sparks. Right now darkness was their ally and Kain wanted all of it
he could get.

He
dropped back down between the two bullet-riddled beds as the machine-gunner
strafed the room again. Huge holes appeared in the walls. The room’s flimsy
furniture exploded like matchsticks. Kain knew the .50 would destroy the room
in no time. They could not stay here. Larissa’s terrified sobs reached his ears
despite the chaotic roar of combat.

The
instant the machine-gun stopped hammering, Kain rose and fired six shots at the
black shape behind the .50. He saw the target jerk to the side as a slug
clipped his shoulder. The machine-gun swung wildly on its mount as Kain emptied
the rest of the clip into the guy’s head, punching him backward with his skull spewing
blood.

Kain
quickly ejected the spent magazine. Grabbed a fresh one out of the duffel bag.
Slammed it up the well. Jacked a round into the chamber. They had only a few
seconds before another gunner would take the dead man’s place at the .50. He
had to get Larissa out of here right now. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to
her feet. “Let’s go!”

When
he opened the door, a dust-storm whipped into the room. Squinting against the
stinging spray, he saw that the chopper was hovering directly over the Jeep,
the vehicle’s outline just barely visible through the haze of dust from the
rotor-wash. If they could make it to the Jeep, the chopper’s own belly would
shield them for a few seconds, giving them a chance to escape. A slim chance,
sure, but Kain would take it. There were no other options.

He
glanced up through the dust and debris. Someone else now manned the .50,
because its muzzle swung toward him, seeking target acquisition. They had to
move.
Now
.

He
grabbed Larissa’s hand and dashed for the Jeep. The night exploded with noise
as the machine-gunner opened fire. A torrent of .50 caliber slugs nipped at
their heels, gouging holes in the parking lot. Kain felt pieces of pulverized
pavement pluck at his legs like shrapnel.

Then
they were under the chopper, out of the line of fire. They scrambled into the
Jeep as the chopper crabbed to the right, trying to give the gunner a clear
shot. The Jeep would provide little protection from the .50; the massive rounds
would tear the vehicle apart. They had to get the hell out of here and fast.

Kain
turned the key, knowing they were dead if the engine didn’t start on the first
try, but it did. He dropped it into Reverse. The tires smoked as he whipped the
Jeep around in a tight arc. He then shifted into Drive and punched the gas. He took
a left out of the motel parking lot and sped up the hill past the local high
school, heading towards Hudson Falls, the next town over. He needed to find
some open road where he could maneuver.

He
barreled into Hudson Falls at 85 mph, weaving in and out of traffic. As he
whipped past the town park, the screech of his tires reverberated off the
clustered storefronts lining the street. Pedestrians tossed annoyed glances at
him. Annoyance turned to shock when they were nearly bowled off their feet by
the chopper flashing just above the roofs in hot pursuit.

Kain
couldn’t actually see the chopper, but he could hear it, clinging to his wake
like the shadow of some aerial dragon. His mind raced, sifting through options,
discarding them all until there was only one choice left. Since there was no
way to lose the chopper, he had to find a way to bring it down.

At
the edge of town, the road he was currently on turned into Route 4, a long
stretch of country road that wove through a series of tiny hamlets. Little
occupied this stretch save for farms and fields. Here he could make his play
with minimal risk of innocents getting caught in the crossfire.

He
hit the town limits in less than ninety seconds, whipped across a four-way
intersection onto Route 4 and barely avoided being broadsided by a semi. The
trucker blasted his air-horn in irritation but it was drowned out by the roar
of the chopper overhead.

The
.50 rattled to life, punching holes in the roof of the Jeep. More bullets blew
out the back window, spraying glass shards into the night.

Larissa
flinched as the slugs slammed through metal and glass. She gripped the
dashboard. Her face was white. Her knuckles were even whiter. “That was close,
wasn’t it?”

“Too
close,” Kain said. He fought to control the Jeep as it raced around a curve.
The rear end wanted to slide. The steering wheel shuddered in his hands. The
Jeep fishtailed as it came out of the curve. The tires howled in protest as
Kain brought it back under control. Cold sweat trickled down his face, stung
his eyes.

He
wrenched the wheel to the left as another salvo shot from the chopper’s gun. The
slugs missed, slicing into the road. The machine-gunner corrected his aim and
tracked a line of fire across the Jeep’s roof again. Bullets pounded into the
rear compartment. The leather seats exploded as if Semtex had been buried in
the cushions. Larissa screamed and Kain didn’t blame her. He felt like
screaming himself.

They
barreled into the hamlet of Kingsbury at 80 mph, little more than a handful of
houses clustered around a country deli and a little white church. On the other
side, the road straightened, unfolding before the Jeep’s headlights like a long
black ribbon. He glanced in the rearview mirror. The chopper was still behind
him, a deadly black mass in the sky. But it had dropped lower, now skimming above
the road just slightly higher than the Jeep’s roof.

Which
gave Kain an idea.

He
held out his right hand to Larissa. “Grenade,” he said.

“What?”

“A
grenade. Give me a grenade.”

Larissa
leaned forward and dug around in the duffel bag at her feet. After a few
moments she pulled out a fragmentation grenade and slapped it into Kain’s
waiting palm. He transferred the grenade to his left hand and lowered the
driver’s side window. Cool night air rushed into the cab along with the roar of
the chopper.

He
glanced in the rearview mirror again. The chopper was still in position. Good. Kain
knew he would only get one shot at this. He could see the reflection of stars
scattered across the Plexiglass canopy and just make out the shadow-shape of
the pilot inside, doing his best to get Kain killed.
Okay, asshole, let’s
see how you like this.