There was an irony attached to what I saw as my impending death, insofar as it was going to be much worse than if I’d just taken the shot to the head that was originally on the cards. Distractedly I watched it coming from under my laced forearms. The trailer hit the row of shops, collapsing walls and doors and shattering plate glass. The day was full of glittering shards of light as glass rained everywhere. The slatted box containing the cattle was wrenched into an absurd angle but at least it didn’t flatten and squash the poor beasts inside. The cab kept coming, and still it was enough to destroy my car. The cab hit, crunching the back end of the Chrysler into a concertina, but this also served to wrench the front away from the shop front. Then all movement ceased and I slowly unfolded my arms from over my head. I was looking into the dark space formed by the triangle of jackknifed truck and trailer, my car wedged firmly, but almost untouched, at the front.
Against all the odds I’d survived, but how long would that last if I stayed put in my seat? The man who’d taken the shot might try again: except I couldn’t see how, considering I was completely surrounded by the wreck of the truck and the collapsed storefronts. I took a moment to check for injuries. There was fresh blood on my forehead, but a quick dab of the finger showed me it wasn’t serious, just a few shallow nicks from the flying glass. My shoulder hurt like hell, a result of the seat belt bruising the flesh — or maybe from the tumble I’d taken earlier. The air bags had performed, but now they’d deflated and lay like withered balloons throughout the interior of the car. Pale dust and particles of glass still hung in the air. I blinked some clarity into my vision; saw that I was well and truly jammed inside the car. With some effort I extricated myself from the seat belt and hauled my legs out from under the steering column. Leaning over the seats I saw where the round had cut through the headrest then buried itself in the upholstery. It was the only evidence of what had just occurred, but I wasn’t going to mention it to the police who’d already be en route to the scene of the collision. Remarkably — but for the bullet scar — the windscreen had survived the series of smashes. I chambered my right knee, kicked back; finishing off what the bullet started and smashing the windscreen. I went backwards through the hole, trailing nuggets of glass with me, and rested a second or two on the steaming bonnet. Then I sat up, looking for a way out.
The truck’s cab was wedged firmly to the back of my car, as well as buried a foot or two in the boutique shop, while its trailer made a wall that held me in and was likewise jammed into another storefront beyond me. Big brown eyes rolled my way from between the slats, and here and there I saw a pink tongue flecked with froth. The cattle appeared largely unhurt, which I was happy about; it was enough to suspect the poor things were on their way to the slaughterhouse without them becoming ground beef beforehand. Maybe the accident had won them a reprieve… I wanted to think that was the case.
Clambering off the bonnet, I felt the effects of the smash in my muscles. It was going to hurt tomorrow, worse the day after that. While I was able, I crouched low and looked for a way out under the trailer. On the far side I could make out the feet of other road users rushing to aid the truck driver, but they were almost obscured by the curtain of urine and dung splattering on the asphalt. I didn’t relish crawling out that way, so decided to head the opposite direction, through the lingerie shop. First though, I grabbed my cellphone from the cradle in the front. It concerned me that I’d to leave my gun behind, but it was under the spare wheel in the trunk, and the trunk was a squashed mess of metal.
Under normal circumstances I had an aversion to dealing with cops. It had nothing to do with a dislike for them, in fact the truth’s the exact opposite because I respect them for doing a thankless and dangerous job, but we don’t always sing from the same hymn sheet when it comes to dealing with the criminals of the world. It didn’t escape me that Gar Jones was already champing at the bit to find something he could use against me, so I’d no desire to hang around and wait to be taken downtown while he tried to find some way to blame me for everything. I looked for a back way out of the shop, and had found my way into a rear stock area filled with boxes and hanging garments when I stopped.
The Chrysler was registered to me at the rental company, and if the cops found it empty then Jones would assume my guilt, decide I’d fled the scene of the smash because I had something worse to hide and would hunt me down like a sick dog. Shit, I could do without the hassle. But then again, if I went out there on the street and waited for the cops to arrive, what was to say that the gunman wouldn’t try for another shot? Ordinarily I’d welcome the chance at getting even with him, but not while there were so many innocent civilians around. It ill behoved me to admit it, but it made sense to hold tight and let the cops do their thing. It wouldn’t be out there though, where I might draw gunfire.
Guessing it would be some time until anyone found their way inside the boutique, I sat down on a stack of boxes and pulled out my cellphone. Prior to the crash I’d already brought my friend up to speed on what had happened at Takumi’s house.
‘Rink?’
‘You rang me, Hunter. Who else did you expect?’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Someone just took a shot at me.’
‘You OK?’
‘I am, but I doubt the rental company is going to be happy when we return the car.’
‘The hell has happened now, Hunter?’
‘Let’s say that things might take a bit of straightening out down at the precinct.’
‘Shit! The cops have taken you in?’
‘Not yet, but I’m thinking it’s kind of inevitable if Jones and Tyler turn up.’ I told him what had happened and about the resulting destruction. Earlier I was worried about the welfare of the cattle in the trailer; I hadn’t stopped to consider if there were any human casualties. It appeared that the lingerie boutique must have closed for the lunch hour, because there were no staff around, but I couldn’t be sure of the other shops that had been destroyed. I hoped everyone had made it through the crash unharmed.
‘Someone shot at you, you said?’ Rink went on. ‘Same guy that was at Takumi’s?’
‘Has to be, from what I glimpsed of him,’ I said. ‘At least we’ve learned something about the killer. I’m guessing he isn’t a pro. He wouldn’t have aimed through the windscreen at me if he was, he’d have waited for a better shot.’
‘You’re sure it was him and not one of Chaney’s mob?’
‘How would any of Chaney’s guys know where to wait for me? I think the bastard followed me from Takumi’s, got ahead of me, then laid in ambush. I should’ve noticed him. Maybe I did…’
‘How’s that?’
‘He was wearing some kind of uniform. I’m pretty sure the bastard was in a vehicle alongside mine at one point. It’s when I was talking to you about what happened at Takumi’s. Hate to admit it, Rink, but I was kind of distracted. I made a mistake dropping my guard like that.’
‘Hey, we’re not all perfect. Even I made a mistake going after Chaney.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t complain, then? Not if even you are fallible.’
Rink grunted, almost a laugh.
‘At least he tried for me this time and not one of the others. I’m happy about that.’