Jake crouched low and darted the remaining way across Liberty, using other pedestrians to screen him from the assassin’s view. He stayed crouched while he moved swiftly down the brick sidewalk allowing the azalea bushes to provide cover. He looked up Abercorn. He saw the end of the parade less than a hundred feet from him. The fire trucks blared their horns and sounded their sirens signifying the end. He took off running in a full sprint.
As he approached the southwestern corner of Colonial Park Cemetery, his cell phone rang. He looked at the number … Beth.
He stopped at the corner and quickly flipped open his phone. It’s about time.
“Beth, are you all right? Where are you? Did they hurt you?”
He strained his head around in search of the man called Ian.
A woman’s voice answered. A voice with a slight Irish lilt. “This isn’t Beth and if you ever want to see her again you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“Who is this? Where is Beth? What have you done to her?”
“She’s safe for now and unharmed. If you want her to remain that way, listen carefully and do as I say.”
His pulse raced. “Not until I know she’s alive. Let me talk to her.”
“No! We’re not negotiating here. You’re in no position to negotiate. You’ll just have to believe me,” the woman said.
He stood still, staring at the cemetery. Seeing nothing. He needed proof that Beth was still alive. The woman wasn’t cooperating, she wouldn’t let him talk to Beth. Why?
He had an idea, not a good one, but maybe one that would work.
“Who is this? What’s your name?” he asked.
The woman replied, “You can call me Jillian. Now are you going to do as I say or not?”
“Okay, Jillian. Use Beth’s phone. Take a picture of her, then send it to me. I’ll know she is still alive when I receive the picture. Then call me back and I’ll do what you ask.”
The phone was silent. After ten seconds of silence the woman said, “I don’t see that a picture would hurt. I’ll do it. This is all you get, though. After this, if you don’t do exactly what I tell you, she will die. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“I’ll call back in a few minutes.”
His phone went dead.
He closed it and put it back in his pocket. Then a hand grabbed his sore left shoulder. The hand pulled him backwards, spinning him to the left. One brown and one blue eye stared back at him.
The assassin.
Ian.
CHAPTER 42
At that moment Kaplan was on the other side of Abercorn Street watching. He saw the man reach out for Jake. He called out but the blasts of noise from the fire trucks drowned out his yells. Then it was too late. The big man had Jake, holding him by the shirt with both hands.
From the description Jake had given him the day before, he knew this was the man from Dallas. But even more enlightening was the manner the big man operated — it was painfully clear this man was a professional.
He’d been following Jake and the assassin since Barry’s Pub, stayed behind the pursuer through downtown. He wasn’t close enough to help when the assassin crept up on Jake in front of Starbucks, but saw Jake escape. Kaplan caught glimpses through the parade floats, but was on the wrong side of Bull Street while Jake eased past the storefronts at Charlotte’s Corner.
When Jake was grabbed and pulled into the stairwell next to Saints and Shamrocks, Kaplan tried to cut through the parade but couldn’t find an opening. But he’d seen the other man come down the steps and place a gun behind the head of the man holding Jake.
His first instinct had been to mount a rescue attempt to free Jake. But now the odds had changed.
Kaplan watched and waited for an opportunity.
He saw a gap in the parade, just big enough to allow him through. He darted across the street and pushed through the revelers.
He eased close enough to hear the men talking. That’s when he heard the assassin’s name … Ian. The other man was called Sullivan, Michael Sullivan. He could see both of them. Their appearances were strikingly different, yet there was still a slight resemblance. It must be an Irish trait.
After he knocked Ian on the head, Sullivan moved fast, pulling the assassin up the stairs.
Kaplan moved backwards for a better vantage point and saw Sullivan putting the limp figure into a chair. Then Sullivan bolted across the patio and out of sight. Kaplan turned and saw Jake stagger down Bull Street.
He dashed up the stairs to see where Sullivan had gone. There was no sign of him. Revelers on the Knights of Columbus patio were staring at Ian slumped in the chair. Then they looked over at Kaplan. He figured Sullivan had just placed the unconscious man in a chair and escaped across the patio to the exit on Liberty Street. Kaplan ran over to the railing and looked down at the crowd of people on Liberty Street. Sullivan was nowhere in sight.
He turned around and leaned back against the railing, palms down flat to support himself. He glanced over at the table where Ian was sitting and watched as the assassin started to regain consciousness.
The man’s head wobbled, and then straightened. He placed his hand on the back of his head, and then looked at his palm. Kaplan watched as he shook off the pain. The man got out of his chair and moved slowly toward the stairwell.
Kaplan kept his distance behind him, following him down the stairs and out onto Bull Street. Jake had already wandered out of sight. The assassin walked across the street and stopped at the corner.
After several seconds of standing there looking up and down Liberty and Bull streets, the assassin headed east on Liberty.
Kaplan followed the man, sure that the assassin would eventually lead him back to Jake.
Kaplan was the first to see Jake standing at the corner of Liberty Street and Abercorn Street talking to someone on the phone. He’d hoped the assassin didn’t see Jake, but he knew he had when the man’s pace increased and he darted across Abercorn Street about three feet behind a fire truck.
Kaplan yelled as loud as he could to Jake but at that same moment the fire truck blasted out its deafening siren, completely drowning out his voice.
In a move so quick it surprised Kaplan, Jake shoved the assassin in the chest while hooking his right foot behind the man’s leg. The move caught the man off guard. Jake knocked his grip loose and the assassin fell backwards, landing flat on his back on the sidewalk. The last thing Kaplan saw was Jake jumping over a wrought iron fence into a cemetery.
CHAPTER 43
Adrenaline pumping, he ran toward the southwest corner of Colonial Park Cemetery. The sidewalks were crowded, too crowded for him to get away from Ian. His only escape was through the cemetery.
He saw an empty park bench just outside the fence. He ran hard and fast, landing one foot on the bench and leaping high to grab a tree limb. He swung himself over the fence, barely clearing its pointed iron spears. He let go of the limb once clear of the spears and landed face down inside the cemetery. His left shoulder screamed with pain as did his right side. The move pulled the knife wound open and he felt warm blood ooze down his side.
Instinctively, he clutched his side as he got to his feet and started running again. Stumbling past dozens of visitors reading gravestones and markers, marveling at the dates, Jake ran, looking over his left shoulder for signs of the assassin following him over the fence. His pulse quickened — so did the blood flowing from his side. He felt the warmth of the fresh blood on his already soaked shirt.
Jake hurried down an asphalt path to the center of the cemetery where he stopped for the first time. Dazed, he looked around for an exit, he saw two. One on Oglethorpe Street about midway down the fence row and the other in the northwestern corner of the cemetery, where Oglethorpe crossed Abercorn Street. The old man on the church steps had said the police station was next to the cemetery, so Jake stood there scanning for the station.