Джеймс Паттерсон - Killer Instinct

He would climb into the back seat, so distracted by the foiled attack and his rushing to reach his getaway car that he wouldn’t even look at Sadira. Drive! he would bark at her.

That’s when Elizabeth would turn back to him with the G19 in her right hand leading the way. Think again, asshole!

If everything went according to plan, that’s how it would happen. She was sure of it. Right up until she heard her phone ring. Even before she looked to see that it was Dylan calling, she knew there was a problem.

“Get out of the car!” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Just do it,” he said. “He knows I’m alive.”

Dylan didn’t need to connect the dots for her. If the Mudir knew he was alive, he would also know that Sadira couldn’t be trusted.

The Mudir kills anyone he doesn’t trust.

“Is he alone?” asked Elizabeth.

The question threw Dylan. She could tell in his voice, there was no time for a debate. All he wanted to hear was the sound of her getting out of the damn car and away from the Mudir.

“Yes. He’s alone,” said Dylan. “But—”

“If I get out of the car, we lose him.”

“And if you don’t…” He paused, frustrated. “I don’t want to lose you, Lizzie.”

Dylan never called her that. Not ever. She’d even told him that she didn’t like Lizzie soon after they first met. But right then, in that moment, she really liked the sound of it.

But not enough to get out of the car.

“We can’t let this guy get away,” she said, before doing something she’d never done to Dylan. Not ever. She hung up on him.

Elizabeth checked the mirrors again. Now they really had to be perfect. There could be no blind spots. She needed to see everywhere around the car.

Oh, crap. You’ve got to be kidding me…

The cop was standing in front of the car, angrily waving at her to move it along. Yeah, he was just doing his job. Yeah, he needed to free up the street for ambulances and fellow law enforcement. But his timing couldn’t be any worse.

Every second Elizabeth looked at him was a second she wasn’t watching for the Mudir. Quickly, she flashed the cop her badge. Maybe it was the glare of the morning sun against the windshield. He kept waving at her. Now he was coming over to her window.

Again, she flashed her badge. Again, it was as if he couldn’t see it. He was motioning for her to roll down her window, but she couldn’t risk it—not if he wanted to look more closely at the badge. If the Mudir caught a glimpse of that, it was game over.

Elizabeth tugged even tighter on the brim of her cap, shaking her head no while holding her badge in her lap, hoping that he would finally see it. Maybe he did. But by then it was too late.

She saw him in the rearview mirror. The Mudir was coming toward the car, gun drawn. A moment’s distraction. That’s all it took for him to have the upper hand. The scene in her mind immediately changed. He would kill the cop and then kill her. She could see it so clearly.

Elizabeth reached for the door, pushing it open as hard as she could to knock the cop out of the line of fire. No sooner had he fallen backward to the pavement than the Mudir’s first shot struck the sideview mirror, exactly where he’d been standing.

“Stay down!” Elizabeth yelled, as she peeled out of the driver’s seat expecting to see the Mudir still coming right for them.

Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere. At least nowhere she could see.

Crouching as low as she could, she began edging her way along the side of the car. Just as she reached the gas tank, she heard the voice behind her.

“Drop it!”

It was the cop. He’d drawn his gun, demanding Elizabeth drop hers. She had no choice. She had to turn back to him, and that’s all it took. Another moment’s distraction. The arm came out from behind the trunk, grabbing her around the neck.

The Mudir now had his gun to her head.

Chapter 115

“LIZZIE!” I YELLED.

But she was gone. She’d hung up on me. Damn it.

I had the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear as I kneeled on the sidewalk next to Eli, my hands frantically ripping his shirt to get a clear look at where the bullet had entered—and hopefully exited—above his hip.

No such luck. Sliding my hand around to his back, I couldn’t feel a hole. He would need surgery. If he didn’t bleed out first.

“The girl,” he said, his voice beginning to falter. “She’s in danger.”

“Yes.”

“Go help her.”

“Not yet,” I said.

I could hear the sirens only blocks away, the ambulances racing to the scene. All around us people were still running, desperate to get as far away from the station as possible. Could they even hear me?

It was a safe bet I would’ve gone my entire life without asking this question, let alone to a bunch of strangers. “Does anyone have a tampon?” I yelled.

I kept yelling it until finally a young woman in a jean jacket stopped. I could see her eyes dart back and forth between Eli and me before landing on the blood seeping between my fingers as I continued applying pressure against the wound.

With a quick nod, she dug into her purse and handed me a sealed tampon.

“What else can I do?” she asked.

“An ambulance,” I said. “First one you see.”

She took off as I tore open the wrapper and lodged the tampon into the bullet hole as tightly as I could. Eli winced from the pain but still managed a slight smile. “Smart,” he said. “Now go help the girl.”

“Not yet,” I said.

Elizabeth was being so stubborn, so reckless. If the Mudir didn’t kill her, I was going to.

“There!” I heard across the street. “They’re over there!”

The young woman in the jean jacket was screaming and pointing with a couple of EMTs in tow. As soon as they saw Eli, they began to sprint.

I wanted to get the woman’s name, get her number, and get the mayor to give her a key to the city and a ticker-tape parade. But all I had time for as the EMTs swooped in to treat Eli was a quick hug and a thanks. Superheroes don’t always wear capes. Sometimes they wear a jean jacket.

I took off down the sidewalk, running as fast as I could to find Elizabeth. The closer I got, the more I could feel it. Not my legs aching. Not my lungs burning. It was the sense of dread, that something terrible had already happened.

I would’ve given anything to be wrong. Anything.

But I wasn’t.

Chapter 116

I SAW the car first. Up ahead, glimpses of white in between an endless stream of bodies passing in front of it. People running. Scrambling. Then, a few people not moving at all.

A cop had his gun drawn by the driver’s side door. He was young. Even from a distance he looked nervous. He kept shifting his feet.

I followed his aim, my eyes darting to the back of the car. Suddenly, I had a clear view.

The Mudir. He had her. One arm wrapped around Elizabeth’s neck in a choke hold. The other arm raised up to her head, the barrel jammed against her temple.

“Let her go!” I yelled.

The Mudir yanked Elizabeth like a rag doll as he turned to see me walking toward him with my Glock leveled right between his eyes.

He smiled. He’d known I was coming. “What took you so long?” he asked.

“You don’t want her,” I said. “You want me.”

I glanced over to see the cop’s head on a swivel, back and forth from the Mudir to me. His forehead was scrunched. He couldn’t stop blinking. It was bad enough he was nervous. Now throw in heavily confused. “Who the hell are you?” he asked me.

“Yes,” said the Mudir. “Tell him who you really are, Professor.”

Only I didn’t have to. The cop heard Professor, and it suddenly clicked for him. “You’re that guy with the book,” he said. “The one the serial killer used.”