James Patterson - Blindside

While the gun was useless, I used my right hand, which was closer to the pistol, to reach down and press the magazine release. I didn’t know the make of the pistol, but there are two main methods for dropping a pistol magazine. Thank God the button for the magazine was near the trigger. The other way would be on the butt of the pistol itself.

My index finger found the button and I heard the satisfying click followed by the thunk of the magazine bouncing off the bridge and dropping into the water below.

The fight was a little more even now.

I liked the way the Dutchman just gawked for a moment when I popped out the gun’s magazine. I guess no one had ever fought back against him. Or, like most people, he had seen just a tad too much TV. That wasn’t a move people saw very often. Honestly, I’d never done it before. But I wasn’t about to fight fairly.

Christoph stepped back and stared at his useless gun. I took the opportunity to throw a knee into his thigh. As he grunted and took another step back, I got a chance to throw a big punch at his face.

He surprised me by blocking it with his left arm. There was fight left in him. And he was still pretty fast.

But I was able to also grab his right wrist and rip the pistol from his hand. The force drove us apart. When I turned, Christoph was standing with both hands balled into fists.

He smirked. “The gun’s empty. What good is it going to do you now?”

It was a good question. I decided to demonstrate rather than explain. I flipped the pistol so I was holding it by the barrel, then swung it like a bludgeon. I kept swinging the pistol in wide arcs. Most of the blows bounced off his forearms, but I could feel the butt of the pistol dig into skin and bones. He yelped as each blow landed.

Then I threw a new wrinkle into the pattern. I kicked out with my left leg. I didn’t expect it to do much. Just catch his attention. Which it did. As soon as he shifted and looked down at my leg, I swung hard with my right arm, the pistol still in my hand, like the head of a hammer. I caught him hard, across the chin. His head snapped back and blood sprayed out from his split lips.

I stepped back to give him room to fall. Instead, the tall Dutchman stood on wobbly legs. It was like a point of pride for him to remain upright. He was gasping for breath, and every time he breathed out, blood spewed from his mouth.

When he didn’t drop to the ground immediately, I recognized I didn’t have time to wait for his show. The fight had pushed him back almost to the end of the bridge, only four feet away. I quickly glanced over the side and saw that the muddy shore was underneath us.

I couldn’t see or hear Natalie or the other killer. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tossed the pistol far into the lake. Then I grabbed Christoph in a bear hug. I lifted the tall Dutchman off his feet and tossed him over the side of the bridge. It was a lot harder than when I threw Natalie over.

I knew he’d miss the water. That was the point.

CHAPTER 90

I RACED OFFthe bridge and scrambled down to the banks of Pae Lake. Christoph had landed almost exactly like I needed him to. He was stuck in the mud up to his shoulders. His left arm was pinned under him in the dark muck that surrounded the lake. Just his head and right arm had escaped the gooey prison. He looked like an alien from a cheap science-fiction movie.

But he was conscious and appeared to be unharmed. He looked at me and screamed, “Get me out of here,” the disembodied head turning frantically to see how close the water was.

I wondered if there were tides in the lake. That would be terrifying in Christoph’s position.

“You’re going to pay for this,” yelled the Dutchman.

“Defiant to the end. Good for you.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

There was an edge of panic in his voice. I wondered if he had a phobia. Although, to be fair, I’d be a little freaked-out stuck in the mud like that.

As long as he wasn’t sinking past his nose, I shifted my attention to the lake itself. I started running from the bridge and the half buried killer to search for Natalie. But I hadn’t forgotten about the other killer, Ollie.

I sprinted as fast as I could away from the bridge. The bank proved to be slick and littered with boulders and drainpipes. This was not the place to run with no light at all shining on the ground.

I skidded to a stop fifty yards away from the bridge. I thought I’d heard something. I balled my hands into fists in case I stumbled into Ollie.

Then I heard it again. A faint cry and water splashing. I screamed, “Natalie.”

I heard a response, I thought. And I just caught a glimpse of the water moving, twenty yards offshore just ahead of me.

I couldn’t wait to ensure the other killer wasn’t nearby. Natalie was in trouble. I dove in, shocked by how cold the water was. I knew that whatever I did, it had to be fast. If I’d known beforehand how cold the water was, I probably wouldn’t have thrown Natalie into it. But at the time, I hadn’t had a choice.

I had a hard time distinguishing the splashing sounds I was making in the water from the sounds I heard. There was very little light on the lake and I couldn’t see anything past a few feet.

I knew I sounded panicked when I yelled, “Natalie, Natalie,” on an almost unending loop.

Then I saw something just break the surface of the water a few feet in front of me. I kicked hard in the water and closed the distance in a couple of seconds. There was nothing there.

I frantically moved my hands under the water and felt something brush my leg. I ducked underwater and followed its path. My hand closed around something. It was a wrist. Oh, my God, it was Natalie.

I pulled with all my might, kicking my legs to counterbalance the force of pulling Natalie up. It felt like it took forever. It could’ve been wet cement I was pulling her through. Progress was so slow it hurt me physically.

Finally I had her head above water. I waited for that first big gasp to suck in air. It didn’t come. Her face was ice-cold and her eyes were closed. I had to get her to shore to give her CPR. It was her only chance.

I swam hard with Natalie hooked under one arm. I hadn’t done a water rescue since I was a patrolman and dove in for a kid who had fallen into the East River. When I brought him back to the seawall, there were a dozen people who helped us out of the water. That wasn’t going to happen tonight.

CHAPTER 91

WE THRASHED INthe water as Natalie drifted in and out of consciousness. She’d wake up and panic, elbowing me and kicking wildly. Then she’d pass out and be deadweight. It was exhausting. Murky water splashed into my mouth, and I kept swallowing it.

My legs and lungs started to burn as I swam. It took me a minute to realize that in the darkness, I hadn’t gone in the right direction. I had been swimming parallel to the shore. Wasting precious energy wasn’t something I could afford to do right now.

Finally I got my bearings. A tiny red light flashed in the distance and gave me a focal point. I kept heading toward the tiny light until my feet brushed the sandy bottom of the lake. I lifted Natalie out of the water as I trudged toward shore.

It took longer than I had expected, but I pulled Natalie onto the shore and wasted no more time. I stripped off the wool sweater that had weighed her down. I fell right into the training I’d received over and over again from the NYPD. I shook her to make sure she wasn’t responding. I checked her pulse, then cleared her mouth with my finger. There was nothing in her mouth, and she gave no reaction.

Water rescues are no fun and dangerous. But CPR in a situation like this was positively terrifying. I pinched her nose with two fingers. Since she was ice-cold, I wondered if some of her problems were related to hypothermia.