Andrew Gross - Reckless

Hauck realized these people were saving his life. Seizing the moment, in full sight of everyone, he pushed Thibault aside. He met the Serb’s gaze with a victorious grin.

“Go on, get out of here,” the tall one with the sideburns said. In English now. “This is not how we treat visitors in Serbia. This man is clearly drunk. We know what to do with his kind here.”

They thought they were saving some poor tourist from a mugging.

Hauck nodded at the man with gratitude, then glanced back at Thibault, who, he could see, was flashing through his options. Should he kill him? And then, how many? What he was interested in was survival. Enraged, but helpless to do anything about it, he let Hauck pull away.

Relieved, Hauck stepped down the alleyway, quickening his stride and praying Thibault wouldn’t reconsider and put a bullet in his back.

A small crowd had built up at the head of the alley, sensing the altercation. He looked back. Thibault was seething, but the two men were cursing at him brazenly. Taking it out on him like they were from the local chamber of commerce.

Whatever. Hauck let out a grateful breath. For the moment, they had saved his life.

His thoughts flashed to Naomi. She must have been going crazy, wondering where he was. He ran out of the alley, dashed down the street to where he had left the car, jumped in, and pulled out of the side street. He didn’t like leaving Thibault. The man had been behind April’s death. At least three others. Not to mention the poor guy in France whose identity he had taken.

But if Naomi had found something, they could turn him over to the Serbian police now.

He took off down the street, looking back to see Thibault coming out, still trying to get free of his tormentors, shouting after him. He had to get back first. He took his cell phone out and called Naomi.

“Where the hell are you?” she answered, obviously waiting, picking up after the first ring.

“On my way to you. Get back to where we keep the car. I’ll meet you there.”

“You wouldn’t believe what happened,” she blurted in relief. She told him about Thibault’s mother and how she had come to the house.

“Yeah, I’ve been up to my arms in a bit of a hot sink as well,” Hauck said. “With her son.”

Hauck raced back through town to Thibault’s farmhouse to pick up Naomi. A flickering reel of questions bombarded him.

Who were the two men who had just intervened and saved him? Just a couple of drunken locals? One had addressed him in English. Had Hauck said something first? Whoever they were, their timing was impeccable, and they had surely saved his ass.

And what had Naomi found? Had she linked Thibault higher up the chain? Part of Hauck ached at leaving the bastard who had orchestrated the murder of four people free. Not to mention what he had done in Bosnia. Thibault might well be coming after him. He could be getting in his car right now.

Mostly, he realized just how lucky he was to simply be alive.

He made the twenty-minute trip to Sebecevo in under fifteen. He found the turnoff and drove his Ford down the bumpy, deserted road, through the wooded glade that was completely dark this time of night, past the steep incline up to Thibault’s farm. He dimmed his lights, just in case the Serb was following him. He found the thicket of trees where they had been hiding their car.

Naomi stepped out of the darkness.

He breathed in, relieved.

She opened the passenger door and hopped in. Her face was taut and nearly white with worry, but seeing Hauck, being in the car, her color began to return.

“You okay?” he asked. He reached out and squeezed her arm.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling, “now.”

Something inside made him almost want to reach over and give her a hug-they had both been through hell-and, in his hesitation, he could see Naomi felt the same way.

Instead, he just asked, “Did you find something?”

She looked back, eyes wide. “Yeah. Enough to tie him to Hassani.”

“Then we better get out of here.” Hauck threw the car back in gear. “Thibault made me. You don’t want to know the details. I’ll tell you about it on the way. I was lucky to even get away. The point is, he knows we’re onto him.”

“Then I have to go back in,” Naomi said, putting her hand on his arm to stop him. “I have to take his computer.”

Hauck shook his head. “No way. He could be on our tail right now. No time.”

He flipped a U-turn, careful not to drive off the embankment, and headed back toward the main road, lights dimmed, praying they wouldn’t run headfirst into Thibault, who might have been heading back to the house.

“Give me the gun,” Hauck said.

“What?” Naomi hesitated, as if this was another veiled slight.

“I don’t want to argue.” His tone was charged with urgency. “Please, just give me the gun.”

Naomi stared, for a second angry, then took it out of her belt and placed it in the cup holder between them. Hauck took it, checking the bolt while he drove. He placed it next to him on the driver’s seat. He proceeded down the rocky road with caution, fearful Thibault might turn in at any time. To his relief, they made it back to the turnoff to Novi Pazar without any sight of him.

Hauck swung a left back toward town. He was starting to feel better now.

For the first time in an hour his heart rate came back to something approximating its normal pace. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. He looked at her and gave her a teasing wink. “I hear these old ladies around here can be pretty tough.”

“I got what I went in for,” Naomi said. “You’re the one who seemed to have the trouble.” Then, seeing he wasn’t amused, she asked, “What happened?”

“Thibault recognized me from New York.” Keeping an eye out for Thibault’s Audi, Hauck took her through how the Serb seemed to catch sight of him in the bar, how he had waited outside, suckered Hauck in the alley.

Then everything after.

Naomi’s eyes widened in horror. There was also a measure of concern in them.

“My God, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m alright.” In truth, his adrenaline had stopped and now Hauck’s ribs were aching and the back of his head felt like one big, throbbing knot.

“You’re lucky to be alive.”

Hauck breathed in and focused on the road as it climbed the pass. “I know.”

For a while, they drove on in silence. Naomi seemed stunned by his tale, how close he had come to death.

Finally she said, “I found a business card with an e-mail address for Hassani among Thibault’s things. I don’t know what’s behind these killings, but it’s clear Thibault was just the point man who carried them out. They were part of a larger plan. I’m gonna call in when we get back. I’m certain now they’ll issue a warrant through the right channels to pick up Thibault. He may have more in his computer. We know the name he’s using for himself and what car he’s driving. He can’t get far…

“More than that,” Naomi, said, looking at him, “I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

He looked back at her and saw something in her eyes. “Me too.”

They sped back to the outskirts of Novi Pazar. Maybe Thibault was already on the run. He could have gone back to his mother’s, Hauck surmised. He could have exchanged their cars. If so, they already had the license plate number of Maria Radisovic’s Opel. He wouldn’t get far. The guy was in a real bind now. He had to decide whether to stand trial in the U.S. for the murders of four people or waive extradition and be put on trial for war crimes here.

As they neared the city, Hauck noticed lights flashing up ahead. A bevy of police cars to the side of the road.