Robert Crais - The Last Detective

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Elvis Cole is once again coming to terms with his life as a PI on the streets of LA. He loves his girlfriend, Lucy Chenier, but his constant exposure to the Californian underclasses has stretched their relationship to the limit especially when Cole's job brings danger too close to her beloved son. The young boy, Ben, is rapidly becoming the light in both their lives. Then one sunny afternoon, the demons from Elvis's past finally come to visit. Ben is snatched from Cole's secluded home. The kidnappers call. They don't want money. They only want retribution. But who from his past is capable of such a crime? The only clue is that the kidnappers mention the words 'five two'. Five two was his unit designation in Vietnam a life he has avoided thinking about for over twenty years. But now he must embark on a journey into his own past to try to protect his future. For it seems that this kidnapper is not only someone who knows him, but someone who owes him.

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Cole ran. He caught up to Abbott, hooked an arm under his shoulders, and pulled him forward.

" RUN! "

They tumbled down the side of the mountain, stumbling through glistening green leaves as thick as leather. Vines ripped at their legs and clawed at their rifles. The pop of gunfire stayed close at their heels.

Cole led them down a steep incline into a drainage overflowing with a torrent of rain. He stayed in the water so that they wouldn't leave tracks, pulling Abbott along the rushing stream and out into the wider ravine. Charlie shouted behind them.

" Rang chan phia duoi chung! "

" Toi nghe thay chung no o phia duoi! "

Somewhere to their left, an AK ripped on full automatic.

Abbott plowed headlong into a tree and crashed into the weeds, tearing the IV needle from his arm. Cole pulled Abbott to his knees, hissing for him to get to his feet.

Abbott's face was white where the greasepaint had washed away.

"I'm gonna vomit."

"Get up, Ranger. Keep going."

"'My stomach hurts."

The entire front of his uniform and the thighs of his pants were saturated with blood.

" Get up. "

Cole pulled Abbott onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He staggered under the weight; between Abbott and his gear, he carried almost three hundred pounds. The jungle thinned. They were getting close to the clearing where the slick had dropped them.

Cole wrestled free the radio as he stumbled along the creek.

"Five-two, five-two, five-two, over."

The captain's broken voice came back.

"'Copy, five-two."

"'Johnson's dead. They're all dead."

"Settle down, son."

"Three KIA, one wounded critical. Charlie's on our ass. You hear me? Charlie's right behind us."

"Stand by."

"Don't tell me to stand by! We're dying out here."

Cole was crying. He sucked breath like a steam engine, and he was so scared that his heart seemed in flames.

The captain's voice came back.

"Cole, is that you?"

"Everyone is gone. Abbott's bleeding to death."

"A First Cav slick thinks he can get to you from the south. He's low on fuel, but he wants to try.'

More shouts came from behind Cole, and then an AK opened up. Cole didn't know if the VC saw him or not, but he didn't have the strength to look around. He staggered on. Abbott began screaming.

"I'm almost at the clearing."

"He's flying up the ravine under the clouds. You have to pop a smoke for him, son. We cannot vector to your position, over."

"Roger smoke."

"This goddamned storm is rolling right at our gun ships. They cannot reach you for support."

"I understand."

"You're on your own."

Cole broke out of the jungle into the clearing. The dry creek was now filled with rushing water. Cole sloshed in up to his waist and waded across, fighting the current. His arms and legs felt dead, but then he was out of the water and on the other side. He rolled Abbott onto the high grass and looked for the helicopter. He thought he saw it, a black speck blurred by the rain. Cole pulled a smoke marker. Bright purple smoke swirled behind him.

The black speck tilted on its side and grew.

Cole sobbed.

They were coming to save him.

He dropped to his knees beside Abbott.

"Hang on, Roy; they're coming."

Abbott opened his mouth and spit up blood.

Something flashed past Cole with a sharp whip-crack as the rattling hammer of an AK sounded in the tree line. Cole fell to his belly. Muzzle flashes danced in the green wall like fireflies. Mud splashed into his face.

Cole emptied his magazine at the flashes, jammed in another, and fired some more.

"Abbott!"

Abbott slowly rolled onto his belly. He dragged his weapon into the firing position and fired a single round.

The jungle sparkled. More and more flashes joined the first until the jungle was lit by twinkling lights. Mud hopped and jumped, and the tall stringy grass fell around Cole as if it were being mowed by invisible blades. He burned through his magazine in a single burst, packed in another, and burned through that one. His rifle's barrel was hot enough to sear flesh.

"Fire your weapon, Abbott! FIRE! "

Abbott fired once more.

Cole heard the blurring thump of the helicopter now.

He reloaded and fired. He was down to his last four pack of magazines, but the trees were alive with enemy soldiers.

"Shoot, damnit!"

Abbott rolled onto his side. His voice was soft.

"I didn't think it would be like this."

The helicopter was suddenly loud and the grass around them swirled. Cole shot at the flashes. Overhead, the 6ogunner opened up. His big.30-caliber weapon chewed at the jungle.

Cole rolled over as the heavy slick wobbled to the earth. It was pocked with bullet holes and trailing smoke. First Cavalry troops jammed the cargo bay like refugees. They added their fire to the 6o-gun. The slick had been shot to hell, but still the pilot was bringing his ship through a thunderstorm and into a wall of gunfire. Slick pilots had steel balls.

"C'mon, Roy, let's go."

Abbott did not move.

"Let's go!"

Cole slung his rifle, lifted Abbott, and lurched to his feet. Something hot ripped through his pants and then he felt a loud spang ! A bullet shattered the radio. Cole stumbled to the helicopter and heaved Abbott into the bay. Cav troopers piled atop each other to make room.

Cole clambered aboard.

AK fire popped and pinged into the bulkhead.

The crew chief screamed at him.

"They told us it was only one guy!"

Cole's ears rang so loudly that he could not hear.

"What?"

"They told us there was just one man. We're too heavy. We can't take off!"

The turbine howled as the pilot tried to climb. The helicopter wallowed like a whale.

The crew chief grabbed Abbott's harness.

"Push him off! We can't fly!"

Cole leveled his MI6 at the center of the crew chief's chest. The crew chief let go.

"He's dead , Ranger, push him off! You're going to get us killed!"

"He's coming with me."

"We're too heavy! We can't fly! "

The turbine spooled louder. Oily smoke swirled through the door.

" Push him out! "

Cole wrapped his finger over the trigger. Rod and Fields and Johnson were gone, but Abbott was going home. Families take care of their own.

"He's coming with me."

The Cav troops knew that Cole would pull the trigger. Rage and fear burned off the young Ranger like steam. He would do anything and kill anyone to complete his mission. The Cav troops understood. They pushed off ammo cans and rucksacks, anything they could shed to lighten the load.

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