James Patterson - Judge & Jury

The Range Rover rolled over, then landed upright in a cloud of dust. I slammed on my brakes and jumped out with my gun ready. I didn't see any movement, and it looked bad.

Suddenly, the passenger door creaked open. I couldn't believe it! Cavello, with a bullet in his shoulder, along with whatever other injuries he'd just sustained, crawled out of the vehicle. He was still holding the gun, and he sprayed a barrage of bullets my way. I moved behind the SUV as bullets pummeled the Land Cruiser, shooting out windows. He kept firing until the magazine was empty.

I called out to him."End of the world, Dom-for you."

I STARTED TOWARD HIM, and Cavello began to hobble up the slope toward the ice field, limping horribly. What was with this guy?

"It's pay-up time, Dom. You remember Manny Oliva? Ed Sinclair?" I yelled, and my voice echoed.

He continued to claw his way up the slope, falling back, righting himself, grabbing at rocks and loose gravel. I kept up, maybe thirty yards behind.

Over a ledge ahead of us was a massive block of ice. It was thirty feet tall-and vast-clinging to the valley walls between two mountains. It was breathtaking. Could've sunk a thousand Titanic s, and Cavello was headed toward it.

He started to slide and fall. This time he cried out in pain.

"How about Ralphie's sister, Dom? Remember her? How about that little girl, the one you burned? What was she, a year old?"

Cavello backed up against an ice-filled crevasse that was maybe twenty feet deep. There was nowhere else to go.

He turned and faced me."So what do you want now? You want me to kneel and beg? You want me to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He mocked me and everything I stood for, believed in.

I was breathing heavily, and exhausted. I reached out the gun, pointed it in the direction of the mobster's chest. He just stood there, at the edge, with nowhere to go. I'd waited for this for so long.

"Go on, Nicky Smiles. You won! It's cold, and who knows what kind of animals are up here in the wild. You want some last words? I'm so sorry, Nick. I really am. I'm sorry I never got the chance to fuck her first before you came in. Quite a piece of ass. There you go, Nick. See how sorry I am! Go on. Shoot me! "

I did. I sent a bullet ripping into his leg. Cavello buckled and howled. He staggered backward. I shot again, the ankle this time, shattering it.

Cavello screeched then hobbled back; then his foot slipped over the edge. He began to tumble into the crevasse, scratching at the ice. He landed heavily on his back. Now he was completely trapped-no way for him to get out of there without my help.

For a second I thought he was dead. He was bloody and twisted and barely moving.

Then he stirred, clawing himself up to his knees. His eyes were glazing over."You think you're better than me? You're done too, Pellisante. You'll be lucky if you don't spend the rest of your life in jail. You get the joke, Nick? You'll give up the rest of your life, just to get me. So go on." He spread out his arms."Get it over with. Shoot! Better that than some wild animal. Make my day."

I aimed the Glock at Cavello, ready to take this pathetic animal out. I was thinking that we were in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He couldn't climb out. The smell of blood would act as a magnet and draw whatever predators were up here. Or maybe he'd just die of exposure during the night.

I lowered my gun.

"Y'know, Dom," I said,"I kind of like your idea. I like it a lot. The part about the animals coming for you."

"C'mon, Nick, do it," he snarled."What's the matter, you don't have the guts?"

"His name was Jarrod, Dom. He was ten years old."

"C'mon, do it. Kill me, you sonovabitch. Shoot me! "

"You remember what you said to me that night in jail when I came to visit you, the day the juror bus blew?"

Cavello kept glaring at me.

"Well, I just want you to know-I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight."

I watched Cavello for another minute or so, until I was sure there was no way he could get out of there. Then I left.

ANDIE AND I landed back at JFK in New York two nights later.

I half-expected to be held by the police as soon as we got off the plane, but we breezed through customs and immigration. The terminal was crazy. Families and limo drivers, hands in the air, waving at everyone arriving. Some guy in a slick black suit came up to us."Need a ride?"

Andie and I looked at each other. We hadn't made a plan, didn't know how we were going to get back to the city."Sure, we could use a ride," I said.

I gave the driver Andie's address. For most of the ride into Manhattan we just stared at the familiar sights-the fairgrounds, Shea Stadium. I think we were both nervous and scared about what was going to happen next. I wasn't sure I had a job anymore. I didn't know if I would get arrested. And Andie-somehow I didn't see her going back to auditioning for Tide commercials.

We crossed over the Triborough Bridge, and as we got closer to Andie's neighborhood, she just looked at me. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. She shook her head."I'm sorry, Nick, I just can't."

"Can't what, Andie?"

"I can't get out of this cab. I can't go back to my life without you."

I put my hand to her face and brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. She held my hand tightly."I can't go back to my apartment and pretend I'm going to start my life over, and that I'm the same. Because I'm not. And if I walk through my door I'll have to face what's there, my stupid life."

"Then don't." I held her by the shoulders."Walk through mine."

"I can't forget my son, Nick, and I never will. But I don't want the rest of my life to be just missing him."

"Andie"-I put my finger to her lips – “walk through my door."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I didn't know if they were tears of anguish or joy."You know what I earned last year?" she said."Twenty-four thousand six hundred dollars, Nick. That's all. And even that was mostly from residuals."

"I don't much care," I said, holding her, caressing her."I know the truth. You don't have to prove it to me. The girl can act. "

Andie choked back a laugh. Her mascara was running. I called up to the driver."Change of address."

I gave him mine. We were going home, together.

RICHARD NORDESHENKO SQUEEZED a look at his hole cards-a king and a ten of hearts. He decided it was worth it to stay in the hand. He was feeling lucky tonight. He had several stacks of chips in front of him, and he'd looked forward to this evening for a long time.

The American had been true to his word. Not a thing had happened after the abduction of his son. No policemen. No Mossad. No Interpol. No one had ever connected him to Cavello's escape in New York. Or to Reichardt's death in Haifa. He had closed up his business and stopped all contacts with his former network.

A year later, he decided it was safe to put his toe back in. He'd taken another job in America. It involved some desperate men from Iran, but the pay was excellent and had been delivered up front.

This time around he was Alex Kristancic, a businessman from Slovenia. His visa said he was here to sell wine at a trade show in the Javits Center.

All night long, luck had gone his way. His stack of chips had steadily grown. He'd allowed himself two vodkas. He wasn't even counting the money he had made.

Once or twice, he caught the eye of a woman sitting at a table across from him. She was in a low-cut black dress, with thick curly hair pulled elegantly up on her head. She didn't seem to be with anyone, and she was playing at the small-stakes table.