Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fix

Shots hit the floor near him. He could sense chips of concrete and brick whizzing through the air. And then he felt something cut into his arm. Either a slug or a chip. Either way it hurt like hell.

He kept rolling along the floor as more shots were fired. He ran into something, realized it was a wall, rose, pivoted, and went into a crouch. He focused on the situation.

By his count three down, two to go.

As he spun around trying to gauge where the remaining two were, he sensed another flash of something, resulting in another collision. He heard a muffled scream and a gun hit the brick, followed by a body doing the same thing.

Okay, there was only one man left.

He liked these odds a lot better.

He crept forward, his gun ready, when he saw Tomas Amaya struggling with the last man. The guy had a gun. He was bigger and stronger than Amaya. He threw the smaller man off, took aim, and started to squeeze the trigger.

Decker was about to fire when the other man was hit so hard he was lifted off his feet. Whoever hit him was holding on, and when the guy slammed into the brick, the gun fell from his hand.

Okay, fifth and final man down for the count.

It was pretty much unbelievable.

Decker moved forward, panting slightly, his pistol held out in front of him. He swung it around, looking for movement, looking for additional threats. Someone was still out there. And though he had attacked the other guys, he hadn’t done anything to identify himself to Decker either.

So he could still be a problem.

The next moment, Decker saw a pop of light. Then he saw a hand grip the side of the hole and looked over as a head emerged.

It was the guy he had knocked into the hole.

He had the flashlight clamped in his mouth.

His other hand came up and it held a gun pointed right at Decker.

There was no way Decker could react in time. He started to bring his gun around, but he instinctively braced for the impact of the shot.

Then a work boot came down hard on the man’s free hand. He screamed. Then the same boot kicked the gun out of his hand. The man let go and fell back into the hole, while the gun dropped harmlessly to the floor.

Decker eyed Amaya, who stood next to the hole, breathing hard.

“Thanks,” said Decker.

A pale Amaya nodded, obviously too shaken to even attempt a response. He staggered away from the hole and sat down on the floor.

“Damn, man. Can you never stay out of trouble?”

Decker whirled around and stared over at the source of the query.

A light came on. It was pointed away from Decker and toward the person holding it.

Melvin Mars, bent over and breathing hard, smiled and said, “See, Decker, sometimes Hail Marys do work!”

“Nice place.”

Melvin Mars, nearly six foot three and two hundred and thirty muscled pounds, stood in the middle of Jamison’s and Decker’s kitchen looking around. He was a former All-American running back from Texas, a sure lock for the NFL, who had been falsely imprisoned for murdering his parents and sentenced to death. After twenty years in jail and on the eve of his execution date, someone else had confessed to the crime. That had led to Decker and his FBI team’s involvement and the truth eventually coming out. The state of Texas and the federal government had chipped in on an enormous payday for Mars, allowing him financial independence for the rest of his life.

Jamison smiled up at Mars. “Hey, it was your wallet that provided it.”

The local police had been called to the construction site and taken over the investigation. Or mess, rather.

The guy Decker had shot was dead, and the other three, handled by Mars, were still unconscious but alive. The fifth man, the one in the hole, was identified as Roger Baker, a low-level enforcer for a local gang. The other men there were part of his crew.

The body in the hole was identified as Mateo Rodriguez, an accountant who, they had been told, was working with law enforcement to bring down the local roots of a Central American cartel that had muscled its way into the D.C. area.

They were still looking for Luis Alvarez, the man in the suit and hard hat. He had been one of the construction supervisors, but allegedly had criminal ties. He had disappeared, but the police were hopeful they could track him down.

Danny and his father had been reunited and taken to live somewhere else. Tomas Amaya would need to testify at the trial of Roger Baker. They were hoping that Baker, in turn, would rat on others farther up the line. Jamison and Decker had told the Amayas that they would help them every step of the way.

“I’ll be by to check on you both,” Jamison had told Danny before they were taken away by the police. “And don’t worry, everything is going to be okay now.”

The police had kept them for hours, so it was now around six in the morning. Mars had driven Decker home. Decker was sitting at the kitchen table, still looking a little pale.

Mars eyed him. “Man, it was hairy in there. I can hold my own in pretty much any fight, but those dudes had some serious firepower. Good thing Alex told me where you were. I got in from the airport about ten minutes after you left. I drove my rental car right over to the place. Looked around and then heard all the noise from the basement. When I got down there it wasn’t looking too good.”

“You saved my life, Melvin,” said Decker. “I’d be under a slab of concrete now but for you.”

“Payback, man. How many times did you save my butt? Besides, I just treated it like running plays. Blow through the line and deliver some hurt.”

He looked at Jamison. “You’re doing good work with him, Alex. He’s even skinnier than when I saw him last time.”

Jamison did not appear to be listening. “Amos, you told me you weren’t going to do anything dangerous. You almost got yourself and Melvin killed!”

“Look, I’m sorry. But something was obviously going down in there.”

“Then you should have called the police. Like you told me you were going to.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have given Melvin the address, then he wouldn’t have come.”

“Hey, man, don’t get mad at her. I made her do it. Had to make sure you were okay.”

Decker looked at Jamison, who was still scowling at him.

“Because he’s your friend, Amos. Friends don’t put other friends’ lives in jeopardy.”

“Okay, Alex, message delivered loud and clear.”

“Has it been really? What, until next time you ignore it?”

No one said anything for a long moment.

Finally, Decker turned to Mars and said, “How are things in Alabama?”

Mars sat down on one of the barstools and Jamison poured him out a cup of coffee, though it was easy to see that she was still upset at Decker.

“Not bad. I did my thing with the high school football team and then decided to take some time off.”

“Are you living down there?” Jamison asked tersely.

“Had a short-term rental. I’m looking around now to find a permanent place. Maybe somewhere up here.” He glanced at Decker. “How about that, Decker? Me living up here?”

“You can live wherever you want, Melvin,” Decker answered. “You can buy a mansion if you want.”

Grinning, Mars said, “I spent twenty years in a little box, what would I do with a mansion? I’d get lost.”

“There are a lot of nice places around here,” said Jamison. “And it’s a fun area. Lots to do.”

Mars sipped his coffee. “So you guys working on something? I mean, besides what happened last night?”

“If Decker doesn’t go off and get killed, yeah, we are working on something,” said Jamison with one more glare at Decker. “And it’s pretty complicated. We haven’t made a lot of headway.”