Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

He studied the image on the screen. The hit man was less careful than he should have been. So he didn’t know about the camera and thought he was too far away for detection.

All the cameras were set to record in a continued cycle until Calvin changed the digital hard drives. Depending on the hit man’s location, distance, speed and angle of movement, at least one and sometimes two or three cameras were recording different views.

Then, as if understanding he was being watched, the hit man moved away in haste, turning from the house and starting to walk down the street, avoiding all of the hidden camera lenses.

Calvin dropped what he was doing. He opened the closet and pulled the larger of the two Kevlar vests out, slipping it on over his upper body.

“Rachel, come on.”

“Where are we going?”

He ignored her question and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled out his Harrington & Richardson .32 revolver, the smallest weapon he owned, and raced to the back entrance.

“Make sure to lock up from the inside when I leave.”

“Don’t go, Calvin.” She held his arm.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t forget the secret knock.”

He turned before she said another word. He heard Rachel locking up again from the inside. She’d only open for his knock.

His knee was starting to throb, but Calvin caught up with the assassin and followed him on foot through the streets of Vegas.

It had taken Scott only six minutes to spot Watters and realize that the man had somehow identified him and was coming after him. He could play the hunter being hunted for a few minutes until he led Watters somewhere convenient to finish him.

He used the busy Vegas streets and shop windows as mirrors to position himself for a clear shot. He didn’t know the streets as well as his adversary, but Scott had years of killing experience to his advantage.

They ducked and dodged inside buildings, crossed back streets and took shortcuts through backyards. The quiet, unoccupied side streets with abandoned buildings were the perfect locations for a pursuit.

But they had been waltzing for a half hour and neither was able to get a clean shot without risk of being exposed to the other.

This was Watters’ turf and some street people might even be watching out for him. Best to retreat and finish the job tomorrow.

At the next corner, Scott turned and started running at top speed, twisting, dodging, changing sides of the streets, turning one corner, then another, making a full circle, then breaking away in a new direction. He knew about Watters’ weak knee. Maybe with the sudden change in speed, he could break free.

When he was satisfied he’d lost Watters, he took the service entrance into the hotel and rode the elevator to his suite. He swiped his card to unlock his door and went to the bathroom, shedding his soaked shirt, cursing the whole way, before using a towel to wipe his sweaty face and body. He returned to the bedroom, threw the towel against the wall and without hesitation studied Watters’ dossier again.

Watters was a formidable adversary. Not many of Scott’s targets could find him, let alone pursue him for a half hour and survive. He was going to like this game—almost as good as taking out an FBI agent.

He wouldn’t underestimate Watters again.

Watters had to have spotted him by using cameras at his safe-house.

But killing him at close quarters would be tricky.

Scott knew just what he would do.

Calvin had tried to keep up with the hit man when he started running, but his knee forced him to quit the chase long before he was satisfied he knew how his opponent thought and thereby how to fight him.

It tore him apart inside to watch the hit man disappear. Uncatchable. Untraceable. At least for tonight. Calvin took small comfort in having twice eluded the hit man and some pride in keeping their deadly match even, for now. The impasse was short-lived.

The only difference in the two men’s ideas was that Calvin didn’t want the man dead. He needed answers.

But this was a true pro and he’d had years of practice. Calvin would be killed and Rachel too if he didn’t think of something very clever, very soon.

He got back to his fortress tired, his knee swollen and aching, but he appreciated that his years of hard work staying physically fit had saved his life tonight. He had endured hunting and being hunted and knew that he had given his assassin an impressive battle.

He used the special knock and Rachel opened the door. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“What happened?” He rushed inside and locked the door behind him.

Rachel turned without saying a word and walked into the next room. Calvin could hear her quiet sobs as she distanced herself. He hobbled after her and spun her around.

“Rachel, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She held a Kleenex to her nose and mouth and choked out words through the sniffling and sobs. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

Calvin’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

Rachel shoved him away. “Don’t, Calvin. You can’t just leave like that without telling me where you’re going. I was worried. I was scared.”

He could see this wasn’t the same woman who had snuck out to talk with her friends just last night. With each minute that passed, with them trapped in this hideout, with each news report about another murder and now the face of a man who was stalking their house, this situation became real and Rachel was finally seeing the big picture. This was serious.

He didn’t know what to say. A slight smile crossed his face.

“This isn’t funny, Calvin.”

Again she turned and walked away, entering their sleeping quarters.

He chased her. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen you worried about me before. It kind of feels good.”

Without a word, she sat down on the edge of the cot, staring into dead air. He sat down beside her and again put his arms around her. He could feel her rapid heartbeat pounding against his body. She didn’t push away this time. Instead, she nestled her head against his chest.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But what if something happens to you? What will I do?”

“That won’t happen.”

She stood up. “You can’t guarantee that.”

He got up too. “Nothing is a guarantee in life, Rachel. But you have to trust me.”

“You know I trust you, Calvin. We have a history. We share secrets—secrets that could someday haunt us. I don’t like the violence in your life. I’ve seen too much of it. But I’ve seen the good in you and I want to help you change. You promised our lives would change.”

“I did make that promise and I intend on keeping it, Rachel. We just have to get through this together. We have to stick together.”

He smiled at her and she returned it. He hugged her and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Now let’s go see what we’re up against.”

She followed behind as he went to his computer to scan the surveillance camera monitors for details of the killer’s face, body type and style of movement. He cross-referenced the pictures against a database of assassins. When nothing came up, Calvin sat back in frustration.

“Is that the man after us?” She pointed at the screen.

He nodded.

Calvin zoomed in on the suspect. The man wore pants and a long shirt, with no distinguishing features visible. Calvin back-tracked the footage and watched the thirty-second clip from the beginning.

From what he’d seen, his opponent was skilled in tactics and an expert in pursuit, surveillance and evasion. Calvin knew such skills were acquired in the elite military, specifically the Marines or maybe Special Forces.