Takedown (27 page)

“He thinks he’s going to seize the moment,” Gavin said.

Chris nodded and yelled back, “He’s got to prove he’s the man. What’s he gonna do, run away because a powerboat cruises by
and
keeps going? With all the Feds, secret service, and police around him on the land and sea, he’s in good hands… and what could
be better for him than for Hess to finally be nailed with Sweeney standing right there, pointing the finger. Votes, baby,
votes. Besides, how’s he gonna fire that fifty BMG from the water while being chased?”

“What’s he doing?” Gavin said as the cabin boat veered right and beyond the channel buoys toward the tall swamp grass and
muck. Within seconds the white boat was sliding on the shiny-wet surface, carving a shallow hull-shaped groove until it came
to rest in the tall grass.

Chris cursed. “I hope you don’t think I’m bringing my boat in
there
?”

Gavin frowned. Containment didn’t seem to be a problem. The boat was grounded and would stay that way for at least the next
couple of hours, until the tide was high enough to float it out. Capture, in the meantime, was less certain. Most of the boat
wasn’t visible through the grass.

The good news for the moment was that there was no clear shot from the boat to the podium over a half mile away through the
tall grass. The road beyond the shoreline was lined with police and federal vehicles. The harbor patrol had sealed off the
channel from behind, and in the distance Gavin could see more flashing lights on the viaduct. There didn’t appear to be a
way out for Hess, but there also didn’t appear to be any easy way in. Anyone trying to get through to him on the muck would
sink in and be easy targets. Two more helicopters had arrived, but with the threat of the Barrett rifle, they were also keeping
a cautious distance.

Chris had slowed and was approaching the spot where the cabin boat had turned out of the deeper channel, which would soon
be deep enough for the harbor patrol to creep in. The radio crackled
with a helicopter sighting of a gun barrel sticking out the front window of the cabin.

Chris looked at Gavin. “What’s this guy think he’s going to do… shoot at someone he can’t even see, a half mile away, through
grass?”

“Maybe he just wants to let us know to stay away,” Gavin said as he pocketed his sunglasses and picked up the binoculars.
As he adjusted for the closer distance, blades of grass came into focus, and just beyond that the front of the boat, and then,
yes, the rifle barrel, as reported by the helicopter. But what the copter didn’t report, apparently because of its elevated
view, was that the barrel was angled upward.

“Big Dog, tell them the barrel is angled up. He’s looking to shoot a bird,” Gavin said as he followed the angle of the gun
to see what it was pointing at. Nothing. The gun was pointed far above the political rally and under the helicopters. Gavin
considered that if Hess shot the gun at that angle, he’d hit nothing until Connecticut. He lowered the binoculars and rubbed
his eyes.

Chris radioed Gavin’s message and then asked if Senator Sweeny was still speaking. He put the radio down and said to Gavin,
“The good senator is loving this. Like I said… votes, baby, votes.”

Gavin looked at Chris. “Volts!”

“Votes… I said. Not volts. What sense does—”

Gavin wasn’t listening as he fumbled to get the binoculars back to his eyes. He turned and focused on the high-voltage power
lines coming from the Long Island Power Authority plant. He lowered his view to the podium where Sweeny was speaking. “Get
him out of there, Chris. Get them all out of there. He’s aiming for the power lines,” Gavin yelled.

Chris screamed into the radio while Gavin followed the deadly wire with the glasses until he came to the stanchion. Then he
saw
it. The insulator. Not an easy shot from a half mile, but definitely doable, given the time needed to aim a Barrett rifle.
Given the time.

“Rev this thing up, Big Dog… and get us over there,” Gavin yelled.

“Are you crazy?”

“He’s not going to shoot us. He’s got bigger fish to fry… literally.”

“But my—”

“So it’ll get a little dirty. Go!”

Chris cursed as he threw the throttle forward, made a small circle, and went through the buoys. The shallow path the cabin
boat had carved out had filled in with water. The Chris-Craft was faster and lighter and—

A deafening blast was followed by a flash flame that lit up the front of the cabin boat. Gavin turned to see an explosion
where the insulator had been. The huge tension wire dropped but then caught, sparks gushing from it like a Roman candle. The
wire was shaking, but apparently, the hit wasn’t direct.

“He’s gonna take another shot,” Gavin yelled. “Keep the throttle pinned.”

“We’ll hit him!” Chris shouted.

“I know,” Gavin yelled, then motioned to Chris and jumped overboard.

He heard Chris scream, “My boat!” just before he hit the slimy muck at about forty miles an hour. As he skimmed across the
top of the slippery black clay, the Chris-Craft stayed on course and crashed into the cabin boat. Gavin continued his slide
through tall grass as if on ice, and then splashed into another water channel—a vein not large enough for a boat but deep
enough to have to swim to keep from drowning. A second later, Chris, completely black, shot off the top of the muck and landed
right next to him in the drink. Gavin grabbed him.

“Chris?” he said, trying to keep Chris’s head above water. “You okay?”

Chris was gasping, his eyes white, the entire rest of him caked black. “I hate you,” was all Gavin heard before another explosion
sent both him and Chris under the water, swimming for their lives. When they resurfaced, the two boats, some hundred feet
away, were in flames and small debris was falling from the sky around them.

Gavin started swimming toward the flames and Chris followed. The channel led to within a few yards of the boat and kept going
behind the grass. The heat of the flames kept him back. Nothing could have survived the explosion, but maybe nothing had to,
he thought, seeing tracks in the muck leading to the water.

“You owe me a boat,” Chris muttered.

“Don’t be ridiculous… you’re a hero. You saved Sweeney and his rally.”

“Hess?”

Gavin jerked his chin toward the tracks.

By the time they climbed their way out and were picked up by a harbor cop in a small boat that looked borrowed, the tide was
substantially up, the flames were out, and Gavin had agreed to buy Chris a new Chris-Craft. And though a search was under
way, Hess was still missing.

I
’ll be at the house,” Gavin called into the kitchen, then took his hot cup of morning java and newspaper and stepped out the
front door of his new home—the old Johnson place that used to be next door. A short walk took him to his old home, where he
found a small patio table and chair on the front lawn, in the midst of a major construction project, mostly paid for by his
reluctant homeowner’s insurance company.

He walked around an orange plastic construction fence that surrounded a huge hole, twenty feet deep, filled with eight-foot-diameter
precast concrete septic rings. This would become a dry-well for the leaders and foundation drainage for the water that had
plagued him in years past. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right, especially now that he had a little money,
compliments of the WWX. Taxes had taken almost half, and his newly acquired residence took most of the rest, but he would
owe nothing to a bank, and his old house would bring in rent, which would help nicely with the new expenses that came with
parenthood. And Amy could be the mother she was capable of being… a new job she loved.

Gavin sat down at the round table, arranged himself comfortably, and took a shallow slurp of his hot coffee. “Mmmm.” Without
the sound, there was not as much taste. Nothing like the first half of the first cup. He opened his paper, just as he had
been doing every day for the last month. Today was Saturday and the framers— not Chris and him, thank goodness—were off and
the place was quiet. He felt for the alert device under his shirt, and of course, the necklace was still on him. Just checking.
“Giant Asteroid Just Misses Moon,” was the news heading that first caught his eye. It was nice to see normal headlines again.
The article went on to describe what would happen to the earth if the moon were suddenly gone. Nothing was mentioned about
the increase of arrests and births that occur during a full moon. He wondered for a moment if—

Gavin’s attention was grabbed by the sound of a truck coming down the block. The first thing he noticed was that it wasn’t
a cement truck… but it was a carting truck with a Dumpster on the back. He couldn’t think of anyone doing construction in
the immediate neighborhood besides himself, and he already had a Dumpster that wasn’t even half full. He set the paper down
and stared at the truck, which was going faster than it should on a residential block. He strained to see into the windshield,
but the glare of the sun made it impossible to see the driver. Just then, the throttle let up and the truck began to break
for the corner. He watched it come to a stop, then turn and drive away.

“Looking for someone in particular?” said a voice next to him.

Gavin startled, snapping his gaze to the right. A man with a shaved head and small dark sunglasses stood with a crowbar in
his right hand. He looked different than in his pictures… older, stronger, more ragged. He’d also grown a scruffy goatee
and picked up a scar on his cheekbone. But he didn’t look different enough for Gavin not to recognize him.

“You should consider a new barber,” Gavin said, trying to keep his composure, thinking about the emergency alert.

Hess smiled eerily and pointed the crowbar at him. “You saw through my disguise,” he said, then tossed aside the sunglasses.

Gavin exhaled quietly. The man’s eyes had changed, too. Deeper, grabbing, like Dengler, like the tortoise, like Hoban. “On
vacation from ‘The Chosen’? Have they taught you any new tricks?”

“As usual, you’re full of surprises, Detective. But if you knew me better, you would know that I teach the lessons.”

Gavin felt a surge of courage that reminded him of when he went into the ring. “I know you better than I want to, Krogan.
Has your new toy asked for your autograph yet?”

“Very good, Pierce. As a matter of fact, he has. But as you might imagine, I’m pressed for time.”

“Time? I would think someone that’s been around as long as you wouldn’t be in such a rush. How old are you anyway?”

The eerie smile returned. “Years have no meaning to me, Detective. But I do have a few minutes to pick up on our last conversation.
Only this time, I don’t see any of your friends around to help you. What a pity.”

“My friends?” Gavin said, poking himself in the chest and activating the emergency alert necklace. “You mean the ones who
ended your wrestling career? Have you ever considered a job placement agency?”

“Enough talk,” Krogan said, suddenly irritated. “You have caused me far more trouble than you’re worth… which will be nothing
after I return this tool you so carelessly left lying around.”

“You forgot one thing, Krogan.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing, especially you.”

“Oh, that’s right—you guys don’t forget things… not needing to rely on human memories and all that. But that didn’t seem
to help you remember that I’m a cop.”

“You’re going to give me a ticket?”

Gavin ignored the comment. “You made the mistake of letting
me get to know you. You were so busy enjoying your revenge thing that you didn’t bother to consider how predictable you were
becoming to me. I was in your dressing room… and your apartment. Your being too arrogant to clean up after yourself leaves
clues that anyone but a blind man could find. And I’m not blind. Not anymore that is. You see, I knew you would be here, and
I even knew
who
you would be this time. And if you don’t think I’m ready for you… guess again.”

Krogan started looking around him.

“For the last month I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about you, Krogan, and you might be flattered to know that you’ve been
a topic of conversation with a friend of mine whom I think you know.”

Krogan’s eyes were like flames. “Enough!” he roared as he wielded back and swung the crowbar at Gavin’s head.

“Cease! Be still,” demanded a voice from the walkway on the other side of the drainage hole.

The crowbar came to a halt just inches away from Gavin’s flinching face.

Gavin opened his eyes. “I love the way you say that.”

The shock in Krogan’s eyes made Gavin wish he had a camera.

Buck, who had been more than willing to spend the last three weeks convalescing with Gavin, Amy, and Violet, had been looking
healthier every day. For this occasion, he had apparently decided to leave the cane in the house. “Deal quickly with him,
Gavin. He is not to be toyed with.”

“Since you’re right here… why don’t you just…”

Buck shook his head. “Remember what we talked about. He’s come to see you, and he must understand what a mistake that was.
Let him see what you’ve been given. He must learn the cost of coming to you.”

Gavin nodded. He understood the principle well enough; it was
just the application that was foreign to him. He turned to Krogan, who was as still as a statue.
Deal with him quickly,
he thought. That would normally mean grabbing the crowbar, using the tool to break a bone or something that would require
his total attention, and then punching, flipping, or tripping him into the twenty-foot hole that had been waiting for him
for almost a month now. But that would be exactly what Krogan would want, and there was something about giving him what he
wanted
and
expected that steeled Gavin’s decision to lay down his usual arsenal for a weapon designed specifically for the likes of
this dangerous beast. A weapon that, ironically, Krogan had helped to form in him. A weapon of the heart, an organ that in
this business surpasses the mind. A weapon of surrender and trust. The weapon of faith.

“Into the hole, Krogan,” Gavin ordered. He heard cars racing down the street but wouldn’t turn.

Krogan laughed and, struggling, raised the crowbar slowly. For an invisible force, this spiritual warfare, as the pastors
called it, sure had enough visual evidence. “Do you think I am a common spirit, that can be ordered about with your common
faith?”

Gavin glanced at Buck, not interested in this being a training session.

“Drop your weapon, Krogan,” Buck said.

“Yeah, now,” Gavin quickly added, hoping to add whatever he could.

The crowbar dropped from Krogan’s fingers. Gavin felt like picking it up and whacking him in the back with it, but he didn’t
and resisted even the thought of it. A car screeched to a stop and then another and another. Footsteps running. More cars
screeching.

“You lose again,” Krogan said through a locked jaw.

“Shut up,” Gavin ordered. Not quite the way Buck would speak, he thought, but the result seemed be the same, as Krogan didn’t
say another word.

“Freeze!” someone yelled. Gavin turned to see police and Feds two and three deep with guns drawn. Buck’s glare was on Krogan,
and Gavin wondered if that was why the demon was still motionless. His faith was slipping again. He could feel it.

“Gavin,” called Chris as he ran up.

“Stop… everyone,” Gavin ordered. “Someone give me their cuffs. And don’t come near him with a weapon.”

“Take mine,” Chris said, tossing them.

Gavin caught them with a clink and walked around Krogan. “Hands behind your back… now.”

The arms moved slowly but they came. Gavin cuffed him and then asked for shackles to be tossed over. A few moments later,
chained like the Frankenstein monster, Krogan was dragged away with suicide-watch instructions. A half hour later, everyone
was gone but Buck, who was sitting patiently at the patio table. Gavin took a seat next to him.

“Will we ever have to deal with Krogan again?” Gavin thought aloud.

“It’s in God’s hands, Gavin. Someday he’ll be out again. Time is on his side, for now. I’ve learned that you’re never too
old to look over your shoulder.”

Gavin nodded, staring into space.

“What else, Gavin? You seem troubled.”

“Ahh, I don’t know. There’s so much that just doesn’t make sense. I mean, I know there’s a God and I know there are demons
and angels and that there’s this war going on.”

“But you’re confused about all the pain and suffering?”

“Well, there’s that. But…”

“Concerned that you don’t measure up to God’s standards?”

Gavin looked him in the eye. “I’ve heard about the mercy and the grace and I’m all for it. And I figure there’s a lot more
to life than correcting my faults, no matter who’s doing it.”

“But there’s something else.”

Gavin nodded.

“What then?”

“I couldn’t get him in the hole,” Gavin said somberly.

Buck looked at the hole for a long moment before answering. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But I told him to go in and he didn’t. He should have. According to everything you and the Salt guys told me… he should
have. But he didn’t.”

Buck smiled and patted Gavin’s folded hands on the table. “The end result is the same. God’s will was done, and that’s what
we are to work toward.”

“He said I lose.”

“He lied. He lied to you and to himself. He lost before time began. Don’t let his lies darken your life, Gavin. You dug a
hole, had it all prepared, looked at it every day for the last month. Now it’s time to put a lid on it, and in the end you’ll
have a dryer basement. There are many such holes in life. Sometimes you just have to be satisfied not knowing the answer.
Hess is another hole: Hess thought he was serving God, but just because he and others like him are wrong doesn’t mean there
is no true way or true God.”

Gavin looked at the hole. Buck made it sound so simple. Why did he have to think so much?

“You’ve come a long way and have been given much. More dark times will come—they always do—but never doubt in the darkness
what God has given you in the light.”

Gavin nodded and understood. He wished Buck could stay longer, but he knew the old man would be leaving now. He left Buck
and went to the house, where he knew Amy and Violet would be waiting for him. Suddenly that was the only thought in his head.
He smiled.