I have left?
In the darkness ahead of me, I heard a sound. The soft, unmistakable crackle of a radio.
Chapter 89
THE YOUNG MAN was crouched at the edge of a rock ledge, looking down at the road, his rifle leaning against his thigh. I stood in the dark and watched him for a long while, trying to get a feel for my opponent. He was big, but young and inexperienced. Though I could only see the outline of his face as he turned in the moonlight, I saw pudgy, hairless cheeks and big lashes. He wasn’t the best lookout I’d ever observed. The heavy tactical gear was annoying him. He kept adjusting something near his crotch, and the cold was making his nose run. He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his wrist, took his eyes completely off the roadway for a full ten seconds. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans and walked toward him, rolling my feet slowly on the dirt so that I didn’t make a sound. I reached down and twisted the power off on his radio. He heard the click in his earpiece, but by that time I had the gun pressed firmly against the back of his neck.
“Stand up slowly,” I said.
He didn’t stand up slowly. Young blood, full of testosterone and the call of the crime-fighting hero. He swiveled in a flash and smacked the gun away. I wasn’t ready for it, lost the weapon, and stumbled backward as he launched himself at me. He connected, knocking the wind out of me, both of us scrabbling in the dirt for the gun at his hip. I brought my knee up and hit only buckles, hard plastic, the scratchy surface of Kevlar. The big hand that mashed my face, pinning my head against the dirt, was strong as a steel claw. I fumbled in the dirt for something, a rock or a stick to lash out at him with, but he rolled me before I could find a weapon and tried to draw my arm up behind my back.
“I got you,” he said, his voice almost breaking with laughter. “I got—”
I bucked wildly, taking advantage of the mistake he’d made leaning down to talk to me. I felt the impact of the back of my head against his mouth, not hard, but hard enough to shock him. His hands loosened. I slithered from beneath him and grabbed my gun just as he grabbed his.
“Don’t,” I said, flicking the safety off with an audible snap.
His face fell.
Chapter 90
HE LAY ON THE ground and breathed shallowly as I put his own cuffs on him. Even in the low light, I could see how disappointed he was with his predicament. He was limp and silent as I took his tactical knife and both his pistols and unhooked his radio, dragging the cord from inside his bulletproof vest.
“How does a baby like you get on a team like this?” I asked as I tucked the guns into my backpack.
“I’m twenty-two,” he growled.
“The question stands.”
He sighed, resigned. “My dad’s a chief super. I’m third-generation.”
“Well, if I was you, I’d tell Daddy to let you sharpen your teeth on the streets a bit longer before you start trying to hunt serial killers.”
The officer said nothing.
“How many in your team?” I asked. Again, no answer. I nudged the young man with my gun. “Hey, rookie. Lesson one: someone’s got a gun in your ear, you answer their fucking questions.”
“Twelve.”
“They’re across the other side, huh?” I said. “Two on a block truck down on the road?”
He turned his head slightly and frowned at me, bewildered. I took that as a sign that I was right.
“I’m going to give you two choices,” I said. “When I leave here, you can kick and holler and scream and try to get the rest of your team to come over to this side of the valley. If that’s your plan, I’ll leave you cuffed. You’ll look like an idiot, and you’ll blow the whole operation, which is probably why you haven’t tried that already.”
He lay silent, his face in the dirt.
“Or”—I pointed into the dark—“if you stay quiet, I’ll leave your rifle leaning against a tree two hundred meters that way. I’ll hook the handcuff key on the front sight. You can uncuff yourself and walk back to the mobile-command unit with some dignity.”
The young officer didn’t answer. He was giving me the silent treatment.
I nudged him in the side. “Hey.”
“Option two,”