Cold Snap (35 page)

"Nuh-uh," Lawson shook his head stiffly. "We
break in and I walk into the arms of a cop, I'll lose my
license."

"Then let's explain it to the officer."

"Shit," said Lawson as Ari took off down the
sidewalk.

He was headed for the side street on the
opposite side of A-Zed from the alley, where he had seen the young
man with the girlish voice getting chewed out royally by Rhee.
Little more than a rectangular cube, it stretched a quarter of
block before ending at a rear alley, where the parole car was
parked. He stopped at the end of the building and began edging
slowly around the corner.

Lawson came up behind him, surprisingly
quiet. Ari glanced at him and saw he was holding his breath to keep
from gasping loudly. With a palm-down gesture, Ari advised him to
breathe...slowly....

Lawson nodded. Leaning forward, seeing the
unoccupied police cruiser, he made a low hissing noise. There was
something wrong with this picture. Ari nodded in agreement. He
glanced around. There were no cars approaching on the side street,
no pedestrians. So far as he could tell, no one was looking out of
the narrow windows of the building across the street. Just like
Iraq, he thought grimly. Cops show up, people disappear.

He edged forward again. A peeved but slightly
worried voice came from the cruiser.

"One-one-nine what's your 10-20?"

Lawson looked through the passenger window at
the radio, then made a circular motion with his hand. Whatever Ari
had in mind, he'd better hurry. It wouldn't be long before the
place was crawling.

Ari took out his gun but Lawson held off,
wanting to use his cane as long as he could.

Why were the police here? Had someone called?
Or were they responding to an alarm? But why would the perimeter
alarm be set during work hours? A remote alarm, then? Like a
personal panic button? But while a perimeter alarm made sense to
detect after-hours intrusion, Ari thought it unlikely Rhee would go
to the trouble and expense of installing remotes. During the day,
when conducting his own brand of free enterprise, he supplied his
own protection: his buff bad boys.

Service with the Americans in Iraq had made
Ari familiar with their hand signals, most of which were
commonsensical—but here and there quirks worked their way into the
alphabet of silence. Lawson could not employ the full array of
signals, but he did what he could and Ari understood. Most
importantly, though, he knew the cardinal rules: when stepping into
a radical freakzone, keep zipped, pray hard, and try not to
fart.

Ari pointed up at the security camera. They
had not seen anyone in the front office, where the monitors were
bolted above the door. But there could be a second set of monitors
somewhere else in the building, or even off-site. Still, if an
observer saw Ari and Lawson sneaking up, they would also have seen
the police.

The back door was closed. There was no
window. Standing against the wall, Ari tested the knob. It was
locked. Lawson drew up next to him.

"No other cars," he whispered.

Ari nodded and pointed at the intersection
ahead. "Three garage bays."

They scooted further along the alley.
Reaching the corner, Ari waited until Lawson caught up. Ari pointed
at his coat pocket. It was time to pull out his gun. Hooking his
cane over his prosthetic arm, Lawson took out his Beretta.

They stiffened when they heard a garage door
open.

"No...no..." a woman was pleading.

"Move ahead."

"I didn't do anything. I don't know
anything."

Not a woman. The young man who had taken the
company computers for destruction at Beacon Corner.

"Move, ya louteh!"

Ari bent to Lawson's ear and whispered, "I
have to greet my countryman."

Lawson put two-eyes' worth of incredulity
into his remaining one. "These guys are Italian?"

Ari blanched. A stupid mistake. He was given
no time to correct the error.

"Come on around the corner!"

Ari grimaced.

"We know you're there! Do it now, or we'll
shoot the geek!"

Lawson let out a low moan. Where were the
cops? Had they been shot?

Ari darted his head around the corner and
quickly whipped back. What he had seen was not promising. A man in
a ski mask holding a gun to the head of Rhee's nephew, a blue van
with the panel door open, a hint of movement to the other side,
probably a second gunman waiting to take out Lawson and Ari as soon
as they both stepped out.

"What was that? I hardly saw you! Come on!
Tell them, faggot."

The girlish voice piped out of the bay.
"They'll kill me...they aren't kidding—ah!"

Lawson nudged Ari and cocked his head
backwards. Ari nodded comprehendingly. Someone could come out of
the back door and ambush them from behind. Ari cursed himself. Why
hadn't he enlisted Ben's help for this?

The answer was simple. He had not
expected…this.

"Do I have to count?" called out the man
holding the hostage. "One-two-three, like that? Are you that
stupid?"

"Assalam alaikum," said Ari.

"Come out now!" the man shouted back.

"How many men do you have with you?" Ari
shouted back.

"Why would you want to know that?"

"I want to make sure I have enough
bullets."

"Sir tkaoud—"

Ari dropped, rolled, fired. He kept rolling
until he reached the narrow wall dividing the bays. He thought he
heard a shout, but it was hard to tell because the steady
zit-zit-zit of an Uzi echoed in the concrete hollows. Sparks flew
up on the blacktop at the garage entrance, ricochets dicing tall
weeds against a chain link fence.

The young man whirred past him, his plentiful
faults compensated by an ability to run like an antelope.

"He's getting away!" yelled a new voice.

"I'm shot!"

Lawson suddenly lurched around the corner,
exposing himself to the men inside.

"Get back!" Ari shouted.

"I can't!"

"Get down!"

"Can't!"

In a moment, one hostage would be replaced by
another. His aging bones were already rattled, but there was
nothing for it. Shifting position, he rolled back the way he had
come, snapping off another shot. There was another shout
inside.

He jumped up to tackle Lawson.

"No!" he bellowed. "Uzi!"

But it was too late. They were both falling
out of range of the bay.

"They're getting away!" someone shouted
inside.

"I'm shot! Again!"

A ripple of bullets burst from up the alley,
giving the weeds another cropping. The gunman who had emerged from
the back door lowered his gun for another burst. Metal crunched
beneath Ari. Lawson told him to get the fuck off.

"Stop shooting! I have them!"

The second man from the garage had run out
and was looking down at the two men tangled on the tarmac.

"Quassim!" he yelled. "The faggot is getting
away! Hasan is wounded!"

A new voice emerged.

"I can't! The download isn't finished!"

"I'll get the laptop! Go! We have to have
him!"

Ari twisted awkwardly and looked at the Uzi
being pointed at him, then at the man holding it.

"Why Mohammed, you've shaved. God will punish
you."

The gunman was wearing a ski mask. His eyes
sparked with puzzled apprehension.

"I still have my beard, under this. How do
you—"

"Freeze!"

Everyone whirled to look down the alley. Two
cops were running up. Two bags of doughnuts flew in the air as they
drew their guns.

The gunman from the back door did not
hesitate. He shifted his Uzi and opened fire. The cops were just
quick enough to duck behind the cruiser. They had cover. The
shooter did not. When they returned fire he had second thoughts
about his position and dove back inside the building.

Sayid Mohammed Al-Rafa'ee had edged back, out
of the cops' line of fire. He began to lower his Uzi when he saw
Lawson pointing his gun up between Ari's arm and chest. Ari shifted
as Lawson fired. Mohammed howled and dropped back.

Quassim was halfway up the side alley in
pursuit of the Korean. Hearing the shout, he turned, swore, then
began running back towards the bays.

"Goddammit, I had a headshot on him!"
Lawson.

Ari finished rolling off Lawson and from a
seated position took aim at the young Korean's pursuer, who jumped
out of sight into the first bay, which someone was opening from
inside.

A bullet chipped the wall next to them.

"The police are shooting at us!"

"What's new?" Lawson extended his hand.
"Quick!"

Ari grabbed and pulled.

"You're too heavy."

"Then drag me!"

Ari pulled him out of range, then let go and
turned to the bay, gun raised. There were no walls between the
bays. He saw the chaser scurrying towards a hall door and took aim.
The chaser took cover behind a car lift. He did not appear to be
armed.

The man Ari had shot twice was on his knees
next to the van. He was shivering. He was praying. Ari went up to
him and planted his gun barrel against his head.

"Ari!" Lawson shouted. He had grabbed the
edge of a work bench and was working himself up.

"He's a pig," Ari said.

"You shoot every pig you meet?"

Ari leaned down. "Is this Hasan behind the
mask? Let me lift it off and see. Ah! Hasan Al-Jamil! Have you been
making more human bonfires?"

"How do you know..." The wounded man's eyes
were closed. Ari noted that he had winged both of his shoulders,
and took a second to admire the symmetry. A nice, round hole in the
center would complete the artwork.

"You took the trouble of filming your
atrocity in Nineveh," said Ari. "You even removed your mask for the
camera. That was very helpful."

"Please..."

"Behave and I won't waste a bullet."

"No...I mean, please don't stop us," Hasan
gasped. "This has to be done. You don't understand what you're
doing."

"I understand what I'm doing, little fool. I
just don't understand what you're doing. I'm sure to find out once
I begin sticking my filthy fingers in your wounds."

Hasan gagged at the thought if it.

Ari looked to his left. A blood trail showed
the man Lawson had shot had fled towards the front of the building.
He glanced to his right. The chaser was still rigid behind the car
lift.

Gunfire erupted inside the building. The
acoustic signatures were unmistakable. The cops had entered the
back door to duke it out with the Uzi. Ari looked at Lawson, who
was now on his feet.

"Who are these people?" Lawson gasped.

"I have no idea."

"But you know them—" There was another burst
of gunfire on the other side of the wall.

Ari had thought he knew who he was dealing
with, but the fourth shooter perturbed him. Could it be the unseen
cameraman?

"Why aren't the cops waiting for backup?"
Lawson hissed fretfully.

"Maybe they think they can save someone's
life," Ari suggested.

"Or maybe they're just pissed off. Never come
between a cop and his Krispy Kremes."

Annoyed, Ari punched the wounded man in the
shoulder. Hasan screamed in agony and fell sideways. Turning fast,
he saw the chaser peeking out from behind the lift. He fired a shot
his way to keep him honest.

"Come!" he urged Lawson. "We have to get that
laptop!"

"Why?"

"We run through the hall to the front office,
get the computer and escape through the front door."

The wall adjoining the garage suddenly shook,
as though someone was using a hypersonic nail gun.

"No wonder my men didn't want to fuck with
A-Zed," said Lawson, but he followed. Without the use of his cane,
his speed was cut in half.

Ari always hated poking his head through a
door when there was a possibility of getting it shot off, but in
the absence of a mirror there was not much else he could do. He
leaned forward, pulled back, then leaned forward again. The gunfire
was very close, but he saw no one. From the way the shots echoed,
he guessed the fight was taking place in a large storage area.
Lawson came up and they exchanged nods. He took two steps and
stopped. At the far end of the hallway straight ahead was an Exit
sign. At the end of the shorter hallway to his right was another
Exit sign. Coming from a country where there were very few exit
signs, he found this a little perplexing. You either had somewhere
to run, or you didn't. Lawson tapped his shoulder and aimed his gun
ahead. Ari pointed at the blood trail leading in the same
direction. Mouthing the word 'laptop', Lawson shrugged.

Either you want the damn thing or you
don't.

Ari most certainly did.

Judging from the blood trail, Mohammed was
not bleeding enough to suit him. He probably still had plenty of
fight in him. And one burst from an Uzi down this narrow corridor
would unquestionably finish the careers of the two men furtively
moving towards the front.

The gunfire, now behind them, did not
slacken. No one was scoring any points. The man with the Uzi had
sense enough to fire short bursts, conserving ammo. The cops were
firing blind, having sense enough not to expose themselves to a
full blast. When good sense won, Ari thought, no one got hurt. It
also resulted in no one getting anywhere. All to the good, so far
as he was concerned.

A door slammed. Ari grabbed the nearest
doorknob and turned. Pointing Lawson into an office, he quickly
followed him inside, leaving a sliver of a crack to look out.

Lawson made a low noise and Ari turned. Rhee
and his two bad boys were bound to chairs. The bad boys were either
dead or unconscious. Rhee was staring at them dreamily.

"Mr. Ugly and the waegukin," he slurred.

"Untie him," said Lawson.

"No, get his wallet," Ari whispered, nodding
at Rhee.