Thriller, page 18
Walker crouched down next to her. “What’s your name?”
“Sarah. Sarah Franklin.”
“Listen to me, Sarah Franklin, nothing is going to happen to you now that you’re with me. You take us to your home and let’s find out how your parents are.”
From his years as a hitman, Walker knew how killers worked, and he expected that they’d find her parents were dead. But he lied to Sarah to calm her. “I’ll bet they’re okay and worried sick about you.”
“You think so?”
“Let’s go find out. A pretty young thing like you shouldn’t have to worry about her safety, or her parents’. You can tell me what happened on the way to your house. How far is it?”
“Only a few streets,” Sarah replied. Gaining back some of her composure and strength, Sarah stood up and said, “I’ll show you. What’s your name?”
As Walker rose from his crouch, he put the warm gun back in his waistband and quickly thought about how he wanted to answer her. He realized he wanted to say something comforting to her, so he said, “My name is Fred Harding, but my friends call me Walker, and with what we just went through, I think you now qualify as a friend. What d’ya say, Sarah?”
Sarah turned her head up toward him. “Why are you called Walker if your name’s Fred Harding?”
Walker took her by the arm and guided her away from the trash bin. “It’s a complicated story. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, but we need to get away from here right now.
Walker went over to the gunman, picked his gun off the ground, and put it next to his own in his pants waistband. He lifted up the body and tossed it into the dumpster, covering it with papers and trash. Then he and Sarah set out to walk the few blocks to her house.
On their way, Sarah, still shaking, thanked Walker. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you weren’t there. Do you really think my parents are okay?”
Walker lied again, “I think so.”
Sarah turned to him, “But I saw Mom bleeding and she was hurt.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s dead, kiddo. What’s her name?”
Sarah told him, “Jean. And my dad’s Bob.” Then she said, “You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
“I’m not,” Walker confirmed. “I’m from the mainland. But I’m considering living here. I just ended something with a woman who followed me here, and I’m thinkin’ I might like it better on Maui than anywhere else right about now.”
“How come you carry a gun? Are you an undercover cop?”
Walker thought about how he was going to answer that question and then said, “Nope. Not a cop. I’m kind of like a private cop. I get hired to go after bad people and make sure they don’t hurt good people.”
Sarah liked that. “So, you’re kind of a guardian. Like you’re protecting me now.”
That struck a positive chord with Walker. “Yeah. Sort of like that. In fact, I like that a lot—that I’m a guardian and a protector. That’s how I felt in the Marines—like I was protecting people. Thanks, kid, you’ve given me a new way to look at myself.”
Sarah moved herself a little closer to Walker as they walked. “I like having a protector. You’re like my white knight. It makes me feel safer.”
Surprised at how much he enjoyed hearing her say that Walker took off his pineapple cap and put it on Sarah. “That’ll protect your head and remind you that I’m protecting the rest of you.”
Sarah tugged the brim down so that the cap was sitting more securely over her hair and ran her fingers across the pineapple. “Thanks. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. What d’ya want to know?”
“Do you really think I’m pretty? You called me that before.”
Walker smiled. “I do, kid. How old are you?”
Sarah replied, “Sixteen. Yesterday was my birthday.”
“Well, happy birthday, Sarah Franklin. Let me tell you, if I was twenty years younger and you were twenty years older, I’d make a play for you. But I’m not, and you’re not, and that’s the end of that. But yes, you are pretty, birthday girl.”
Sarah glowed inside and momentarily forgot about the potential horror awaiting them when they reached her house. But her reverie quickly ended. “Walker, what about the other two guys? The man you shot wasn’t the one who I think saw me. What if they’re still at my house?” Sarah began to shake slightly again.
Walker put his arm around her and stopped their walking. “Listen to me, Sarah—as long as I’m with you, nothing is going to happen to you. I took care of that guy and I’ll take care of the other two. Nobody’s gonna harm you while I’m around. Got it?”
Sarah wanted to believe Walker. “Yeah. I hope you’re right.”
“I am,” he said confidently. “Now let’s get to your house and see how your parents are.”
When Sarah and Walker turned the corner of the block that led to her house they stopped. Before them a beehive of activity was taking place—six police cars with steadily flashing lights were parked at random angles in front of both Sarah’s house and the house next door. Sitting among them were two ambulances whose rear doors were open showing what appeared to be paramedics arranging supplies and making preparations of some sort. Numerous police personnel and medics were continuously walking, and sometimes running, in and out of both brightly lit houses, which looked to have every light in each house turned on.
Sarah and Walker could faintly hear unintelligible conversations taking place between the various police personnel there, whoever they were speaking with on their radios and handsets, and the paramedics.
Walker had witnessed many similar scenes in New York after his hits so he understood that the events taking place were most likely the results of a major tragedy and deaths. He thought, but didn’t say aloud, that’s not good.
“I don’t see Mom and Dad,” Sarah reported as her eyes began to tear up, “where are they?” She started running toward the house but only got three or four steps before Walker grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Hold on, Sarah. Those other two guys could be lurking around waitin’ to see if you return. I don’t want to give them a clear shot at you between here and the house.”
Sarah looked at Walker with tears streaming down her cheeks. “You think they can do that even with all the police there?”
“I do,” he firmly replied. “None of the cops are in their vehicles so the bad guys could be sittin’ near here in their car. It’d be easy for them to shoot you, and then drive away before the cops knew what happened.”
“But I wanna see my parents.”
“I know, kid, just trust me a little, and we’ll find out how they are, really quickly. Just not by bargin’ in over there.”
“Okay. But what’re we gonna do?”
Walker began formulating a plan. He wanted to guard against Sarah being hurt, but also didn’t want to come into much contact with the cops, since he had three guns on him, his piece, the one from the shooter who was chasing Sarah, and the plastic gun in his sock.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he told her, “You see that row of thick hedges next to that house across the street? We’ll walk over there together and you’re gonna get behind them and sit on the ground so no one can see you from the road. I’m gonna give you that shooter’s gun so I don’t have it on me. Will you do that?”
Sarah started to get scared again. “No, don’t leave me, I won’t feel safe if I’m not with you.”
Walker looked her directly in her eyes. “Did I tell you nothin’ will happen to you? That I’d keep you safe?”
She softly answered, “Yes.”
“Then you have to believe me and trust me. That’ll be the safest place for you while I go check out what’s happenin’ and find out how your parents are.”
“But I’m scared.”
“I know you are, kid. I would be too, if it was me. But we both gotta do what I’m suggestin’. It’s the only way to keep you safe and for me to find out what happened to your folks. Just stay behind the bushes until I get back.”
They crossed the street, Sarah sat down behind the hedge and Walker handed her the shooter’s gun. “You ever held one of these?”
Gripping the weapon with both hands, Sarah answered, “No. Never.”
“In that case, put it on the ground next to you and leave it there until I come back.”
Sarah placed the gun on the grass as Walker left for her house.
When Walker got there, a policeman stopped him just before he reached the back of the ambulances. “This is a crime scene. Please turn around and leave. You can stand with all those other gawkers.” He pointed to a group of people milling around across the street behind a police barrier who were watching everything that was going on.
Walker reached into his pants pocket and took out the Marshal badge and ID card. The officer looked at it and handed it back to Walker. “So how can I help you, Marshal? You got some interest in this?”
“Nope,” Walker answered, “I happened to be in the neighborhood, saw the activity, and thought I’d see if I could be of some assistance. I’m tracking down an escaped felon from back East, and you never know where he could have run to or what he might be involved in.”
The officer pointed to the two houses. “You’re guy a murderer?”
Walker answered, “Nope. Drugs.”
The officer moved in closer to Walker. He pointed to the house next to Sarah’s. “We think this was a drug deal gone bad in that one, and the people in this one”—he indicated Sarah’s home—“were innocent victims. We’re pretty sure it’s a group of locals who did this, not some out-of-towners—we’ve been watching that house for a while, but unfortunately, we didn’t have any eyes on it tonight. We think one of the gangs—a remnant of the Company—were responsible, and they’re some bad, bad people. Left no witnesses, as usual.”
Walker leaned against one of the ambulances. “How many?”
The officer replied, “Four. Two in each house. The guy in this one had a Glock, but he was no match for whoever did this. If it was done by the Triad or Yakuza gangs, he had no chance. Zero.”
Walker responded, “I didn’t know you had gangs out here in the middle of the ocean.”
“We do,” the officer affirmed. “Most of it started on Oahu but it’s spread out to all the islands. Where you from? You sound like New York.”
Walker didn’t want there to be any current connection to New York and remembered that Fred Harding’s license was from Illinois. “You got me. Born in New York but moved to Chi-town.”
The officer shuffled his feet, “Never been to either. One of our guys went to Chicago last year. Said it felt as cold as the North Pole when he was down by the lake. That’s not for me.”
Walker hoped the officer wouldn’t ask more questions about Chicago, and he didn’t. “Well, either way, you got your gangs and we got ours. Same MO, different names.”
Walker nodded in understanding.
The cop went on, “We think the ones in this house had a daughter, but lucky for her she wasn’t home. If she was, she’d be on one of those carts like her parents. At least I hope she wasn’t there. If she was and saw them and ran, they’ll track her down and do to her what they did to her parents. We’re going to have to locate her before they do. Let me tell you, I’d hate to be the one to have to break this news to her if she wasn’t there when this happened.”
Walker got a knot in the pit of his stomach thinking how he was going to have to tell Sarah, and what he was going to say to her. He realized he should get back to her quickly. “Doesn’t seem like much I can do. Thanks for the info. Terrible thing, though.”
“It sure is. We don’t have many like this on the island. It’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” The officer’s hand radio squawked, and he excused himself. He went into Sarah’s house just as paramedics came out of the front door wheeling two body bags on gurneys which they brought to the ambulances.
Walker turned away and headed back to Sarah. As he walked the short block to where she was hidden, he tried to figure out what he was going to say to her. When he didn’t come up with an answer, Walker did firm up a resolution that even if it put his life in danger, he wasn’t going to let the gangs, or anyone else, harm her. Walker thought, it really is a strange sensation safeguarding someone rather than taking them out, but I kind of enjoy feeling that way. It reminds me of my time in the Marines.
When he got to Sarah, Walker still didn’t know what he was going to say to her or how he was going to tell her that both her parents were dead.
new york
Back in New York, Al “Smokey” Challow was still waiting for Louise’s call telling him that Walker was dead.
He summoned one of his guys, Jimmy, from the front room of the club to his office. “I’m gettin’ worried that Lou didn’t get the job done. Maybe she isn’t as good as she thinks she is.”
Jimmy answered, “Give her some time, Smokey.”
Smokey lit another of his Cuban cigars and blew a smoke ring. “I want that bastard dead. After he killed my brother and then kissed him in the coffin, I want that guy deader than dead. You hear me?”
Jimmy shuffled his feet, “Maybe he’s like a cat and he’s got nine lives, boss. We couldn’t get him, and if Lou failed, maybe nobody can whack him. I mean, his rep is that he’s the best—no matter what Lou said.”
Smokey blew another smoke ring. “Let me think on that. Maybe we should wait until he’s back here, and then go after him. Hell, anyone I could send after him would know this town better than that dumbass island he went to. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. At least for now.”
Jimmy shuffled his feet again. “Sounds like a plan. But if you want me to go after him, I’d be fine takin’ a trip to Hawaii.”
Smokey’s voice was filled with sarcasm when he responded. “I bet you would. Tell you what,” Smokey continued more seriously, “you and those other buffoons I got working for me, spread the word that if anyone sees Walker back here and tells me where he is, they get fifty g’s. And if they take him out, it’s a quarter mil. When he steps foot in one of the boroughs, I want that to be the last step he ever takes.”
“You sure?”
Smokey ground out his partially smoked cigar. “Yeah, I’m sure. Whatever it takes to get that asshole. Now get outta here, you mook. Leave me alone.”
Jimmy quickly turned on his heels and left the office, while Smokey opened his humidor and lit up another Cohiba.
back in maui
When Walker reached the row of hedges he quietly called out, “Don’t shoot, it’s me, Walker.” When he walked behind the bushes, Sarah was sitting on the ground right where he had left her, but she had picked up the gun and was cradling it in her lap. She looked up at him with bloodshot, tear-stained, pleading eyes. “Did you see my parents? Is Mom okay?”
Walker crouched down next to Sarah, took the gun from her, and put it back in his waistband. “Listen, kid, I don’t know how to sugarcoat this. Your parents didn’t make it.”
Sarah gasped. “What?!”
Walker went to take Sarah in his arms, but before he could, she began throwing up and between retches started screaming, “No! Oh my God! No!”
Walker began wiping the vomit off her face and mouth with his hand and then doing the best he could to clean it off by rubbing it on the grass. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any tissues.”
Sarah didn’t hear what he said as her mind was frozen in fear and grief. She began to shake uncontrollably. Walker wrapped his arms around her, hugged her tightly to his body, and began rocking both of them. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”
She let out a piercing scream that almost deafened Walker and then fainted.
He stood up, lifted Sarah’s limp body, and started carrying her down the street away from her house and toward his condo. After a few steps the cap fell off Sarah’s head, so Walker awkwardly bent down, picked it up while making sure not to drop her, and put it on. Even though he knew she couldn’t hear him he said, “It’s yours again when you come to, kid.”
Walker didn’t get another block before a black sedan sped down the street and screeched to a halt alongside him. As soon as it stopped, the car doors flew open and two large, nasty-looking men who reminded Walker of lower-NYC thugs got out and ran over to him. One positioned himself on the sidewalk to Walker’s right and the other to his left. With the car blocking his access to the street there was nowhere he could go. Both men took guns out and held them next to their legs, shielding them from being seen by anyone driving past on the street.
Walker’s mind raced. These have to be the other two goons who killed Sarah’s parents and the neighbors. Damn, while I’m carrying her, I have no access to my guns, or to any course of action.
The guy to his right looked past Walker to the other man. “Is that her, the one who saw you?”
The man to Walker’s left responded, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s her. I kind of recognize that pink top she’s got on.”
The first man scowled. “You gotta be sure. How sure are you?”
The second guy answered, “Not totally. I only saw someone run away. But I think it’s her.”
The first thug turned to Walker, “I don’t know who you are, haole, but if you want to live to see tomorrow, you’ll just hand her over to me.”
“Can’t do it,” Walker responded. “I made a promise I’d keep her safe.”
“Well,” the man replied, “You’re just gonna be breaking that promise, aren’t you? Otherwise, you’re both gonna be dead.”
Walker remembered he had the Marshal identification. “Listen, pal, hold on a second. I’m a US Marshal. You don’t want to be killing a Fed, do you? The ID’s in my right front pocket. And we’re only a block from where all the cops are at that mess you made. You shoot us here, they’ll come running.”
The second man reached into Walker’s pocket and took out the Marshal ID and badge. “He’s tellin’ the truth.” After he held it up for the other guy to see, he put it back in Walker’s pants and then quickly patted him down and found the two guns in his waistband. “Well, looky what we got here.” The man walked to the car, opened the trunk, threw the guns in, closed it again, and walked back.
