“Good to see you,” Johnny said with a steady grin.
“Likewise.”
“I see you got my message.”
“I did,” Bolan replied. “And I have quite a bit of new info.”
The distant wail of sirens brought the two men back to the scene at hand. Johnny said, “They’re playing your song.”
“I can’t get caught up with this right now,” Bolan said, turning on his heel. “Go with them to the hospital, and I’ll meet up with you later at the condo.”
Johnny expressed surprise. “You’re not coming with us?”
“Well, the blacksuit does stand out,” Bolan said drily. “It’s time for me to make myself scarce.” With that, the Executioner wheeled and trotted away.
Some things just never seemed to change.
After medical staff took charge of Hillman, Rusch didn’t waste any time cornering Johnny in a vacant consultation room off to one corner of the ER waiting area.
“Okay, you want to explain what the hell happened back there?”
Johnny splayed his hands. “What do you mean? You were there. You saw everything I did.”
“Don’t play games with me, Gray,” Rusch said, stabbing a petite but hardened finger into Johnny’s sternum. “You know damn well what I mean. We get pinned down by a half-dozen men armed with automatic weapons. Then in jumps a stranger in black out of nowhere like Captain Commando. It’s obvious you knew him, so you’d best start talking or I’ll turn you over to my superiors and let you take your chances.”
“I’m not sure I’d mention that either of us knew him. Or even saw him for that matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s here to help us.”
“And you know this for a fact,” she said, her head bobbing in a flagrant demonstration of her disbelief.
“I do,” he replied matter-of-factly.
Rusch blew a strand of hair out of her eye and put her hands on her hips. She canted her body backward slightly and cocked her head to study him with a practiced eye. “Why should I believe you?”
Johnny knew there was no way he could tell her that Mack Bolan, the Executioner, was alive and well. That secret had to remain just that. Instead, he came up with a comfortable lie, which sometimes was true. Sort of. “He’s working with the Justice Department.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He is. But not officially. He’s more like a freelance troubleshooter, a page not in the book. Call it what you will to make the cake taste sweeter, because anything else I could say would sound trite.”
“You’re looking at trite in the rearview mirror, Johnny.”
At least she’d called him by his first name this time. “Look, if you expose him or try to hunt him down and ask him to explain himself, you’ll only be doing your team and the whole rest of the Chicago PD a severe injustice. He’s on our side, and you have to believe me.”
“But how do I know that?”
“Because all three of us are still alive and the guys who tried to ventilate us are all dead. That has to count for something.”
“Maybe he was covering.”
“For who? Listen to yourself, it doesn’t even make sense.”
“I suppose.”
“There’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to leave.”
Rusch expressed disdain. “What? You can’t just leave me here like this to fend for myself. I’m going to need a witness, and the only other person who can explain what happened out there is about to go under the knife for a bullet wound!”
“I’m sorry, Lakea. And I know it’s a shitty thing to do—a shitty thing. But I have to go meet with our man in black.”
“Even if I wanted to go along with some cockamamy story, there’s no way the department would buy it. None of us were armed-up. We couldn’t very well explain how they all wound up dead when we weren’t carrying anything but pistols. Ballistics will nail our asses to the wall.”
“Call it a rival gang war.”
“What?”
“Sure,” Johnny said, attempting to keep a dispassionate expression. “With all the violence in today’s world and all the weapons available out there, it wouldn’t be a hard sell. And especially not if you can tie Esparza into it. We followed him there and then during what we suspected was the drop, a gun battle broke out with what we assumed was a rival gang. We defended ourselves, which would explain how one of your bullets got in one of the deceased, and the rest were taken down by other as-yet-unidentified well-armed subjects.”
“They won’t buy it.”
“Maybe not in the end, but it will buy us time. And that’s something our mutual friend will need.”
“What about you?”
“They can’t prove I was with you, can they? This could be a lead just you and Hillman were following up. My name need not even come into it.”
“What about my partner? He’ll probably be under twenty-four-hour guard now, since the brass might think a buddy of one of those shooters might come calling. There’s no way we’ll be able to corroborate our stories.”
“Maybe send a note in with his nurse? Call it police business.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Johnny. I’ve already made up my mind I’m gonna trust you on this one. But under one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You deal me in on the full story, no bullshit and no withholding anything.”
“Would you settle for 99 percent?”
“No, but I suppose I don’t have much choice. My career as a cop is on the line either way at this point.”
Johnny smiled. “Then we have a deal, Lakea.”
“Uh-huh. And why does it feel like I just made it with the Devil?”
* * *
The man who stood before Lakea Rusch no longer wore the garb of battle. He’d shed the skintight blacksuit and combat boots for blue jeans and a black V-necked pullover. A leather shoulder rig supported a pistol, and nearby on an oval table lay a stainless steel .44 Magnum Desert Eagle.
The weapons didn’t impress Rusch anywhere near as much as their owner. He moved and spoke with the air of a man in complete command of himself and his surroundings. She estimated he was well over six feet, maybe two hundred pounds, or a bit more, with dark hair. His eyes were a striking blue, and they seemed to appraise everything and everyone with the deadly menace of a tiger seeking prey.
The man had seemed pretty calm and collected when Johnny first introduced them in his rented condo. But she had questions, and plenty of them, and she wasn’t going to let him sidetrack her. She’d get answers, and if she didn’t like them, if everything didn’t seem like it was straight on the up-and-up, she’d put this dude in handcuffs and haul him downtown for interrogation.
* * *
Seated on the couch in