Page 93 of Chasing Grace
“Take his guns and empty his pockets.”
Adam allowed Kaminski to strip him of both forties, both phones, and his wallet. Taking the seat Bodak waved him to, he watched as Kaminski dropped the confiscated hardware into the bar sink at the front of the cabin.
Backing away from the bigger man, Bodak positioned himself so that he could keep them both in sight. “Now you,” he said, pointing to Kaminski’s concealed weapon with a thrust of his chin. “No fast moves.”
Despite the warning, Adam could tell by Kaminski’s calculating expression the hired gun had done the math, and it didn’t add up. Two plus one left one too many. Leaving them both alive would be too big a risk for Bodak to take. Just a matter of time before the prick came to the same conclusion. Considering Adam wore the fancy jewelry, it didn’t take much to figure out who the spare was.
With the slightest of headshakes, Adam tried to change Kaminski’s mind. Given the proximity of the two shooters, attempting a quick draw invited trouble. Bodak might be slow on the uptake, but he had the distinct advantage of having his weapon pointed, safety off, his finger on the trigger. Most days, it didn’t take much to distract the son of a bitch. Better to wait for the opportune moment.
The gunshot that followed barely registered in the confined space of the airplane. Regardless, the sound echoed in Adam’s ears like a harbinger of death. And no question. Rich Kaminski was dying.
He sank to his knees in front of the bar, and unable to defy gravity, immediately fell to his side. His back pressed against the cabinet doors, blood soaked the carpet beneath him. His weapon lay by his side, his attempt on Bodak thwarted by a bullet to the chest.
The entry wound a small insubstantial hole; it was the exit wound they couldn’t see relieving Rich Kaminski of his blood supply. The dying man kept his focus on Adam as his life ebbed.
In the end, his eyes remained open, their last message clear.Take care of my family.Adam hoped Kaminski found some comfort in the single nod directed at him before he passed. It was the best he could do for the moment.
Bodak used the toe of his loafer to slide Kaminski’s gun into the washroom, and keeping Adam in sight, he closed the door with enough force to shake the wall. Next, he plucked the handset located by the cockpit door. “Change of plans, we’re putting down in Savannah.”
An exchange followed, and Bodak barked, “I don’t give a flying fuck what it takes or how much. Put this plane in the air, now. I want to be on the tarmac in Savannah in two hours. We clear?”
Getting the answer he wanted, Bodak nodded and hung up. He passed by Kaminski without glancing at the dead man and settled himself into the chair opposite Adam. Comfortably sitting in large leather recliners, a small waist-high table between them, Bodak kept his weapon trained on Adam as they taxied to the runway for takeoff.
After a ninety-degree turn and a brief pause, the pilots accelerated. In seconds, the jet took to the air. Ignoring Bodak’s smug expression, Adam watched the lights of New Jersey shrink as the plane climbed into the night sky. When he could no longer tell where he was according to the landmarks, he checked his watch—ten past eight. He had two hours to decide on his next move.
Figuring shit out? Not a problem. His silence would have Victor Bodak squealing like a pig in a noose before they reached cruising altitude.
Killing the little prick? Also, not a problem. The trigger finger on his right hand twitched twice. Yeah. When the time arrived, he’d take a great deal of pleasure in wiping Bodak’s satisfied smile right off his face.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
By the timeChase had the van doing sixty in a residential zone, Jay had the situation analyzed. “Backers know about the money,” he said, turning up the volume on the police scanner before pulling out his secure phone.
Taking a sharp left, Chase checked the rearview and punched the gas. “I’m guessing they want it back.” He had to raise his voice over the dispatcher. The radio had gone nuts, with multiple voices filling the airwaves. According to the ten codes tossed out, someone important was dead, and the police were looking for an active shooter in Washington’s first district.
“Johnson’s scrambling to cover his ass.” Stabbing the screen and putting the phone to his ear, Jay shot him a look that flickered under the passing streetlights.
Chase nodded. He didn’t need the smart guy to draw him a picture. He knew what it meant. Johnson’s backers wanted Jay alive. At least until they got their billions back. The rest of them were a threat to eliminate. It explained the single round fired during Chase’s getaway. The shooters weren’t about to chance a stray bullet hitting the one man capable of returning their fortune.
Doing a quick shoulder check, Chase crossed over two lanes of traffic to take the highway on-ramp. The dark blue sedan following them kept pace. On the other side of the median, two cruisers screamed past them, going in the opposite direction, lights and sirens moving the slower traffic out of the way.
“Colonel’s not picking up.”
“Sound the retreat,” Chase said. “Tell the colonel to meet us at Hyde Field. If Z says it’s safe, we’ll rendezvous with the rest at the new base.”
“On it.”
“And tell Tak to scoop Gray. I don’t care if she’s not ready to go.”
“They’re your balls,” Jay mumbled, his two-thumbed typing faster than Chase’s driving.
Well past rush hour, traffic heading out of the city stayed light, but with the needle buried, the van had maxed out at one-twenty. The suits in the four-door had no trouble keeping up.
“What’s our play?” Looking over his shoulder, Jay dropped his phone into the center console as Chase’s started to vibrate against his leg.
“How’s your shooting these days?” Usually able to hit what he aimed at, Jay was technically qualified to carry a gun. Although his occasional lack of precision caused the odd problem. A junior boxing champion, Jay had a killer left hook, and Chase would much rather have him cover his back in a bar fight than a shootout.
Pulling his Glock, he flipped the safety. “Am I aiming for tires?”
