Black Pawn (Michael Cailen Book 1) (13 page)

After retrieving their stuff from the motel and dropping it
at Josh's, Michael headed to the hideout.  The drive was long, giving him
plenty of time with his thoughts.  What he kept thinking about was Jessica. 
Josh was right, he was in trouble.  He couldn't think straight when it came to
her.  She influenced him too easily, even without her knowing it.

Exiting the highway, he drove the back roads to the old
warehouse.   He was nearly there when his phone rang.  It was Brook's number. 
Trying to decide whether or not he had the patience to talk to her, he looked
up and realized he had strayed and was about to go off the road.  He quickly
jerked the wheel to compensate as something flew through the windshield and
into his upper chest near his left shoulder.  It was a bullet.  In an instant,
he knew what was happening.  He was in the cross hairs of a sniper.

If he hadn't jerked the wheel when he did the bullet would
have gone straight through his heart.  He was about to turn around when another
bullet shattered his back window, flew past his head and through the
windshield.  Another sniper covered his only way of retreat.

He accelerated quickly, trying not to drive in a straight
line.  More shots rang out and one of the bullets grazed his left arm.  Things
looked bad.

With the pedal to the floor, he was fast approaching the old
warehouse.  When he got close he didn't slow down.  The back side window
shattered.  Someone popped out from behind the warehouse with an assault rifle
and started firing at the truck.  Michael aimed for the water and ducked down
as the bullets destroyed what was left of the windshield.  The man kept firing
on the truck as it flew off the edge of the dock and crashed into the water.

Michael quickly unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his
phone from off the passenger side floor as the truck filled with water.  He
couldn't let them get that phone.

The truck turned sideways as it filled with water.  Michael
was trying to keep his bearings.  Since he wouldn't be able to emerge from the
water if he wanted to live, he took quick deep breaths of air while he still
had some.  The truck was completely submerged within minutes.  Swimming out the
shattered passenger window, he headed toward the dock.  The saltwater
intensified the agonizing pain in his chest and arm.

He reached the dock, quickly finding the rope that held his
diving equipment.  He grabbed his regulator while turning on his air tanks. 
Soon, he was getting some much-needed oxygen.  Putting on his goggles, he cut
the rope that held the rest of his equipment.  He put the tanks on his back
despite the excruciating pain they caused.  The strap crossed right over his
bullet wound, but it would be easier to swim and he needed his hands free.  He
swam towards the stash of watertight suitcases he kept under water.  This would
be his only chance to retrieve them.  They were sure to search the channel to
confirm his death.

Soon he was at a large net filled with six watertight
containers of varying sizes.  The net was tied to an anchor so as not to get
swept away with the current.  He cut the rope and grabbed the net.

He began swimming down the channel.  Once he was far enough
away to not be spotted he surfaced.  No one was around.  He was in torturous
pain from the bullet in his shoulder and his left arm stung where the bullet
grazed him.  He felt cold and didn't know if it was from blood loss or the
water.  He needed to find shelter quickly.

He swam further down to a dock he had scoped out months
before.  It was deserted and should be safe for him to get on dry land there. 
By the time he got to the dock, he felt like he could just collapse.  He threw
his diving equipment on the dock and then hoisted himself up.  He pulled the
net out of the water with the last of his strength and then collapsed.  After
resting for a few minutes, he dug into the net, grabbing one of the boxes with
a red cross on it.  He gave himself a shot of morphine.  Just enough to take
the edge off.  He needed to stay alert.

He dragged his equipment and containers off the dock and
into an old dilapidated storage shed nearby.  Inside an old rusted toolbox in
the corner sat a prepaid cell phone he had placed there months earlier.  He put
the battery in and prayed it still had life.  It did.  He just needed to make
one call, if it could last that long.

“Josh ... It's me. I got a problem.”

Josh could tell something was terribly wrong.  Michael gave
him a rundown of what just occurred and where he was.

“Don't bring your car.  Steal one.  Park far away and come
on foot.  I can walk.  I'm gonna need help with the bullet.  And for God's sake,
don't bring Jessica.”  His voice was weak and he had to take frequent breaks to
catch his breath.

“Alright, buddy.  I'll be there in a bit.”  He acted chipper
so Jessica wouldn't catch wind that something was wrong.  He turned to her
sitting on the couch looking at him. “A friend of mine is in a bind and needs
my help.  I'll be back in a bit.  Stay inside and don't answer the door.”

“You're leaving me?”  She stood looking worried.

“Don't worry.  This is a nice neighborhood, no one is going
to bother you.”  He handed her a handgun. “Just in case.”

She watched in surprise and disbelief as he walked out the
door, leaving her alone.

JOSH MANAGED
to jack a car with a radar detector.  He
made it to Michael in record time, just over an hour.  Following Michael's
directions, he parked and went the rest of the way on foot.   A dirt road led
to the dock, but was so badly neglected you almost couldn't even tell it was
there.  Josh stayed in the woods just off the road making his way to the
storage shed.

When the shed came in view, he pulled his gun out and cocked
it.  There wasn't a soul in sight.  He crept up to the shed and pressed his
body along the wall by the door.  He raised his gun and slowly opened the
door.  He was greeted by Michael pointing a gun at him.

“Hey buddy,” Josh greeted him.

Michael dropped his weapon and rested his head against the
side of the shed.  Josh stowed his gun and stepped in.  The light coming in the
open door was enough to see Michael was in bad shape.  Tired and weak, he was
holding a bandage on his chest next to his shoulder and his left arm was still
bleeding.

Josh knelt in front of him. “Let me see.”  He peeled the
bandage away.  The bullet went in on an angle and was lodged deep in the muscle
tissue.  “You sure you want to do this here?”

Michael nodded his head.

Josh picked through the med kit, pulling out morphine,
pliers, a scalpel, saline rinse and alcohol.

“I'm gonna dope you up so it won't be so bad.”

“Not too much, I still need to walk out of here.”

Josh gave Michael some more morphine and then used the
alcohol to clean off the scalpel and pliers.  Pulling his knife from his pocket,
he cut off Michael's shirt.  Michael was trying to prepare himself for what was
going to happen next.  His eyes closed, he tried to think of something else. 
He pictured Jessica smiling and laughing as Josh rinsed the wound with the
saline.  He imagined seeing her again and feeling her in his arms as Josh made
a small incision to make the hole bigger.  He was trying to hear her laugh as
Josh dug in with the pliers to retrieve the bullet.  He groaned as the pain
became unbearable.

“Almost got it, Michael.”

Just when he thought he would pass out from the pain, Josh
pulled the bullet out.  Michael breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  Josh rinsed
the wound again then grabbed the suture kit.  Michael dreaded the next part
almost as much as the last.  Josh endured Michael's cursing and yelling as he
stitched up his wounds.  He finished, applying antiseptic and bandages.  They
sat for a minute so Michael could recover.

“I knew I should have pulled everything when we left,” 
Michael lamented.  “I went back to her apartment too many times.  I should have
ditched the truck.”

“Well the thing about the past Michael, is while you can't
change it, you can learn from it.”

Michael smirked. “You always were the deep thinker.”

“So what are we going to tell Jessica?” Josh asked.

“Do we have to tell her?”

“Nah, we'll just tell her that hole has always been there.”

Michael laughed even though it hurt.  He knew Jessica was
going to have a fit, but there was no way he could hide it from her.

Josh helped him up and then grabbed his equipment.  Michael
grabbed the lighter items and they headed to the stolen car.  Josh pulled a
jacket from the back seat and handed it to Michael.  They loaded the car and
started on the drive back.

“We should ditch the car,” said Michael.  “There's a movie
theater nearby.  They don't have any cameras in the parking lot.  We can swap
with someone who's going in to see a movie.  We'll be done with it and ditch it
before it's even reported stolen.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They snatched a Jetta from a young guy who just entered the
theater.  They transferred all the stuff over and Josh wiped down the car they
were leaving so there wouldn't be any prints.  They took off in the Jetta,
headed back to Boston.

Jessica was beside herself.  Josh had left her and Michael
wasn't back yet.  He was late and she was sick with worry.  She had no way of
reaching either of them.  She felt helpless as she paced Josh's apartment.

She heard keys rattling at the door and it swung open. 
There was Michael.

“Oh, thank God.  Where have you been?”  She ran towards
him.  As she got closer she saw Josh behind him and then noticed he was wearing
a jacket but no shirt.  His pants were wet.  “What happened?”

“I'm fine.”  He stepped aside so Josh could come in with the
equipment.  Josh set the stuff down by the door and then went back for the
rest.

“I asked you what happened,” she said, not accepting his
brush off.

“They found the hideout.  They were waiting for me.”

Josh dropped the rest of the stuff by the door then left to
take care of the stolen car.

Jessica stood there in shock and horror.  “Are you hurt?” 
She reached out and touched his arm right where the bullet grazed him.  He
winced and quickly pulled away.  “I'm fine,” he said again.  “It's nothing.”

“How bad is it?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Come here.”  He gestured for her. “Just stay away from my
left side,” he said as he wrapped his right arm around her.

She slid her arms around him and placed her head against his
chest.  She was glad he was alive, but worried that they had found the hideout
and that they would find them here too.

“Let's get you out of these wet clothes,” she suggested.  He
just grunted and headed off to the bedroom as Jessica dug through the bags by
the door for some dry clothes.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed and fell backwards.  He
closed his eyes and rested.  The bed felt good.  Jessica came in with some dry
clothes and placed them on the bed next to him.   She knelt to remove his boots
and wet socks.  When she stood, it looked like Michael had passed out.  She
unbuckled his pants and unzipped them.  He didn't move.  She leaned over his
face and touched his cheek.

“Michael,” she whispered.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her.

“You have to stand up.  I'm not that strong,” she smiled.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before slowly
dragging himself off the bed.  Jessica helped him remove his pants and boxers
and get into some dry sweatpants.  He sat back down on the edge of the bed and
unzipped the jacket he was still wearing.  She helped him get it off and tried
not to cry when she saw the bloody bandages.  She had picked out a t-shirt, but
Michael said he didn't need it.  It would hurt too much to put it on and it
would be in the way of changing the bandages.  Moving to the side of the bed,
he lay down and closed his eyes.  Even with the morphine, he was still in pain
and exhausted from his ordeal.

Jessica left the room and walked to the kitchen where she
tried to quietly break down.  She didn't want Michael to hear her.  She wanted
to be strong for him so he wouldn't have to worry about her.  Josh came back
from ditching the stolen car and heard Jessica's quiet sobs from the kitchen.

“He's going to be okay.”

She looked up and saw Josh standing in the archway.  She
nodded and fought back the tears.

“Why don't you go lie down with him,” he suggested.

“I don't want to cry around him.”

He smiled.  “I think he's used to it by now.”

She laughed and nodded her head.  Josh squeezed her shoulder
as she walked past him.  She quietly opened the door to the bedroom.  Michael
looked asleep.  She climbed on the bed and snuggled up beside him.  She put her
hand on his chest and kissed his shoulder as she lay her head on the pillow
next to him.

“Mmm,” he let out a soft moan. “Are you okay?” he asked, his
eyes still closed.

“I'm fine.  Are you okay?”  She was trying not to let her
emotion show through her voice.  It didn't work.

“Better now.”  His breathing was slow and heavy.  “Don't
cry.  I'm going to be just fine.”

Tears were streaming down her face.  “How do you know I'm
crying?”

He grinned. “You're always crying.”

“I know, I'm a mess.” She kissed his shoulder again.  In a
few minutes Michael was asleep.

A TEAM
of divers was sent out to recover Michael's
body.  They searched for two days before giving up.  Either his body had become
free from the truck and pulled out to sea or he wasn't dead.  Morgan assumed he
was still alive.  One of the snipers confirmed he had taken a round, but it was
not a critical hit.  Michael had swerved just as he pulled the trigger.  The
move saved his life.  They were back to square one.

Rick avoided Morgan out of self preservation.  He thought
snipers were the best way to go.  Anything up close and personal and Michael
might have ended up killing all of his men instead of the other way around.  It
would have worked, if he hadn't swerved. 
The man must carry a pocketful of
good luck charms,
Rick thought.  He wondered if maybe he should do the
same.