Driven (24 page)

Gavin didn’t answer. He watched Krogan, who was knocking over cameramen on his way to the sideline. The psycho was headed
for the field and anyone who got in his way was instantly smashed to the ground. So enraged that he felt beyond sanity, Gavin
did the
unthinkable—the unfathomable—for such a place as Giants Stadium. He pointed his gun at Krogan. If Krogan went out onto the
field, maybe Gavin could get off a clean shot. Hopefully the bullet would not kill him. He sighted on his target…

A hand came from Gavin’s side and seized his arm, pushing his gun into the air. “Snap out of it, man. You’re going to get
someone killed and start a panic. He can’t get outta here without running into us. We’ll get him,” a New Jersey cop said.

Almost in a daze, Gavin looked at the cop in disbelief, then back at Krogan.

Krogan had broken out onto the field while a play was already in progress. The Bears had the ball and one of their running
backs had broken into the secondary and was headed for the end zone with nobody left to stop him. Krogan, whom everyone had
expected to try to escape, was now trying to tackle that running back.

Watching the scene, Gavin was reminded of the graphic scenes Karianne had spoken of—tales of the Roman coliseums and the delight
Krogan had exhibited as he publicly murdered helpless Christians, running them down with a chariot. Was Krogan now taking
a time-out from his escape to relive an old thrill, or was this part of the escape?

Down on the field, the football player had seen Krogan coming and now held out his arm to stop him. Krogan hit him so hard
the entire stadium recoiled on impact. Krogan then scooped up the fumbled ball, leaving the Bears’ number thirty-one motionless,
face down in the turf. As he ran through the end zone, two security guards leaped before him. Krogan rifled the football into
one face, then lowered his shoulder and rammed the other. Then he disappeared into the service tunnel.

A moment later Gavin found himself running through curved corridors and down stairways until he was in the service tunnel.
There, security guards were tending to the broken bodies of the ones who were supposed to have stopped Krogan.

The killer was gone.

A
my came back into Amber’s room with a glass of orange juice. Amber was sitting up in bed; no one else was there. Earlier,
Dr. Fagan had given Amber a clean bill of health but told her she was going to have to remain in the hospital for at least
the rest of the week for precautionary observations.

“Thanks, sis,”Amber said as she took the juice. She sipped, then set it on the table next to three open tissue boxes. On the
floor next to the table was a trashcan half full of used tissues. Scattered around it were others that had missed the basket.

Amy snuggled up next to Amber and put her arm around her. Amber melted into her loving sister’s embrace and Amy squeezed her
hard enough to assure her sister she still wanted to be there, even after spending all last night in that same position. As
far as Amy was concerned, she was going to remain there until her sister was released.

As exhausted as Amy had been, her night’s sleep had been interrupted constantly, haunted by her sister’s grieving moans as
she relived memories of happier times. At each gut-cramping groan,
Amy’s mind was tortured afresh with her own memories of her brother-in-law.

Grief was not the only thing to blame for Amy’s lack of sleep. There was also fear—a living, growing, nagging fear brought
on by Buck’s explanation of who or what Krogan was. Amy could not comprehend why Gavin wouldn’t at least consider Buck’s story
a possibility. She had determined, though, that his opinion was not going to blind her. As far as she was concerned, Katz
was probably wrong and Buck was probably right. She wished it were the other way around, but she was not going to hide from
what she believed to be the truth just because she preferred the convenience of reincarnation over demonic possession. Truth
was truth and she was not going to believe that grass was violet just because violet was a prettier color than green. Grass
was green and Krogan was a demon.

Thinking of Gavin made Amy want to tell Amber about him— how close she felt to him and how she wanted to get to know him more.
But she didn’t dare—not with her twin hurting so. Hopefully someday soon.

“When they let you out of here, you’ll move in with me for a while,” she said to Amber.

“Amy, I can’t. I need to—”

“You need to do nothing. And I need to know you’re all right. You’ll move in with me where I can keep my eyes on you and that’s
final. I need that.”

Amber’s swollen red eyes filled with fresh tears as she held Amy tightly. Amy closed her eyes and rested her head against
the propped up pillow. Her hand found Amber’s black hair and stroked it gently while her mind drifted again to Gavin. She
wondered where he was. She appreciated his respect and patience in not interviewing Amber, but she found she missed him. She
glanced over at the phone, wanting to hear his voice. But, no, this was Amber’s
time. Everything and everyone else would have to wait, including Gavin. And Krogan.

Amy’s parents quietly entered the room, apparently wondering if the girls were asleep. Amy saw them, but didn’t say anything.
Even simple hellos seemed somehow inappropriate now. Both parents silently kissed their children, then took seats without
a word. There was nothing that could be said and no questions that couldn’t be answered with one look at Amber in a near fetal
position, holding Amy near.

The food cart appeared in front of a young woman in a red-and-white-striped uniform. She smiled silently and placed Amber’s
covered dinner on the mobile bed tray. “I’ll just leave it here,” she whispered, apparently thinking better of disturbing
anyone.

“Come on, Amber,” Amy said, pulling the tray over the bed. “Whether you want to or not, you have to eat.”

“I don’t think I can,” Amber said. She unwrapped herself from her sister and sat up.

“Well, we’re going to try,” Amy said, pulling the cover off the plate to reveal steamed chicken, carrots, mashed potatoes,
and apple juice, with one cube of jiggling red gelatin for dessert. The meal did nothing to stir Amy’s appetite, and she was
sure Amber was likewise unenthused.

“Okay!” Amy said, stabbing a small carrot and bringing it to her sister’s mouth. Amber obliged, chewed, then curled her lip
slightly. “Tastes like nothing,” she said.

“That’s okay. You have to get your body used to food again. Next week at this time we’ll be eating a lobster dinner together.”

“Lobster?” Amber said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Why? You’ve always loved lobster.”

Amber shook her head slowly. “Not anymore. I saw this crazy guy tear a live lobster in half and eat it right in front of me.
It was
the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t even think of a lobster without seeing his face.”

Amy smiled to hear her sister talking about something other than her husband’s death. “And when was this?” she said, trying
to stimulate the conversation further.

“It was the morning before the crash. Some lobster fisherman. We got too close to the back of his boat while he was pulling
up traps. He was furious, although we hadn’t done any harm. Mitchell just wasn’t used to handling such a large boat. Mitchell
… Oh, Amy. I want Mitchell back,” she cried.

Amy cradled her sister’s tear-swollen face on her shoulder, thinking about what Amber had just said. She frowned. “You came
too close to the back of a boat?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you see a name on the boat?” Amy asked as calmly as she could manage, although she suddenly felt like shouting.

“Oh, what was it? I was staring right at it for what seemed like an eternity, and now I—”

“Try Amber,” Amy said sharply, drawing frowns from her parents.

“Shanghai… Shangri-La… Shha—”

“
Shadahd?
” Amy finally said, much louder than she’d meant to.

“Yeah! That was it.
Shadahd.
”

Amy had to leave. She didn’t quite know yet what she was going to do, but she knew she had to move. She was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Amber said as Amy slid off the bed.

“I… I need to—” She was about to say “make a call” but realized she didn’t want Amber to overhear the conversation. What
would happen to Amber if she suddenly realized her grossed-out lobster fisherman was the man who’d killed her husband, simply
for sailing too close to his boat? “—talk to Gavin’s partner, Chris Grella,” she said to three frowning faces. “I’ll be right
back.”

A
my forced herself to walk calmly until she was out the door. Then she ran to Chris’s room, almost sliding by his doorway as
she tried to stop on the freshly waxed floor. Inside, she found Chris watching football. She started to tell him about the
lobster boat, then realized she could not. What if Chris called the police and they found and killed Krogan before Gavin could
insist they capture him? If there really was a demon, it would be freed.

“Age and treachery always win over youth and zeal,” she said to herself, quoting another of her sayings. Not this time. Krogan
had had a millennia’s worth of age and treachery. And she still had the element of surprise.

“Hello, earth to Amy,” Chris was saying as he waved his hand. He turned back to the TV set.

Amy blinked. “How are you, Chris?” she said, wishing she had simply used the cell phone in her handbag back in Amber’s room.

“I’d be a lot better if Gavin would return my page,” he said. “I’ve beeped him three times.”

“Why don’t you call his cell phone? Maybe he’s left his beeper at home.”

“Actually, he left his cell phone home. That’s the problem. The last time I spoke to him was almost two hours ago. I think
he went to Giants Stadium to find Krogan. And from what I just saw on TV, I think he found him.”

“What?”

“When he called me before, I joked that Karianne couldn’t find
her ticket because Krogan probably stole it. The next thing I knew, Gavin was gone. It wasn’t until I hung up that I realized
how much sense it made. Then,” Chris said, pointing to the TV, “halfway through the fourth quarter this big, blond maniac
stops the game by running onto the field and tackling the Bears’ running back. What a hit he laid on the guy! The game stopped
for almost fifteen minutes while they got the guy back on his feet and sorted out all the confusion.”

“Did they catch him?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out. I called headquarters, but they don’t know anything. I called the stadium, but
they’re not talking. And I can’t get Gavin to call me back. My money says Gavin flushed him out onto the field somehow.”

“So maybe they’ve got him.”

“I don’t know. The blimp showed a lot of activity outside the stadium and the announcers were all asking the same thing, which
makes me doubt they did. I wish I could get out of here.”

“You stay where you are,”Amy commanded. “If Gavin calls you, tell him to call me on my cell phone.” She turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Chris asked.

“Fishing.”

A
my parked her father’s car at the Hempstead Harbor Marina under the only shade tree she could find and exhaled nervously.
She didn’t know if the butterflies in her stomach were more from excitement or terror. Her father hadn’t been happy about
giving her the keys without her telling him where she was going, but he finally did at her promise it was urgent and that
she would bring it back before visiting hours were over. She had stopped at her house in order to confirm the
Shadahd
’s registration. She had also tapped into the county’s system to see where the boat was docked. She found a commercial boat
named
Shadahd
was owned by a Karl Dengler and was docked at the Hempstead Harbor Marina. She changed into cut-off shorts and transferred
what she wanted from her handbag to a fanny pack, trying to look like she belonged by the boats.

Before getting out of the car, she paged Gavin with her cell phone number. She knew Chris had tried unsuccessfully to get
him, but maybe he’d been busy and figured he could call Chris later. Maybe if he saw her number he would respond faster. She
liked to think so.

She took another deep breath, exhaled, and got out of the car. Act natural. Casual. Relax. She had taken no more than a few
steps when a mussel smashed onto the blacktop before her. She gasped, jumping back, then relaxed as a seagull swooped down
and snagged the now cracked open morsel of tasty food and flew off. She frowned, angry at her jitters. What was there to be
afraid of anyway?
The sun was shining, people were fishing on the pier, the beach was lined with sunbathers, and a not-so-small crowd was watching
a man attach the wings on some kind of strange-looking seaplane. She wondered if he was the same guy Gavin had told her about.

Enough of this nonsense. Back to the original plan. Relax. Just another day. Walk down to the boat slips like an owner or
at least a friend of an owner.

Before taking the ramp to the slips a good eight feet below, she surveyed the boats. She was no expert, but the three large,
commercial-looking gray crafts at the end of the dock did not blend in very well with the spit-and-polish pleasure fleet that
occupied the rest of the marina. She exhaled once again and walked on.

The bottom of the ramp was on wheels in order to adjust with the tides; judging from where the wheels were now, it was high
tide. She wasn’t sure what type of hours fishermen kept, but it was after five on a Sunday. She passed a couple of young men
hosing off fishing rods. They paused to smile at her. She returned their smile and, seeing a large cooler full of iced-up
fish, gave them a thumbs-up. See? She belonged there. Fish were cool.

“Want one? We’ve got plenty,” said one of them.

“Yeah,” said the other, the water from the hose he was holding now going into their boat.

“Uh, no thanks,” she said as she continued, feeling a little more like she was in her environment.

So far so good. As she neared the fishing boats she could see piles of lobster traps on the dock next to them. She also could
now see they weren’t actually in slips, but tied to the dock’s side. She walked by the first one and looked at the name on
the stern.

“
Bass Ackwards,
” she said to herself. Cute. About sixty feet later she came to the stern of the second boat. “
Osprey,
” she read.

The last boat was the largest by about 50 percent. She paused at
the bow and touched the cold, gray hull. She wondered if there was anything evil and unseen guarding it for Krogan. Maybe
Krogan was getting a vision of her right now. She knew so little about what Buck had told them that she now found herself
stirring up fears from old ghost and horror stories. Keep moving.

A little further down the bow, she came to a small porthole. She glanced over her shoulder to see if there was anyone watching.
Nobody, not even the two young fishermen. Carefully she cupped the light away from her eyes and peeked in through the dirty
glass. The interior was spacious enough, but half full of junk haphazardly strewn about. Frayed netting, broken pieces of
algae-soiled Styrofoam buoys, various sizes of rusted chain, a gross-looking mattress propped up on bent lobster traps… and
a shotgun next to the mattress.

Amy left the porthole and casually walked past the stern to the end of the dock, paused, and walked back. There was something
about seeing the ancient word spelled out in bold black letters that sent a shiver through her body.
Shadahd.
She wondered if the man, Karl Dengler, even knew what the word meant. On second thought, he probably did. Maybe more than
she. Maybe even more than Buck.

She continued back toward the pleasure boats. Mission accomplished. Now she could tell Gavin and the police could lay a trap
for the killer. She didn’t know what, but Gavin would figure something out. She was sure they could easily wait until he was
on the boat, then bust out of the woodwork and surround him. Eventually he would have to come out. If they got impatient they
could use some tear gas or something. There would be so many police here they could even pick up the boat and carry it to
jail, she joked to herself, feeling better.

But what if Gavin didn’t care about taking him alive? He hadn’t
believed a word of what Buck said. He had told Buck he would give Krogan two seconds to give up and then shoot.

The shotgun. She stopped as the thought hit her. If Krogan had a shotgun, someone was going to get shot.

Not
someone.
Gavin was going to get shot.

Without thinking, she turned and ran back. Going into the boat was insane, but so was leaving the weapon for a monster who
couldn’t care less about killing. She made up her mind. Taking one quick look around, she hopped over the side of the boat,
crouching, crawling, moving quickly like a crab to the cabin door. There was a padlock, but it wasn’t latched, apparently
used only to keep the door closed. She reached up and slipped the lock out of the loop, then placed it on the floor. A moment
later, she was inside, sliding the door closed behind her.

Inside she gasped and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. It didn’t help. The place was hot enough to bake bread and
smelled like dead fish. To her right was the steering wheel and controls. Straight ahead was a small stairway that led down
into the bow, where the gun was. With no time to waste, she scurried down the stairs, almost slipping on empty liquor bottles.
There was a garbage can, but it was full to spilling over. What a pig, she thought. How did he ever get a boat like this in
the first place?

The shotgun was leaning on the stained mattress. Amy’s arms were beaded with sweat and her shirt was starting to stick. She
didn’t want to touch anything, for fear of contracting some lethal disease from whatever toxic and viral strains were mutating
in the filth around her. The first thing she was going to do after tossing the gun into the water was go home, throw her clothes
in the garbage can, and take a long, hot shower. On second thought, she would go for a swim before even getting back into
the car.

She took a step and, balancing on one leg, reached over to retrieve the gun without touching anything else. As she touched
the
barrel, her cell phone rang. She gasped, the noise startling her back onto two legs. She quickly unzipped her fanny pack as
it rang again, the noise alarmingly loud.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly, trying to look through the slimy porthole to see if anyone was coming.

“Hi! Are you alright?”

“Gavin!” She was relieved to hear his voice.

“I got your page, but I didn’t have my phone. I just stopped home on my way to Karianne’s. You’re not going to believe what’s
been happening.”

“Neither are you,” she said.

“Yeah, well top this: I said the word ‘Sabah’ to Karianne when she was under hypnosis—”

“Buck told us not to do that.”

“Uh, well, anyway, she nearly killed Steinman, Katz, and me with her bare hands. Fortunately we were able to tranquilize her.
Then—”

“You found Krogan at Giants Stadium?”

“How did you know?”

“Chris saw it on TV, with the rest of the world.”

“Chris… I have to call him.”

“Now my turn,” Amy said, anxious to hear his surprised reaction. “I’m inside a lobster boat named, get this,
Shadahd.
”

“What?”

“Krogan is really Karl Dengler and he’s a lobster fisherman. An endless supply of lobster claws.”

“Amy! Get out of there! Now!”

She held the phone away from her ear. “Believe me, that is exactly what I’m going to do as soon as I get this shotgun and—”

“Where are you?” Gavin screamed.

“Hempstead Harbor Marina. Gavin, he was right here under our noses all the time and we di—”

The phone was grabbed from her hand a split second before she crashed headlong into a tangled pile of netting, then rolled
onto a rusted chain and barnacle-encrusted anchor.

“Hello, pretty girl.”