re not really Moses Grace, are you? Moses was your daddy’s name and Grace was your mama’s. Do you think your parents would be pleased you’re doing all this killing using their names? Looks to me like they were real nice people.”
There was a sharp hitch in Moses’s breath, followed by a violent hacking cough. Finally he managed to say, “Well, well, well. Was that a guess or has our Boy Scout been doing his homework?”
Sherlock gave Savich a thumbs-up and mouthed, Two minutes.
Savich said, “Why don’t I talk while you choke on your own blood, Moses? Your name is Malcolm Gilliam, born in Youngstown, Ohio. You flunked out of engineering school, then spent some time in Canada. You’ve really got to work on that illiterate hillbilly shtick, by the way.”
“You gonna tell me how you found out about me?”
Savich only laughed at him. “You did a good job keeping that mental hospital stretch in Canada to only nine years. How’d you manage that?”
He heard blood and phlegm bubbling up in Moses’s throat. He swallowed convulsively but the bubbling sound remained. “Well, you know, boy, I started taking Xenadrine to lose some weight, and damned if I didn’t start hearing voices. Terrible thing, my lawyers said, terrible thing. But do you know those do-gooder morons still kept me in that damned mental ward for nine years? Nine years I had to play a role and do every damned thing I was told to do! I’ll tell you, it took everything in me to play them right, to give them all the answers they wanted on their idiot tests, but now it’s over, and here I am, boy, your worst nightmare.”
Sherlock whispered to him as Moses spoke, “He’s driving south on Andover. Right now he’s crossing Delancy Street, heading into a residential area. He’s only six blocks from us. Dane, Ben, you guys got that?”
“Who you got with you, boy? About time we finished this chat, anyway. I know how you like to try and get cute triangulating my cell phones even though I beat you every time.”
Savich had to keep him on the line a little longer. “It’s Sherlock, Moses, no one to be afraid of. Besides, we’re old friends, seeing as how you’re Tammy’s granddaddy.”
Moses’s surprise was palpable in the silence. This time Savich could hear a touch of fear in his voice. “
How the hell do you know that?”
“I know all about you, Malcolm. Last time you saw Tammy and Tommy, you gave her a wad of cash, then took off for Canada.”
There was silence, and finally Moses whispered, “You butchered my poor Tommy, and you shot off Tammy’s arm. Only one person left who knew about that—Marva’s little girl, what’s her name? Marilyn. Here I thought she was already dead. Never liked her, whiny little bitch, but Tommy liked to have her around. Well, I’m going to find her, let Claudia have a go at her before I cut her heart out.” The last word caught in a spurting cough.
Savich looked at Sherlock, who whispered, “He’s only a couple of blocks ahead, driving slow.”
“You got Claudia with you? She listening to us?”
“My little cutie’s right here.”
“Is she holding a box of Kleenex for you to catch the blood you’re spewing? Too bad about your tuberculosis, Moses.”
“I’m going to blow up your house, boy, you hear me? I’m going to blow you and your little wife to hell.”
Moses clicked off.
Savich saw the dark blue van at the same time Dane and Ben did. Moses was driving around Jackson Park, a small square dotted with old maple trees, deserted now in the cold winter night. Only a few lights were on in the houses surrounding the square.
Dane whispered into his cell, “We’ve got him dead ahead. Everyone come in silent. Wait for my signal.”
The van suddenly accelerated. They realized they’d been spotted, but it was too late. It was way too late.
“Gotcha, old man.” Savich punched down on the gas, heading straight for the van. Ben and Dane leaned out, fired multiple rounds at the van’s back tires.
Both tires exploded.
Claudia leaned out the passenger window, returned fire.
The van swerved madly, struck a parked Toyota, then bounced off. Moses jumped the curb and turned the van into the park, skimming between two skinny maple trees. The doors flew open and he and Claudia leaped out, carrying what looked like AR-15 assault rifles. They ran in opposite directions through the small park, taking cover behind trees.
FBI vehicles started pulling up all around the park, tires screeching, headlights filling the park with glaring light.
Savich was out of the Volvo, yelling, “Down, everyone down!”
Automatic gunfire from the park sprayed the area in a wide circle. Savich heard a grunt, yelled without hesitation, “Bring them down!”
For a minute the gunfire was intense, blasting into the park from all directions. Savich heard Claudia yell, watched the AR-15 spin out of her arms as she fell to the ground. She tried to crawl away, holding her side.
They were close enough to hear Moses coughing, curses spewing out of his mouth as he fired. There was a brief silence when they heard him slam in another clip, and he fired again. Lights came on in the houses around the square. There were no shadows left anywhere. Claudia hissed out a yell and crawled back to her assault rifle. As she grabbed up the weapon, one of the sharpshooters found her in his sights. There was a loud report as her head exploded and she fell back, dead. The shooting abruptly stopped because Moses was no longer firing and was no longer in view. He wasn’t anywhere.
Savich began to run to where he’d last seen Moses bent nearly double with the force of his coughing, fanning his assault rifle, firing until another clip was empty.
He yelled, “Hold your fire!” He was within six feet of where Moses had stood, saw the spent shells but nothing else. He heard a cough and turned sharply to his left, ran toward it. “I can hear you, Moses. In a second I’ll be able to see you, too. You’re not as good as Tammy was.”
A bullet fired, went wide. Savich saw Moses Grace in the next moment, the assault rifle hanging limply in his hand, bent over, moaning, hacking up blood. A large bloodstain was spreading across his belly. Suddenly a fountain of blood gushed out of his mouth. Savich walked over to him and took the rifle out of his hand. “Everyone can see you now, Moses. It’s over.” Savich yelled over his shoulder, “All clear.”
The old man heaved up more blood. He was covered with it now, streaming down his chin. Savich watched him weave, then fall hard to the ground on his side. He groaned as he rolled over onto his back. His eyes stared straight up, locked onto Savich’s face.
His face twisted as he tried to speak, his bloody chest pulsing in frantic breaths. Savich came down on his knees beside him. His blood-drenched mouth opened, and when Savich leaned down close to him, he tried to spit on him. But he no longer had any breath. If he was still aware of where he was, the last thing he saw was twenty FBI agents standing over him.
Savich felt for a pulse in his neck, then shook his head. For a long moment, he stared down at the mad old wreck of a man.
Jimmy Maitland dropped to his knees beside Savich. “Dear Lord, I didn’t know there was this much blood in a human being. Thank God it’s over. Step away, Savich, he’s infected.”
Mr. Maitland rose, Savich coming up slowly to stand beside him. They watched all the men and women high- fiving each other. Mr. Maitland shouted, “Okay, boys and girls, let’s get this nightmare wrapped up.
”
They could hear sirens in the distance. Mr. Maitland said to Savich, “The media will be here any minute. I hope to God they never find out how you pulled this off. You know what? Even I don’t know how high up the chain of command this one went.” He clapped Savich on the shoulder. Savich grinned at him. “Worked like a charm, didn’t it?”
Ten minutes later, Jimmy Maitland watched the forensic team carefully bag the bodies of Moses Grace and Claudia Smollett. The police cordoned off the area to keep the homeowners away. Men and women tumbled out of media vans, armed with microphones and cameras. Mr. Maitland watched Savich hug Sherlock and help her into the Volvo. Then he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He imagined Savich wincing as he turned the key on that solid car that was a universe away from his Porsche, and smiled. Then he squared his shoulders and turned to deal with the media.
