Batman sped toward the bridge, knowing the guardrail couldn’t hold his police cruiser that was traveling at over ninety miles-an-hour. He would not allow the enemy to capture him-his message would be crushed by their propaganda, which would label him as a ranting lunatic. He was in control of the ending.
He looked at the whimpering Maloney, slumped in the passenger seat. His face was ashen and paralyzed with fear. In his last moments he should have been thinking of those whose lives he helped destroy, but in the end he only begged for his own life.
Batman took one final glance into the mirror. He noticed the FBI van gaining speed. But he knew they would never catch him
Chapter 90
My speedometer hit triple digits-everything was a blur. I’d driven Zycko hundreds of times in my life, but I’d never seen it in fast-forward. My familiarity with every nook and cranny was the only thing keeping me alive.
“I thought I told you to back off!” Benson’s angry voice filled my car.
By the irritation in his voice, I knew the moment of truth was upon us. The intrusion of the van into his plan had struck a nerve.
“For Gwen to live, you need me, Warner-so you better come to your senses
But there was something different about the answer. Every previous response was measured and scripted. But this one was different. It was as if he were improvising. And then it hit me-he was stalling for time, just as I was doing. And I knew why. He needed time to end this on his own terms. I pressed on the accelerator.
Hawkins shouted into my phone, “We have everything we need now to take Benson down. I’m moving the van forward and going in. Consider me back in charge.”
I set down the phone, ignoring Hawkins. No threat of his could match Benson’s threat to Gwen’s life.
“Where is she? Tell me where Gwen is!” I shouted into the receiver.
“Back the van off. I see you getting closer!”
Clarisse regained control of the phone. “JP, he’s headed for the bridge. He’s going too fast-we’ll never catch him. I think he’s going over the edge!”
Benson ended our interview, “I bid you farewell. I’m sorry, Warner. I lied about giving you Gwen’s location- but don’t worry, she won’t die alone, like your brother. Your enabler Jeff Carter will die with her.”
“You’re a sick bastard.”
“History will be the judge of that. And since you will be the one writing the final story, it will be up to you how I’m portrayed. My only hope is that you mention that Noah was the most satisfying, because his crime was not against a stranger, but against someone he claimed to love-someone who trusted him, yet he betrayed that trust.”
Benson shut off his radio. The silence on the other end was the worst sound I’d ever heard.
Samerauk Bridge was now in my sights. As I sped toward it, I pictured Noah falling on the rocks below. I was tempted to let Benson go over with Maloney.
Benson’s police car entered my radar, speeding in the opposite direction, and careening for the guardrail. I thought of my mother telling me it was just a matter of time for me. I thought of the bedroom she kept the same, knowing her son would certainly die a premature death. I thought of Gwen, and was glad we got one last chance to make things right.
But most of all, I couldn’t believe I was about to sacrifice my life to try to save Bobby Maloney’s sorry ass. I turned my headlights off and shot toward the bridge.
I heard Agent Johnson screaming into the cell phone, “He’s really going to do it, JP-he’s going over the side!
I made a mad dash across the bridge and beat Benson to the spot like a player taking a charge in a basketball game. Metal smashed on high-speed metal. I had spent a career avoiding gunfire and car bombs, but as Carter always said, the last one always hits you.
My luck had run out.
Chapter 91
When Benson’s car hit mine, it took off like a plane and shot over my vehicle, flipping in the air. My car hit the road with a thud, skidded over the bridge, and shooting sparks everywhere. It came to a stop about two hundred feet down the road, sounding like a train wreck. Maybe looking worse than one.
My car was crushed like an accordion. I checked myself to make sure I was still of the living. It was inconclusive. But if I was dead, death sure was painful. I pushed the airbag out of the way and climbed out of a hole that was ripped in the side of the car.
My adrenaline pulled me toward Benson, but my body was not cooperating. I fell to the ground, unable to put weight on my leg. It wouldn’t stop me-I was going to get to Benson or die trying. If I had two minutes left on the planet, I would use every remaining second to find Gwen.
The Martinez Painting van showed up seconds later. They looked stunned to see me still alive, and trying to crawl across the bridge. I was just as shocked.
Clarisse Johnson met me. The other agents ran guns blazing toward what was left of Benson’s squad car.
“Lie still,” she instructed.
Taking orders wasn’t really my thing. I tried to get to my feet again, before falling down and coughing up blood. I was not a pretty sight.
“JP, I need you to remain still so I can check you out.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other agents surrounding Benson’s demolished car. He was now out of the mangled steel and holding a gun at the head of his hostage-Bobby Maloney. We were right back where we started, except for a few additional broken bones and hurt feelings.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“That’s what Noah’s girlfriend thought,” Agent Johnson tried to sober me. It worked, but didn’t stop me.
The whole thing was happening in slow motion. “Help me to him. Hawkins will get Maloney killed,” I said. And more importantly … Gwen.
I must have been really convincing, because she agreed to assist my insanity. I draped one arm around her shoulders and hopped on my one remaining good leg.
“Get him out of here,” Hawkins yelled at the first sight of me.
“Warner stays or Maloney dies,” Benson shouted out, and we momentarily became teammates. Benson looked even more surprised to be alive than I was. But unlike myself, he looked like he didn’t want to be.
I knew Benson wasn’t stupid enough to think holding Maloney would keep him from an onslaught of FBI bullets. I had to get to Benson before he killed himself, or got himself killed … whichever came first.
Rich Tolland met me with concern. “Are you okay, JP?”
I repaid him by stealing his gun away from him. Before he could try to regain it, I was aiming at Benson’s face, ready to fire. “Where is Gwen!?”
“Put the gun down or I kill Maloney,” Benson fired back.
“Shoot him and get it over with. This is between you and me, Benson, and he’s getting in the way!”
The FBI agents all looked at each other-not sure what to do. They didn’t teach JP Warner at Quantico.
Maloney met the statement by throwing up. It was always harder to die the second time in a night.
“Where is Gwen?” I asked again.
Benson just smiled, which worried me.
Time was running out. I had to do something, so I fired the gun. The blast echoed off the river below, and also pierced Benson’s right shoulder. The surprising shot caused mass confusion, allowing Maloney to get out of his
