Dark Ambition (39 page)

Donovan had told Chen that Sherman had made contact with one of these soldiers when he was home on leave. He had spoken to his comrades. All were ready to support Operation Matchstick.

Still, as Chen shivered in the back of the truck, he took the soldiers' silence to mean that they were ambivalent about what they had agreed to do.

A few minutes into the ride, one of the soldiers nudged Chen and handed him a brown bag. Inside, there was an army uniform. "Put it on. Now," he directed.

Chen quickly complied, stuffing his own clothes into the brown bag.

As they rode, Chen peeked through a tear in the tarp along the side of the truck. He saw few civilian vehicles on the road, but there were several large military convoys moving toward the Strait of Taiwan. He began to doubt Sherman's prediction. War with Taiwan was imminent. As soon as this was over, he'd get back home and take Mary Ann and the children to the United States until the situation settled down.

When the truck reached the barracks, the soldiers helped Chen climb out. One carried the suitcase. Another the duffel. Both were placed next to a cot inside the unheated, damp wooden building.

The captain in the front of the truck said, "You'll remain here until we tell you it's time." He walked away without waiting for a response.

Chen felt isolated and alone. If anything happened to him, Donovan and Sherman would never know. Mary Ann and his father would have no idea. He slid the bags under the cot and tried in vain to sleep.

 

 

 

Chapter 24

 

At two-thirty in the afternoon, a half hour before the Cleveland Park Preschool classes ended, Gwen parked her blue Impala directly across the street from the blue-and-white D.C. Metropolitan police cruiser standing half a block away from the school. Billie Clements was behind the wheel, with his window rolled down, smoking a cigarette, staring off into space, and thinking about what the hell he could do to get Joyce to change her mind about breaking up with him. In the backseat, Charlie Watts was sacked out and snoring loudly. He was counting on Billie to wake him if anything happened.

Billie stopped daydreaming when he saw a sexy blonde get out of the blue Chevy with a map in her hand. She was wearing large white-framed sunglasses. Her raincoat was open in the front, and the first two buttons of her pink blouse were open. Jesus, what jugs, and she wasn't even wearing a bra. So long, Joyce, he thought. If this baby's lost, I'm ready to get lost with her.

"Say, Officer, can I bother you for directions?" she asked politely.

You can bother me for anything, he thought as he tossed the cigarette onto the street.

"What are you looking for?"

She placed the map in the open window and leaned over, pointing with her hand to Georgetown. "I've got to get to the Georgetown Mall shopping center on M Street."

He could have easily given her directions without looking at the map, but looking down was much more fun. God, her tits were beautiful. There was still a half hour till school got out. Maybe he'd wake Charlie to cover the Hartwell kid while he rode down to Georgetown with this broad. After all, city employees should be nice to out-of-town visitors.

He reached over and pointed to the map himself, touching her hand. Goddamn, her skin felt warm. He was so enthralled that he never saw her other hand reach into the raincoat pocket and emerge with a Taser. Before he could react, she fired a shot into his stomach. He could feel himself losing consciousness. He knew what would happen. He would be paralyzed for about two hours. Then he would be okay. In the meantime, he was powerless to do a thing about it. He also had the vague sense that she raised the gun and fired a second shot at Charlie in the backseat, but by then he was fading fast.

She opened the car door and pushed his body across the seat. The keys were in the ignition. She drove to the corner, turned right, then right again into an alley. Beneath a clump of trees, she parked the car, partially hidden by a garage. This was Cleveland Park, an area inhabited mostly by professional families and kids who had lots of activities on Saturday that didn't end until late in the day. Chances were, nobody would notice the police cruiser for at least the next hour, which was all she needed. Even if they did, they would ignore it, figuring the police were on some type of stakeout.

Before exiting the car, she glanced around quickly. The alley was deserted. She stepped out of the police cruiser and walked back to her own car.

With another ten minutes until school was out, she drove a block and parked on Newark, facing downward on the sloping street, directly across the street from the route Elana walked home with Amy. In fact, just as she parked, she saw Elana walking up the hill, coming to collect Ben's precious little Amy.

For two cents she'd kill the girl to teach Ben a lesson, but that wouldn't get her what she wanted. No, she had a much better idea. She would kidnap Amy, take her to Connecticut, and lock her in an old deserted farmhouse near Westport until the world's greatest prosecutor finally decided to stop his meddling and accept the confession that had been dropped in his lap. The beauty was that Gwen wouldn't even have to bother with a note or phone call, which could be traced, because Ben would know exactly why Amy had been taken and what he had to do to get her back. Given his experience as a prosecutor, he might even cooperate quietly, for fear that the FBI would get the child killed, as they often did in kidnapping cases.

Gwen kept her eyes on the mirror outside of her door, which showed the sidewalk across the street. She waited patiently for Elana to walk back down the hill with Amy. They would walk right into her trap.

* * *

Art Campbell was at the Washington Savings and Loan, DuPont Circle branch, investigating a robbery that had just taken place, when he decided to call officers Clements and Watts to make certain that everything was OK as they accompanied Amy and Elana home from school. First he dialed the special cellular phone he had given them for this job, but there was no answer. He asked the precinct to patch him through to their regular car phone. Still no answer.

Alarmed, he didn't wait for any further confirmation. Leaving another detective in charge of the robbery investigation, he bolted from the bank.

In a few seconds he was in his unmarked car. The red light went up on the roof. The siren was blaring as Campbell roared across P Street and up Massachusetts Avenue at sixty miles an hour.

* * *

Gwen watched a few other children accompanied by housekeepers pass by. Then she saw them. Elana was on the outside, closer to the curb. They were holding hands and singing a Spanish song. In her other hand, Amy clutched her yellow metal lunch box.

When they were almost directly across from her car, Gwen made her move. She opened the door and ran across the street with a .357 Magnum with a long silencer in her hand.

The instant Elana saw her coming, she knew that this was the blond woman she had overheard Mr. Hartwell talking about. What could she do? Running with Amy in tow was hopeless. Quickly she said to Amy, pointing, "Go up to that house right now, ring the bell, and go inside." Meantime she hoped to delay the blond woman long enough for Amy to get inside.

Sensing Elana's anxiety, Amy immediately obeyed. Once the child released her hand, Elana turned to face the onrushing blonde.

A weapon, I need a weapon, she thought desperately. Without any other choice, she reached down into the grass along the sidewalk and grabbed a handful of dirt and pebbles.

Gwen knew exactly what Elana was doing. To counter it, she ran straight at the housekeeper. When she tossed the dirt and pebbles, Gwen closed her eyes. Scattered shot hit her right in the center of her face. Gwen's eyes stung, but she kept on coming. In the next instant Gwen smashed the gun against Elana's face. She heard bones shatter, and the woman collapsed. Still, she tried desperately to grab Gwen's right leg. With a yank, she pulled free of Elana's grasp. Gwen aimed her toe at Elana's head, precisely where it would knock her out but not kill her. An unnecessary death couldn't possibly do any good. It might make the kidnapping exchange more difficult.

Terrified, Amy watched what was happening. She was standing on the wooden porch of a rambling old Cleveland Park house, clutching her lunch box tightly in her hand. Frantically, she kept pressing the doorbell, but nobody was home.

Stepping over Elana, Gwen ran up the wooden stairs toward Amy.

"Daddy!" the girl shrieked. "Daddy!"

Gwen made no effort to soothe the child. She could tell that Amy was too smart for that. Instead she scooped up Amy's rigid body. As she did, Amy swung her arm with all the strength she could muster, aiming the lunch box at Gwen's face. The metal corner struck Gwen on the bridge of her nose. She felt it break. Then a jolt of searing pain shot through her body.

Dizzy, Gwen put Amy down for an instant. "You fucking little monster!" she shouted. She snatched away the lunch box and hurled it to the ground below.

Then she grabbed Amy again, much harder this time. Blood was now flowing from Gwen's nose. With the gun still in her free hand, she raced back down the steps, wanting to get Amy across the street and into her car before any of the neighbors saw what was happening.

Gwen had made it midway across the street when she heard a man's voice from down the hill shout, "Police! Freeze!"

With her gun arm outstretched, she wheeled around to face the newcomer. Detective Campbell was standing in the street, about twenty yards down from her car. He had his service revolver aimed at Gwen's eyes.

"Drop your gun," he ordered. "Lay it down nice and easy. Nobody has to get hurt."

All the while he was walking slowly and doggedly up the hill, closing the gap between them.

Gwen had no intention of rolling over for some cop. She raised her gun and pressed the end of the barrel against the side of Amy's head. Too petrified to move, the child held perfectly still, a look of terror in her eyes.

"Stop right there," Gwen ordered Campbell. "Throw down your gun."

He kept advancing.

"Do it now," Gwen shouted, "or I'll kill her. Then I'll take my chances with you."

Campbell finally halted. He had no doubt that she meant every word she said. He tossed his gun onto the street and began moving away from her car.

When he had taken three steps, Amy began waving her arms wildly and screaming, "Daddy, I want my daddy!"

The child's thrashing made it hard for Gwen to hold her tightly. She moved her free hand to stabilize her grip on the child.

That was the break Campbell was looking for. Unarmed, he ran for them.

Gwen freed her hand and fired. The bullet tore into the detective's left shoulder. Blood spurted out in a high arc.

"That's just a warning," Gwen said. "The next one will kill you."

He stopped moving. His upper body was on fire with pain. The blood was spreading, staining the front of his shirt and soaking through to his jacket.

Suddenly, behind the blonde, he saw a gray Cadillac come barreling over the crest of the hill, too fast for a residential street. Campbell saw what was going to happen, and he charged them. Amy was screaming and thrashing in Gwen's arms. She got off another shot, but Campbell ducked. The bullet whistled over his head.

As the driver of the car saw the blonde holding the child, he slammed on his brakes. It was too late. The right front of the car slammed into Gwen. Instinctively, she tossed the child aside to protect her head, just as she had been trained to do. For an instant Amy was suspended in midair, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Campbell made a desperate lunge.

He caught the child just before she landed. Cradling her in his huge arms, they hit the ground together. Campbell's two-hundred-pound frame was poised to land on Amy's right leg, but he twisted away. Still, most of his weight came down on the child. He heard the awful crunching sound of her leg breaking, the child screaming. He had her head and face safe, though, buried tight against his blood-soaked jacket.

The blonde was lying on the street, unconscious, bleeding from the face. Campbell called for a police ambulance. With Amy crying in his arms, he stood over the blonde, ready to pounce on her if she moved.

 

 

 

Chapter 25