Then, as if he couldn't think of another method for finding him, he began shouting his name. "Robbie! Robbie, where are you!" To his amazement a very distant shout returned.
"David! This way!" By the tone, Dave knew something was wrong. He drew his gun and began running through the narrow overgrown paths.
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* * * *
* * * *
"Agent Taylor!" Nothing came back this time. The design of this park, the threadlike maze of cement walls, stairs, and blinding shrubs made it a perfect place for muggings and rapes. It was a series of dead-ends and concrete corridors.
The park stretched out in a winding, almost figure eight loops with tunnels and cave-like structures creating a confusing mixture of chaotic trails that had no purpose. The noise level increased as he drew closer to the overpass where the freeway could be glimpsed between huge blocks of grey concrete.
He headed to the very edge of the park at Seneca Street and decided if he couldn't see anything from there, he'd go back in and begin searching again. But it seemed impossible to find anyone in that labyrinth. His heart was pounding when he came up with nothing. He even asked two women who were strolling through if they had seen anything. Shaking 220
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their heads, they hadn't, they stared at him strangely as if he were speaking a foreign language.
In frustration, Dave jogged back inside the park again, making the loops under Eighth Avenue, passing the Jensonia Hotel, and back around the area where he'd first come in by 2
Union Square. He was growing frantic and was beginning to run out of ideas for places to look. Finally someone approached him and told him they'd seen someone pointing a gun at two men. Dave struggled to catch his breath after all his running, but nodded and at least had a new direction.
Finding his way out of the miserable labyrinth of Freeway Park, he found himself standing on the city street looking around for anything unusual.
* * * *
The sweat trickled down Robbie's face. "You can't get away this time. Give yourself up!" The expression on the Dragon's face made it clear to Robbie he had no intention. As the poor 221
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boy screamed and was cut again by a careless hand, Robbie followed them out—out onto the busy streets of Seattle.
* * * *
"Holy shit," Dave gasped in shock. Before he keyed his microphone to advise the dispatcher what was going on, Robbie spun around to him quickly and shouted, "Don't! Not yet!"
How Robbie knew he was there was a mystery to Dave.
But he didn't doubt Robbie's skill as a psychic from that point on. Dave released the microphone and hurried to Robbie's side.
"Let me talk to him," Robbie hissed, never taking his eyes off this scene of human suffering.
"Talk? Are you kidding me?" Dave watched as the two men backed up the steep incline of Pike Street to the overpass over Interstate 5.
The chaos was even worse than it had been in the park, the noise of freeway traffic was deafening. The few cars that passed them on Pike Street were either screeching to a stop or squealing their tires to get away.
"We need the street blocked!" Dave shouted, his gun still pointing at the suspect. "There are too many bystanders!" He 222
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craned his neck to look around him and behind him and couldn't believe the number of pedestrians in the area.
"Get on it then, but no one comes close!"
Dave grabbed his shoulder microphone in a shaking hand, his right one still pointing his Glock forty caliber. "Two-George-three! We have the suspect at gun point. He's holding a victim at knife point on the overpass on I5 at Pike Street.
Cut off the street traffic east and west on Pike. I repeat, cut off all vehicle and foot traffic. Do not enter the area between Boren and First Avenue, repeat, keep Pike Street between Boren and First Avenue clear! Have fire stand by for the victim. Have fire stand by!"
The air was in turmoil as units volunteered to block off the roadway. Instantly the foot and vehicle traffic emptied as marked patrol units manned the intersections and diverted cars with their flashing overhead lights.
"Stay back," Robbie told Dave as Robbie made a bold approach.
"Don't. Robbie, he'll kill the guy."
Ignoring Dave's advice, Robbie moved closer. The knife went deeper into the boy's neck. Robbie stopped, his gun still poised. "Give up, man! It's over! Even if you claim him as yours, you still lose!"
Dave cringed. You don't want to inflame a lunatic. Bad idea.
"Let me go and I'll let him go!" the madman shouted.
"You joking?" Robbie laughed callously. "Let you go? Come on, 'Bob', you can't be serious. Just put the knife down and 223
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we can sit and write your life story for the movie and the book."
Knowing Robbie was using some technique of reverse psychology on the creep, Dave actually felt himself smile.
Get
him, baby, get him
.
"Come on, Bob, my man! You're already a star!" Robbie moved a step closer. "Think of the publishing deals! You're even more famous than Bundy or Dodd!"
Dave noticed 'Bob' look over the side of the cement wall, down at the interstate traffic. "Shit," he breathed, then got back on the radio. "Close I5, repeat, tell the State Troopers to close I5 between Pike and Pine!"
"Copy, that, State being advised," the dispatcher said.
Then the air went dead quiet again. In the silence you could almost hear the entire city hold its breath.
The Dragon began hauling the victim up the cement wall.
Dave couldn't imagine the terror this boy was enduring. His neck was running with blood and the knife was being wielded so carelessly he was getting grazed and scratched all over his face.
Then, suddenly, a helicopter was heard in the distance. It seemed the media had finally gotten the sniff of blood they craved. Cringing at the noise and distraction it would bring, Dave once again got on the air and asked the dispatcher to make that call and keep the copter away. Knowing it was useless, Dave took one split second to look over his shoulder as it drew near. "Shit!" he cursed, wondering what would happen when it came directly overhead. He had a bad feeling it would cause the man to jump.
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When he turned back, he found 'Bob' craning his neck up into the sky as well. On a long shot, Dave steadied his stance, put his finger on the trigger and took aim.
That's it, keep
looking at the chopper, keep looking...
At the blast Robbie jumped out of his skin and spun around.
The young boy raced towards them shouting in fear, then fainted at their feet. Robbie knelt down to check on him, seeing if he was all right.
Dave's arms shaking from the anxiety and the gun's recoil, he walked to where Robbie was standing. They both leaned over the retaining wall and looked down. With a blockade of State Patrol vehicles with their overhead lights spinning on either side of him, the Dragon was in a crumbled heap on the northbound lanes of Interstate 5.
"Too bad they stopped traffic so quickly," Robbie said.
"Naa, would have dented someone's hood." Dave keyed his microphone, "Radio, send in fire. The scene is secured.
Send in fire."
"Nice shot, babe." Robbie put his gun back into his holster just as a fire truck was coming up the street to tend the victim. They crouched down by the young man and tried to comfort him as the firemen jumped out of the truck with their kits. When the fire fighters had him loaded onto an ambulance and headed to the hospital with a police escort, Dave spotted the two agents coming up the street in their black sedan.
"Christ, do they ever get out of that car?" Dave shook his head in amazement.
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Robbie turned around to see them climbing out of it. "No.
Not really. Especially John. He's attached to the steering wheel."
Sgt. Wilson approached Dave and asked, "Which one of you shot him?"
"Me, sarge," Dave said.
"Right. Give me your gun. You're off now until an inquest."
Dave handed his sergeant his gun and then felt unsettled about the idea of some kind of informal trial.
"Don't worry, babe," Robbie whispered, "You're a hero."
Agent Green and Skinner approached them, looking over the wall at the body. Agent Green reached out his hand to Robbie. "Well done, Agent Taylor."
"It wasn't me. Officer Harris did it. Congratulate him."
"You mean," Agent Skinner choked, "it wasn't even you who shot him? Christ, Taylor, what are you good for?"
"Just finding him, Frank, just finding him." Robbie laughed.
"Nice job, Harris." Agent Green held out his hand. "You've been top notch throughout this investigation and I'll make sure it's noticed."
"Thank you, sir." Dave's chest began to swell in pride.
Agent Skinner shook Dave's hand next. "At least you kept an eye on him," he nodded to Robbie. "We couldn't. Good job, officer."
"Thanks," Dave smiled, shaking their hands.
"I'll be glad to get back to Virginia," Agent Skinner said, "I think my wife misses me."
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"Yeah," Robbie teased him, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Frank. Let's just hope it's for you and not for someone else this time."
"Shut up, Taylor. See you back at the lab when you can get a chance."
"Yeah. After they clean this up and get all the statements done, I'll be there."
Dave watched as they walked over to his captain, then pointed to him as if they were acknowledging him.
Sgt. Wilson made his way back to Dave and said, "You need to go to the homicide office and make a statement."
"Okay, sarge."
"You want a union rep with you?"
Dave swallowed nervously. "Do I need one?"
"It's just the usual procedure."
"Okay." Dave nodded, then looked at Robbie for support as the sergeant walked away.
"I'm coming with you," Robbie said.
"Thanks. I've never had to use the weapon before."
"It's all protocol. Don't worry about it. It was more than justified. I just wish I had done it so you wouldn't have to go through all the bullshit," Robbie replied.
"Me too!" Dave laughed.
"I didn't have the shot, babe. Not from my angle or you know I would have."
"It's okay. I did. I'm okay with it."
"You should be more than okay. You know what he was going to do?"
"What?" Dave waited.
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"He was going to jump down onto the highway with the poor kid. You saved his life, David. Never forget that."
"You think so? He was going to do that?"
"I'm sure of it."
"How the hell did you know he was in Freeway Park?"
"Just dumb luck I guess," Robbie said, smiling slyly.
"You're amazing, man, absolutely amazing."
"Coming from you, I take that as the highest of compliments."
Officer Kurosawa appeared at Dave's side. "Hiya, Davy."
"Hiya, Lisa."
"I'm here to escort you to homicide."
"Good. I'm glad it's you."
"Me too." She smiled at him, then said to Robbie, "He's great, isn't he? So damn big and strong!"
"Yes. He is." Robbie smiled, but Dave could tell he was trying to restrain his zeal over the topic.
"Are you coming downtown with us?"
"I am, Lisa. Is that okay with you?" Robbie asked.
"Growl! More than okay!" she answered.
Robbie shook his head at her in mock admonishment and then they followed her to her patrol car. Dave handed his car keys to another officer and told him where he'd left his vehicle, then he allowed Robbie the front passenger seat and climbed into the back seat of the patrol car.
On the way Officer Kurosawa chattered non-stop, but Dave was glad for it. It gave him a chance to calm down and think.
It was over. Now what?
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Doc Maynard's was packed. The noise seemed to ricochet off the high barren ceiling and the wood flooring like a bullet off polished metal. Dennis was the first to spot him coming into the room. Dave acknowledged his wave and then gestured for Robbie to stop at the bar before they joined them.
Once they had drinks in their hands they made their way around the milling patrons to the small grouping of tables and sofas.
"Our hero!" Willie shouted over the noise and raised his beer in the air.
A chorus of cheers followed and Dave felt like crawling under the flooring in embarrassment. They moved closer together and allowed Dave to sit down with them. "Thanks, guys. This is a friend of mine, Robbie Taylor."