19
STEFAN
and Ivanov crashed together, the sound of their bodies like a clap of thunder there in the tiny alley. Stefan’s chest burned like hell. It felt as though he’d been hit with a train, but the only thing that mattered, the one thing he focused on, was keeping Ivanov’s gun from firing toward Judith. He managed to catch Ivanov’s gun hand and apply pressure backward against his wrist. Even as he did, the assassin whipped up his left hand, the razor-sharp knife rushing toward Stefan’s neck.
Judith scrambled to her feet, yelling frantically for Jonas, rushing toward the two struggling men. The only weapon she had was her oversized purse and she smashed Ivanov over the head as the two men grappled for the weapons.
Stefan clamped down like a vise on Ivanov’s left hand, driving him backward and away from Judith. The two men crashed into the side of the building so hard the building shook. Both grunted, Stefan bringing up his knee to take the exterminator down to the ground. Ivanov’s breath left his body in a whoosh of air, and he went down, but his grip on both weapons remained vise-like.
“Out of the way, out of the way,” Jonas commanded. “Judith, get out of there.” He reached out and physically removed her by yanking her away from the two men struggling in the close confines of the two buildings.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stefan could see the sheriff, gun drawn, trying to get a shot at Ivanov. Deliberately, he tightened his grip on the killer.
“Get off me. Are you crazy?” Playing the part of the innocent American businessman struggling for his life required a little drama.
He smashed Ivanov’s gun hand into the ground while retaining an unshakable grip on the knife hand. He used a burst of strength, turning the knife toward Ivanov’s chest even as he writhed as if Ivanov was getting the better of him, forcing the killer to roll over and sprawl on top of him, giving the sheriff a target. Using the thick fog for cover, he grunted a lot, repeated his plea for Ivanov to get off of him and forced the gun hand to turn slowly, relentlessly in the direction of his own head.
“Drop your weapon,” Jonas said. “I’m a sheriff and I’m giving you an order.”
Ivanov broke out in a sweat, making him slippery, breathing his vengeful hatred into Stefan’s face. Stefan had him in a death grip, fingers digging into tendons and pressure points, fully controlling Ivanov’s actions.
“Drop the gun,” Jonas commanded, stepping closer. “Drop it now.”
Stefan renewed his grip on the knife, forcing it closer to Ivanov’s chest under cover of the struggling killer’s body and the thick mist. They stared into each other’s eyes, Ivanov recognizing Stefan’s superior physical strength. His eyes widened in horror, in the recognition that he was about to die. He could try to surrender to the sheriff, but the grip on his gun hand, turning the weapon on Stefan would preclude any talk.
“Damn it, drop the weapon,” Jonas said, resolve already creeping into his voice.
Deliberately Stefan turned his head to look at the gun slowly turning toward him, forcing a look of fear onto his face. He shoved the knife upward into Ivanov’s heart simultaneously as the sheriff’s shot rang out. Blood and brain splattered across his head and shoulders. Ivanov’s body slumped heavily over him.
Stefan shoved Ivanov to one side and lay there, breathing hard. Judith ran to him in spite of Jonas’s restraining hand and biting command. Wedged between her, the building and the killer, Stefan used the cover of her body and the fog to transfer his knives and gun into her oversized bag, one careful move at a time, all the while making a good show of gasping for breath and seeming to pat himself down for wounds. Judith ignored his actions, although he saw her glance once to his hand sliding into her bag. She was too busy examining him for injuries.
He shot you. I know he did. I saw him.
Her anxiety spilled over, the emotion spreading to the gathering crowd.
I’m wearing a vest, honey. I knew Ivanov was still alive and I figured he’d come at me. I had too much to lose not to take a few precautions. Let’s just keep that to ourselves.
Jonas had already stepped forward and kicked Ivanov’s gun away from the dead man’s outstretched hand. Following every precaution, the sheriff quickly cuffed Ivanov’s hands behind his back.
“I think he’s dead, Jonas,” Judith said, her voice gentle, filled with compassion.
“I’ve seen men still alive after taking six or seven bullets. You never know.” He reached to check for a pulse, but with half of the back of Ivanov’s head gone, it was a moot point.
He spoke into his radio, answered a couple of questions and turned his attention to Stefan. “You all right?”
“I don’t know yet,” Stefan said, managing to look very shaken. “Give me a minute. And thanks. You saved my life.”
“You hit?” Jonas persisted.
“No. Yes. I was wearing a vest because I didn’t have my bodyguards with me.”
Jonas’s gaze sharpened. “You wear a vest often?”
Stefan nodded. “More than I’d like.” He appeared to work hard to control his breathing.
“Judith, go sit on the steps of the art gallery,” Jonas ordered. “Inez, if you’d sit on the porch there, I’d appreciate it. And Frank, please go sit in the patrol car until the others get here. I just shot and killed his man, there’ll be an investigation and we want it by the book.”
Inez raised her chin. “I’ll sit in the patrol car,” she stated firmly, reminding Jonas silently that Frank had already suffered that indignity and didn’t need to do so again. “Judith, honey, you take the porch and get out of this wet fog.”
The sheriff waited until the other witnesses had done as he asked. “I’ve got my recorder on,” Jonas advised Stefan. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“It all happened so fast, I honestly don’t exactly know,” Stefan continued, making a show of allowing the sheriff to help him into a sitting position. “Maybe Frank or Inez can tell you. I just saw the old man come up out of his blanket with a gun. He was muttering a lot to himself when we stopped earlier. Judith spoke to him, but he really didn’t answer her. He must have been ill and thinking he was in the war or something.” Stefan ran a shaky hand through his hair, pulled it away covered in blood and visibly winced.
Jonas pulled open Stefan’s bloody shirt and whistled. “Good thing you were wearing this. That bullet would have killed you. We’ll have the EMTs take a look at you.”
“Just hurts like a son of a bitch. Man, I’m sorry you had to shoot him, but if you hadn’t, I don’t know how much longer I could keep him from turning that gun on me. I could see it inching around and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
“Can you get to your feet?”
“Yeah. I’m just a little shaken.” Stefan stood up. He managed a wan grin, flicking a quick look toward Judith on the enclosed porch of the gallery. She had her tote bag next to her. “I haven’t done this sort of thing since I left the service and that was far longer ago than I want to admit to.”
“I’ve got to pat you down for weapons. You have any on you?”
Stefan made a quick assessment, but he was certain he’d gotten all them transferred to Judith’s tote bag. He submitted to Jonas’s quick, but thorough weapons’ sweep. In the distance, sirens could be heard.
Stepping back away from Jonas he shook his head, looking down at the dead body. “Thanks again, man, you definitely saved my life. I only spoke to the old man a couple of times. Gave him coffee once and a few bills I had in my wallet. I don’t know what any of us did to provoke this. Judith noticed he was acting sick and talked to him about going to a doctor. Maybe that’s what set him off.” He let the words tumble out fast, as if he couldn’t stop talking.
Jonas crouched beside Ivanov. “This isn’t Old Bill. Have you ever seen him before?”
Stefan took a good look at Ivanov’s face. He frowned and shook his head, shrugging. “If I have, I don’t remember. I travel a lot and I make a lot of enemies.”
“You thought he was trying to kill you?”
Stefan shook his head again. “I just saw the gun and don’t remember too much after that.” He touched his chest. “He got off the one shot. I remember feeling like I got hit by a truck. To be honest, I don’t even remember hearing it. I just felt something slam into my chest very hard.”
“We’ll need your clothes and the vest.” Jonas waited a moment, his eyes never leaving Stefan’s face. “The knife is yours?”
Stefan frowned and looked closer at Ivanov, as if for the first time noticing that a knife had gone deep into the chest of the deceased. He shook his head. “No. When I grabbed his gun hand, the knife came at me fast from the other side. I never touched it. Just his wrist. All I did was hang on. All I really remember was hanging on and thinking he was damn strong for such an old man. He must have fallen on it when you shot him. I can’t even tell you where that hand was, I was more worried about his gun.”
Officers showed up, taking over, removing Jonas immediately, taking his gun, and separating him from Stefan. Stefan had to repeat his story to another officer, reiterating that the sheriff had saved his life. Someone taped off the area while another led him into the gallery to change from his clothes to a paper zip-up jumpsuit. His clothes and vest disappeared into evidence bags. He could see officers talking to Judith and others to Frank and Inez, all separately.
Where is the bag?
Judith’s head went up and she looked at him across the crowd of officers.
In the gallery. I put it behind the counter. I can just see the corner of it sticking out a little.
She was still inside the large enclosed porch and looking through the windows inside the art gallery.
I put it inside when I saw Jonas searching you.
Keep looking at it.
Like the lock, he just needed the picture in his mind, but still, utilizing his greatest gift while police officers surrounded him required tremendous focus. Stefan took a breath and “pushed” the large tote back far back behind the counter out of sight.
Judith’s eyes widened.
When you stopped the kaleidoscope in midair when I threw it at you I knew you were capable of telekinesis. I have to say, that’s a rather sexy talent.
He flashed her a wan smile.
Keep that in mind when you try to run out the door on me.
I don’t plan on doing that any time soon,
she assured.
Stefan wasn’t so certain of that. He was going to have to talk to her about Jean-Claude La Roux. She’d thought he’d made a full disclosure to her admitting he was Lev’s brother. She’d agreed to keep his real identity a secret and live with him as Thomas Vincent, but he couldn’t imagine she would be so accepting of his part in her past.
He shook his head when an EMT insisted on examining him, but allowed an officer to photograph the huge purple bruise blossoming across his chest over his heart. The man raised an eyebrow at the myriad of scars, but nodded his head when Stefan murmured something about serving in the military.
The body of Ivanov was put in a special body bag and tagged with a blue coroner’s seal before it was taken away. All the while, he kept his eye on everyone inside the art gallery. Even with the bag safe behind the counter, he still felt vulnerable. So far no one had gone near it, no one really paying attention to the gallery with the dead body outside.
A crowd had gathered around outside the gallery, walking around the crime tape and talking all at once. He was grateful for the heavy fog that seemed to have worsened instead of lifted. Inez waved Blythe through the crowd and indicated to the guard at the door that she could come in now that the police were finished questioning the witnesses.
Stefan could see that Inez and Frank looked exhausted. He motioned to Judith and indicated the couple as Blythe hugged them both.
Judith responded immediately. “We’ve all given are statements. Can you clear out the gallery and let us recoup a little?” she asked the officer at the door.
He nodded and waved everyone else out, stepped out onto the enclosed porch and closed the door, effectively sealing out the chaos and noise in the street.
“Mr. Vincent,” Inez said, turning to him. “Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, we’d probably all be dead. I still can’t believe you reacted so quickly.”
He shrugged it off and caught her arm gently. “You’re hurt, Inez. You should have the EMTs look at this.”
“I’m old,” she said, with a wan smile. “I don’t bounce so good. It’s a bruise, nothing more.”
Blythe handed Stefan a package. “Hannah, Jonas’s wife called me and told me what happened. She suggested I bring you clothes. They took Jonas’s uniform and everything else from him and he’s at the hospital. They always take blood in an officer involved homicide . . .”
“
Homicide?
” Inez protested. “Jonas had no choice. That man was trying to kill Mr. Vincent. He would have killed all of us. Jonas wasn’t given a choice.”
Blythe hugged her. “Jonas will be fine. Any time someone is killed like that, whether by an officer or someone else, it’s considered a homicide. They’ll investigate, they have your statements and Jonas will be fine. Don’t worry about him, Inez. Hannah’s worried enough for all of us. You might want to drop by and see her later, just to check on her.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea,” Inez agreed. Her shoulders sagged and she sank into a chair. “This has been such a terrible day. First someone vandalized the gallery and then that horrible man tried to kill us.” She looked around the room, a look of worry on her face. “If he had Bill’s sleeping place and his things, where’s Bill?”
There was a small silence. Blythe sighed. “I’m so sorry, Inez. I know you went to high school with Bill.”
“He really was a good man. He lost his way in the war, that’s all,” Inez said. “He belonged to the village. We all took care of him. I don’t understand any of them. Why would that man want to hurt Bill and then take his place?”
“We may never know the answer,” Blythe said.
Stefan took the clothes Blythe brought him into the back and changed. He would never consider himself modest, but a paper jumpsuit didn’t give him a lot of confidence in its ability to stay together. His only consolation was the thought that Jonas Harrington had to suffer the indignity of wearing one as well.