“Here’s your one chance to get back in your vehicle and drive away.”
“Where’s your friend?” Geronimo asked Axel. Joe was glad he did. He’d forgotten that Axel wasn’t alone.
Axel chinned toward his van. “Inside. Dying.” He said it with contempt, and Joe felt a chill wash over him.
“Lower the weapons,” Joe said.
Axel sighed theatrically. “Oh, all right.”
Instead of placing the guns on the pavement, Axel dropped them and they clattered at his feet. In his right hand was a large revolver. He raised it quickly.
There was a massive BOOM from behind Joe that made him duck instinctively. The slug from Nate’s .454 caught Axel in his left shoulder and spun him around 360 degrees. Somehow, Axel managed to stay on his feet.
Simultaneously, Joe and Geronimo pulled their triggers. Both had aimed low and the combined blasts blew Axel’s knees back the wrong way. He screamed and dropped, his revolver falling from his hand.
Joe ran forward and kicked the gun away. Axel’s legs were folded under him in such grotesque angles that Joe had to look away.
Axel starting moaning and his eyes were clenched tight.
Joe looked over his shoulder.
Nate had pulled himself up so he could fire between the frame of the van and the open door.
“Not bad for left-handed,” Nate said with a grimace.
Geronimo ran up along the passenger side of the transit van while reloading. He kept low until he reached the door and then rose up with the muzzle pointing inside the cab. After a beat, Geronimo lowered his shotgun.
“His buddy’s gone,” he said. “Axel let him die.”
* * *
—
To the discordant soundtrack of Axel’s pitiful moans and the raucous exit of protesters from the park who wanted nothing to do with the firefight, Joe and Geronimo transferred Nate’s falcons from the transit to the Yarak van.
While they did it, Joe expected the police to show up any second. It was a justified shooting, but still.
No one came.
Axel continued to moan and writhe on the pavement. Joe felt strangely unmoved, as if he were in the midst of an out-of-body experience. It had been that way since he’d landed.
When they were done, Joe punched up the most recent call on his phone.
“This is the 911 emergency network.”
Remarkably, it was the same dispatcher Joe had talked to earlier. He recognized her distinctive voice.
“There are two shooting victims behind the Benson Hotel,” he said. “One is dead and the other one will be if there isn’t a quick medical response.”
“Good,” she said after a long pause. She disconnected the call.
* * *
—
Geronimo arrived at the Sea-Tac Airport in Washington State at three-thirty a.m. and cruised along the curb until he came to a stop outside the terminal entrance. There was very little traffic.
Nate and Joe were booked on the first morning flight to Denver, and then on to Saddlestring. They’d decided to avoid the Portland airport in case an alert had been issued about them.
Joe had booked the flights on his phone while they drove north. He’d used his credit card to purchase the two one-way tickets and he was grateful it had been accepted. Joe wasn’t used to spending that kind of money in one place.
That didn’t mean he was wealthy. But would he soon be? He didn’t know. He’d figure that out when he got home.
“Let’s get this guy back to his wife and daughter,” Geronimo said to Joe. “I’ll deliver the birds to you in Wyoming.”
“Just get gone,” Nate said to Geronimo through clenched teeth as they helped him out of the van. “Avoid Oregon if you can. They might be looking for this vehicle.”
“Which is why we got a rental,” Joe said. “Geronimo will exchange your van for a new one no one is looking for. He’ll load up your birds and my shotgun and hit the road.”
“You were sleeping when we figured out our escape,” Geronimo added.
Joe was still coming down from the adrenaline rush of the shootout in Portland, even two and a half hours later. He didn’t feel like a game warden. He felt like a criminal or a special operator. Geronimo had been much more lucid during the drive and they’d talked out how the three of them should split up to get away. Joe had the distinct impression Geronimo had done this kind of thing before. Geronimo was tactical and efficient in the mode of special operators like Nate. Had he been one? Joe wanted to know more about his background.
Nate put his arm around Joe’s neck, and Joe steered him toward the entrance door, when Nate stopped. He turned toward Geronimo.