Read Online Truth or Die by James Patterson, Howard Roughan - Free Book Online
Authors: James Patterson, Howard Roughan
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merciless feet in front of me, with the
Angel of the Waters
rising up behind him. But she wasn’t looking my way.
Others were, though. There was a woman screaming to my left, her high pitch and volume sending nearby pigeons scattering in the air. To my right, there was the sound of feet scampering, someone literally running for his life.
Gun! Gun! Gun!
I heard it all. Still, I couldn’t move.
His arm began to unfold, the barrel of the gun lining up with my head. It was the only thing I could see. Until, out of nowhere, there was something else.
It was another blur, I couldn’t see what exactly. More importantly, neither could my executioner. He was being blindsided, someone tackling him at full speed.
Like a linebacker.
CHAPTER 23
I WATCHED as both bodies slammed against the pavement and rolled, a tumble of arms and legs hurtling over and over. I couldn’t tell who was who, but I was convinced I knew one of them.
Lamont!
It had to be him.
But it wasn’t. As the bodies separated, both sprawling on the ground, I could tell this guy was younger. He was at least half the detective’s age. And not nearly as big.
Big enough, though. I certainly wasn’t complaining.
He pushed himself up, standing quickly, if not a little wobbly. “The gun!” he barked, pointing.
I hadn’t seen it go flying, but there it was, matte black against the terra cotta of the Roman bricks around the fountain. It was closer to me than to him. As for the gun’s original owner, he was somewhere in between and staring right at it.
Then at me.
Then right back at the gun.
It was up for grabs.
I sprang from the bench into a headfirst dive while my camera, launched from my lap, shattered to pieces. Scooping up the gun, I whipped my arm and locked both elbows, and dammit if the view wasn’t so much better from this angle.
“Stay down!” I yelled, jabbing the barrel of his Beretta M9 straight at his chest. With its fifteen-round staggered box magazine, he and I both knew I could remind him over and over who had the upper hand.
Yeah, I knew guns. I knew them well. Ever since my high school days at Valley Forge Military Academy. I shot them, cleaned them, took them apart and put them back together again. Even once while naked, blindfolded, and being blasted by a power washer during the school’s version of Hell Week.
I
hated
guns.
“Call nine-one-one,” I said with a quick glance at the guy who’d saved my life. Man, did he look young. He was practically a kid. Hell, he
was
a kid. He was also way ahead of me, his cell already in hand.
“On it,” he said.
I could hear him perfectly amid the hush that had fallen over the terrace and the fountain. Never had so many New Yorkers been so quiet all at once. I could feel them, though, as they began peeking out from whatever they were ducking behind, at least those who didn’t have the camera lenses from their cell phones trained on me. I was about to trend mightily on YouTube.
All the while, I kept my eyes fixed on the man on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t even blink until the police arrived. Turned out, his gun wasn’t the only thing that had gone flying when he was tackled. Gone, too, were his sunglasses. Good thing.
If he’d still had them on, I would never have known about his partner.
CHAPTER 24
IT WASN’T much of a poker face. In fact, if anything, I could’ve sworn he cracked the slightest of smiles the second he glanced over my shoulder.
Following his eyes, I quickly turned to see the only person in the crowd who was actually running
toward
us—a second guy in great shape sporting short-cropped hair and apparently the de rigueur wardrobe among the assassin set. Dark suit, white shirt, open collar … and a semiautomatic handgun.
So much for my having the upper hand.
He was racing down the farther of the two massive staircases that connected Bethesda Terrace to the Seventy-Second Street Cross Drive. Fifty yards away and gaining. Fast. He might as well have been
Angel of the Waters
rising up behind him. But she wasn’t looking my way.
Others were, though. There was a woman screaming to my left, her high pitch and volume sending nearby pigeons scattering in the air. To my right, there was the sound of feet scampering, someone literally running for his life.
Gun! Gun! Gun!
I heard it all. Still, I couldn’t move.
His arm began to unfold, the barrel of the gun lining up with my head. It was the only thing I could see. Until, out of nowhere, there was something else.
It was another blur, I couldn’t see what exactly. More importantly, neither could my executioner. He was being blindsided, someone tackling him at full speed.
Like a linebacker.
CHAPTER 23
I WATCHED as both bodies slammed against the pavement and rolled, a tumble of arms and legs hurtling over and over. I couldn’t tell who was who, but I was convinced I knew one of them.
Lamont!
It had to be him.
But it wasn’t. As the bodies separated, both sprawling on the ground, I could tell this guy was younger. He was at least half the detective’s age. And not nearly as big.
Big enough, though. I certainly wasn’t complaining.
He pushed himself up, standing quickly, if not a little wobbly. “The gun!” he barked, pointing.
I hadn’t seen it go flying, but there it was, matte black against the terra cotta of the Roman bricks around the fountain. It was closer to me than to him. As for the gun’s original owner, he was somewhere in between and staring right at it.
Then at me.
Then right back at the gun.
It was up for grabs.
I sprang from the bench into a headfirst dive while my camera, launched from my lap, shattered to pieces. Scooping up the gun, I whipped my arm and locked both elbows, and dammit if the view wasn’t so much better from this angle.
“Stay down!” I yelled, jabbing the barrel of his Beretta M9 straight at his chest. With its fifteen-round staggered box magazine, he and I both knew I could remind him over and over who had the upper hand.
Yeah, I knew guns. I knew them well. Ever since my high school days at Valley Forge Military Academy. I shot them, cleaned them, took them apart and put them back together again. Even once while naked, blindfolded, and being blasted by a power washer during the school’s version of Hell Week.
I
hated
guns.
“Call nine-one-one,” I said with a quick glance at the guy who’d saved my life. Man, did he look young. He was practically a kid. Hell, he
was
a kid. He was also way ahead of me, his cell already in hand.
“On it,” he said.
I could hear him perfectly amid the hush that had fallen over the terrace and the fountain. Never had so many New Yorkers been so quiet all at once. I could feel them, though, as they began peeking out from whatever they were ducking behind, at least those who didn’t have the camera lenses from their cell phones trained on me. I was about to trend mightily on YouTube.
All the while, I kept my eyes fixed on the man on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t even blink until the police arrived. Turned out, his gun wasn’t the only thing that had gone flying when he was tackled. Gone, too, were his sunglasses. Good thing.
If he’d still had them on, I would never have known about his partner.
CHAPTER 24
IT WASN’T much of a poker face. In fact, if anything, I could’ve sworn he cracked the slightest of smiles the second he glanced over my shoulder.
Following his eyes, I quickly turned to see the only person in the crowd who was actually running
toward
us—a second guy in great shape sporting short-cropped hair and apparently the de rigueur wardrobe among the assassin set. Dark suit, white shirt, open collar … and a semiautomatic handgun.
So much for my having the upper hand.
He was racing down the farther of the two massive staircases that connected Bethesda Terrace to the Seventy-Second Street Cross Drive. Fifty yards away and gaining. Fast. He might as well have been
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