Fugitive

Chapter 18

The bullet flew from the gun and made contact with the back of Ivan's head. Going right through. He fell to the ground. Face first. Both guards dropping to the ground, rolled him over gently to check his breathing and start CPR. It was a low move. Shooting an unarmed man from behind. I wasn't going to stick around to see what his guards did. He was dead. I knew it and they knew it. I disassembled the gun, quickly this time, packing up all the gear and shoving it into the bag. My footsteps echoed in the stairwell. There was commotion downstairs. Probably talking about the gunshot. AS50's are quiet compared to some other sniper rifles but I know these people must have heard it. Instead of facing the crowd I continued down to the kitchen area. I made my way through the kitchen ignoring the yelling from the staff. Two doors later I was out through the back. I got into the car and drove to the gym. My hands were steady but I had a sick feeling in my stomach. A crowd had gathered outside the gym. Ivan's blood pooled under his head and slowly spread, creating a large puddle on the pavement. His guards were speaking into ear pieces off to the side but slinked away, disappearing into the crowd. With their client dead, they no longer had any business being there. Judging by the business he was in I'm guessing those guys didn't exactly want to be caught on the crime scene. Someone was on the phone, to the emergency services. Ivan's gym bag lay forgotten on the ground as people swarmed around him. I got out of the car and snapped a picture with my phone. Proof. No one as paying any attention to me, so I left unnoticed. The pub was the next stop on my list. It was still basically empty. Only a few stragglers and drunks remained. The men stopped me at the door. Different from this morning. They must have changed shifts. One of these men had a large beard and bald head. Sleeves of tattoos. "Tell Grigory I need to see him". They looked at me like I was stupid, like some crazy guy. "I'm the one he got to kill Ivan okay? He's dead. Now I want my end of the bargain". The bald man nodded to the other one. Neither of them said a word. Instead they pulled my wrists behind my back and tied them tightly. One opened the door and the other lead me through. "Are we still doing this? Really. This is ridiculous". I pulled my wrists outwards against the restraints. No progress was made whatsoever. Grigory was in the same room as last time. "I assume this means you have killed Ivan. Good, good. You have a photo"? "You have the name"? "I've always had the name Jacob. Photo first". I shook my head. "I want the name". "How can I know you've killed Ivan if you don't show me the photo"? "You'll just have to trust me". "I don't trust you Jacob. So, I'll ask again. The photo, or we'll shoot you right here and you'll never find your sisters killer". I spent a second judging his expression, trying to get into his brain. "You're bluffing. I'm more useful to you alive than dead". "You WERE more useful to us alive. But as it happens Ivan is dead now, right? You've used up your usefulness". As much as I wanted to believe they wouldn't kill me, he was right. I'd done what they needed me for. I was no use to them now. "Fine, okay. I'll show you the photo". One of his men cut my ties. I pulled the phone from my pocket and brought up the photo. I turned it to Grigory. He inspected it for a second before nodding. I put the phone back in my pocket. "Good". "The name", I demanded. "Still think you're boss in here aye Jacob. That's going to get you killed one day you know. Luckily for you I am honourable man. I keep my word. Here". He handed me a slip of paper. On it was a name scrawled in pencil. Dennis Penfold. "Is that a fake name"? "No, that is his real identity. But I can guarantee he'll be using a different name of some kind. Especially if he's in a hotel or something. "Do you have an address"? "Net". "How the hell am I supposed to find this guy then"? "Not my problem Rogers. Last I heard he was in Jacksonville. He was stationed there. To take care of that business for us. He won't have gone far, it's what's familiar to him". I sighed. He was referring to killing Cat and Toby. Needle in a haystack. Surely he wouldn't still be there. Surely he would have bolted and left the city as soon as he'd... done it. It didn't change anything. Cat always said 'don't say you can't. You just need to figure out a way to make it happen'. I'm pretty sure she made that up, either way it was memorable. If I was going to listen to that advice at any point in my life, now was the time. After I left I went back to the hotel. I went online and bought a ticket home. Back in America I set up an online bank account. It had enough for a flight back in it. Plus a little extra for emergencies. The account was hard to trace. I don't know much about how backtracking things work, or how to put it through different signals all over the world, but apparently, Alexander did. He helped me out with that part. Yet he couldn't figure out the touch ID on my phone. That would be right. The transitions for the flights home were similar to the ones going over there. Same stop overs. Relatively same times. Flight leaves tomorrow. Grigory didn't ask for his gun back. It was still unassembled in the bag. I didn't know what to do with it. So, I reassembled it and concealed it under the bed. I tied it using small pieces of string to the wooden boards supporting the mattress. Completely concealed, I left it. Someone may find it. But I figured if I ever come back to Moscow and need a gun, I know where to get one. It would be good to get home. But at the same time, I would have to go back into hiding. Back to the looking over my shoulder all the time. Back to the exhaustion. Being in Russia had made me a little more careless. I wondered what it would be like heading back to America. Would I get right back into the hiding aspect? They say paranoia is what causes all escapists to be caught. I was starting to think that would be me. The next day I woke up and drove straight to the airport without breakfast. I grabbed a bagel from a café in the airport but skipped the coffee this time. The flights were much the same as the way there. Same uninterested people, friendly enough flight attendants and average food. Cat and I haven't really been in planes very often. Road trips were more of our family's thing. Which sucked to say the least. Long stuffy car rides with bad music and a bratty older sister were not my thing. We went to visit our cousins in California one time. We didn't attempt a road trip for that one. There was no way that was going to happen. I liked California. Cat and I spent most of the time on the beach. We even played beach volleyball with some other guys that were already there one time. Cat talked them into letting us play. She didn't have to try very hard. Judging by the way they continued to show off and flirt, to the max I might add, I can see why. Our cousins lived in a nice house kind of on the outskirts of LA. They had big pool and a big house. They clearly got most of the inheritance. That or my Aunty married rich. Probably the married rich thing. We went to Disneyland that trip too. I was kind of at that stage where I still liked Disney movies but was too old to show that I liked Disney movies. So mostly I just followed Cat around doing everything she did because she was my sister and it was a reason. Because I couldn't possibly just want to do something like that. Something about Disney seems more acceptable for girls anyway. Not that I'm assuming genders or genderising certain things, because I could already hear a smart remark from Cat about that. She had a thing about gender equality. A really big thing. Totally supportive to gay marriage and all that. Personally, I never really cared. I don't know anyone who is transgender or gay or anything in between, so it never really affected me. I think some of Cat's friends from high school went through, or are going through stuff like that. She wanted to support them wholeheartedly. Good on her. Of course, I'd been on a few planes because of the Marines. I was definitely used to the procedures. I didn't have much of a problem with airport security until I got back to the Albert J Ellis Airport in Jacksonville. Home. As I was walking out of the terminal past all the other security and into the main area of the airport I went to push my hair back, away from my eyes, completely forgetting I had a wig on. It shifted slightly on my head, pulling backwards to reveal the brown at the front. I quickly pulled it back into place inconspicuously without anyone noticing. A quick glance around the area assured me no one had seen. Except someone had, they'd obviously been watching me for a while before realising who I was. A man approached me. His swift walk and stern expression told me he meant business. A woman was following the man, a wife obviously. At the end of her arm, a child. A tight grip made its way around my arm. Like a snake, it tightened. He pulled me around, it took little effort as I was taken by surprise. He looked at me, scrutinising every feature. After a second of this alarm bells went off in my head. "What are you doing"? I asked him. Gently, I pulled my arm down trying to loosen his grip without being overly assertive. His grip only tightened more. I smiled awkwardly. "Could you please let go of me sir"? Not going to lie, it was beginning to get uncomfortable. Within another second, he was calling out to the security guards off to the side. "It's Jacob Rogers"! he yelled. "This is Jacob"... I didn't let him finish his second sentence. Instead I pulled his head down with my other hand smashing it into my knee. People were starting to stare, security guards and concerned members of the public began to move towards me. I ran, not even knowing which way the exit was, just knowing I had to get away from there. I dumped the suitcase, it had nothing important inside, but kept my backpack with the essential gear. While running I pulled the strap so it went over both my shoulders, not just one. I could hear footsteps following close behind. I shoved people out of my way, pushing them to the side. No time for an apology. Signs overhead told me I was heading away from the exit. I took the next left turn down another corridor. I'd momentarily lost whoever it was pursuing me, so I paused to look around. There were doors to my left and signs indicating the exit. I pushed the doors open. "Jacob Rogers has been sighted, lock down the airport". The speakers kept repeating that phrase. Lock down the airport. Lock down the airport. Lock down the airport.