Chapter 84
CHAPTER
FORTY MINUTES PASSED, AND IT seemed like forty years, until Nash reached his old neighborhood.
He had no way to get through the security gate, so he parked down the street, nimbly hopped the fence, and made his way in the darkness to his old home.
He got in through the same back door into the laundry room that Maggie’s kidnappers had forced.
The mingled smells of dirty clothes, detergent, and bleach hit him.
The alarm was not set, though he remembered the passcode if it had been.
He took the steps two at a time and found Judith lying in bed. But this new version of Judith did not sleep nearly as soundly as the old version.
She called out from the darkness, “Who’s there!”
He could see her shadowy image as she sat up in bed. It was only now that he realized he needed to tell her something.
“Mrs. Nash, I was here earlier, with Rhett Temple.” He drew closer.
“What do you want?” she said, drawing up the sheet to cover her, as she stared at him.
“You were right. Your husband was framed.”
The sheet came down a bit. “Who are you?”
“I… I work with the FBI.”
“But I thought you were working with Rhett.” She paused. “Wait, you think—”
“Rhett let it slip to some dangerous people that you believe that your husband is innocent. These people do not want you raising that concern with the police.”
“So they plan on killing me?” She said this so lucidly that Nash nearly forgot that his wife had handled with dignity and aplomb many crises in her life, including the tragic and untimely deaths of her parents in an accident.
But the twin tragedies of Maggie and him had simply been too much for her.
“Yes. I’m here to get you to safety.”
“Do I have time to dress and collect a few things?”
“Please hurry.”
She took all of three minutes and joined him back in the bedroom. He held her hand to steady her as they swiftly moved down the stairs.
They had just reached the lower level and were about to exit the home through the door Nash had come in when he heard the noise.
He drew his gun and told Judith to get behind him.
Nash calmly lined up his muzzle directly at the back door.
As it was pushed open, Nash took aim. The man coming through had on a black ski mask and was holding a knife, so this was clearly not the FBI; they would have come in the front door with lots of guns, badges, and noise.
The moment of truth was here.
Obstacles, Nash. Not human beings, obstacles. Like Dad said.
Nash shot the intruder in the head and he tumbled down dead even as Judith screamed.
The door was then kicked fully open and two more men burst in.
This was the team of Asians who had accompanied them to Shock’s place.
They had no doubt recognized Nash, which meant he had to kill them or else it was all over. But that was far easier said than done.
Before he could fire again his gun was smashed out of his hand by a spin kick executed to perfection by the first man.
This was followed up by a hard leg strike against Nash’s shoulder by the same man.
He tumbled backward and slammed into Judith.
She went down, slid across the floor, hit her head on the baseboard, and fell unconscious.
Nash had no time to see how she was because the second man was now coming at him with twin knives, whirling them at incredible velocity.
Nash grabbed a plastic laundry hamper off the washing machine and used it to block the knife strike.
He finally managed to get the blades stuck in the side webbing of the basket and then Nash twisted them out of the man’s grip.
But the man came at Nash again, kicking and punching, and Nash was barely able to deflect the blows.
Nash knew he was not going to be able to hold out for long, especially since the other man was attempting to circle behind him in the confined space. Their martial arts skills were greater than his, he had to concede. Sometimes, it was as simple as that.
Then Shock’s entreaty came back to him.
Do whatever you have to do—cheat or anything else to walk out alive.
Well, he had one advantage. He knew this particular battlefield better than his opponents.
Nash grabbed the iron off the shelf, and when the man put up his hands to block the object he believed Nash was about to hurl at him, Nash tossed it through the window instead.
As the bewildered man took time to process this, Nash snatched a washcloth off a stack on the dryer, scooped something from the shattered window with one hand and lifted a bottle of bleach with the other, his fingers dexterously twisting the top off.
He turned and fed a face full of bleach into the eyes and open mouth of his startled attacker.
The man gagged and ripped at his pupils, at the very same time that Nash took the jagged piece of glass from the broken window, which he was holding with the washcloth, and slashed it violently across the man’s sinewy neck.
It severed both the left and right jugulars, sending blood spewing across the room.
The second man screamed in fury as he rushed forward. Nash dumped the rest of the bleach on the floor, and when the man hit the slickened spot his legs flew up and he landed hard on his back on the floor.
Nash dropped to his knees, drew the Beretta from the ankle holster, and shot the man in the face, twice, just to be sure.
Then, it was over. Nash stared down at three men, all of whom had lost their lives solely due to him. He felt his knees weaken and his gut lurch as he eyed the blood, the bodies, the… destruction he had wrought. He lowered the gun and closed his eyes.
Four breaths in, hold for four, four breaths out, and hold for four. Repeat. It got Dad through his combat. It will get you through… your combat.
When he heard the rush of footsteps coming toward the door Nash’s eyes popped open and he pointed his Beretta at the opening.
“FBI!” called out a voice. “Show yourselves. Now!”
“Agent Morris?” called out Nash.
Morris, his gun held in one hand, peered around the doorway, and shone his light around. “Who’s that?”
“It’s Dillon Hope. I’m the one who messaged you. I’ve got Mrs. Nash with me.”
Nash raced over to Judith, who was just now regaining consciousness. When she sat up and saw the dead men and all the blood, she moaned and was sick to her stomach.
Nash grabbed another washcloth to help clean off her face and blouse.
Morris came farther into the room and shone his light on them. The FBI agent studied Nash but clearly didn’t recognize him.
“Dillon Hope?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Nash helped Judith up and said, “I’ve told Mrs. Nash that I’m working with the Bureau on this matter. And that you would get her to a safe place.” He looked at the three dead men. “I think we were both a little late on that score.”
“The Bureau?” Morris said, still staring at Nash before looking down at the dead bodies.
“Yes. You and I have met before, actually. Up in New York City with the deputy AG, when I was recruited for this mission. You accepted my terms, and we’ve been working this ever since. I’ve just been lying low for a bit and, um, changing things up.”
Nash looked at him directly and cocked his head. Morris stared intently back at him and then his jaw eased down in shock as he put two and two together. Nash thought he could hear the man mutter, “Holy Mother of God.”
Nash said, “It would also be really good if we could somehow show that Mrs. Nash was no longer… around, so that folks would not look for her.”
Morris nodded, clearly trying to process all this. He finally said, “Um, okay, it will be communicated publicly that Mrs. Nash was… um, killed during the course of a home invasion. We’ll sell that to the local cops.”
“You came up with that quickly,” said an impressed Nash.
“When you messaged me, we decided on a plan if we got here in time. I need to call in another team. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
After he left, Judith looked at Nash and said, “I’ll be safe. But will you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m just glad this all worked out and that we were able…” Here Nash stumbled and couldn’t finish.
She looked at the men on the floor. “You saved my life.” She gave him a searching look and then glanced away when Morris came back in.
“Okay, the team will be here ASAP and we’ll get this done.” He said to Nash, “You’d best be on your way… Agent Hope.”
Nash looked at his wife, wanting more than anything to tell her who he really was.
All he said was, “Good luck, Mrs. Nash.”
She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and stared deeply into his features.
In fact, Nash felt like he was being x-rayed.
“Thank you, Agent Hope.”
After he left Morris said awkwardly to her, “Um, he’s a good man, quite capable.”
Judith gave him a contemptuous glance and said, “What do you expect from a fucking Eagle Scout?”