Description
Neither Jack nor Kate had actually seen anyone in the parking lot. But it did appear to Jack that what Kate had spotted was a light shining out from beneath his Tahoe, and that they needed to investigate. Jack slid out the front door. It faced the river. He was careful not to allow it to shut loudly behind him. Once outside he stood silently for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Kate slipped out the back door and headed for the entrance. They figured that if someone was tampering with Jack's truck, the culprit would have to escape toward the road or the river. From just outside the door, Jack inventoried the boats tied up at the pier. Not noting anything unexpected, he cautiously made his way toward the St. Mary's River. Could be one or two men dragged an inflatable up and hid it on shore, he reasoned. Perhaps someone is even lying in wait in the tall grass. But he did not have time to confirm his suspicion. Within seconds Jack saw the figure of a man walking rapidly toward him from the direction of the parked Tahoe. Jack dropped to his haunches. The man had not yet spotted him, and so he was headed directly to where Jack was waiting. When the man approached to within thirty feet, Jack raised his Glock to a ready-to-fire position and shouted, “Stop right there! I want to see both hands above your head! Both hands! Now!” The man stopped in his tracks and raised his hands over his head. While Jack did observe that both of the man's hands were empty, he could make out what appeared to be a large black bag strapped over his shoulder. “Stay right there!” Jack shouted. “You alone? Or you got friends? Speak up before I drop you!” “I'm alone,” the man said. He was dressed totally in black and was wearing black paint on his face. “Why don't I believe you?” Jack replied. “Where's your buddy?” “Nobody's with me. I'm alone.” “Still don't believe you,” Jack said. “Who brought you here?” “I'm tellin' you the truth -- I'm alone,” the man said, starting to put his hands down. “Get ‘em back up there!” Jack commanded. “Or I'll blow your knee off. … Do it!” The man sensed Jack would do as he threatened, so he immediately thrust his hands back above his head. But as he did he gave away the location of his partner by glancing over Jack's right shoulder toward the St. Mary's River. Unfortunately there was no time for Jack to react. Before he could even follow the man's eyes, a loud but muted “pop” pierced the silence behind him. His hand involuntarily released his Glock, and it fell useless to the ground. He watched it tumble in front of him. He knew immediately what had happened. Someone in the deep grass along the river had fired a round using a suppressor. The bullet caught him under his right arm, which was left exposed by his protective vest. Jack leapt to his left to avoid additional gunfire, reaching for his calf-holstered Walther .380 as he rolled onto the ground. It was an awkward move, as he had to use his off hand to pull the smaller gun from the holster. He continued scrambling in the grass until he had fully retrieved it. Handling the Walther with his left hand, Jack rolled to his stomach and clicked off the safety. First he pointed the gun toward the area of the shooter. Seeing nothing, he cranked his body around and surveyed the area where he had last seen the man in black. Still seeing nothing, he turned back to where he suspected the shooter had been. A few seconds later Jack heard the sound of an outboard motor. Writhing in pain, he reengaged the safety on the Walther and then felt around until he found his Glock.
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