Page 113 of The Accomplice
The sound of boots running after me made me turn.
Bloch was right behind me.
Behind her, Bill Seong started to move toward us.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
THE SANDMAN
As Otto Peltier stepped out into the crowd of reporters outside the courthouse, he waved them away with one hand, and with the other, he pushed through the heaving mass of questions, cameras and microphones all being shoved in his face. He lunged forward, pushing a female reporter to the ground and then shouldered another man out of the way. The cameras swerved from him to the fallen reporter, but by the time they came back to him he was through the crowd and running at speed toward his Mercedes parked across the street.
Otto opened the car with the fob as he ran. When he reached the car, he heard the crowd of reporters start up again. He turned, saw that Flynn and Bloch were now caught in the crowd.
They would try to follow him. This is how they would find Kate. They wanted to expose him, provoke him, and then follow him to where he was holding their friend.
He got in, fired up the engine and slipped on his seat belt. He revved the twin turbo V-12.
They would fail.
There was no way they would catch the Sandman, not in this car. Otto still thought of himself by that name. The Sandman gave him power. Made him invincible. Sharpened his wits and his cunning and his ruthless nature. If he thought long and hard about it, there was no Otto Peltier. That pedestrian name was a mask. A character he played.
There was only the Sandman.
He had been convinced that after the trial, once Carrie was acquitted, she would be with him forever. She had betrayed him. She had spoken against him, to Flynn, to that fucking smartass lawyer. That’s why he’d chosen him when he realized he couldn’t make a deal with the DA to save Carrie. Flynn was exactly the type of lawyer she needed.
Getting Flynn on this case was his worst mistake.
He glanced to his left, saw, somehow, the crowd of reporters parting for Flynn and Bloch. They saw Otto in the car and started sprinting toward him.
As he spun the wheels, letting the rubber bake into the blacktop, he enjoyed the look on Flynn’s face as he realized he was too late. That the Sandman was about to take off and that they had no hope of catching him. And, of course, the certain knowledge of the consequences of that failure were there on Flynn’s tortured features for all to see.
The Sandman was heading for the bus depot in Coney Island. Before he left the USA for good, with his fake passport and money from the depot office, he would have his revenge on Flynn. The lawyer had taken his woman. Turned her against him. This could not go unpunished. Ideally, he would love to kill Flynn, maybe even take his eyes while he was still awake. But he knew there was no time. And there was something else he could do. Another way to have his revenge on the smartass lawyer.
He would burn Kate Brooks alive.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
EDDIE
I ran through the open, glass double doors of the courthouse and straight into a sea of reporters that swam around me and Bloch, enveloping us.
‘Harry Ford is right behind me, he will be making a statement,’ I said, and with that, the oceans of media parted like I was Moses, jostling each other to be the first ones to get to Harry, who, unbeknown to them, was still in court.
I leapt the three steps to the sidewalk, heard a huge engine across the street hitting the redline on its rev counter – Peltier behind the wheel of that Mercedes, staring at me with a terrifying grimace on his face. He took off like a bolt, hooked a left onto Leonard Street.
Another sound. A car horn. On my right.
Wings was leaning out of the driver’s window of an orange Camaro, patting the side of the door with his hand and calling us. Bloch got in the back, and I jumped into the front.
‘Come on, come on,’ said Wings.
Before I could close the door, Wings hit the gas and we shot in front of a Semi loaded with concrete that had to swerve into the other lane to avoid us. The sound of the Camaro was deafening. I put on my belt as Wings turned onto Leonard Street, said, ‘There he is, the son of a bitch.’
My phone rang. I picked up.
‘Bill, we’ve got him. He’s on Leonard. Looks like he’s gonna loop around Lafayette and Federal Plaza. Probably headed for the Brooklyn Bridge. You mobile yet ?’
‘I’ve got three cars on you. I’m in the fourth and we’re way back. I’ve got the tracker online so we won’t lose him, but I don’t want to give him a chance to change vehicles. Stay on him. I still can’t believe I let you talk me into letting him go.’
