Free Death By Degrees by Harrison Drake Page B

is that person watching us?” I looked to the south, following Kara’s gaze, toward a man hidden in the bushes a short distance from the restaurant. “I swear I just saw binoculars. And what the hell is he doing in there anyway?”
    I couldn’t make the person out very well, couldn’t know for sure, but part of me knew. It was Crawford. It had to be.
    I rose without saying a word and took off at a sprint toward the trees where, until I stood up, the man had been. Chen and Kara were right behind me, Eddie a little further off. It had taken him longer to realize what was going on. No fault there, just not a cop.
    The brush was thick and difficult to get through. Every branch I ducked under or around seemed to result in two more appearing right at face level. I barely slowed down though, just ran through them like a juggernaut destroying everything in my path. Determination and pure adrenaline had taken over and I ran on instinct, the sound of branches cracking ahead of me the only thing that guided my path. I had lost sight of him – was it Crawford? – within moments of starting to run, and I had yet to spot him again. The sounds were enough to track him, and at times I could have sworn I had seen a figure.
    The three of us, becoming four again a couple of minutes later, broke through the woods and scaled a fence into the zoo. I counted my lucky stars that the fence took us only into the zoo itself, and not into any of the enclosures. My single-minded focus blinded me to my surroundings, and jumping into the African Plains exhibit would not have gone over well.
    To our left, west toward the lake, I saw a man running. He had something in his left hand and was wearing a black shirt. I had seen the shirt when we were being watched, and Kara thought she had seen binoculars. It was the best guess we had at that point.
    I pointed him out to the others and took off after him. One person running in a populated area generally made it easy to identify the guilty party. Had he stopped and tried to blend in, we may never have noticed him. Instead, we had given chase once more and were gaining on him. It was a slow gain, but he seemed to be faltering.
    A pathway curved to the south a short distance ahead and he turned, cutting across the grass and through a lightly-treed area to get to it. I cut the corner wider and kept running hard. The lactic acid building up in my muscles burned and I could barely catch my breath; I pushed past the pain and kept going, refusing to give up.
    The man was doing everything he could to get away and I could sense desperation in his actions. He would strong-arm people as he ran by, pushing them aside with no regard for anything. An elderly woman tumbled to the ground a hundred meters ahead of me and cried out in pain. Guilt poured in as I ran past her, barely acknowledging her. I looked past him and saw why he was becoming more desperate: the park ended soon and with that he would be into the city where he’d stand a better chance of blending in and getting away.
    I had to stop him.
    Every muscle screamed as I forced the last bit of power out. I was almost there, just a little further and I’d be on him. The park ran out before I got there and the next thing I knew, he was climbing into a waiting taxi.
    I drew my gun and pointed it at him. It was a long-shot, too long to take safely with so many pedestrians around.
    “Stop, police,” I yelled, straining my lungs in a different way. Nothing. He kept climbing in. If I could get the taxi driver’s attention, maybe he’d know not to drive away.
    “Arrêtez, police!”
    All that did was surprise me that I had remembered a French word. The man got into the cab and it drove away, the driver apparently oblivious to what was going on.
    Even if I had known for sure that it was him, I couldn’t have taken the shot. It was too far and there was nothing behind the cab to stop an errant round. The cost of missing was too high.
    “Thirty-four,” Kara said.