The Winner by David Baldacci

He tried to say something, tried to scream to her to run, to run like hell, but all that came out was something that would hardly qualify as a whisper.

He watched in horror as Jackson staggered up, flew over to Lisa, and pressed something against her mouth. The girl struggled valiantly but it was no use. As her nostrils sucked in the chloroform she was soon on the floor next to Charlie.

Jackson wiped the blood from his face and roughly pulled his associate up. “Take her to the car and don’t let anyone see you.”

The man nodded dully, his entire body one large hurt from Charlie’s fists.

Charlie watched helplessly as the man carried the unconscious Lisa out. Then his eyes slid over to Jackson, who knelt down next to him, rubbing his chin gingerly.

Then, speaking in a voice that exactly impersonated Riggs, he said, “They caught Jackson. They caught him. I feel like celebrating.” Then Jackson laughed out loud.

Charlie didn’t say anything. He just lay there, watching, waiting.

In his own voice, Jackson said, “I knew my phone call would make you drop your guard just enough. Opening the door without checking first, no gun ready. How lax. You were really very diligent about not being followed, though. I knew you would be. That’s why on the very first night I was in Charlottesville, I entered the garage at Wicken’s Hunt and placed a transmitter inside the wheel well of each vehicle there, including your Range Rover. This particular transmitter was originally designed for military use and employs satellite-tracking technology. I could have followed you around the globe. It was very expensive, but obviously was well worth it.

“I knew after I met with LuAnn that she would send Lisa off with you and I needed to know exactly where you were just in case I needed little Lisa for the final showdown. I love strategic thinking, don’t you? It’s so rare when someone does it correctly. As it turns out, I do need her. That’s why I’m here.”

Charlie winced slightly when Jackson pulled the knife from his coat and he flinched again when Jackson pulled up the sleeve of Charlie’s shirt.

“I really love this device,” Jackson said, looking at the stun gun. “It’s one of the few instruments I’m aware of that allows one to have full control over another without seriously injuring them and still leaving them fully conscious.”

Jackson packed the stun gun away in his coat. He left the darts in Charlie. He wasn’t worried about leaving any evidence behind this time.

“You sided with the wrong person.” As Jackson said this he ripped open the shirtsleeve up to Charlie’s shoulder to give himself a clear space in which to work. “You were loyal to LuAnn and look where it got you.” Jackson shook his head sadly, but the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings of glee.

As slowly as he could, Charlie tried to flex his legs. He grimaced a little, but he could feel something down there. It hurt, but at least he could feel it. What Jackson didn’t know was that one of the darts had hit Charlie’s thick Crucifix, imbedding completely in it. The other dart had partially hit the medallion before entering his chest, with the result that the voltage that had rocked his body was far less than Jackson had counted on it to be.

“Now, the stun charge will last approximately fifteen minutes,” Jackson lectured him. “Unfortunately, the cut I’m about to inflict upon you will only take about ten minutes to cause you to bleed to death. However, you won’t feel anything, physically. Mentally, well, it might be rather unnerving watching yourself bleed to death and being absolutely powerless to do anything about it. I could kill you quick, but this way seems far more gratifying to me personally.”

As he spoke, Jackson made a precise and deep gash in Charlie’s upper arm. Charlie bit the inside of his jaw as he felt the sharp blade slice through his skin. As Charlie’s blood started to pour out in a steady flow, Jackson rose.

“Good-bye, Charlie, I’ll tell LuAnn you said hello. Right before I kill her.” Jackson snapped this last sentence out, his face a twisted mass of hatred. Then he smiled and closed the door.

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