As Lucas hit him, he realized he couldn’t see the man’s mouth: he was wearing a tan knit face mask. The impact turned Lucas enough that he could see the other two were almost on top of him. He pivoted and went left, which meant that the farthest one would be behind the closer one, and Lucas’d only have to fend off one man.
The closer one pulled a flashlight from his pocket as he came in, a Maglite, as good as a billy club. Lucas dodged him but then was open to both of them again, and he turned away and the man with the flashlight swung it at him, hit him in the back below his left shoulder, above his shoulder blade, and he stumbled and half turned and nearly stumbled over the first man, who was back on his hands and knees.
Lucas cleared him and the flashlight man came in again and Lucas dodged the light and grabbed the man’s face mask and wrenched it sideways, enough to see the man’s face, for an instant, from the eyes down. The man wrenched free, and the mask slipped up over his eyes and blinded him; he collided with the third man, and they reeled away. Lucas took advantage of the break to jump over the man on the ground, digging a heel into his back in the process, and Lucas was off and running.
Lucas had a step on them, probably not enough...
Then there was a burst of light, and another, and Lucasthought maybe he’d been shot at, but there was no sound, and the lightning flash came from across the street rather than from behind him. He glanced that direction and saw a tall, thin Asian man holding a cell phone and a briefcase, and it registered in the back of Lucas’s brain that the Asian man had taken a cell phone photo of the fight...
The flash also diverted the attackers. One of them took several running steps toward the Asian man, but another of the men shouted, “No! No! No!” as the Asian man turned and sprinted down the street. Lucas followed, slower than he might have if he hadn’t worn dress shoes to buy a suit.
And Lucas began screaming: “Help! Help! Help!”
He was loud and moving fast, and though there were few people on street, heads were turning their way. Lucas continued running for another hundred feet before risking another glance back... and saw the three men running in the opposite direction, before disappearing down a cross street.
The Asian man had stopped ahead, and Lucas ran toward him and called out, “U.S. Marshal. Wait! Wait!”
The man slowed, and Lucas got his ID from his jacket pocket and held it in front of him. Gasping for air, he stuttered, “I’m a... I’m a U.S. Marshal... Did you take a... a photo of that fight?”
The Asian man nodded, and said, in perfect English, “Yes. Two pictures. Who were those men?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said. “Maybe muggers.”
“I don’t think so,” the Asian man said. “They all wear masks. They all look the same. I don’t think muggers.”
Lucas nodded. “Could you please send those photos to my phone?”
“Yes, I will. Of course.”
The photos came in: they were sharp enough, but all you could read from them were shapes and sizes. Lucas got the man’s name and address in Japan. He was staying at a Washington hotel, on a business trip.
—
AS LUCASshook the man’s hand, a cab came around the corner. Lucas jumped in front of it, and the driver ran his window down, and said, “I’ve got a call,” and Lucas said, “If it’s Figueroa & Prince, it’s me.”
He was still breathing hard and sweating, and the driver looked at him doubtfully, said, “Well, okay, that’s where I was going.”
Lucas got in the back, and said, “Watergate Hotel.”
The driver pulled away, saying, “I could be wrong, but in my opinion it’s too goddamn hot to jog in a suit and tie.”
“Gotta get your cardio where you can,” Lucas said. They passed the spot where he’d last seen the trio of men, but they were gone. He wouldn’t be going out again without a gun, but even if he’d had one, he didn’t know if he could have gotten it out in time. The three men had been closing fast, and looked competent, and maybe were armed. If he’d pulled a gun, they might have shot him. Still, he was... embarrassed. He’d had to run, and he’d been screaming for help like a little girl.
“So how about them Nationals?” the driver asked.
“I’m from Minnesota,” Lucas said, sinking back in the seat. “I’m a Twins fan.”
The driver thought for a few seconds, and said, “Then I got nothin’.”
—
AT THE HOTEL,he checked the recorder. Nobody had been in the room, as far as he could tell. And he called Rae. “How soon can you and Bob get here?”
She said, “Oh-oh.”
Lucas said, “Yeah.”
—
