Take My Advice

By Mark Reasoner

A terrorist is cornered by a Federal Agent. Rather than an arrest or a final shoot-out, the agent gives his quarry a choice, along with advice. What is this last advice? 

The Feds hit fast and hard, taking Shukovitch and his men completely by surprise. Two went down in the first barrage, unable to return fire before dying. Their heads exploded, spraying blood and brain matter on the concrete behind them. Assault vehicles crashed through the perimeter fence forcing the few remaining defenders back toward the building.

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Another man went down as the agents began fanning out to surround the building. Shukovitch and his last two henchmen ran backward toward the warehouse door, trying to return fire so they could escape inside.

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Maltoni took three rounds in the back as Shukovitch and Raheem made it to the closed door. With the other man covering, Shukovitch turned to open the steel door. He entered and then held the door open so his colleague could go in too.

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Both men took bullets. Raheem cried out as he was struck in the back, stumbling into Shukovitch, who felt his gut explode from the round entering his side. Falling to the floor under Raheem’s dead weight, Shukovitch dropped his pistol.

He pushed the body away and rolled onto his stomach. Trailing blood and wincing in agony with every movement, Shukovitch inched across the concrete floor to where his weapon lay. As he reached out to touch the pistol’s grip, a black combat boot lodged firmly on his wrist.

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“Let’s not,” Special Agent Griggs said, pointing his own weapon at the prone man. Griggs reached down to take the Makarov. After pocketing the weapon and holstering his own, he dragged Shukovitch over to the corner and handcuffed the injured man’s left wrist to a pipe on the wall.

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“Is this where you slaughter me in cold blood?” Shukovitch asked.

“No point in that,” Griggs answered, “You’re already dead. That gut wound will empty your veins in no time flat.”

“So, you will just watch me die?” Shukovitch said.

“I could,” Griggs said, “But I’ve got better things to do.”

“Besides, I play by different rules.”

Shukovitch tried to laugh, “Yes, I forgot. You have a code of honor, and you must try to save me.”

“That is usually true, my friend,” Griggs said. “But not this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like this. I know I should be trying to save your sorry ass so we can bring you to trial, and have you answer for your actions, but I’m not going to do that this time.”

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“You see,” Griggs continued, “You’ve been a really bad boy. So bad that I don’t think even your mama would take your side.”

“So, you will just leave me here to die,” Shukovitch said.

“That’s one option,” Griggs said, “But not the only one.”

Griggs took out the Makarov, cleared it and dropped the magazine into his other hand. He thumbed all but one bullet from the magazine and reloaded. He chambered the one round and lowered the hammer.

“So, I’ve got a better idea,” Griggs said. “I’m going to give you a shot,”

“But just one. You can do with it whatever you want.”

Griggs slid the pistol across the floor. It stopped next to Shukovitch’s thigh.

“Can I shoot you?” Shukovitch asked.

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“You can try,” Griggs answered. “Of course, the second you do I’ll give you a third eye.” Griggs pointed to the middle of his forehead.

“And then I’d have to deal with two mountains of paperwork,” he continued, “You have no idea how annoying that can be. It’s a complete pain in the ass and I’d really like to avoid it.”

“So, this is about you?” Shukovitch asked.

“Of course it’s about me, dumbass. You don’t count anymore,” Griggs answered. “Then again, you could try to go out in a blaze of glory. Think of it like the old Viking warriors who needed to go down fighting with sword in hand to enter Valhalla. That’s how your comrades would remember you. You’d be a hero.”

“A dead one,” Shukovitch said.

“That’s the best kind,” Griggs said.

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Shukovitch began coughing. “What’s my other choice?” he asked when his spasms subsided.

“Use it on yourself,” Griggs answered, “Save us all a lot of grief.”

“How would my death save you grief?” Shukovitch asked. “As you said, I die in glory and my comrades think of me as a hero and a martyr.”

“Yeah, about that,” Griggs replied. “I kinda sorta lied to you. You don’t have any comrades left. We took them down earlier—on the way here.”

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“I do not believe you,” Shukovitch said.

“Don’t just take my word for it,” Griggs said, pulling up photos on his phone. “Check it out for yourself.”

He showed Shukovitch several pictures of people being taken into custody along with two photos of dead men.

“How do you think we found you?” Griggs asked. “Your own ‘comrades’ gave you up. You were ratted out, my friend.”

He put the phone away.

“Decision time,” Griggs continued, “I really recommend you take my advice, but it’s your call.”

Shukovitch reached for the gun.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

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***

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Outside, Griggs’s partner, Special Agent Saunders, heard the shot and looked toward the now secured building.

“What the hell?” she said as Griggs came through the door. “What just happened?”

“He didn’t take my advice,” Griggs answered.

Mark Reasoner loves to write stories and writes in his spare time