KNOW THINE ENEMY

Chapter 1

Horatio didn't know what caught his attention, especially as it was Sunday and he was off-duty, strolling from his condo to a nearby 7-Eleven. Thinking about… not very much. Maybe it was the sound of a big engine, revving fast. Maybe just a sixth sense. Whatever it was, he looked round.

The grille of a black SUV was perilously close, and coming fast. Aiming at him. No accident. All this rushed through his mind as he threw himself to one side. Almost too late… The vehicle struck him on one leg, sending him flying across the sidewalk. He heard it roar away.

For a few moments he lay there, shocked, hurt and winded. A passer-by bent down next to him.

"Christ, man… Did he just hit you?"

"Feels like it…" He was still struggling to catch his breath. "Did you… get the license?"

"No." The man was speaking into his cell. "Yeah, ambulance… And the police."

"Not the police. I am the police."

"Okay." His helper looked a little confused. "All right. Not the police, just an ambulance." He closed his phone, and bent to help Horatio as he tried to sit up. "Maybe you should lie still…"

"Not that bad." He felt his left leg gingerly. It hurt like hell, but he didn't think it was broken. Lucky. He realised the car had hit him on the calf, just below his knee. From behind, otherwise he would certainly have been dealing with a broken leg and probably a smashed knee. He rotated his ankle, and gritted his teeth at the pain. "Don't think anything's broken."

"Was that deliberate? It looked like he drove right at you."

"I think so." He held out a hand. "Caine. Lieutenant, MDPD. Thanks for stopping. Help me up?"

He tried to get up, but, apart from a leg that wouldn't work, the change of position brought a wave of dizziness, and he sank back to a sitting position. "Sorry – need to catch my breath." He felt in his pocket for his own cell, and was relieved that it had survived the impact. He scrolled down and pressed 'Call'. "Eric? Are you in the city? Anywhere near my place?" Relief flooded him at the affirmative answer. "I need you. Someone just tried to kill me." He held the phone away from his ear until the expletives and questions subsided. "I'm okay. Just come." He gave his location, and then looked back at his rescuer. "What did you notice about the vehicle?"

"Not much. Black. Tinted windows."

"Make? I thought GMC."

"Could have been."

"Did you see the driver?"

"No, I was looking at you."

Horatio nodded, wished he hadn't, and dropped his head into his hands. "Sorry…"

The sound of a siren was surprisingly welcome. Sitting on the sidewalk was attracting far more attention than he liked. But the fact was that he felt too shocked, sick and dizzy to do anything about it. An ambulance pulled up. He let his rescuer explain what had happened and gave himself over to the paramedics. They lifted him into the back of the ambulance, which at least afforded some privacy.

"Is it just the leg? Or do you hurt anywhere else?"

"Just the leg. Few grazes…" He held up skinned palms, and showed them his bleeding elbows. "It was a heavy landing. I think I'm going to be sick."

"No worries. Shock'll do that." He was handed a bowl.

A pair of scissors was used to carefully cut the left leg of a favorite pair of jeans. "I could have taken them off – I don't think I've broken anything," he protested mildly.

"We don't know that. Wow, that's some swelling!"

It was. His knee was already close to twice its normal size and the extensive bruising was beginning to darken. A squeal of tires announced Eric's arrival.

"What happened?" He jumped into the ambulance.

Horatio forestalled the paramedic's protest. "My colleague. We're MDPD." The nausea caught up with him, and he retched into the bowl. "Sorry…" He lay back with his eyes closed for a few moments, then opened them and focussed on Eric. "I was run down. Black SUV. Tinted windows. Possibly GMC. Didn't get the plates."

"You mean deliberately?"

"Definitely. I almost got out of the way." He indicated his leg. "But not quite."

The paramedic looked up. "We need to get going. Get this X-rayed."

Eric said quickly, "I'll follow. And I'll get a BOLO out – not much to go on though."

The X-ray showed no broken bones, although, by then, he hardly believed it. When the doctor announced, "Just bruising, and possibly some tendon damage," Horatio had to bite his tongue not to make a very rude retort.

The doctor, reading his mind, added, "I shouldn't say 'just'. It's a very severe contusion. You won't be able to walk for a few days, not without crutches, anyway. Actually, you shouldn't walk on it much at all. You may not feel it, but you're lucky. You could have had your leg smashed."

"I could be dead. It was what was intended," he said sourly. Then he forced a smile. "Sorry, doc. I know you're right."

"I'll sort you out some effective pain medication, and anti-inflammatories – that should reduce the swelling. Otherwise, rest and cold compresses." He looked up as Eric came in. Horatio made a quick introduction.

As the doctor left, Eric sat down. "Any idea who?"

"None. I mean, I'm not short of enemies…"

"Have you had threats you haven't told me about?"

"Nope. The usual low-lifes mouthing off in court. Nothing special."

"Nothing else you remember on the vehicle? Or the driver?"

"No. It looked like the ones the Feds use." He gave a brief grin.

Eric chuckled. "Doubt it was a Fed. Unless you've really upset someone."

Horatio's face straightened. "Seriously, I've no idea. Did you get the BOLO out?"

"Yes, without much hope… How are you, anyway?"

"Bit banged up. Nothing broken."

The doctor came back. He carried a pair of crutches, which he propped in a corner. He smiled at Horatio's expression. "Don't look like that, Lieutenant. I think you'll find you need them. We'll try in a minute. First…" He filled a syringe and injected it into his patient's arm. "That should start to work on the bruising, and the pain. Let me just have a look at the grazes, while you rest for a few minutes."

"They are only grazes."

"From a dirty sidewalk – you don't want sepsis."

Horatio gave in, and allowed his elbows and hands to be cleaned and bandaged. He chuckled. "How the hell do I handle a gun?"

"You don't." The doctor and Eric spoke together.

The doctor added. "Few days – as you said, you're just grazed. Although crutches and a gun might be a handful."

"Even for you," Eric murmured.

"Okay," the doctor said. "Do you want to try getting up?"

Horatio, with Eric's help, staggered to his feet. At least the shock was ebbing, and with it, the nausea. His injured leg would take his weight – just, but walking was near impossible.

The doctor held out the crutches. "Just for a couple of days… It'll heal quicker."

Eric brought his car to the door of the hospital, and his boss left the place gratefully – on crutches. Eric drove him to his condo, and helped him inside.

"Now rest. Can I get you anything?"

"I'm okay. You could make some coffee while I get these off." He gestured to the flapping leg of his jeans.

Eric went to the kitchen while Horatio hobbled to his bedroom. There, he changed to a bathrobe. He wasn't going anywhere, and he couldn't be bothered to dress. He was lying on the sofa when his colleague returned, with a pot of coffee, but a single mug.

"You not staying?" He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"I'm going back to the scene – see if your hit-and-run vehicle shed any bits and pieces. I'll be back in an hour. Less. You have a think about who it could be, while I'm gone."

TBC