Tarnished image, p.29
Tarnished Image, page 29
“OK. But I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Too bad, kid. You’re not going anywhere.”
“But I really, really gotta, go.” Timmy insisted.
“Let him go to the bathroom,” Kristen said. “We’re fifty-three floors up. What’s he going to do, jump out a window?”
“All right, kid, but make it quick. Do you hear? Quick, or I’m coming in after you.”
“I’ll be quick,” Timmy said as he leaped from the couch and sprinted toward the bathroom.
David pulled back from the door. He could not make out all the words, but he heard three voices. Kristen’s, Timmy’s, and one he didn’t recognize. He was simultaneously relieved and terrified.
Relieved because Kristen and Timmy were alive and sounded unharmed. Terrified because a stranger was in his suite holding his loved ones. David had to assume the man was armed.
The real question was what to do next. He played with the idea of storming into the apartment. He would have the advantage of surprise. Perhaps he could tackle the man before he could harm Kristen and Timmy. If so, they might be able to make an escape. But logic kicked in hard. It was more likely that David would be shot and killed in the act. With him dead, the abductor would have no reason to keep the other two alive. As horribly ironic as it seemed, Kristen and Timmy might be safer with David at some distance.
But he had to do something. It was just as likely that the kidnapper would get frustrated and kill them anyway.
David walked away from the door to the elevator lobby. He began to pace. The thought of the danger that was just a few steps down the hall tormented him. He had to do something, but it had to be right, smart, and logical. He struggled to suppress his emotions while freeing his mind.
David paced some more. He prayed. He fumed. He prayed again. The elevator indicator chimed. Instinctively, David ducked around the corner into the hall. The elevator could be bringing anyone up. Maybe the man in the apartment had an accomplice or even a dozen accomplices. For all David knew, all the guards were dead and the building had been taken over by a mob of hit men. He could take no chances.
Desperately, David looked for a weapon. His eyes traced the hall but at first found nothing. A big, heavy fire extinguisher was mounted on the wall. It might serve as a decent weapon against one, maybe even two men—provided they didn’t have guns. It was his only choice.
Dropping the folder, he took the metal canister from its rack. David set it down, seized the neck just below the handle and nozzle, and quietly stepped to the corner formed by the hall and lobby. He prepared to swing and swing hard.
David strained his ears to listen, hoping to hear voices or to get some clue as to who was stepping from the elevator. He heard only the slow padding of shoes on the lobby carpet. Taking a deep breath, David raised the fire extinguisher, stepped forward, and prepared to strike.
Calvin’s eyes widened, and he brought up his arms. David was barely able to redirect his swing so the metal cylinder missed his attorney’s head.
“David! You’re all right.”
“Quiet,” David commanded. He pushed Calvin to the back wall of the lobby. In a voice barely above a whisper he said, “I just got back from communications. Someone is in my apartment. I could hear them talking. Some man is holding Kristen and Timmy.”
“Man? You’re sure you heard a man’s voice?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t hear a strange woman’s voice?”
“No. Should I have?”
Calvin explained about the “Kristen” being escorted to her office.
“Kristen has been in my apartment all night. She hasn’t been out of my sight except for the twenty minutes or so that I was down in communications.”
“It must have been a disguise.”
“I can believe it. This whole thing has been nothing but smoke and mirrors since the beginning.”
“What about weapons? Are there any weapons in the building?” Calvin asked.
“There are none on the Barringston floors, that much I know. Do you think I’d be swinging a fire extinguisher if there were?”
“Swell,” Calvin said. “So we have a professional hit man holding two hostages on the top floor of a fifty-three-story building, the extra guards didn’t show, and the ones that are here aren’t carrying guns, and we’re armed with a fire extinguisher.” He shook his head. “This is not good, not good at all. At least the police are on their way.”
“That’s a plus.”
“I’m not so sure. If our bad guy gets nervous, things could go from bad to worse.”
“How so?”
“Look, David, the police are trained for many things, including situations similar to this one. They have hostage negotiators and sharpshooters. But this is not a typical situation. Those things are fine if you’re dealing with a trapped bank robber or some depressed husband who has taken his family hostage. Our bad guy is a professional. Some negotiator isn’t going to talk him into giving up.”
“I agree with the professional part. Whoever it is that has set me up with those videos and sent those pictures has put a lot of thought and money into this. They certainly aren’t going to hire some two-bit hood.” David paused. “What will the police do when they get here?”
Calvin looked across the lobby at the hall. “They’ll send a patrol car, maybe another as backup. First officer on the scene will talk to the guards and attempt to assess the situation. A couple of officers may come up here, so go easy with that fire extinguisher. Once they know that it is a hostage situation, they’ll call for supervisors, SWAT, hostage negotiation. Most likely they’ll evacuate the building.”
David studied Calvin. “You don’t think that’ll work, do you?”
Calvin shook his head. “Most times yes, but not here. If she … he is the professional I think he is, then we’ve got real trouble. There’s a good chance that he might kill Kristen or Timmy.”
“Why?” David was shocked. “They’re his safety net.”
Again Calvin shook his head. “Two hostages are more difficult to handle than one. He knows that. By killing one, he sets the tone for negotiations. I’m sorry, David.”
“I’m not going to let that happen. Not while I breathe. We must do something.”
“There’s another problem too. If I’ve pieced this together right, we have a man dressed like Kristen. If the police give up on negotiations and charge the room, they could mistakenly shoot the wrong person.”
David sighed heavily.
“Animals become more ferocious when trapped,” Calvin said coolly. The transition from attorney back to FBI agent was easily seen. “It’s going to be the same for him. What we need to do is give him a way out. At least a way he thinks is out.”
“Or give him me. I’m the one he wants. This whole thing orbits around me. I don’t know why, but it does.”
“He would still need a way out.”
“I can become his hostage and …” David trailed off.
Calvin finished the thought for him. “And he can kill you as he makes his getaway. I don’t think so, David. We don’t release control. We maintain it. Use it to our advantage.”
“I wasn’t aware that we had control.”
“We may have more than we think.”
There was a deep, palpable silence as dark as the night outside.
“OK, here’s what we do,” Calvin said.
18
“WHAT’S IN THE CASE?” KRISTEN ASKED. THE PREVIOUS TEN minutes had passed in utter and oppressive silence.
“Did you watch cartoons when you were a kid?” the man said. Click. Clack. He was still playing with the hammer of the pistol.
“Sometimes.”
“Ever hear of Felix the Cat? Well, that’s my magic bag of tricks.”
“What’s in it?” Kristen persisted.
“If I told you, the magic would be gone. Wouldn’t it?”
The man’s flippancy was wearing on her. “What happens if David doesn’t come back? Maybe he’s on to you.”
“No one is on to me,” he replied flatly. “No one knows I’m here.”
“The guards must have seen you enter the building.”
“Correction. They saw you enter the building.”
“The red wig is a close match, but you don’t look that much like me. At least I hope I don’t look like you.”
“The resemblance has to be only good enough to create the illusion. That’s the problem with hiring rent-a-cops. They don’t know the people well enough. I passed right under their noses.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. Not even the guard who escorted me saw through my disguise. Another ten minutes and he would have made a pass at me.”
“What happened to the guard?”
“He took the stairs down.” The man laughed.
“What’s that mean?”
Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door. The abductor was on his feet and pressing the gun to the back of Kristen’s neck. “Who could that be at this hour?” His voice was a whisper.
Kristen grimaced in pain as the man ground the gun into her skin. “How should I know? I don’t live here. I just fell asleep on the couch.”
He leaned over and put his lips next to her ear. Strands of hair from the wig brushed her face, and his breath rolled along her cheek. She felt ill.
“This is how it is going to go,” he said. “You’re going to answer the door. Open it only partway. If it’s David—”
“It’s not—oww!” The end of the silencer dug into her flesh.
“Shut up and listen. If it’s David, step back and let him in. If it’s someone else, get rid of them.”
“And if it’s the police?”
“You’re all dead.”
Kristen rose and crossed to the door. Just before she turned the handle, she heard a whispered, “Hold it.” Turning, she saw the man grab Timmy by the back of the shirt and lead him to the side of the door. The barrel of the gun was pressed under Timmy’s chin. He said something to Timmy that Kristen could not hear. Timmy, eyes wide in fright, just nodded.
Once in place next to the door, the man motioned with his head that Kristen should continue. She turned the knob and opened the door about six inches. Peeking out, she saw Calvin.
Calvin’s heart was pounding, and his mouth was dry. He forced a smile. “Oh, hi, Kristen. I didn’t expect to see you here.” A glance was all it took for him to realize the fear she felt.
“I … I fell asleep on the couch.”
“I’m sorry to wake you, but I have some good news for David. Is he still awake?”
She shook her head. Calvin shot his eyes to the door and back asking an unspoken question. Kristen caught it. She nodded slightly as she said, “He’s asleep. He’s not feeling well.”
“I can imagine. Anyway, I’ve found a way to get the Justice Department to unfreeze Barringston Relief’s assets, but I need a couple of signatures first. If David could sign them first thing in the morning, I’ll send a messenger around to pick it up. Then you guys can get back to the business of helping people.” Once again he cut his eyes to the door and then back at Kristen asking again the unspoken question. This time he scratched his chin with his thumb, his index finger extended straight. He was making a sign for a gun.
Kristen nodded twice. “I’ll make sure he gets it. I know he’ll be pleased.”
“Thanks,” Calvin said lightly. His stomach seized into a tight fist of a knot. “Again, I’m sorry I woke you. If you’ll just take this folder,” he held out the manila office folder David had brought up from communications, “and have him sign where I’ve indicated, we can get this monkey off our back.”
Calvin held the folder back making Kristen reach for it. “I’ll be sure to do that, and—”
He grabbed her arm and pulled hard while simultaneously ramming his shoulder into the door. Calvin watched as Kristen was turned sideways by the forceful opening. He pulled again, spinning her into the hall. David was there. He snatched her by the blouse and pulled her down the corridor toward the stairs. Calvin heard him yell, “Run!”
The door unexpectedly pulled open. Calvin, who had been pressing against the door with all his strength to make an opening wide enough to pull Kristen through, fell headlong into the apartment.
It was something Calvin had not anticipated.
David pushed Kristen along the hall, interposing himself between the door to his suite and her. He turned briefly, looking over his shoulder. Two holes exploded through the door at head height, casting splinters into the air. Gunshots.
“Timmy!” Kristen was screaming. “Timmy is still in there.”
“I know,” David answered forcefully. “Keep moving. To the stairs. Don’t stop. Run. Keep running.” It wasn’t supposed to have worked this way. The man was supposed to bolt into the hall where Calvin would distract him and possibly subdue him. That would give Timmy a chance to run. But Calvin disappeared into the apartment. David’s fear tripled.
The stairway nearest David’s apartment was only a dozen steps away, but it seemed a thousand. In his mind, he could hear the door open and the man with the gun laugh maniacally. He could feel the impact of hot bullets in his back. So far it was only his imagination, but David knew that the nightmare could become reality in less than a second.
Kristen reached the stairwell door with David close on her heels. She paused. David did not. Reaching around her, he clutched the horizontal panic bar, sandwiching Kristen between him and the door. David pushed the bar with his hand and Kristen with his body. They careened through the opening.
Kristen gasped. David, still holding the door open, turned in the direction of her gaze, fearing that some coconspirator had been lying in wait for them. Instead, he saw the broken and shot bodies of the two guards lying unmoving on the intermediate landing five feet below them.
“Oh, David.”
“Later. Upstairs. Run.”
“Where?”
“There’s a machine room above this floor. Calvin and I checked it. The door is open. Now go.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going back for Timmy and Calvin.” David didn’t wait for a reply. He bolted back through the door and into the hall.
His heart was pounding, his mind praying, his anger growing. It wasn’t supposed to work this way. It was falling apart. Sprinting down the hall, he came to the door of his suite. He paused for a second, took a deep breath, then charged through.
When Calvin fell through the opening into David’s suite, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He was pretty sure that he would be shot. Instead, he stumbled across the threshold, falling forward. He did a shoulder roll, springing to his feet.
Looking to the door he saw the woman/man with the gun. He also saw something that sent chills of terror through his soul. Timmy was wrestling with the man in the wig.
“Stop it! Stop it! You’re a bad man.” Timmy was young in mind, but he possessed the body of a twenty-four-year-old man. Adrenaline fueled by fear and concern had given him explosive strength. Timmy had kept Calvin from being shot.
“Get off me, you stupid—oww!” The scream of pain came when Timmy bit the gunman’s hand. It was a brave act that was rewarded with a knee to the stomach and a left-handed punch to the side of the head. Timmy dropped in a heap. Calvin knew by the way the boy fell that he was unconscious before he landed on the floor.
But Calvin had no intention of letting the brave young man be treated so brutally. Before the attacker could fully turn, Calvin was on him, full weight flung forward with the determination of an NFL tackle. The two men crashed into the wall. Several pictures fell from their perches and crashed to the floor.
Immediately, Calvin spun the smaller man around so that his gun hand was pointed away from Timmy. A shot was fired. It pierced the carpet and ricocheted off the concrete floor and into the ceiling. He wanted the man on the floor flat on his back. There Calvin could use his greater size and weight to pin him and limit his mobility. Wrapping both arms around the assailant, he lifted, preparing to send him crashing to the deck.
He wasn’t fast enough.
The gunman, arms confined by Calvin, pulled his head back and then brought it crashing down into Calvin’s face. The blow was stunning. Red and yellow splashes filled his sight. Calvin’s knees buckled; his stomach turned at the pain. Darkness plunged in from the edges of his eyes. He fought the encroaching blackness, willing himself to hold on to consciousness and to remain on his feet.
Blinking hard, he involuntarily dropped his arms and staggered backward. His vision blurred, then cleared in time to see a foot sailing at his head. Instinct told him to move, but his body was unresponsive. The roundhouse kick landed on the right of Calvin’s jaw. There was a snap and searing pain. Again he staggered but remained standing.
Another kick. This one landed just below his ribs. The air in his lungs was forced from his lips, his solar plexus, convulsed by spasms, became paralyzed. He could not draw a breath. Calvin dropped to one knee and looked up into the bore of the pistol aimed at his head.
The gunman smiled.
When David exploded into the room, his eyes fell directly on a woman with red hair. She was aiming a pistol at a crimson-faced, heaving Calvin. He knew this was no woman but a man in disguise. A man hired to kill him. A man who had threatened and harmed those whom he loved. A man who participated in bringing Barringston Relief to its knees when it needed to be its strongest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Timmy curled up on the floor, unmoving.
In the fraction of a second it took to take in the scene, parts of David’s personality dissolved. Fear evaporated, caution melted away, personal protection became meaningless. All that mattered was stopping this man.
David charged. By nature he was not a physical man, although he kept in shape by playing racquetball twice each week, a habit he had learned from A.J. Barringston, his mentor. But when properly motivated, the least physical of men could become juggernauts of force, driven by passion, propelled by love.
