Coyote (38 page)

The water was filling the little cabin so fast it'd risen over the base of the chains. Now it was impossible to get enough momentum to even try to break the wood.

We went to work on our cuffs …

The water was up to my waist.

I looked over at Daniel. I was our only hope. My hand and wrist were much smaller.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I forced my thumb out of its socket, dislocating it. I sobbed as I scraped my hand out and free of the cuff … With a deep groan I attempted to snap my thumb back in place but only partially succeeded.

‘I'm free, Daniel. I'm free!' I yelled. I swam over to Honeycutt; by now the water was up to his shoulders.

Honeycutt's wrists were too big. He couldn't get his hand out. ‘Get outta here, Kannon!' he barked. ‘Go! You can't help me!'

‘I'm
not
leaving without you!' I yelled back.

I swam to the ladder and climbed it. I tried to fight the fire hose away from the hole, gasping in agony from my swelling thumb. But the force of water pumping through the big hose was too powerful — it fish-tailed away from my grasp. I had to find the tap to turn it off.

I looked down at Daniel.

He looked up at me in desperation. ‘There's nothing you can do here, Kannon!' he shouted. ‘Go stop Webb!'

The water was up to his chin.

‘Hold your breath, Daniel!' I screamed. ‘I'm not leaving without you, so if you die — I will too!'

‘No, Kannon! You've gotta save yourself!' His eyes said goodbye. ‘Darlin', I love you.'

‘Hold your breath!' I screamed again.

I lurched through the ship, ramming wooden columns in my haste. I raced up the stairs and out into the basement. I whirled around and found the circular handle of the fire hose. It was stiff and my left hand had swollen … but I somehow managed to wrench it off. I rifled through the tools next to the basement stairs — there was a crowbar.

I dived back down into the brigantine.

I reached the hole, expecting to see Daniel's head …

But the lantern on the deck next to me showed only flat black water.

‘Daniel!' I screamed.

The crowbar in one hand, I jumped in.

The lantern light penetrated the water just far enough for me to see … a shape.

Oh God!

Daniel floated motionless, his face white, his eyes open but unseeing.

He was gone.

I screamed and sucked in a mouthful of water. I shot up, gasped and dived down again.

I followed his chain down to the wall and stuck the crowbar in the tiny crack between the metal base and the wooden wall.

I pushed the lever down with all my might, my thumb pulsing in agony.

No good.

I came up for air, then dived again.

Wedging the crowbar closer into the crack, I gave one last shove …

And the wood released the chain, base and all.

Climbing the partially submerged ladder I hauled Daniel, including his chain, up with me to the surface. I sucked in a great lungful of air.

‘Daniel!' I sobbed as I held him against the ladder. ‘Don't go … keep fighting.'

He was a big man, so very heavy wet … and laden with an iron chain.

I hauled him over my shoulder and sank suddenly under the weight. I struggled, gulping in water, as I used my strong legs to fight our way up the ladder. Every step was a battle.

I thrust him up and through the hole. I scrambled up to drag him further away from the hole.

‘Daniel!' He was icy cold, his lips blue.

I worked automatically, my lifesaver training kicking in. I cleared his mouth and began resuscitation, breathing my air into his lungs. His face felt like ice.

‘Come on, Daniel, you can do this! I know you can! Come home to me. Please, Daniel … please!'

Tears ran down my wet face and onto his.

It was no good. Breath alone was not enough.

I hit the middle of his chest. ‘Come on!' I yelled. Then slammed it again. ‘Come on!'

Daniel coughed once, water spurted out. I turned him on his side. He vomited; a flood of water jetted out of his mouth.

He lay back gasping, heaving for air.

With Honeycutt's heavy arm draped across my hunched shoulders, we staggered up to the deck of
The Hue & Cry
. That was as far as he could make it before his legs betrayed him.

Daniel slid down to lie curled on his side, coughing weakly.

I knelt, holding my blackened thumb protectively to my chest. It'd swollen to twice its normal size.

Above us, the basement door flung open. Gilda hurled herself down the stairs. She zeroed in on Honeycutt. ‘Oh my God, oh my God …' she wailed.

I looked around for a weapon, but she rushed over and flung herself down next to him. ‘What's wrong with him? Is he okay?'

Then she saw the red fire hose snaking down through the trap door in the middle of the deck. ‘What's that doing —'

‘Webb tried to drown us.'

Gilda paled. ‘But, but …'

‘I told you the truth about Webb,' I spat. ‘But you left us chained in that black hole and then told him where we were … didn't you?' I accused.

She was mute with anguish.

I nodded at the hose. ‘That's proof that I told you the truth. He couldn't afford to keep us alive.'

Gilda looked like a lost child.

‘Where is he?' I demanded. ‘Where is Webb now?'

‘He's gone,' she whispered in a daze. ‘We're booked for a performance tonight in the Transamerica Pyramid. I'm doing the Circle of Death for Mayor Ruttle and some foreign investors he wants to impress. Gideon's over there now setting it up …'

Her gaze wandered back to the hose. She stared at it in horror, as though imagining us as corpses floating in that black water.

‘Gilda.' I grabbed her arm with my good hand and shook her back to the present. ‘Webb told us he's going to re-enact the destruction of the Montgomery Building. He said he's going to blow it up.'

Gilda gasped. ‘But the Transamerica Pyramid stands on top of the old Montgomery Building …'

 

‘I didn't know,' Gilda wailed. ‘I love Gideon … but we've got to stop him.'

The Transamerica Pyramid was two short blocks south of here. ‘I'm going straight to the Pyramid.' I searched her face. ‘Will you ring the police?'

‘Yes, yes,' she promised.

‘And look after Honeycutt for me.'

Gilda looked down at him, remorseful tears in her eyes. ‘Of course!'

I stood. Then grimaced. I was naked to the bare flesh in a dripping wet, see-through nightgown.

‘Kannon,' warned Gilda. ‘You won't get in —'

‘I know! I know.' I bit my lip.

I had to get into the Transamerica Pyramid quickly and quietly — before Webb knew about it — and nail him to the wall. As psycho as he was, there was no way such an egotist would endanger his own life. He'd make sure as long as he was in the building, he'd be safe. That meant as long as Gideon Webb was in the Transamerica Pyramid, everyone was safe.

So I couldn't charge in, my gun out with my TI credentials waved high. That would cause a stampede. I had to stalk Webb, sneak up on him …

I studied Gilda; she was still dressed as Prairie Rose. ‘You said you're performing the Circle of Death for the mayor tonight …' We were roughly the same size and shape.

She followed my gaze and understood. She nodded.

We ran for the stairs, taking them three at a time. With Gilda's help I dried off, dressed in Prairie Rose's buckskin tunic and boots and then pulled on my long black hooker's wig. She braided it as I checked in the mirror.

Gideon Webb had tried to kill me and mine, twice now … and River was dead.

In the mirror, my eyes gleamed coyote yellow in the half-light. I looked like a wild animal.

I grinned wide, my canines showing white against my red lips.

I looked like a predator …

I hung Prairie Rose's red quiver full of arrows across my back and gripped her green bow with intent.

I was going hunting.

 

The fog was now a solid wall of white …

The cars on Pacific Avenue were in gridlock and, around me, people anxiously groped their way along the pavement.

My eyes adjusted and the fog became a light mist. I sprinted down the avenue, dodging stranded pedestrians, and then right into Montgomery Street. I should've known where the Montgomery Building was as soon as Webb mentioned it.

Immediately the Transamerica Pyramid — a tall, slim, four-sided pyramid with a winged summit — rose up out of the fog. It was the highest peak in the San Francisco skyline and tonight it was lit up like a Christmas tree. How many people were still in that building? If I wasn't fast enough, they'd all be the latest casualties in Hector Kershaw's long, rippling wave of violence.

Bloody Hector had started this karmic cycle; I hoped he paid for it somewhere, somehow.

I raced up the stairs to the front entryway. There were guests in evening wear still stumbling up the fog-shrouded stairs, but I beat them to the door. Keeping my damaged thumb carefully hidden behind my back, I shoved Prairie Rose's distinctive green bow at the tall security guard stationed in front of the metal detector. I didn't intend to give him the time to debate who I was.

‘I need this for the performance tonight,' I stated. ‘For the Circle of Death.' I knew I couldn't get my gun past them without any explanation, so I hadn't tried.

The guard admired the famous green bow like a kid at Christmas. ‘Wow, that's the real one, isn't it?' he said admiringly. Then he touched one of the razor-sharp arrows in the red quiver on my back. He cursed and pulled his finger away. A drop of blood ran down
the back of his hand. ‘Wouldn't like to be on the wrong end of one of those.'

The other guard, bored rather than diligent, said Gilda's full name to me for confirmation. I nodded. And he ticked it off his list.

‘Hey!' The admiring guard leant into my face. ‘What's with the yellow eyes?'

I grinned at him. ‘Good contact lenses, aren't they? It's part of the show.'

He gave a weak smile. He wasn't convinced but what other explanation could there be?

‘Where's Gideon Webb?' I asked.

‘Still setting up on the top floor, that's the 48th, ma'am. If he's not there, he may've gone down to the floor below. That's where the mayor's reception is.'

‘Thanks. I'd better not keep the boss waiting.' I swiped the bow back, slung it over one shoulder so I had my hands free and raced for the elevator.

That bastard, Webb, wasn't getting away from me again.

I burst out of the elevator … Being so close to the top of the pyramid, the 48th floor was just one big room, but Webb was nowhere to be seen. Whoever these foreign investors were, Mayor Ruttle had pulled out all the stops on his old San Francisco extravaganza. The whole top floor had been turned into a replica of the main hall in The Hue & Cry. The huge green target that was used in the Circle of Death act stood in one corner. I prowled around. I was betting Webb, drama queen that he was, had hidden the bomb up here.

I searched everywhere but found nothing.

Then I eyed the green target. And went round to the back of it.

Yep, there it was — attached to the very bottom of the rear of the big green target. A detonator connected
to a clump of wires was inserted into a nasty chunk of what looked like C4.

I knew very little about bombs and nowhere near enough to safely disarm this one. But there was no timer — which meant Webb was activating it in another way. Of course … I nodded to myself. Webb was using a remote detonator. That lousy bastard wouldn't put himself at risk with anything he couldn't control down to the last second. And the deranged maniac would love the thrill of personally setting off the bomb and watching the Pyramid explode into nothing.

From a safe distance, of course … Was he even still in the building?

I threw myself down the stairs to the next floor.

The room, slightly bigger than the top floor, was jam-packed with society types nibbling on fancy snacks delivered by better-dressed waiters, and noisily complaining about the stock market.

I'd pass as Gilda at a distance, but had no chance close up. That meant I had to get right next to Webb before he saw me. Angling for a clear view, I edged around to one corner and found a space.

Mayor Ruttle stood next to the far window tending to his investors, Europeans from their tailoring, with the aid of half a dozen flunkies. Two photographers stood by recording the moment for the media. Finding new investors for the city only looked good for the mayor if people knew about it.

Then I recognised one of the flunkies gathered around the mayor. It was Cornelius Klaasen, one of the other NTA-trained investigators. Of course, his office was in this building. Damn! I'd have to stay clear of him too.

I kept searching the crowd. Still no sight of Webb.

If he was gone then our only chance was to evacuate … now!

I shoved my way through.

Complaints turned into curiosity as they recognised my costume. The whisper, ‘It's Prairie Rose …' followed me through the crowd.

The mayor's flunkies parted to let me in.

The mayor smiled. ‘Ah, and here is our guest performer … Let me introduce Princess Prairie Rose herself.'

Klaasen, standing to the mayor's right, smiled as instructed … then scowled. He'd recognised me.

‘Mr Mayor,' I said, as calmly as I could possibly manage. ‘I have a serious matter I need to speak with you about …'

The mayor, dissatisfied with my urgent tone, checked his visitors' bored expressions. He attempted to cajole me into acting my part. ‘Well, Princess, I can speak on behalf of the City of San Francisco —'

I shook my head. We may only have minutes. ‘Sir, you have to evacuate this building immediately. There's a —'

Klaasen had been watching me with slitted eyes, as though this was all an attempt to upstage him. ‘Sir, don't listen to her,' he spat. ‘This woman is not the real performer. I don't know what her game is but this is Kannon Dupree!'

‘Aren't you one of the NTA's private investigators?' asked the mayor, perplexed.

‘Sir!' I urged. ‘Get everyone out of here — now! Gideon Webb has planted a bomb upstairs. And he's probably about to detonate it. We may only have a few moments to —'

Klaasen burst out laughing. ‘Don't listen to her, sir.' He nodded at the two photographers, lining up
their cameras for a shot of me. ‘This must be another one of her crazy publicity stunts.'

‘If you don't believe me, sir, have a look!' I pleaded. ‘The bomb's attached to —'

‘Mayor Ruttle.' Klaasen shoved in front of me. ‘Kannon Dupree would do anything to get her picture in the paper.' He urged the mayor, ‘Get security up here and throw her out!'

I pushed past Klaasen. ‘You have to listen to me, sir!'

But the mayor, one eye on his alarmed investors, nodded to a flunky. The man whispered instructions into a microphone hidden in his sleeve.

‘And just why would Mr Webb want to blow up this building?' demanded the mayor, now thoroughly incensed.

‘Why don't we ask him ourselves?' drawled Klaasen, looking over my shoulder.

Gideon Webb, in full cowboy regalia, had just emerged from the elevator and was glad-handing his way through the admiring crowd.

My eyes went onto high beam. ‘Slow down, girl,' I whispered to myself. ‘He doesn't know it's you.'

Webb came up, still smiling, to shake the hand of the mayor.

I felt, rather than saw, two big men stand on either side of me, ready for a fight … Security had arrived. I could use this.

I pointed at Webb. ‘Search him. Webb has the remote control for the bomb.' I nodded at him. ‘Search him!'

Webb turned in horror … saw I was not Gilda, then realised what must have happened.

Klaasen, his temper now fully aroused, shoved me away from the mayor. ‘Take her away!' he ordered.
The two men ignored him, their eyes fixed on the mayor's.

The mayor gave the signal. The bodyguards caught my wrists, hurting me. The newspaper men let off their flashes right in my face, blinding me.

When I could see, Webb was gone.