Escapade (9781301744510) (24 page)

"O'Connell?"

Zeke nodded. "I should've listened to you
last night. I think he plans to kill me and make it look like I was
shot running away."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, but I need to get away from
here."

Rory fully agreed with him, but as she
observed Zeke's drained features, she didn't know how he was going
to move one more step, let alone escape the police pursuit.

Before she could even begin to think what to
do next, she heard Tony coming through the warehouse, shouting for
her.

"Don't bother hunting for those filings no
more, Rory. We don't need them."

Rory moved to cut Tony off before he could
see Zeke, but it was already too late. Tony sauntered toward the
stairs, only to draw up short. He stared first at the bloodied
clothes littering the floor, following the trail to Rory, then
beyond to Zeke.

"Holy hell! Where the devil did he come
from?"

"Zeke is trying to get away from the police,"
Rory said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "They shot him."

"Guess that's what they usually do to runaway
murderers."

"Tony! Zeke is not a murderer,only a suspect.
And O'Connell is shooting to kill."

Tony relaxed some of his belligerence, but he
still said, "Well, whatever kind of trouble Morrison is in, it's
his problem. He shouldn't be getting you involved."

"Tony!"

But Zeke spoke up. "For once I agree with Mr.
Bertelli. I should never have come here."

"No, you should have just collapsed on the
street out there so O'Connell could shoot you again,” Rory cried.
"And if neither you nor Tony have anything sensible to say, I wish
you would both be quiet so I can think what to do."

Tony lapsed into a dour silence, but Zeke
said, "If I only could make it back to Fifth Avenue, out of
O'Connell's precinct. I have powerful friends that can help me get
clear of this mess."

"There's no way at all," Tony said, shaking
his head. "My brother says the police are all over the streets.
They'll probably start a building-to-building search soon."

"Right. Then I shouldn't be found in here."
He braced himself with his good arm, struggling to his feet. Rory
placed one hand on his shoulder, gently restraining him.

"No, stop, Zeke. Tony is wrong. There is a
way, a very good way to get you out of here."

She glanced back at Tony. The boy seemed to
comprehend what she was thinking instantly, for he protested, “Oh,
no. You just forget it, Rory. It's completely out of the
question."

But Rory caught Tony's arm, pulling him a
distance away from the steps. They got into a heated discussion
with much gesturing of hands, but Zeke could not hear one word. He
leaned wearily against the step rail, feeling his mind going hazy
again.

What had he been thinking of, creeping into
Rory's warehouse like this? If he had been more himself, he would
never have done such a thing, never risked bringing the danger to
her door. He had staggered in here almost out of a blind instinct,
a wounded animal going to ground in the first familiar place. Now
he would have given all his strength to be able to stagger out
again.

Rory rushed back to his side, Tony hard after
her. Whatever she had been saying to the boy, he still looked
unconvinced, but resigned.

"Zeke, we have a plan," Rory said, but she
was interrupted by a loud hammering on the warehouse door.

The three of them froze, not moving, barely
breathing. The knocking raged louder, a voice calling out in
O'Connell's unmistakable brogue, "Open up in there. This is the
police."

"Let him in," Zeke said, his shoulders
slumping in defeat. "Tell him I broke into the warehouse. He can
hardly shoot me down in front of witnesses."

"No, he'll just wait and do it later." Rory
moved purposefully forward to drape Zeke’s arm about her shoulder.
"Come on, Tony. Help me."

After a hesitation, Tony complied. Linking
his arm about Zeke's waist, he and Rory managed to lead Zeke
forward. Zeke cooperated as best he could, although he was not sure
that he should.

He didn't know what Rory had in mind, only
that he wished she were out of it. In another minute, O'Connell
would be kicking in the door. But all resistance was fast draining
out of Zeke. It was all he could do to plant one foot after the
other, leaning heavily on Rory and Tony, following wherever they
were taking him.

He squinted against the bright flood of
sunlight as they emerged onto the dock. A roaring rang in his ears,
so loud he thought he was passing out. It took him a moment to
realize the loud hiss came from one of Rory's floating
monsters.

Glancing upward, Zeke stared at the mammoth
balloon casting a shadow over him, and suddenly Rory's plan struck
him with crystal clarity.

"Oh, no," he groaned, halting in his tracks.
"I would rather take my chances with the police."

"So would I," Tony said, for once in
agreement with him. But that didn't cause Bertelli to thwart Rory's
order to help Zeke climb into the gondola.

Two other lads rushed forward, looking
astonished, but they scrambled to ease Zeke's weight from Rory's
shoulders. Zeke never knew quite how, but he found himself standing
beneath those billowing yards of silk, clutching the side of a
wicker basket.

Rory scrambled in beside him. "Cast off,
Tony," she cried, her voice shrill with urgency.

The warehouse beyond echoed with shouts and
trampling feet. Zeke realized the police must have broken through
the door and were coming through to the dock.

The three young men worked frantically to
cast off the lines. Zeke felt the basket shudder and begin to rise.
He took one look down as O'Connell and the other coppers came
barreling onto the dock.

Then Zeke was aware of nothing but the solid
earth falling rapidly away. His stomach clenched, his head reeling,
but not from his wound. He let go of the edge of the basket,
sagging to the floor of the gondola.

Rory peered downward, chortling with
satisfaction. "Zeke, you should see O'Connell, He looks mad enough
to eat his hat. Zeke?"

She glanced around, suddenly aware of his
prone position. She hunched down beside him, her eyes,anxious.

"Zeke, what is it? Are you passing out? Is
your wound bleeding again?"

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. It was
worse than being shot again to have to tell her, but somehow he got
it out.

"No, damn it. I'm afraid of heights."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rory tugged at the valve line to ease the
Seamus's rapid ascent. A loud hiss sounded as though the great
balloon itself had shuddered in disbelief. Afraid of heights? It
was difficult to imagine Zeke being afraid of anything.

She could tell what the admission had cost
him, as an angry, shamed look darkened his eyes. He no longer
appeared in danger of passing out, as though having a fresh peril
to contend with had roused all his senses to peak alert. Tension
corded his entire frame; his jaw clamped rock hard. Reaching one
hand upward, he gripped the basket's side but made no move to Raise
himself and risk another look below. He closed his eyes briefly as
the balloon dipped downward.

"It's all right," Rory said. "All I have to
do is release some ballast, get the balloon to level off."

"Do whatever you have to do," he snapped.
"And don't waste time explaining."

Bending over the side, Rory sliced into one
of the sandbags. Far below her, the city fell away, the tightly
packed buildings and the busy streets diminished to the size of
some cunningly wrought miniatures. Working between the valve and
the sandbags, she managed to bring the Seamus to a state of
equilibrium.

Wisps of clouds drifted by. Rory knew they
would soon be lost in the midst of a comforting blanket of white,
making it difficult for anyone to track them.

Her gaze shifted back to Zeke. "You can
hardly see the ground for the clouds. Does that make it any
better?"

He grimaced. "Nothing will make it any better
until I get my feet back on solid earth. Just land this thing on my
lawn and try to do it more gently this time."

Rory squirmed, not sure how to break it to
him. "Um, I can't exactly do that."

"What! You can't land safely?"

"No, I mean I can't land on your lawn at all.
There's no way to steer a balloon. You just go where the wind takes
you."

"And just where the hell is the wind taking
us?"

"I caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty
awhile ago. That was off to the right, so I think we're heading
more in the direction of the Hudson, toward Jersey."

"You think? Don't you even carry a compass in
this blasted thing?"

Rory flushed. "I don't have any instruments
on board. This flight wasn't exactly planned, Mr. Morrison."

The irritation faded from Zeke's eyes.
"You're right. I'm sorry, Rory. I don't mean to sound so damned
ungrateful after the risk you've taken for me."

"Oh, hush," she said. Balancing carefully,
she hunkered down to sit beside him on the basket's floor.
"Considering what you've been through, I guess you've got a right
to be surly."

"No, I don't. Not with you." He caught her
hand, brushing his lips against her fingertips. "I owe you my life,
you and your friends back there. I just hope Tony and those other
boys don't get arrested for helping me escape."

Rory felt her heart miss a beat. In her
concern for Zeke's safety, that was a possibility she had not
considered. But she rallied. "Oh, you don't know the Bertelli
brothers. They can talk their way out of anything. No one can look
more innocent than Tony, not even when he's been up to the worst
mischief. And as for Angelo, if he starts off on one of his stories
about uncle's aunt's cousins, O'Connell will be damned sorry he
ever broke into my warehouse."

Zeke smiled a little, some of his tension
easing. Rory wished she felt as confident as she sounded regarding
the safety of Tony and the other two boys. She tried to put the
fear from her mind, bending down to examine Zeke's bandaged
arm.

She was relieved to discover the wound had
not broken open again. She worried about the possibility of
infection and fever, but Zeke's brow was cool to the touch.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I've had better days," he murmured, but he
seemed less concerned with his wound than staring upward at the
crisscross of rigging that connected the balloon to the load
ring.

"No way at all to steer? Then what was all
that talk at Delmonico's about establishing a mail service? It
wouldn't do much good sending a letter to a fellow in Albany only
to have it wind up in Canada."

"My father was working on that very problem
before he died. He had planned to do some experimenting with
rudders and sails, possibly even a small engine."

"An engine. That's a comforting thought,"
Zeke said glumly. "Anything besides just a puff of air to keep us
from plummeting. How long do we have to be up here?

"Not long. I just want to make sure we get
far enough away to be safe. After we land in Jersey, I figure you
can surrender to the authorities there and set about proving that
you didn't kill Stanley Addison."

"But I did."

"What?" Rory froze, certain she hadn't heard
him right. A shadow seemed to pass over Zeke's face, his eyes
intent as though no longer seeing her or the balloon, but focused
inward on some darker image.

"I did kill Addison, as sure as if I plunged
the knife into his heart myself. I knew there had been threats, but
I never took them serious enough. I should have cautioned Addison
more strongly."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Rory
said. "Mr. Addison was a politician, wasn't he? Pressing hard for
some drastic reforms and making accusations of corruption. He
must've realized the dangers."

"He didn't realize anything. His head was
stuffed too full of starry-eyed dreams, notions about honor and
fair play, expecting the whole world to be the same. He didn't know
any better. But I did."

Rory stroked the hair back from Zeke's brow,
wishing she could as easily caress away the bitter self-reproach
from his eyes. "It's no good thinking about it now. You'll only
make yourself crazy when you should be trying to rest."

"I probably should. I've never been so damned
tired in my life. But I don't think I'll ever be able to rest again
until I find Addison's killer. Just five minutes alone with the
bastard—that's all I ask."

"Do you have any idea who the murderer
is?"

Zeke nodded grimly. He proceeded to tell her
about a weasel of a man named Charles Decker, his connections with
the corruption of Tammany Hall, the threats he had made. Zeke
figured that Decker had O'Connell working for him, along with the
two thugs who had attacked Zeke beneath the El tracks.

When Zeke finished up his tale by explaining
how the same two characters had trailed him to Rory's flat, knocked
him unconscious and abducted him to the brothel, her eyes flew wide
in astonishment.

“What in the world were you doing up on the
roof?"

Zeke looked a little embarrassed. "I always
used to sleep on the roof when I was a kid. It was great as long as
I didn't get too close to the edge. Last night it just got a little
too hot in your apartment."

Too hot, Rory wondered, or too crowded with
memories, the echoes of Tessa's bitter words lingering in the
air.

"I noticed the parlor window left open," she
said. "But I would never have dreamed of looking for you up on the
roof. I just thought-" She was unable to keep the hurt and the
disappointment she had felt out of her voice. "I thought you had
just gone away."

"Without saying good-bye to you, Aurora
Rose?" The warm way he pronounced her name made it sound like an
endearment. "I would never do that, though you would be better off
if I did. My sister Tessa was telling the truth when she said that
I tend to ruin all that I touch."