Memoria (23 page)

The age
nt jerked. His eyes rolled and h
e fell backwards. Frank exhaled, his fingers feeling his shoulder and collarbone
under the red spot spread
ing on
his shirt. His
awkward fingers
tore the shirt open
. Just a deep scratch.

He bent down to pick up the
attaché
case
and received a kick to his stomach.
His sight darkened. H
is breath was paralyzed by a new
assailant
attacking the unprepared Frank from the conference room.

The next kick sent him
sprawling
to the floor. Frank
pulled his knees
up
to his stomach and covered his chest
with his elbows and knees from the
po
i
nt
ing
gun. The agent stepped out into the hallway
and turned to face Frank, the
weapon
in
his
outstretched hand.

Frank heard dry snapping
coming from the room.

The hand holding the gun jerked
to the wall and stayed there, the agent wailing
in agony.
Nail heads showed
through
his forearm
. Several more had pierced his open hand; one had entered between his fingers immobilizing the trigger.

M
aggie appeared in the doorway
. Pale, she
threw the spent nail gun on the floor
and recoiled from it.
Her scream flooded the hallway
when
she saw the man's arm
—
his
blood splattering the wall, dripping from the many nail holes.

It gave Frank enough time to roll aside, grab the
attaché
case
and
with a swing slam it into the agent's legs. The man
cried out but stayed on his feet
. Dazed, he stepped
forward and tried to kick Frank in the shoulder but screamed with pain
from his nailed arm. Frank got to
his feet and
wack
ed the
attaché
case
against the small of his back.

"Run," he croaked and
, holding
his stomach,
staggered to
ward
the conference hall.

Maggie didn't move. She stood there staring at the man sliding down the wall. Frank came back and grabbed her.

"Run! Now!"
Suddenly he stopped and bent over the other shooter lying in the doorway. He pulled
at the motionless man's
shou
l
der turning
him
face down.
"Help me," he started pulling off the man's jacket.

The right arm slid out of the sleeve easily. The left one got stuck but Maggie
promptly helped him release it.

Behind their backs,
voices mixed with the
growing tramping of many feet.

"
Now run."

The jacket was biggish. As he ran, Fr
ank pulled the tie off his neck and
slid one hand into the loop
. Wincing with
the
pain in his stomach and cuts on his fingers, he wound the
attaché
case
handle to his wrist with the tie. Now he wouldn't lose it.

"There!" Maggie grabbed his hand, pushed a door and dragged him into a room.

"Lock it, quick."

The lock clicked.
Maggie led Frank through a maze of des
ks to an adjacent office behind a glass partition. It looked as if it could lead them
to the other side of the hallway they'd just left.

Maggie stopped by the door and pulled the handle.

"It's locked."

"Step aside,"
he motioned her away
from the door
and stepped back
to take a
kick
at it
. Then he changed his mind. There could be more security there. "Where does this door
lead to
?"

"To the other wing. There's a utility hallway behind the conference hall.
"

"And then?"

"If we turn right, we'll come across the
service elevator.
We can use it to go down to the parking lot."

"That'll do," Frank pressed his ear against the door.

He could barely hear voices. And they came from the right, of all places. Not good.
He crouched and opened the
attaché
case
. Before starting for Memoria,
Barney
had packed
it with everything he needed: the camera, the chargers
, the leads, and also a tool box. Frank found a flathead screwdriver
, placed it
against the lock and slapped his hand against the handle. The flat
head sank about an inch deep between the
frame and the lock. He slapped it again burying the screwdriver in the hole exactly halfway
through and jerked it to
pri
s
e the steel tongue of the lock open.
The hinges creaked. The plastic around the keyhole b
urst and the door opened
.

Frank peered into the crack. At
the far end of the hallway stood four men and two women.
Their clothes didn't give a hint as to who they were, although one of them
in a dark business suit looked like
a security agent.
He stood with his back to the door. Two of the men
had cameras hanging from
their necks. Reporters. How did they get here? Were they late for the press conference?

Frank
turned to Maggie sizing her up and down. She
had no shoes
, but if he went first
with her
behind him,
this fact might go unnoticed. As long as they made it to the elevator.

"How do I look?" he asked.

Maggie buttoned up his jacket
, took his hand in hers covering the cuts with her fingers, and nodded.

"You walk behind me," Fran
k said. "There are six people at
the end of the hallway, six journalists, but one of them is wearing a dark suit. He could be a Fed.

"But what if he-" Maggie didn't finish.

Someone jerked the door handle in the adjacent room, then knocked;
someone else shouted
a few words, their
meaning perfectly clear. They were about to break the door down.

Frank took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway.

"What's going on?" he started as he strode to
ward
the reporters. "Did you hear the shots?"

The man in the dark suit looked back at h
im.

"We were busy working,
" Frank chattered not allowing him time to find his bearings. "And then it all started
...
"

He came close to the group
. To demonstrate his fear, he swallowed and open
ed his eyes wide, looking about
.
Around
the corner he saw a spacious hall with large automatic doors
—
apparently,
leading
to the conference hall,
—
shut close.
Opposite it was the service elevator. The
screen over the
call
button
display
ed the number 60
: t
he elevator was about ten storie
s below.

"We hid under the desks when it all started," Frank
flapped his hand to show his excitement. "And now it seems to be quiet
...
"

"Stand here by the wal
l, sir," the agent pointed him to
some free space to his left.
"Try to calm down. Are you hurt?"

"I'm not," Frank shook his head. "Nor is my secretary. We just want-"

"Sir? Can I see your bracelet, please?
Stand by the wall and give me your name."

The agent reached under his clothes for his gun
, and Frank buried his knee into his crotch. The reporters
winc
ed.
Frank lowered his fist onto the doubled
-up
agent's head. A woman
screamed.

"Stay where you are!" Frank shouted to them. He grabbed Maggie's hand and dragged her to the elevator.

The seconds of waiting turned into minutes. It felt as if the elevator would never come.

"That
is Shelby,"
he heard
a worried whisper.

"Who?"

"Frank Shelby,
"
a bearded reporter
said, readying his camera.

"
No way
!" the first one
answered. "Are you sure?"

"
It can't be
," a woman
flapped.

"I tell you!" the
bearded man raised his camera.

Behind Frank's back, the elevator's steel doors opened with a groan.

"Don't move!" he stuck out his hand, sheltering himself from the
lens. Then he knew what he had to tell them. "I didn't kill Kathleen Baker," he lowered his hand.

Maggie pressed the button for
the parking
level. The doors
started to close.
Cameras
flashed
,
filling
the hallway
with loud voice
s and the h
u
rried footsteps of his chasers.

"I didn't kill her!" Frank lifted the
attaché
case
. "Here's the evidence!"

With a
judder
, t
he cabin
moved down. Overhead, the
hoist
machines
hummed.

"You think they believed me?" Frank turned to Maggie.

She was looking at the ceiling.
On the di
s
play over her shoulder,
the
numbers of the
floors
went
down.

"Hello?"

She motioned him to wait.
Frank glanced at
the display: the elevator had reached the 40
th floor.
The light overhead blinked and went out.
S
omething clicked
, then they heard a bang
.
With a
screech
, t
he cabin
shook
and stopped
.

"They've blocked us," Frank pressed button after button, but nothing happened. The display read,
Emergency Stop
.

He walked into the
corner under the ceiling hatch, jumped
up
and pushed the hatch open.

"Frank Shelby! Don't try to escape!" a voice
rattled
.
"Stay where you are."

"Get lost!" It took Frank a second to realize the voice was coming out of the elevator's intercom.

"
Otherwise we'll be forced to shoot. Stay where you are."

He loosened the loop on his wrist, placed the
attaché
case
onto the floor
, pulled himself up
and
squeezed his body through the hatch.
The fresh injuries
reminded him of themselves. H
is muscles and ribs
started
ach
ing
.
Frank
spat, annoyed. He le
aned down into the hatch and he
ld out his hand,

"Give me the
attaché
case
."

Maggie did.

"Get up here," Frank commanded.

"But I
...
" After a brief hesitation, the girl
reached out. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her out onto the roof.
Then he shut the hatch close
, annoyed
with the mumbling in the speakers.

He looked up. Some of the floors overhead didn't have elevator doors.

"The service elevator doesn't stop at every level,
does
it?"