Tarnished Image (42 page)

“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.

“W
HAT’S IN THE CASE
?” K
RISTEN ASKED
. T
HE 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.