Until You Are Dead (26 page)

"The building and the entire block are completely surrounded," the voice said. "There's nothing else for you to do but surrender, it will go easier on you since you haven't harmed Mrs. Norden."

I hung up.

There had to be something I could do.
Something!
Escape down the fire escape would be virtually impossible — but what else was there? One other possibility: I could use Thana as a hostage and make them let me out, make them give me a car and a head start.

Yet I knew that was almost no possibility at all.

Powerful spotlight beams hit the windows then, bathing most of the room in a chalky white light, changing night to fierce day outside the top floors of the Martinaire Hotel. The draperies were opened wide, and I moved along the wall to their edge and stared down, but all I could make out were the incredibly bright lights aimed up at me.

"Your whole idea's turned rotten on you, hasn't it?" Thana said behind me.

The telephone rang again, and I went quickly to answer
it.

"I thought you were smart," the voice said. "Do the smart thing now."

"Maybe I'm not as smart as you think," I answered. "And I wouldn't try to come up if I were you. Mrs. Norden might get hurt." I knew that Thana was my only card left to play. If the little fool hadn't blown everything. . . just when I'd almost brought it off.

"Hello . . ." It was another voice on the phone, a familiar voice.

"Norman Norden?"

"It is," the voice said. "Listen to me before you do anything else. Will you agree to that?"

"If you talk fast," I said.

"Fast and to the point," Norden answered. There was a decisiveness in the aged voice that hadn't been there in our earlier conversations. "We both know your situation is almost hopeless; your only chance of escape is to use Thana as a hostage, and that would be a slim chance. A deal is what I offer. I have money, power, influence — you have my wife. If you bring Thana down, unharmed, and release her, I'll see that you get a car and four hours of immunity from the law."

I tried to consider the angles to that sort of offer, but my arm was bleeding again and I felt faint. It was hard for me to concentrate on anything.

"I can offer something else," Norden said, taking my hesitation for consideration. "If you are apprehended later, I'll pull every string to see that you get off lightly."

"Why would you do that?"

"Why shouldn't I? I'm considered by some to be a mercenary man. In my youth I was even more mercenary. I can understand what you did and why you did it, so I bear you no personal animosity. And I've never broken my word on a business deal. My only concern is for my wife, can't you understand that? Please bring her down safely and I'll see that you're given a car, four hours, a chance! Please!"

"Can you really do it?"

"Of course I can. Thana's safety is the prime concern of the police, too. If I effect a deal to get her back unharmed, they'll go along with me."

I was sitting on the floor now, looking at Thana and thinking more clearly. "I want something else."

"Something else . . . ? All right, yes, you have it. I intended giving it to you for Thana in the first place. It was the hotel manager who recognized Thana and called in the police. The money will be in the car."

"Along with an electronic device so the police can trace me."

Anger and frustration welled up in Norden's voice when he answered. "Isn't there anything I can do to get you to
believe
me?"

I was surprised myself to find that I did believe him, that I trusted his word. I believed he'd do anything for Thana, and he and I both knew that what he offered was my only real chance.

"How soon can the car be here?" I asked.

"It's already here and waiting for you. The money will take half an hour."

"We have a deal," I said, and hung up. I made it to my feet and said to Thana, "I wish I had your kind of luck."

"What does that mean?" She was sitting very straight, glaring at me contemptuously.

"It means you're part of a trade. Your safety for mine. Your husband's down below worrying about you."

Thana didn't bother to answer, just stared at me for a long moment, then turned her head to watch the slight
play of the bright spotlight beams over the wide windows.

I went into the bathroom again, found some gauze and bandaged the cut on my arm. Then I washed my face and hands in cool water and fixed my rumpled and bloodstained clothes so they looked almost passable. Then I waited for everything to develop.

A half hour hadn't passed when the telephone rang again. I got assurances from everyone: Norden, the hotel manager, the police captain in charge of operations below. A gray car with its motor idling would be parked directly outside the lobby entrance.

I told them I was coming down and went to get Thana.

"Come on," I said, unlocking her handcuffs and holding her by the wrist. "We're going downstairs." As I pulled her to her feet her face was impassive, her body tense.

"Do you really think I believe you're turning me free?" she said. She gazed out the windows again at the brilliant white light sent up from the scene of excitement and turmoil below. As I saw the glazed shine in her dark eyes I knew for the first time that in a way she was enjoying being the center of it all.

Suddenly, with more strength than I thought she had, she jerked her wrist loose and was free of me. She snatched up a long-necked glass vase from a coffee table and backed away.

"Listen," I pleaded, "there's no reason for this now. What I told you is true. You can talk to your husband on the phone if you like."

"It's a lie! It's all a lie!"

"Don't be crazy." I moved toward her, not understanding why she wouldn't believe me. "It's over. You're safe. You're going home."

She slashed the air with the long vase and I stepped back. We were near the windows now, and I had to shield my eyes from the light. I could hear Thana's breath hissing through her teeth. Then, when I saw the glinting, half-secret grin on her face, I realized that she
did
believe me.

I drew the gun from my belt. "No games now," I said, waving the barrel at her. "There isn't any reason to be afraid. All I want to do is take you downstairs. Now walk to the elevator." I motioned with the gun toward the entrance to the private elevator, but Thana moved the other way.

I lunged then and grabbed at her wrist, grasped it for a moment. She lashed down at me with the vase and I raised
my other arm in defense. The vase glanced off my shoulder,
and at the same time Thana twisted, twirled from my grip. I grabbed at her waist, felt the smooth material of her dress
slip painfully from my fingers as she hurled herself out into the blinding light beyond the glass that had shattered behind her.

After the sound of splintering glass came her scream, a long, shrieking scream, a scream of terror to others who might have heard it. From where I stood paralyzed, however, the sound was different: it was a high, triumphant scream, a scream of deliverance.

In the echo of that scream I understood about Thana, about the reckless way she lived. I understood her fast and dangerous driving, her relentless drinking, her long nighttime walks looking out to sea. Yet here, twenty stories high and the focal point of concern, excitement, a thousand upturned eyes and dozens of brilliant, probing spotlights, I was the instrument she'd chosen.

I meant her no harm at all; I'd have done anything to save her and myself. That's the way it's been all my life.

They say you learn from experience, but sometimes the trouble with that is, by the time you've learned, the experience is over and it's too late.

The arrest, the trial, the sentence — I went through the whole formality in a kind of detached haze. The upright citizens of the state would execute me a dozen times if they could. Murder, kidnapping, and the wrath of Norman Norden — I had about as much chance of surviving as Thana Norden did after flying through that plate of glass into the sultry Miami night sky. So the electric chair's waiting for me, and I'm waiting for it. I'll have to agree with the judge that in the penthouse that night a murder was committed, only there's some confusion in my mind as to who was the victim.

P
olice
Commissioner Lyle
Brell was early, and not without reason. He took the long flight of steps to the renovated three story brownstone with the feigned vigor of a middle-aged man who fancies himself still in shape. Absently he brought up his right hand in purposely casual movement and smoothed his graying but full head of hair. Early as it was, there might be a stray camera or two here.

He rang the doorbell and waited. If there were a camera or two about, the tall brownstone building, converted from a six-family apartment, offered a flattering backdrop. The hedges were neatly trimmed and the porch and window frames were freshly painted. In one of the worst sections of the city, the building shone like a testament to what could be done if only the residents cared. The most impressive thing was that the ex-convicts had done all the work themselves.

Ben Wert, the notorious paroled safecracker, opened the door for him.

"Afternoon, Ben." The commissioner was careful to shake hands for the possible camera.

"Commissioner Brell! We weren't expecting you for a while." Wert was a sharp-eyed, grinning man who always appeared to need a shave.

"I thought it might be wise to drop by early," Brell said, "before the press and all the television boys show up."

"And I'd call that a sound idea, Commissioner." The voice belonged to Reverend Callahan, founder and manager
of Care Halfway House. "It's no secret you're running for Congress later this year, as well you should. Can't blame you for wanting to see that things here go smoothly."

"It's not so much that, Reverend Callahan," Brell said, "as it would be good for Care Halfway House to make a favorable impression on the people of this city through the media. After all, you depend entirely on donations."

Reverend Callahan, a small, white-haired, blue-eyed man with an oft-broken nose, gave the beautiful smile that had evoked many a donation. He was a mail-order reverend, as everyone knew, but no one cared. It was results that counted. "And your consideration is appreciated, Commissioner," he said, "as much as the generous check from Citizens Against Crime."

Citizens Against Crime had grown into a large organization in the past few years, its membership swelling with the city's rapidly rising crime rate. Reverend Callahan had spoken a few times at their meetings. Since the organization's donation was a sizable one, and since the commissioner
did
intend to run for Congress, and since such donations were the lifeblood of Care Halfway House, it had been decided that it would be advantageous for all concerned if Commissioner Brell would present Reverend Callahan with the check in a ceremony before the press and TV cameras.

"What you've accomplished here is both useful and impressive," the commissioner was saying. "These 'halfway houses' to help ex-convicts adjust to their freedom and stay out of prison are nothing new, but I'd feel safe in saying that yours is the most successful such venture in the country."
And if it helps drop the crime rate,
the commissioner added to himself
, it will help me to become a Congressman
.

Callahan beamed. "An exaggeration, Commissioner, but it makes me proud nonetheless."

"You
should
be proud," said the fat, red-faced man who had slipped through the still-open door.

"If it isn't Murphy of
The Times
,"
Callahan said with a warm smile.

"Would you put your arm around the reverend?" Murphy asked Brell, readying his camera.

"Proud to," the commissioner said, as his arm snaked about Callahan's shoulders and his teeth flashed.

There would be no time now to make sure things went perfectly,
the commissioner thought
, but it probably didn't matter anyway
. The check presentation should still result in plenty of votes.

The rest of the press was arriving now in droves, fifteen minutes early to get the candid, human side of things as the enterprising Murphy had done. A microphone was thrust before the commissioner's face.

"How would you sum up the success of Care Halfway House?" the reporter asked.

"What Reverend Callahan has accomplished here is both useful and impressive," the commissioner said, smiling. "I'd feel safe in saying that it's the most successful such venture in the country."

"Do you plan to toss your hat in the ring for Congressman later this year, sir?"

"At this point, no. But the future is uncharted territory to us all, Tom."

The reporter seemed flattered that the commissioner knew his name. Commissioner Brell kept up on such things.