Whiplash (38 page)

"I've been to some of the plays they've put on during the summer at Belson College. It's a nice outdoor theater set off to one side of campus, smack up against the woods, all by itself. It's only got people around when there's rehearsal or performances. I've been picturing the theater in my mind, how you snake your way through the woods from the parking area. There are several buildings behind the stage, for the actors to hang out, changing areas, for stage settings, whatever. I'm wondering where they'd take Sherlock, and just maybe-"

He stared at her a long moment. "Mick and Jane Ann would know all about this area, know the buildings on the Belson campus. Only one way to find out, Erin. We can call for more help on the way."

Kesselring grabbed the side of his neck as he fired toward her, once, twice, but Sherlock had fallen belly-flat the instant before he'd fired. He fired three more bullets, fast, all of them going well over her head. Had she been standing, any of the rounds could have killed her.

He dropped an unconscious Jane Ann to the floor and crouched down behind some luggage. "Where did you get that gun?" he shouted.

"Surprise, Andy."

"It's not your SIG-I'd be dead if your damned SIG weren't in my belt because you would have emptied your clip into me. So what do you have? Maybe a small ankle piece? One more bullet, right? Or was that your only one?"

Sherlock shouted back, "I guess it'll have to be one of life's mysteries, Andy, until it's too late for you." She knew it was dangerous to let him hear her, but it was her only chance.

"I hate a smart mouth on a woman. I'm going to find you and gut-shoot you, Agent, listen to you beg me to kill you. That's what I wanted to do to Royal but there wasn't time. I nearly kicked his ribs in. If it hadn't been for that damned private investigator who broke into Royal's office-"

Sherlock called out over him, "That damned investigator's name is Erin Pulaski. Fact is, it was Erin who brought all of you down, Andy. You found out who she was, fast."

"Did you think I would not realize who she was? Three federal agents hanging around her, so close to her none of you realized she fit the exact description of that witness, until it was too late. Or it should have been too late. She should have blown up in that stupid Hummer of hers, but it all went wrong. The device I planted worked perfectly, but somehow she knew there was a bomb. I couldn't believe it when I watched her jump, no hesitation at all. Just a couple more seconds and she'd be blown up. How did she know?"

"Another smart woman. We appear to litter the ground, don't we? You know what, Andy? A woman is going to bring you down."
Keep talking, Andreas. Spill it all out.

Kesselring yelled, "You're about as smart as Royal, that brain-dead slug, and this rapacious cow on the floor."

"Smart enough to shoot you in the neck."

"Do you really have one more bullet in that gun of yours, Agent? Or maybe you're bluffing me. You don't have any more bullets, do you? Is that why you're trying to goad me? Make me lose it and come close enough for you to jump me? Good luck, Agent. I could break your skinny neck with one hand."

Sherlock was elbow-crawling away toward the far end of the clothes rack as she called out, "Maybe I'll put the next bullet between your stone-dead eyes, Andy."

"Don't you call me Andy!" He was angry, really angry, but not out of control enough to pull the trigger wildly. But she wanted him to keep coming, get him out in the open, to keep shooting.

Rile him, rile him
. She called out, "You don't think much of women, do you, Andy? Why? Is it that after a while women see beyond your good-looking face to the cold-blooded loser?"

He growled deep in his throat, she heard it, and flattened herself, face against the dusty floor. He fired once, twice, the second bullet coming too close. She elbow-crawled two more feet back. How many bullets did he have left? Three, maybe four? Did he have another magazine? Not that it mattered, he had her SIG, and he'd used it to kill Mick. Then Sherlock finally realized what this was all about. She called out, "You must have been really pissed when Jane Ann called you in a panic, told you what she and Mick had done to me. You thought you had everything under control, thought you'd won, and now this debacle. Is that when you decided to come and mop up? Remove all three of us in a big shoot-out? Now you think you're home free?"

He said, "I would have shot Jane Ann when I killed her loser husband, but she must have guessed something wasn't right, which is why she had her boy Mick there. As insurance. I should have killed them both right there, but then the two of you showed up. It took you long enough to figure it out, Agent."

That was the truth, Sherlock thought. Mick had scrambled her brains good when he'd clouted her, and the drug Jane Ann had added to the orange juice hadn't helped. She did know one thing for sure-her only chance was to keep pushing him, to make him lose control. She paused a moment to look through the clothes. He'd stood up behind the luggage, trying to find her, fanning his gun from one end of the clothes rack to the other, his left hand still slapped against his neck. No way could she take the chance of shooting at him from this distance. If she didn't put him down with her second and last bullet, he'd walk over here and shoot her dead.

She saw blood oozing sluggishly through his fingers. Too bad she hadn't hit an artery, but it was a start. Should she dare try her only other bullet? She was tempted, she was a good shot. Just maybe-

Suddenly he grabbed a still limp Jane Ann, dragged her behind a leather sofa, then pulled her up in front of him like a shield. "You want to try again, Agent? Well, go ahead, this slut is no loss to the world." Without the pressure of his left palm, blood snaked down his neck into his jacket.

She didn't know where she found it, but she laughed. "Hey, Andy, what do you call a male slut in German?"

He fired once, lower this time, but still well above her head.

She laughed at him again. "You're not in such good shape now, are you? You're bleeding all over the place. Hey, who knows? Maybe you'll bleed out. Talk about no loss to the world, but hey, I'm willing to make you a deal, Andy. You leave Jane Ann alive, and I'll let you walk out of here. No one else has to die today."

"
You
will let
me
walk out of here? To run for the rest of my life? That's not going to happen. I'm the one in charge here, not you. When all of you are dead, my problems are over. You've figured that out, haven't you? All of you are going to hell.
Where are you?
" He raised his gun and fired two quick rounds. One was no more than six inches from the top of her head.
Too close, way too close.

She could hear rage simmering in his deep voice now, whipping up a mad brew. "You are nothing but a dried-up butch cop! What you are is dead, do you hear me?" She watched Jane Ann's head loll against his chest as he shifted her, clumsily trying to keep her in front of him so he could press his palm against his neck again. Holding Jane Ann with his gun arm hampered him, not that it mattered, Sherlock wasn't about to risk shooting Jane Ann.

"To be honest here, Andy, at first I thought you were like a sore thumb-just sticking out there, this jerk foreign cop with nothing to do, bumbling around, but you had your own agenda. You only wanted to find out what we knew. You didn't spend much time with your assigned FBI buddy, did you? Nope, you had too much to do, too many places to go, people to see, bombs to plant.

"You better deal with me, Andy, or you won't come out of this alive. You've got to ask yourself, is time on your side, or mine? You want to be sent back to Germany in a metal box? Does it matter? Is there anyone back in Germany to mourn you, anyone to care at all if you're dead or alive?"

It was a disappointment when he called back, calm and controlled, "I will deal with you, Agent Sherlock, and it's going to be on my own terms."

Jane Ann moaned.

Be quiet, be quiet, for heaven's sake, Jane Ann, be quiet!

"Let me tell you my terms here, Andy, something you must believe-if you shoot Jane Ann Royal, I will kill you. Do you understand?"

A moment's silence, then he spoke, his voice indifferent, "You can try, I suppose, with that little pea shooter of yours."

"Won't you tell me how you murdered Helmut Blauvelt when you didn't arrive in the U.S. until the day after he died?"

He giggled. It creeped her out, the conceit in that giggle, the unmistakable whiff of madness. She felt his arrogance, his dismissal of her, when he said, "I was already here on a forged passport. After I killed Blauvelt, I quickly returned to New York and left on the red eye back to Frankfurt."

"Now you've depressed me. I guess we're just too trusting of our foreign counterparts. And I must say you arrived with a reputation as a straight-arrow cop, Agent Kesselring. Who would have thought you're really a stone cold murderer?"

"One does what one must." He sounded calm again, and it scared her. The last thing she wanted was to have him thinking clearly.

Push him, push him
. "Sounds to me like Schiffer Hartwin had a great duo working for them, you and Blauvelt. How many people did you kill between you? How many officials did you bribe to run Schiffer Hartwin's illegal tests? Africa is a particularly nice drug testing ground, isn't it? So what happened with Blauvelt? Why'd you kill him? What did he do?"

She heard him snort, but he didn't answer.

"Come now, what does it matter? Inquiring minds want to know, Andy. Hey, had Blauvelt simply had enough of the intimidation and killing? Maybe the Culovort scheme finally got to him? That's why he wanted out?

"Did Dieffendorf know he'd become a liability? Did he send you over here to make sure Blauvelt was dead and buried, no longer a problem? What, Andy?"

He said something to her in German, something low and vicious. He'd probably sent her right to hell. Was he about ready to boil over?

"You're afraid to talk to me, aren't you, Andy? You, the big hollow cop in the expensive Armani suit-you're actually afraid of a butch cop half your size? You've told me everything else, why don't you want to tell me why you murdered Blauvelt?"

Jane Ann moaned again.

Sherlock heard the slap of flesh against flesh, knew he'd struck Jane Ann with his open palm. Better than his fist.

She shouted, "You're a psychopath, Andy, but I didn't figure you for a coward, too."

Hallelujah, that did it. He yelled, "The break-in, you idiot! The pathetic little man found out too much. Once that damned Erin Pulaski stole the information on Culovort right off Royal's computer, I knew he'd tell the one person who could cut the cash flow. Blauvelt would not listen, so I had no choice. I would have been exposed. To him I was nothing.

"Well, I showed him he was nothing. Less than nothing. I even erased his damned face. He always liked to say he was the big fish. Well, he got himself devoured by a bigger fish, didn't he?"

"You didn't want him identified, did you?"

"Of course not, at least not until I was safely back in Germany. But once I started smashing his face, I realized I rather enjoyed it. Then I cut off his fingers, left the rest for the local yahoos to try to identify. I didn't know Van Wie Park was federal land. It was just bad luck Agent Richards realized Blauvelt had foreign dental work, and you found out who he was like that-" Kesselring snapped his fingers. "It was a much quicker flight back than I expected. I've always found that to be true. Going home is always faster.

"Still, it should have worked, all of it, except for Royal. He was the weak link, ready to roll over on us."

"Who could have stopped it all?"

He laughed. "Good try, Agent, but I will keep that close to my vest, isn't that your American slang?"

"You nailed it, Andy. Is that when you decided to visit Jane Ann?"

"Ah, Jane Ann. Now she was a surprise, I'll admit it." He gave that insane giggle again. "She was something in bed, I'll tell you."

"A match made in heaven. You and Jane Ann and Mick Haggarty?"

"Was that the boy's last name? What a waste he was, no guts at all. He was shaking so hard when I shot Royal I thought he would piss his pants."

"Then you and Mick were waiting for us, and you were careful not to hit us since we were Jane Ann's alibi."

Sherlock wondered if she could shoot above Jane Ann's head with her precious second bullet and miraculously strike him in the forehead. Time was running out. She had to bring him out, she had to bring him closer to her, she had to end it.

"Schiffer Hartwin isn't paying you what you're worth, are they, Andy? Not a share of the real profits like others are getting, you know, a big slice of the windfall profits from Laboratoires Ancondor? Sounds to me like you're the one who makes everything work. What good are they without you, these men you work for? Surely the whole company isn't in on this? Who's running this show? Who could put a stop to it?"

"They will pay me now, every single penny I ask for. Enough, Agent! There is no more reason to talk."

"I've got a surprise for you, Andy. Jane Ann forgot all about my cell phone. I've got it in my pocket, and not only is it recording our entire conversation, it's giving out a nice sharp signal. We've talked so long now, there are probably FBI agents and local police officers in position around this place right now, just waiting for you to come out. Best not to kill Jane Ann, Andy, or you'll go down so fast you won't even know you're dead. You know how good our snipers are, don't you? Right through the forehead, and you're gone.