Mahogany-paneled elevators and plush carpets of woolen snow. Glances at her face in a mirror hung on the wall. Angular cheekbones like chipped sandstone. Not bad... for a cop. Hair a disturbed river of black sheen boils onto her cream-colored coat shoulders. Flicks a black curl from her eye. It falls back.
"Fuck it."
Strides down the corridor. Turns toward a door that opens ahead of her.
Green and gold. A brilliant scatter of city-glow illuminates the pale walls, brushing shadows into the corners of gilded picture frames. Bright lights only farthest from the wall of windows. The light flows toward the jewels of distant street lights.
Turns a moment to hand over her coat to the man behind the door. Looks across the room as lackey and coat disappear.
"Maria. You're always in good time." Silhouette and partial color against the windows. The man is unexceptional as he moves into the light. Suit of golden silk. Thinning hair, once black, now coal and ash. Opens his arms to her. Ice cubes play music in the glass he holds.
Grins. Hugs him. "I'd never be late to see you, Uncle Henry."
He laughs. "So, what's got a hold of you that you had to talk to me?" Sits on the green leather sofa. Crosses legs before him. Raises eyebrows.
Remains on her feet. "You know I don't discuss cases, normally. I've got one right now, two on a technicality, but they're related, that involves Jack Koenig."
"You got stuck on that bar arson? 'Cause I'm a little pissed off with Jack about that."
"That was Jack's work?" Laughs. "At least the bartender was ok.... No, I'm not on that, thank God. But there is something I wanted to ask you about. Do you have a hook into a detective named Carl Adair?"
"No. Never heard of him. Why?"
"He has a surveillance team on Jack's place. There's no order for it, no file. My assumption is that he's doing it for his own reasons. Since he's not on your team...."
"He must be working for Peter Lucas. Is that what you're thinking?"
"Exactly what I'm thinking."
"Good a guess as any. Lucas seems to be working up to something again. Little things all over the place, lately. He's starting to piss me off. Stepping over his line, taking things that aren't his to take, now he's got one of his lap dogs keeping tabs on Jack. Would be just desserts to sic Jack on him... again."
"Jack Koenig--."
Holds up his hand as the door opens. A sharp man steps into the room. Looks past Freeborn.
"Mr. Santelle: Jack Koenig is in the lobby. On his way up."
Santelle nods. Dismisses the man with a flick of the hand.
"Speak of the Devil...," Freeborn mutters.
Santelle laughs. "Let's see what the Devil has to say for himself. He's not in a good odor with me, right now."
"The odor's gonna get worse once he hears what I have to say."
Silence. Still. Breathing calm. Night swishes against the window.
Santelle's assistant returns, but does not get a chance to open the door. Door flies open. Jack steps through the doorway. Two strides and stops hard. Stares at Freeborn.
"Come on in, Jack. She doesn't bite... usually." Santelle motions him forward.
Eyes narrow, shift between them. Shrugs, steps forward.
"Maria, you know Jack. Jack, this is my niece, Maria. I don't think you've been introduced before."
"Not formally."
"Well, Maria is my best-kept secret." Winks. "It should stay that way." Face goes hard as he glares at Jack.
Nods.
"Jack, you've been a bad boy. You've caused me some trouble with a local business owner. Why would you do that?"
"Personal business, which turns out to be your business, Henry. The owner took money from a runner of Lucas' to send me on a wild goose chase. Which happened to coincide with someone snatching Elise. I got a little testy."
"You should tell me these things before you burn down half a man's shop front."
"I lost my temper. I apologize."
"What am I going to do with you, Jack? You lose my temper, not your own." Sighs and shakes his head. "Well, in this case, it's all for the best, I suppose. Peter Lucas is becoming a thorn in my side which I can't afford to let fester much longer. Did you know he's set some cops to keep an eye on you?"
Harsh laugh. "Lucas sent those guys? Couple of donks. Made 'em the first day."
"Detective Adair sent those two donks, actually," Freeborn adds. "Looks like Peter Lucas is sticking his fingers into local law-enforcement."
"More than that." Turns his stare back to Santelle. "He's been dabbling in your waters, taking business that's not on his side, finessing things he ought to keep his fingers out of. He's across the line. The only question is 'how far'."
"How far do you think?"
"I'm not sure, yet. All I want to know is who took Elise and where in Hell she is. Do you know, Henry?"
Freeborn laughs. "Uncle Henry, I have to ask the same question. That's what I came for."
Santelle raises his eyebrows. "What is this? You two think I'm the bad guy?"
"No," Freeborn replies, "but I want to know what you told John Andrus when he called you."
Jack jerks a stare at her. She smiles her wolf-smile. Santelle blinks.
"A couple of hours ago, the other Jack called me and said he was afraid you had taken Elise because he asked you to. He feels responsible. So I want to know if I need to get the hell off this case, 'cause you know I don't do coverups."
"What's there to cover up? I don't have Elise Nolan and I had nothing to do with it. When Andrus approached me, he didn't know Jack worked for me. I didn't tell him. That's Jack's business. I have no part of this."
"Good, because I have a murder and a suspected homicide and I think the body count is going to go up."
Santelle stares at Jack. Cold blank in return.
"Jack, I don't want any repeats of this bar business. You work for me. What you do reflects on me. Keep your temper in check or I'm going to lose mine. Do you understand?"
Cold. "I do."
"And you know I'm being straight with you when I say I had nothing to do with whatever has happened to Elise."
Nods. "I had to hear it."
Santelle shrugs. "I understand that. You have ideas of your own that you want to share with Maria, here?"
"It's a long train of connections, but it leads to Peter Lucas."
"Why not Henderson or Mariananski?" Freeborn asks. "Fingers point at Henderson...."
"He didn't kill himself with a three-bladed knife. Henderson was into Lucas for a lot. He didn't meet payment like he should have and he had a lot of favors outstanding. It's bad business to kill someone who owes you money, but Lucas would kill Henderson to protect himself and it's Lucas he was into the hardest."
"Your mysterious man with the three-bladed knife.... The same weapon we saw in the video, I assume."
Nods.
"So, you think Lucas, do you, Jack? But why would he? Not to accommodate Andrus, who never heard of him. Now, Zell Mariananski... he's a sweet little bundle of corruption and your girlfriend knew it."
Frowns.
"It's amazing what you can discover when you have the authority to ask nicely. Or not so nicely in my case. He's got some interesting problems on his own professional horizon and most of them are connected to money and regulations he hasn't been very good about observing."
Jack raises an eyebrow.
"Did you know that your girlfriend filed a sexual harassment grievance against Henderson?"
"Yeah."
"Did you know he was going to lose his job over it? And, on the day she went to file a second one, she came back from Mariananski's office visibly upset? There's no second grievance in the file against Henderson. But her lab assistant at that time, who was transferred out to another facility three days later, said she came back from his office and told her that she'd overheard Mariananski in some deal that upset and frightened her. She wouldn't give her assistant any details, but told her to ask for reassignment out of the facility as soon as possible. Did you know any of that, Jack?"
"No."
"No. But it looks like Mariananski did. I haven't yet figured out what Mariananski's scheme is, but he's making way too much money and he's very nervous."
"More nervous now."
"Oh? Did you do something, Jack?"
"Jack...." Santelle frowns inquiringly at the other man.
Grim smile. "He is deep in Lucas' pockets and other things. He denied anything to do with Elise, though, and tried to lay it on Henderson."
"Convenient when the guy is dead."
"He didn't know Henderson was dead. But he was relieved to hear it."
Santelle laughs and puts down his drink. "I'm loving this little pow-wow of yours. What's funny is that I know about Mariananski's dirt. All you had to do was ask."
"Then, I'm asking, Uncle Henry. What's the deal with him?"
"It's a lab, sugar. A little money re-directed, a few supplies skimmed off here and there and, before you know it, you've got a nice little blackmarket commodity. Add a guy like Henderson to the mix, who's got the right connections to someone like Lucas, and you have distribution that never dirties your own hands. Play a few games with the paperwork and it never shows up. Looks like simple losses. Henderson was the link I couldn't make, there. Drugs appeared in the local market apparently without a connection to Lucas or anyone else. I thought of the lab, and, Jack, I'm sorry to say it, I was hoping your Elise would spot it and say something to you, so you'd tell me. I guess she did spot it, but didn't get around to telling you."
"She never asked who I worked for. She didn't want to know."
"Maybe she kept her mouth closed for the same reason you came here. She had to be sure, first."
"It sounds like she was pretty sure."
"I meant sure of you, Jack."
Minute twitch. Freeborn keeps an ironic grin aimed at him. His expression grows colder.
"You seem to like Mariananski for it," Jack says.
"And you like Peter Lucas. I'm inclined to look at a motive other than Lucas' general position as a spoiler, no matter how much family connections might bias my opinions. I can see a connection between Henderson, Nolan and Mariananski. But the connection to Lucas is too tenuous for me to hang a case on. I think I can get the hard evidence to convict Mariananski. I don't have a hope of hooking Lucas. And that's the harsh reality of the case, Jack."
"I know Lucas' hand and I don't have to convince a jury of it. No matter how I look at it, Henderson was the lever, but he didn't do it on his own. I can connect Lucas."
Sceptical look. "Try to bring me some evidence I can use. And don't leave a trail of bodies across the damned city, OK, Jack? I don't want to have to lie my head off over this and Uncle Henry wouldn't forgive me if I gave you up for it." Turns her head. "Would you?"
Keeps his eyes on the man in the suit. "I'd rather not have to make that choice, Jack."
Jack glances between the two. Snorts disgust. Starts to turn away. "I've got work to do."
"Try to keep the mess to a minimum, Jack," Santelle warns.
Jack walks out.
Santelle shakes his head. Sighs. "Damn it.... Jack's in one of his moods."
"Moods?" Laugh. "I thought he was always like that."
"I've got to talk to a few people, Maria. With Jack on the rampage, things are going to get knocked over. You might want to batten down a few of your own hatches, too."
"Do you think...?"
"Don't think. Don't have time. You'd better get going, sweetheart." Gets to his feet and walks to her. "Say hello to your mother for me, next time you see her."
"All right...."
Kisses her cheek quickly and leaves the room.
Frowns. Stands still a moment, then turns and heads out.
....
Hard camellia leaves, black in the darkness, clap gently in the night breeze. Applaud impatiently for those in wait to move.
A man approaches the door of the house. No porchlight. Leans forward, peering, to slide the key into the lock. Shadows move in train. First shadow shoves the man through the door as it opens and swings it to behind. Final shadow darts from the dark, catches the door quickly, quietly slips inside.... A muffled shout escapes before the door closes.
Narrow entry. Distant light from the living room sets a gray illumination. Two figures struggle before the grayness. Flash of light on triple blades. Rend and an arc of blood splatters the wall. A single blade glitters, arches downward, stabs into the man in the middle. High in the back, beside the spine.
Shouts and shoves his victim away as he turns. Jack hangs on to the knife in Rip's back. It tears from his flesh as he moves. The homeowner stumbles away and falls into the light, bleeding. Rip roars and slashes at Jack.
Jack turns. Too slow. Three blades tear through his jacket sleeve and chest, slash lightly across the skin beneath. Curses. Smashes the pommel of the heavy knife into the other man's jaw.
Rip spins back. Backhand across Jack's face. The duller side of the blades, still sharp enough to tear skin.
Jerks his head back. Reaches up. One hand before and one behind Rip's arm. Jack grabs, wrenches, turns.
Humerus crunches from its socket. Rip screams, twists, slips away. Snatches the three-bladed claw from his right hand with his left. Backs closer to the light.
Jack darts forward, to the right, cutting off Rip's escape into the house. Light washes his face, revealing bloody gouges across cheek, lip and nose.
"Jack...." Laughs. "Shove off and let me finish up. We can do this little tango later."
Jack bares his teeth.
"No? I guess you're pissed about Elise, then?"
Growls. "Where is she?"
Laughs again. "You'll have to do better than that, Jack. Though, maybe you've become as much of a girl as she is."
Silence. Waits. Poised and coiled. Cold stare.
The other backs a bit. "Ought to be grateful, Jack." Nervous chuckle. "Henderson'd have had her. But he wasn't so interested, once her pretty face wasn't so pretty, anymore. Which do you think's worse, eh? Maybe I should have let him--."
Roars and jumps forward, knife slashing. Receives another cut across the chest. Turns inside Rip's arms. Flips the knife. Slashes across the left wrist.
Rip gasps. Stainless steel claw falls from his hand. Clatters across the hardwood floor.
Jack sweeps at the other man's legs. Shoves.
Rip topples with a yell. Thud and a crack. Dazed.
Panting, Jack drops down. Plants the knife through Rip's broken shoulder joint. Blade-guard presses into clothing as the tip sinks into wood, below.
Hoarse scream.
"Where?"
"With Egraine."
Twist. Scream. Flails with his cut arm. Blood flies.
"Where?"
Spits. "I don't fucking know!"
"Too easy." Backhands the knife handle.
Shrieks. Pants, then laughs. "I can't tell what I don't know. Doesn't matter what you do, Jack."
"Sure it does...." Rises to his feet.
Gaze follows Jack across the floor. "Get stuffed. Why should I tell you anything?"
Stoops. Grins. Returns to Rip's side. Dangles the claw over him. Blood falls from his cut face onto Rip's chest. "Because if you tell me what I want to know, I won't kill you and we can have this dance another time."
Eyes narrow, glitter. Grinds his teeth, speculating. "Let me up and I'll tell you what you want to know."
Shakes head. "Not likely."
Laughs. Coughs. Spits blood. "Damn. Hell of a trick to pull on me, Jack."
Blank face. Arms crossed. Waits.
"All right. Ask."
"Where is Egraine?"
"I don't know. Didn't I say so? He took off after Henderson and I left."
"Why'd you leave the mess?"
"Didn't have time to clean up. Christ, you should have seen the look on Henderson's face when you showed up. I thought he was gonna shit." Laughs wetly. "How'd you get there so fast? You was supposed to be busy elsewhere."
"I didn't take the bait all the way. Who set that up?"
"Lucas. Henderson asked him. Thought you'd get sucked in for a while. Didn't work, did it?"
"What's Lucas' angle?"
"What? Aside from hating your guts, personally?" Sucks in air. Breath rattles stickily in his chest. Spits again. Bloody phlegm spatters against the wall. "Ugh... better wrap this up.... Been busy has Peter, and keeping you distracted looked a good idea, in addition to evening scores a bit. You are on his personal shit list for all eternity." Weak laugh. "Hell, that's enough, Jack. That's the lot. Let me up."
"No." Ice.
Hard eyes. Mutters, "You bastard...." Lunges up. Knife rips free.
Jack dives. Swings downward. Silvery crescents rip the air. Three sharp blades plunge, tear, pierce the heart.... Blood spurts.
Coughs. Falls. Still. Redness courses quickly across the wooden floor.
Breathing fast, Jack scoops up his own knife from the floor. Pockets it. Wipes the handle of the claw embedded in Rip's chest. Stumbles back from the spreading pool.
"That's one...." Wipes mingled blood from his face with the back of one hand.
Looks around.
The homeowner squirms on the floor, inching away like a worm.
Steps over to him and crouches.
"Hey...."
Freezes. Breathes panic. Blood on his shoulder. Glassy eyes stare widely at Jack.
"Do exactly as I tell you."
Nods, terror stricken.
"Get up, call Peter Lucas. Tell him Jack killed Rip. Not one word more. Not one. Then, take all the money you have in the house and get the hell out of here. I mean out of town. Way out of town. Stay low until you hear Lucas is dead or under arrest. Then call Henry Santelle and tell him I told you to call. You'll be all right."
Stares.
"Understand me?"
"Uh... uh-huh...."
"Repeat it."
Stuttering, the homeowner repeats it.
"That's good. Get moving."
The man scrambles away, looks over his shoulder, runs down the hallway.
Jack's shoulders droop a moment. Sighs. Shakes himself. Gets to his feet and leaves quietly.
....
"Where the hell have you been?"
Andrus whirls, white-faced, shaking.
Freeborn strolls into the light. Motions him to continue unlocking the door. "Come on: let's get out of the hallway, ok, John?"
He opens the door and steps through. Holds it for her.
Razor smile. Shuts the door behind herself.
"I waited for you, looked for you, then waited some more. I was beginning to think Jack had got you, after all."
"Oh, Jesus...." Sinks into a chair. "Jack's after me?"
"Well, he's not too pleased with you, but, since he's a little preoccupied with trying to find the people who really did snatch Elise Nolan, you have a bit of breathing space. Or you had some. Who knows what Jack's gonna do next? I figured I should find you and let you know that he knows what you tried to do and he doesn't seem happy about it."
"I-- hrmm.... Wait... you said 'the people who really snatched Elise'? Who--what... I mean what's going on? It's not Henry Santelle?"
Laughs. "Don't be a bigger ass than you already are, Andrus. Henry Santelle wouldn't stab Jack Koenig in the back like that. Aside from it being damned foolhardy, he happens to like Jack and he doesn't know you from sheep shit. Why would he risk pissing Jack off?"
"And... and Jack knows?"
Nods. Twisted smile. "He went tearing off somewhere a while ago. I figured the only thing between you and Jack's famous bad temper was the fact that someone else deserves it more. He'll be around, though."
"Oh... shit.... I am... I am...."
"Thoroughly self-screwed, I'd say."
"Oh, God...." Covers his face.
"A smart man might decide to get the hell out of town before his former friends come looking for him...."
Looks up. "Yeah... yeah, a smart guy...." Rises shakily and starts to wander.
"Pack, Andrus. That would be your best bet." Points toward the back of the apartment.
Nods and goes into the bedroom.
Paces.
Cell phone rings. Freeborn answers and listens.
Doorbell rings shrilly. Andrus trots across the living room.
Freeborn tries to wave him off. "No...." Snaps into the phone: "I'll call you back." Shuts it down.
Andrus opens the door.
Jack bursts in. Andrus stumbles backward. "Fuck!"
Jack reaches for Andrus. "You little shit...." Bloodied and torn, darkly furious.
Freeborn steps between them. "Chill down, Jack. Surely there are more important things for you to do than wringing this twit's neck."
Glares at her. "I can't think of many."
Andrus slips back toward the bedroom. Jack growls and cuts him a glare.
"I can. I have a location for Egraine."
Attention to her. "Where?"
"And why, exactly, should I tell you?"
Glowers over her. "Because you owe it to me."
"I don't owe you fuck-all, Jack."
Andrus tries to inch past, computer case in hand. Jack lunges for him.
Freeborn shoves Jack. Draws a small pistol from her coat pocket. "Don't piss me off, Jack. I don't want to shoot you."
"What would Uncle Henry say?"
"Probably that you deserved it for acting like a jerk when your girlfriend's out there with a butcher like Egraine. So, you coming with me to fetch her or are you too interested in revenge?"
Growls. "I'm with you. Another time, Andrus.... Where to?"
Waits for him to step back. "Bank and Olive. Medical team and back up should be a few minutes behind us, as soon as I call."
"Thanks." Jack drops one shoulder and ducks, twisting slightly. Hits Freeborn hard in the abdomen.
Air explodes from her lungs. Staggers back, eyes wide.
Half-closed fist to the temple sends her to the floor, dazed. Side steps her. Grabs Andrus by the arm.
"You and me, Andrus. Let's go."
Shakes. "Oh, Jesus, Jack.... Please don't...."
"What? Kill you? Waste of effort. Car keys?"
Nods.
"Let's go, then." Shoves him out the door.
....
Head buzzes. Grinds her teeth. Punches the cell phone.
"Kageda. That location on Egraine: I'm almost there, now. Anticipate some trouble and I'm sure I'll need a medical team as well as back up. But not too fast on the back up. Got to fix something I screwed up, first."
"You screwed up? I'll have to mark this on my calendar."
"Do that, Kageda. It's a once-in-a-lifetime."
Tosses the phone onto the other seat. Yanks the car into a spot by the curb.
Out of the car and across the dark sidewalk. Door hangs open.
Looks. Draws her gun. Slips around the door.
Shout from the end of the narrow corridor.
"Crap." Runs toward the sound.
Half-open door. Shoulders through it, low.
Room like a well-lit cave. Dirt and shadows huddle in the corners. Andrus cowers against the distant wall, beside a narrow bed.
On the other side of the bed, Jack holds a fat man by the neck and shoulders. Slams the man against the wall.
Freeborn bolts forward. Taps Jack's shoulder with the muzzle of her pistol.
"Could you put that piece of slime down, Jack? Alive? I need witnesses and evidence, not bodies. Remember?"
Snaps a glare over his shoulder at her. Snarls frustration and throws the man away, into a farther wall.
Egraine stumbles. Hits the wall and crumples to the floor, whimpering.
Freeborn puts her gun away. Strides to Egraine and motions him to his feet. Unsteady, he rises. Pulls his arms behind and cuffs him.
"He was assaulting me! Wh- Why are you arresting me?"
"I'll come up with something, don't worry about it. Now sit down." Turns to Jack. "Thanks for the headache. You are such a pain in my ass, Jack...."
Ignores her. Looks down at the bed. Starts to reach. Stops. Hand goes to his face.
"I think she's dead...," Andrus whispers.
"She's not!" Egraine shouts back. "I told you she's not! Once you get her to a hospital, she'll be fine! It's not my fault! That stupid Peter Lucas! He's run off and left me holding the bag!"
Jack wheels, roaring. Takes a step toward Egraine, face a tortured demon mask. Stops himself. Seethes.
Freeborn elbows Egraine in the stomach. "Trap up." Egraine sags to the floor, silent.
Walks toward Jack, hands out, open. "Not now, Jack. Medical team will be here in a minute. Let me take a look, all right?"
Glowers. Nods. Turns, stepping aside, to face the bed again.
Bad. Bandages, skin blotchy, pale and clammy. Feverish. Hair matted with blood. Pulse thin and thready. Heavy blanket obscures the small movement of her breath. Set-up like an old-fashioned hospital bed, tubes of fluid hung on a rack drip into a sadly pale arm, covered here and there with more bandages.
"She's not dead, yet, Jack. Egraine is scum, but he's right about that. I'm going to owe you one for the smack on the head, but right now, you'd better scarper, before the medical team and back up gets here."
Glares at her, stone-faced.
"Jesus, Jack. I'm not going to let anything happen to her. She's the only link to both Mariananski and Lucas. But if you're here when my backup gets here, I may not be able to explain you."
Grinds teeth. Looks back down to Elise. Hesitantly, touches an uncovered corner of her mouth, then draws back quickly. Whispers, "I'm sorry...."
Jerks himself away. Stalks to Egraine. The doctor shrinks back.
Hisses. "Where is Lucas?"
"Airport...," Egraine squeaks.
Snaps a look at Andrus. The thin man tries to shake his head, slumps and creeps forward. Jack catches him by the arm and propels him out of the room.
Noise in the corridor. Shouts. Door bangs shut. Medical team begins to rush in.
Freeborn surrenders her place to them. Waits for the back up unit to arrive.
....
Andrus shoots nervous glances at Jack. Breathes too fast.
"Watch the road. You'll kill us both and save me the trouble."
Moans. Yanks the car across three lanes of traffic to make the airport exit.
Jack rolls his eyes. Sighs. "Andrus, you've managed to make me angry. In spite of the fact that you never did anything to hurt Elise, I can't let you stay around her. You can choose how that happens. You can stay here and I'll eventually kill you. Or you can get the hell out of here and stay gone. Here and now is a good place to make that decision."
Startled, Andrus jerks the car to a stop at the edge of the loading zone. Jack steps out. Walks away.
Car lurches with a crunch. Rear-ended by a blue sedan. Andrus grabs his computer case, scrambles out of the car. Runs toward the parking lot.
....
"Gone where?" Freeborn demands, leaning into the taller woman's face.
Steps back, eyes wide. "You know: as in gone on a trip. He took some money and a suitcase and he went to the airport."
"Shit!" Fist into the door frame. "Which airline? Where's he headed?"
Jerks away. "I don't know. He took his passport, though...."
Tugs a card from her pocket, thrusts it at the other woman. "You hear from him, you call me. Mr. Mariananski is in deep, deep shit and you want to stay out of it, you'll call."
Nods, mutely.
Freeborn whirls. Stalks to her car, poking the cell phone viciously.
"Kageda!"
"What?!"
"Mariananski is on the run out of international air terminal. Find his goddamned flight!"
"Any aliases to search?"
"Doubt he's had time to pick up a false ID, but look for anything booked in the past two hours or less. He hasn't had time to make advance reservations. Don't bother with any destinations requiring a visa: he doesn't have one."
"If you're going to need back up, you may be in trouble: it's been one hell of a busy night."
"Wonderful.... Just put me on the list. Hey... any condition report on Elise Nolan, yet?"
Sound of papers flipping. "Stable... that's all there is."
Sighs. "Better than DOA. Thanks."
Starts the car and drives toward the airport.
....
Lumbering, clumsy metal birds which brute-force their way into the sky, roar to earth again with terrifying speed. Cruise in the darkness outside the terminal windows like sharks in an aquarium.
Coins jingle in a red-haired man's pocket. Nearly safe. Very nearly safe.... Urge to hide clutches his chest. Breathes deep and slow. Banishes the momentary panic. Pity to have overstayed his welcome.... Well, one gambles; occasionally, one loses. Inconvenient, bloody loss.... Another ten minutes, though, and he'll be on the plane.
Flicker of pale. Familiar stance out of the corner of the eye. Looks toward the movement.
Icicle through the heart. From behind, there's still no mistaking him. The height, the breadth, the rioting hair. Hasn't turned his way, yet, but he will. Those cold, pale eyes....
Breathes despair. "Christ...." Ducks and turns, slipping toward a pillar.
Rustle of outraged movement. Glances back over his shoulder.
Jack sees him. Cuts through the sparse crowd. Straight toward Lucas. Black, frozen spite.
"Shit...." Begins running....
....
No back up. No choice. Sidles up to the boarding queue.
"Virgin Islands... who'd have thought of that, hmm?"
Mariananski jerks his head down. Stares, horrified, at the dark-haired detective.
Vicious grin. "You're under arrest, Mr. Mariananski." Reaches for him. "Conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to--."
Smacks his briefcase into her chest. Turns and bolts.
Scrambles up from the floor. "God damn it!" Launches after him.
....
Burst of speed. Lucas shoulders through the first door he comes to. Staff corridor to Maintenance. Pelts down it. Door slams open and shut again behind him. Doesn't bother to look. Skitters around a corner.
Jack follows.
Dim. Din. Clatter and pound. Shouts.
Turns. Baggage handlers flinging luggage into carts. Curses under his breath. Sweat-diluted blood trickles over his cheek. Scans for red hair.
Flash of movement. Luggage on conveyers. A russet gleam. Vanishes.
Runs forward. Drops, rolls under a belt and comes back to his feet. Lucas....
Shoots a look over his shoulder at last. Jack is less than ten feet away. Ducks a high-arching chute of baggage, vaults the next one. Stumbles. Glances....
Jack swings over the line of suitcases. Bags scatter off the conveyer, sliding across the floor. Draws his gun.
Lucas scoops up a bag. Flings it back at Jack. Dives forward, sliding under a conveyer.
Shouts. Men in dusty overalls run toward Jack.
Ducks. Turns. Snarls. Fires into the air.
Freeze. Stare. Back away, hands out.
Turns back. No Lucas....
....
Shoves open the door to the tarmac. Down the stairs. Leaps down them, clutching his briefcase. Hits the ground running.
Machine-gun sound of her heels on steel stairs. "Halt! Halt, you fucking idiot!" Kicks off her shoes and jumps the distance to the ground. Lands hard, rolls. Keeps her grip on the gun as she comes to her feet and runs.
Wind from spinning turbines whips her hair into a black stream. Mariananski charges straight ahead, under the nearest jet's belly. Dodges a man on the runway....
Freeborn ducks the plane. Runs on. Sharp things, unseen in the dark, stab at her feet. Stockings begin to run and rip.
Mariananski swerves out and begins to cross the tarmac toward the other half of the terminal.
Corrects her route to intercept. Bolts between two baggage carts.
Coat grabs on chain, yanks her back.
"Son of a bitch!"
Slips the coat. Leaves it hanging on the cart chain, creamy white against filthy orange.
Mariananski looks back, stumbles, catches himself. Pushes himself forward, breath coming in gasps of fear and exertion. Swings around a post. Briefcase jams against a loop on the post. Falls to his knees. Scrambles up. Dashes forward.
Two men in dark uniforms run toward him from the building. Swerves. Heads for the nearest stair.
Freeborn crouches into a final, hard dash, shoving away from the tarmac with every explosive stride. Hits the stair two steps behind Mariananski.
Hesitates. Looks up. Stairs end in air.
Dives forward. Clutches his legs. Shouts as they collide. Fall...
....
Bolts across the backlit doorway. Perfect target, moving too fast. Jack swings in that direction. Pursues.
Smaller, private charter jets scurry busily on the tarmac outside.
Lucas dodges into the field. Ducks a wing. Runs.
Jack pounds behind. Raises the gun. Fires.
Stumbles. Rolls to his feet. Runs unevenly. Blood trails behind.
Gains ground. Reaches....
Grip on his shoulder spins him, jerks him back. Lucas twists. Falls.
Jack grinds his heels in. Stops. Yanks Lucas back to his feet. Smashes a gun-filled fist into the red-haired man's jaw.
Lucas staggers. Spits blood.
"Gonna beat me to death, Jack?"
Jack hits him again. "Why?" he yells. Shakes Lucas sharply. "Why take Elise?"
"Gravy," Lucas pants. "It couldn't have been any better. Get something to hook Mariananski, hold on to Henderson and stick a knife in your guts all at once. Pure, fucking gravy." Laughs....
....
Hard metal stairs smash into his ribs. Freeborn falls against him. Steel edges cut into her legs, the back of her hands.
Plants a knee in his back. Kneels up. Jams the gun into the waistband of her skirt.
"Ah... shit.... One of you guys got a set of handcuffs? Mine were in my coat."
One of the cops trudges up the standing jet stairs and kneels to handcuff Mariananski.
Freeborn stands and steps up to the top of the stairs, out of the way. Panting, bloodied and bruised. Looks around.
Little charter jets dart around nearby, dwarfed by their gargantuan commercial cousins.
Small, rapid movement near the charter jets, illuminated weirdly by the terminal lights. Looks down.
Two men and a jet.
"Oh... hell."
Shoves her way past the two cops with Mariananski between them. "Get him in the car!" she shouts, running. "I'll be right there!" Bloody footprints follow her across the tarmac....
....
Jack roars fury. Lashes at Lucas with his fists.
Silvery wingtip swings into view, engine a bulbous, metal growth below.
"You motherless bastard!"
Doubled over, Lucas spits: "You're too fucking late, Jack! I win! Go to Hell!"
Lifts him straight up. Screams over the roar of the oncoming engine: "I'll meet you there!" Flings him backward.
Lucas' eyes widen. Can't hear his scream over the sound of the engine.
Shriek of the blades. Roar and howl.
"That's two."
Something smashes into Jack's side, driving him to the ground under the wing.
Scream of noise. Red splatter. Smoke. Half-silence, ringing in the ears like Sunday bells.
Weight across his chest moves, slides....
"I hope your head hurts as much as mine does, you pain in the ass."
Sits up. Wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his gun-hand.
Freeborn glares at him.
"You look like shit, Freeborn."
"Thanks, Jack. You're utterly charming, yourself. What are you, suicidal? Jesus Christ! Why the hell did you do that? How am I going to fucking well explain this, Jack? Hmm?"
"Accident. He walked into a jet engine."
"You, Jack! You! At the scene of this 'accident'! What am I supposed to say? That Henry Santelle's enforcer was assisting in my investigation? That I got a little lethal help from Elise Nolan's boyfriend?"
Too tired to glower. Wipes at his face again.
Sighs. "She's ok, you know. The hospital says she's stable."
People begin to boil out toward the smoking jet. Distant sirens and truck engines draw closer.
Laughs weakly. "Thanks." Drags to his feet. "Sorry about the head. I'd better get going." Turns back. "'Fiance' sounds better than 'boyfriend'. 'Boyfriend' sounds... High School."
Shrieks. Kicks her heels against the ground in frustration. "Jack!!"
Vanishes among the planes and confusion.
Just Freeborn and the smoking jet.
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