A Bridge to Treachery From Extortion to Terror (40 page)

“It
is
just an allegation.”

“
We’re
just an allegation. If we’re so harmless, why don’t they just let us walk?”

Lou swung his foot over the back of the couch, sat on the back of it for an instant, and then slid down, plopping into the cushions and sloshing the drink over the front of his shirt. He killed the rest of it in a swallow and let the glass drop to the floor.

She sat beside him, unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re all wet, sweetheart.”

“Believe it or not, you’re not the first one to tell me that.”

Sydney pulled the shirt up out of his trousers, jerked it around until he’d twisted his arms out of it, and then dropped it in a soggy heap on the floor. She snuggled into his chest.

“Okay, we’re down to bare skin. This is your best, last chance, commander.”

Lou leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes. “Sydney…,” he said.

“What?”

“Syd…”

“Say it.”

“It’s not that…”

“Don’t tell me what it’s not,” she said.

He turned and leaned back, stretching out, his legs over her lap to the arm of the couch, so that he could see all of her. “I have people in my life who…”

Sydney shoved his legs off her, rose and straightened her skirt.

“Thank you so much, Uncle Lou”, she muttered, striding toward the bathroom.

It was very quiet now. No clock was ticking. No faucet dripping. For a long while, he sat still on the sofa, looking mostly at the ceiling. He’d come a long way to this moment. From the day he’d left the Army, it had been a slow series of compromises, a gradual acceptance of gray where there had once been black and white, a creeping intrusion of the half-truth. He’d told himself that it was the times. He’d been living with old fashioned ethics, worn concepts of honor. And now, alone with himself again, he was not pleased.

He rolled off the couch and kneeled in front of the phone on the end table. He picked up the receiver, listened for something he was sure would be audible on a tapped phone, but heard nothing. A clear line. One last real talk with Mag.
Let it happen
. He dialed from the phone book.

“Hello.”

“Yeah hello, is this the Elks Club?”

“Well, this is the bar.”

“Okay, look, you’ve got an auction going on there tonight, don’t you?”

“It’s in the main hall.”

“I don’t suppose you could do me a favor and call someone to the line from there, could you?”

“Who is it?”

“Well, it’s Maggie Christopher. She’s probably sitting in the back.”

“Hold on.”

Lou sat down on the couch. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom.

“Hello?”

“Mag! Mag, it happened.”

“It’s you! I prayed, Lou. I prayed you’d call here.”

“It’s so great to hear your voice, Mag...”

“Lou, I love you.”

“I’m in trouble, Mag.”

“I know. There’s a man here with me.”

“Who? Who’s with you?”

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Mag, listen. I’m sorry.”

“Never mind right now. Talk to him.”

“Mag, listen…”

“Lou, this is Kilmartin. Listen carefully. I know where you are, I know you’re there alone with the woman. Stanfield and Copeland have already left that location, and we’re still following.”

“I’m not staying here, Kilmartin. I only have a couple of minutes.”

“Did you tell them anything about me?”

“No. We’re supposed to drive to Kennedy to catch a flight. I don’t believe we’ll ever get there.”

“All right, listen. I’m sending someone to your location. Wait there.”

“Put my wife back on the phone,” Lou said.

“Lou?” Maggie said.

“Mag, listen to me. I don’t like Kilmartin. He knows more than he should. I’m scared for you. Understand?”

“Yes, Lou.”

“I don’t want him to hear what you’re saying to me.”

“He’s over by the door now, darling.”

“I don’t have much time to tell you this, but I had an ace in the hole—something that could protect you—but now my confidence in it is shot.”

“I know all about it, Lou. Now listen to me.”

“I thought I’d use it when the time was right, but that right time has come and gone with no effect.”

“Shut up and listen.” She smiled for the benefit of the FBI. “When did you first meet Kilmartin?”

“This afternoon, Mag. In the police station.”

“Just listen. They turned the house upside down this morning looking for something. I assume it was the tape. They didn’t find it. They have us both. Who else knows there’s a tape?” She smiled again at Kilmartin.

“I blabbed it just now to Copeland.”

“Copeland. Who’s that?”

“It’s unimportant.”

“You’re right.”

“Who else?”

“Tom Holt and his wife.”

“Tom Holt...?”

“My Army buddy.”

“How the hell is he involved in this? Good god, Lou.”

“Never mind.”

“Right. So, Copeland knows. Does Kilmartin?”

“There’s no way he can.”

“Right again, I think. Except, what were they ransacking the house for then?”

“Anything incriminating. Fingerprints, minimum.”

“My mind is swimming, Lou. If Kilmartin knows there’s a tape, how did he find out?”

“He can’t possibly know,” Lou said. “Unless he has Tom Holt, or he talks to Copeland.”

“Do you know that he does?”

“No. I’m just guessing.”

Lou heard the rush of water stop short, the shower curtain snap back.

“I gotta get off now, Mag.”

“I think the videotape is still golden for us, Lou darling. We can use it on them. Somehow.”
Click
.

When Sydney came out, she was dressed to go. Her hair hung mussed and wet against her shoulders.

“We’ve got about an hour to get to Kennedy,” she said.

Lou shed Titus’ clothes for his own blue serge and a shirt. He left the tie in the side pocket.

“Ecuador may be bull, but it’s all I have,” she said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m for real. I want to give you your chance too.”

“Meaning?”

“If you want to run from them some more, then run.”

“I don’t want to run; I just want another shot at them.”

“Then do it. When we go out to the car.”

Sydney strode out of the room and Lou moved quickly to the vase, snatched the recorder, and dropped it into his chest pocket.

* * *

The elevator door slid open immediately when Lou pressed the button. He walked in first; leaned against the back wall. Sydney’s heels clicked against the floor tile as she entered, carrying a small cosmetics bag. She needed to straighten his collar; it was sticking crazily out of the jacket. She brought her hand up to his chin, then to the side of his face.

“You’ll kick yourself someday,” she said.

The door slid open at the ground floor. Sydney clicked straight for the entrance. Lou followed. The wind was still gusting across the parking lot. Looking back at the darkened tower behind them, he felt secure. How could they pull off murder in the middle of all these cars? The dark Audi was directly under a lamp. The only sounds were Sydney’s heels on the blacktop. She walked directly to the driver’s side, opened the door, and stood there.

Lou came up to her, and held her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

“
Some
girl,” he said.

Sydney brought her hand up to her mouth and allowed a bored sigh.

“This is good-bye. Good luck, Sydney Winkler,” he said pulling her in to his chest.

“You too, commander,” she said, running the fingers of one hand up behind his ear.

They stood back from each other again, and Sydney turned and slid behind the wheel of the Audi.

Lou fell straight to the pavement and rolled under a white T-Bird beside the Audi. The pain in his thigh sprang back to life in an agonizing jolt reaching all the way to his buttocks. Grunting, he inched his way under the car toward the opposite side. He rolled again, started to rise, and heard Sydney slam the door shut. For a split second he thought he heard the starter whine, just before the blackness ignited. He was buffeted, deafened by an orange roar. He could hear pieces of metal raining down on the cars all around.

Chapter Forty-Six

He was physically untouched by the explosion, but the Audi was totally wrecked—hood sprung, dangling from a fender; windows either shattered or black with soot; tires burning with heavy smoke and brilliant orange flame. Sydney was sprawled on the pavement with her feet inside the car. She was burned black and broken. The air was sodden with the awful smell of burning rubber and human flesh.

The apartment building came to life; bright lights glowed on every floor to the top and faces =peered from every window. The residents gradually emerged and gathered in a circle around the smoldering car. No one approached Lou as he sat on the ground beside the girl. He lifted her blackened hand, pressed it with the two of his. He covered her body with his jacket. She
was
for real.

It was all mechanical now; he had no emotion left. He should’ve been dead three times over, yet he still lived. He walked away from the car, through the jabbering crowd. No one tried to stop him or to talk to him as he walked back toward the building. Strangely, he didn’t feel the wrenching in his system that he’d known so well in the war, when someone he knew got hurt. It was because she was dead. Burned and unrecognizable. He was numb, that’s all. He was alone in this now, completely alone. It was the way it had to be. The way he wanted it. He’d go right at them, head to head, alone. Then it would be over.

On the first floor of the building, he found the door marked
Building Manager
and pressed the buzzer. She was heavy and blonde, with black roots at her crown. She stood in the doorway in a yellow robe, saying nothing. She leaned against the jamb, arms folded.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Detective Mike Bialystock, Fort Lee Police,” Lou said, gambling that she wouldn’t want ID. “The girl out there is unidentified. Someone said she came out of 24-D. Can you tell me who owns it?”

“I’m not allowed to let that information out. I’m sorry.”

“Look, a young lady lost her life out there. We need to know who she is.”

“I guess it’s not going to hurt anyone if I tell you.”

“Of course not.”

“They’ve had the apartment for a couple of years. They don’t spend much time in it, though. Just whenever it strikes their fancy, I guess.”

“Who are they?”

“Well, it’s in the mother’s name but his daughter uses it mostly.”

“What’s the name?”

“ Buck. Ms. P. Buck. I sure hope that’s not her daughter out there.”

“What would
her
name be?”