A Mighty Fortress (45 page)

Abner lowered the gun as if he thought I had somehow missed it. “Last chance,” he said. “We’re running out of time.”

“Before what?” I asked.

“Before she’s dead.”

“What do you want to know?”
 

“Who are you?” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’m Milo Porter. Just ask Giuseppe.”

Something about that really lit a fire under his ass. He thrust the gun into my face and asked, “What the hell did you just say?”

I was done talking. I felt my surroundings closing in on me; I knew I didn’t have much time. I thought about counting to three, but I was afraid I’d never get that far. So I simultaneously raised my foot to his groin as I swatted the hand holding the gun. As expected, the gun fired, but as I’d intended, the shot hit the floor a few feet away from me.
 

Abner’s response to a swift kick to the groin was rather stoic, but he still leaned forward a few degrees—just enough for me to meet him with a head-butt and grab hold of the arm holding the gun as I rose to my feet.

The problem with having almost a foot of height on Abner was that it was hard not to be in his line of fire. We wrestled and wrestled. He was strong, primal strong, and hard to contain. It wasn’t long before it became clear that I wasn’t going to be able to wrestle the gun away from him; we’d reached a stalemate. If I released it, though, it would be a fraction of a second before the gun was pointed at me, and he’d fire.

He was smart, too. He quickly stopped pushing against my force and instead used it as momentum to turn the gun on Angie without warning.

The gun fired again. It hit the wall this time, sending a fusillade of plaster across the bed Angie was tied to.

Angie screamed. With the last shot, she’d apparently found motivation to free her right arm, which then allowed her to free the left one.

Meanwhile, my arms were cramping fiercely from trying to restrain Abner. But once Angie was free, she did me a hell of a favor: she yanked the lamp off the table and proceeded to plant it into the back of Abner’s head. That allowed me to gain complete control of the arm holding the gun. He did everything he could to inflict pain with the free arm, but I had the other arm right where I wanted it. I started to bend it in a way it wasn’t supposed to bend.
 

He screamed and released the gun.

Given the ruckus forming in the hallway, the guests in nearby rooms had apparently heard the gunshots too. “Go!” I yelled at Angie.
 

I had Abner on his knees now, his left arm hyperextended behind his back.

Darkness fell over the room. Angie opened the door, and I followed close behind.

The darkness wasn’t limited to our room, as people were panicking in the hallway. Someone had pulled the fire alarm, and it rang discordantly in the hallway, screaming a harsh, staccato shrill that made my ears and brain twitch. “Where?” Angie screamed.

“Be quiet and listen,” I said as dim emergency lights came on. I gripped her shoulders tightly, but she wasn’t calming down. It would be hard to make it outside right now, and who knew who’d be waiting for us? I figured it was only a matter of time before cops and the fire department arrived. I wanted to get Abner somewhere quiet, where we could talk without distraction. “Meet me on the roof,” I yelled to Angie, hoping Abner would take the bait.
 

She looked confused and repeated what I’d said.

“Yes! Now go.”

She disappeared into the stairwell. I moved in the same direction, wondering when the hell Abner would make his appearance. But it didn’t take long, and he’d reunited with the gun, too. I nodded to make sure he saw me, and disappeared into the stairwell.

I sprinted up the stairs as dozens of guests were scrambling to finish their descents. After I made it up a few flights, I glanced down and was just barely able to see Abner in the weak glow of the emergency lights. I was gasping for air by the time I reached the tenth floor, but I was also going too fast for my little buddy. I slowed a little and began to wonder if I’d lost him just as he finally reappeared two flights below me.
 

I made sure he saw me before I kicked it back into gear.
 

I had rounded the corner up the next and final half-flight before the gun fired, a clean miss. A moment later I reached the roof, where a rare cool breeze carried a whiff of the Gulf across its tarry surface. Through the glow of red and blue lights flashing in the distance, I spotted Angie, and gestured for her to hide around the corner to the stairwell.
 

Then, I waited for Abner. It seemed he’d never come, and I began to wonder if he’d changed his mind or maybe passed out from exhaustion.

I listened. Put my hand on the door. Then my ear. I was about to open it.

Call it a premonition, but somehow I jumped away right before the gunshot punched through the door. The door flew open and into me. Abner sailed through the doorway, firing three more shots.

I said a little prayer for Angie, relieved she wasn’t screaming again.

By then, I’d stepped to the opposite side of the stairwell and peeked around the corner to watch Abner. He was surveying the rooftop, catching his breath. I had a split second to hit him.

I guess I wasn’t quiet about it, because he was turning into me, firing, just as I made contact. I hit him in the right arm first; knocked it hard from two angles, just to make sure he lost the gun. If I broke his arm for extra measure, then so be it. It wasn’t going to survive this in one piece regardless. Then I had him right where I wanted him—or so I thought. I leaned over him and shouted, “Now, let’s talk. Who are you working for?”

I never expected what came next: him all but flipping me forward and driving me down. My face met the pavement, and it felt like I’d lost a layer of skin in the process. I was back on my feet in an instant, but Abner was behind me, foot pressed into the back.
 

I’d given up on getting any information from him. Now I just wanted to get the hell away from the guy—but not the way he apparently had in mind. He was driving me fast and hard toward the edge of the building.

We were sailing.

Hard and fast.

Right for infinity.

I turned just at the right time and flipped him.
 

He was surprisingly light once we had momentum behind us, and rage, pure unadulterated rage, was pulsing through my veins. I was screaming angry things as we hit the edge, and he went sailing over. It took everything I had in me to brake myself and not go over with him.
 

I hit the ledge hard and pulled myself up, then glanced down.

Abner fell in silence. His descent seemed too slow for a moment—as if he were caught in some kind of vortex—before he picked up speed. He didn’t flail his arms or scream like they do in the movies. His was more a look of shock: his body paralyzed, his lips frozen.
 

It looked like he hit the parking lot on his right side first. Life left his body on impact, right before the limp pile of flesh settled against the unforgiving pavement.

A chill brought me back. I darted back to the stairwell, made sure Angie was fine, and told her to stay down. Then I surveyed the perimeter of the building from my high vantage point. About half a dozen police cruisers had already arrived, along with an assortment of firetrucks and ambulances. Every side of the building was swarming with hotel guests. There was a line of cabs out front, waiting to drop off men who’d had their fill of Tampa for one night. Seeing what they were seeing now, they probably wished they’d splurged on another round of lap dances.

I continued making my way around the perimeter, glancing over the roof every ten feet. I didn’t know who or what I was looking for, but I knew I’d know it when I saw it. And sure enough, I saw it in the rear of the building, parked next to a row of dumpsters: a familiar Malibu, the driver’s door wide open. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

“What?” Angie asked.

C-Rod stood next to the Malibu, studying the building through binoculars. I ducked down, then slowly peered over the edge of the roof again. There was no question it was C-Rod, and he was alone. Before long, he gave up on whatever he was waiting or looking for, and tossed the binoculars in his car. I whispered as loud as I could for Angie to come over. I wanted her to get a good look at him to tell me if she’d ever seen him before.

She reached me. I pushed her up and aimed her line of vision in his direction. “Do you know him?” I asked.

“Who?”
 

“There.”

But it was too late. The Malibu was moving now, and C-Rod was hidden behind its dark, tinted windows.

We rushed back to the room to get my laptop. There’d be no way to hide the fact that we’d been here, but I wasn’t ready to turn ourselves in and plead self-defense just yet. “What are you doing?” Angie demanded.
 

“I’m packing.”

“Why don’t we go to the police now?”

I thought about C-Rod. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Well, what do we do?”

I wasn’t sure yet. “I take it that guy wasn’t Mr. Silver?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before. Can we please go to the police? I’m tired of this. I just want to turn myself in.”

I finished packing my bag. “We can’t go to the police.”

“Why not?”

“That guy I wanted you to see when we were on the roof—I’m pretty sure he’s a crooked cop. And he has something to do with all this.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet, but I think he’s protecting somebody—probably your Sunday night date.”

It didn’t take that too long to set in. “So what do we do now?”

“We have to get out of here.” We needed somewhere safe to spend the night. Somewhere where no one would ever look for us. “I know just the place,” I told her.

I parked the Volvo next to a row of parking garages, still feeling a little uneasy about leaving Abner’s body behind at the hotel. We’d managed to sneak out a back door and get in the Volvo unnoticed by anyone but the hotel’s security cameras. The mess I had to clean up was getting messier, but I couldn’t start the cleanup until I knew the source of the grime.

“Where are we?” Angie asked, her eyes flickering under the dim light of the parking lot.

“Just follow me.”

She tailed me up a flight of steps with her hand on my back. I found the door I was looking for and knocked.
 
There was a round of murmuring before Pinkerton opened the door; his hair and beard looked frazzled. “Porter?” he muttered. Then he looked to Angie and back to me. “Good grief.”

“I need your help, Judge.”

“It’s not a good night, Porter.” His breath reeked of vodka and garlic.

“What’s wrong with you?” I pushed my way into his apartment. It was surprisingly tidy. The main living room overlooked marshy land on the outskirts of the Hillsborough Bay.
 

In no time, the judge was seated in his recliner, moaning. “I’m a fool, Porter. A damned fool.”

I remembered the judge’s friend. There was no sign of her now. “Did she leave you?”

He nodded, his eyes welling with tears. “Only wanted to help her.”

“Who’s he talking about?” Angie whispered.

“Audrey. You know her, from Pilka’s.”

“That blond skank?”

I hushed her, sympathetic to Pinkerton’s aching heart. “You should thank her, Angie. She helped us track you down. She told us you were from Wauchula, and told the judge she wanted out of there for a fresh start.”

Angie looked to the judge. “She was only after your money, mister. How much did she take?”

He covered his face and shook his head. “She drugged me, I think. I woke up this afternoon and realized I’d been asleep twenty-something hours.”

“Judge, how much did she take?” I asked.

“I don’t know. All my cash. Maybe a blank check.”

“Did you check your balance?” I asked.

“What does it matter? It’s just money. I have too much of it, and no one to spend it on. No one to even bequeath it to. My life is a joke, Porter, a fine joke.”

I was trying to think of something to console the judge with when my phone rang. I didn’t know the number. I answered, expecting someone from law enforcement. “Milo?” it was a soft, familiar woman’s voice.

I placed the voice and said, “Bev?”

“I need to see you.”

“What is it?”
 

“I don’t know. But Don wanted you to have it.”

That opened my eyes. “Bev, what do you mean? What did he want me to have?”

“I don’t know. Just like I said. Don wanted you to have it.”

My eyes were locked with Angie’s as I said, “I’ll be there in fifteen,” and hung up.

Angie looked curious and scared. “Who was that?”
 

I broke the bad news. “I have to go somewhere. I need you to stay here and watch over Judge Pinkerton.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have more work to do. It’s getting too dangerous for you to come along. Plus,” I nodded at the judge, “I think he could use someone to look after him.”

“Porter?” he yelled.

“Should I make some coffee?” Angie asked.

“I don’t know.” I turned to the judge. “Would Your Honor like some coffee?”

He had found his footing. “Can I have a word with you?” he asked gruffly.
 

I followed him into the kitchen, where there was a bottle of vodka open on the counter. “What do we have here?” Angie had followed us.
 

“None of this.” I grabbed the bottle and started pouring it down the drain. The judge moaned.

So did Angie. “Shit, Milo, that’s Grey Goose!”

I gave the bottle a few shakes to speed up the pour. “Last thing I need tonight is the two of you getting drunk together. That could spell the end of the world or something.”

She grabbed my arm to stop me. “Okay, fine, I have no appetite for it anyway. I promise.” Her eyes looked desperate now, desperate to earn my trust.

I wanted to trust her, and to show that I was willing to try, I turned the bottle upright. “Promise?”