Bannerman's Law (34 page)

He could see in his mind what was happening inside.
The big man would have no trouble finding the right apartment. Dommerich had left the door open for him and he
painted that face on the door with the dead man's blood.

He'd never done that before. Maybe he would from now
on.

The big man would go in. Real careful. And he'd find
the body. He would be amazed. He'd say something like,
whoever this Claude is, I really have to hand it to him.
He'd say, Claude must be as big and strong as I am. Look at this. Hickey even had a gun and still he was no match
for Claude.

Domme
ri
ch would like to have been that big. And have that nice square jaw and look like a jock. Except he would
have found a better barber.

The arrival of the second car, the Lexus, interrupted
his daydream. It pulled in right behind
Hickey's
car. One
man went in. Real quiet. Maybe he was another friend of
Carla's
. Dommerich wondered why he wore a raincoat.

Nothing happened for a couple of minutes. Then there
was this shout. It sounded like
Harry.
The voice was
scared. Dommerich knew that the shout came from Hick
e
y's
window because the man who'd stayed in the Lexus
jumped out and ran into the building. Dommerich smiled. It must have meant that the one in the raincoat saw Hick
ey
’
s face.

But then there were shots. Two of them, real loud, then
another one, not as loud. Even the man in the Exxon hat
looked up from a car he was gassing but he couldn't tell
where the noise came from. Then the window broke and the glass fell to the sidewalk. Now the Exxon man saw
where. Dommerich waited.

In about ten seconds, the men from the Lexus came
out. The one from the passenger sea
t—H
arry
?—w
as half-
carrying, half-dragging, the one in the raincoat. One of the raincoat’s arms hung limp. It just dangled and flopped. The
other was over the shoulder of the man who was helping
him. There were big stains. Dommerich couldn't be sure in this light but they must have been blood.

They got to the Lexus. The man in the raincoat fell to
the sidewalk, out of sight. The other man opened the door
and bent down. Struggling. It looked, to Dommerich, as
if the driver was heaving him into the back. Not on the
seat. Down low in the well. The other man kicked at
something, maybe feet, then slammed the door three times
before it closed. He ran around the back and slid behind
the wheel.

Domme
ri
c
h
was sure that the man in the back had been
shot. And probably the first man, the big one, as well.
Maybe he should go see. Try to help him. Say he was
just delivering a pizza and he
...

No. That was crazy. Ca
rl
a would show up. She'd hear
his voice and it would be all over.

He could just wait. Make sure she comes. Call the cops or something if she doesn't. But then tomorrow, when he
calls her again, she'd want to know who the guys were in
the Lexus, and where did the
y
go, and why didn't he at
least get their license number.

The Lexus pulled from the curb.

Dommerich ducked into his invisible car and followed.

₂₆

It was half
,
past seven, almost fully dark, time to think
about leaving. Weinberg gathered one file folder, still un
read, and the medical files of himself, his wife, and of
Nellie Da
m
eon. He was closing
Dunville's
briefcase on them when the telephone rang.

There had been only one other call since they had
locked themselves in Carleton the younger
’
s office. It
was from
Dunville's
chief of security. Having discovered dead Henry in the basement, he wanted evidence that the remaining Dunvilles were still alive. Weinberg put young
Carleton on the extension. The man asked if the Wein
bergs were listening in. Weinberg touched a finger to his
lips and shook his head. Young Carleton, obediently,
said no.

Weinberg listened as the chief assured Dunville that
the killers of his brother would never get off the grounds alive. Dunville did not bother to correct the first assump
tion. He asked the chief if his plan provided for the sur
vival of himself and his father. The question was answered
with silence. Dunv
i
lle suggested that he give the matter
more thought and hung up.

Weinberg presumed the second call to be from the same
man with a more fine-tuned strategy. He placed a hand on
the receiver and gestured for young Ca
r
leton to pick up
the extension on signal.

“
Dunville
,”
said young Carleton, wearily.

“
It's Harry
,”
came the voice.
“
We have a problem
.”

“Mmm.
.
.
this is not a good time. I'll have to…”

Weinberg shook his finger. Dunville glared at him, then
took a breath.

“
Is it done
?”
Dunville asked.

‘
‘Y
es, but not by us. Somebody ripped him apart. They
did it like that psych
o
does
...
the one who kills college
girls. We found him that way
.”

Dunville stared. He looked as if he'd been slapped.
Weinberg heard a steady hum and highway sounds in the
background. The call, he thought, was from a moving
vehicle.

“
It gets worse
,”
said the voice.
“
There was a man
there. It was like he was waiting for us. He damned near tore
Marek's
throat out, bare hands, and then he shot him.
I finished him but I think
Marek's
had it
.”

Weinberg was on his feet. He scribbled a note. Carrying
his phone, he passed it to Dunville.

Dunville ignored it.
“
What was Peter doing there
?”
he demanded.

“
He
.
.
.
wanted in on the hit. I couldn't stop him
.”

Weinberg jabbed at the note he'd written.

“
This other man
.
.
.
” Dunville squinted at Weinberg
’
s
scrawl.
“
What did he look like
?”

“
Real big. Tough looking. A pro, I think. Never said a word. Listen. I'm coming in. Have a doctor waiting
.”

“
No. Don't. I've got a
.
.
.
”

Weinberg stopped him. He wrote another note
,
then
held his pen ready.

“
Where are you now
?”
Dunville asked.

“
Just passing Ventura. Maybe thirty minutes
.”

Weinberg wrot
e
again.

“
This man
,”
Dunv
i
lle asked
,
“
are you sure you killed
him
?”

“
He took three hollow-points. Trust me
.”

Dunville squinted again, reading.
“
And this man cut
up Hickey
?”

”I don't think so. Hickey was already cold. And this
guy would have had blood all over him
.”

Another scribble. Dunville read it.
“
Did you see any
one else there
?”

“
Like who
?”

Weinberg canceled the question with a gesture.

“
Look, I'm co
m
ing
,”
said the man called Harry. ”I
don't think Ma
r
ek will make it but your doctors better try
or his father will want all our asses
.”

He broke the connection.

Ca
r
leton the younger groped blindly for the cradle. He
stared up at Weinberg. All color had drained from his face.

“
You're not surprised
,”
he said accusingly.
“
You ex
pected this
.”

”I was afraid of it
,”
Weinberg acknowledged.
“
But
not this soon
.”

In his mind he saw Ca
rl
a Benedict. She was sitting on
Hickey's chest. Hickey's hands were tied. She was asking him questions, sticking him, cutting him, each time he hesitated. How she found him, he had no idea. How she
knew, this quickly, that it was he who mutilated Lisa's
pretty face, left her naked at a roadside, he could not begin
to imagine.

In his mind he also saw a big man, tough looking, a professional, who had taken three expanding bullets when
one should have been enough, and who had the digital
strength to rip out a man's throat. He saw a face. Although
he could scarcely believe it, although he could not conceive of this Harry surviving an encounter with him, let
alone besting him, the face in his mind was that of Billy
Mc
H
ugh.

“
We're leaving. Right now
,”
he said to his wife.

Barbara nodded, sighing. Once again, she must wait to
be told what has just happened here. She handed the MP-5 t
o her husband, then stepped to the desk and picked up
two Smith & Wesson Combat Magnums that he had taken from the hallway guards. They had four-inch barrels. With these she crossed to where the older Dunv
i
lle sat
and
bent
his head forward. He squealed in fear, certain
that he
was
to be executed. She pulled at the collar of his suit jacket,
then flipped up the collar of his shirt. She slid
the
barrel of one revolver under his exposed necktie and twisted it
so that the necktie was now wound once around the barrel,
the muzzle held firmly in place against the back of his
neck.

She prodded him to his feet. Gagging, he rose stiffly, terrified. She steered him toward Ca
r
leton the younger
’
s
chair. Young Carleton understood what she was doing. He
pulled up his own collar as she approached and, for the
sake of his own comfort, loosened his tie at the knot.
Barbara inserted the second Magnum with one hand and
twisted it. It held securely. No need to choke him. She
stood him up. She now had both Dunvilles, in front of
her, each at arm's length. She pointed them toward the
door where three suitcases waited. She nodded to Weinberg that she was ready. He was kneeling at Nellie's side.

“
Nellie
?”
he asked softly.
“
Are you here
?”

Her eyes had been glazed. But light returned to them.
She touched
Weinberg's
arm.
“
It's hard
,”
she whispered.
“
It's hard to believe
.”

”
I know
,”
he said.

“
I'm old, Alan. And not very strong. I can't run long
or far
.”

“
We'll run
,”
he said.
“
But then we'll stand. And in
the meantime, I will show you things. Wonderful things
.”

Her eyes brushed over the open safe and onto the brief
case that sat waiting on Carleton
’
s desk.
”
I did have chil
dren
,”
she said.
“
Didn't I
?”

“
Yes
.”

A tiny fist gathered the fabric of her hooded robe. She looked at Carleton the elder. He, with his son, seemed to dangle like marionettes from the ends of Barbara's pistols.

“
Is he one of them
?”
she asked. ”I would like the truth
.”

Weinberg hesitated.
“
It
...
seems so
.”

She smiled, ruefully.
“
Then the others can't be bargains, can they
?”

“
You'd be surprised
,”
he said, offering his arm.
“
Let's
go see
.”

Molly heard sirens in the distance.
She approached the apartment house slowly, windows
down, head cocked as if sniffing the air.

“
There's his Honda
,”
Car
l
a said, pointing.
“
Pull in behind it
.”

“
What was Yuri driving
?”

”I didn't see
.”

“
You're sure that's Hickey's
?”
Molly asked.

Carla squinted at the hotel notepaper on which she'd
written the license number.
“
That's it
.”

Molly allowed the Chevrolet to coast. Then, almost
abreast of Hickey's car, she cut the steering wheel and
depressed the accelerator. The Chevrolet crunched into the
Honda's side. It startled Carla but she understood at once.
The car was now side-swiped. A reason for being here.

The sirens seemed nearer.

Molly passed the front entrance. She saw movement in
side. A man in a T-shirt. He seemed agitated. She double-
parked near a hydrant and stepped from the car. Carla
followed.

Molly saw the blood. It left a weaving trail from the steps of the apartment house to the empty curb space in
back of the Honda. She was afraid it was Yuri
's
. The man in the T-shirt stepped out through the door. He looked at
them, then past them, as if waiting for someone else. He
seemed in shock.

“
Did something happen here
?”
Molly asked.

“
Two guys
,”
he managed.
“
Upstairs
.”
He, too, noticed the blood. ”I called the cops
.”

“
I'm a nurse
,”
said Carla. They pushed past him
and
took the stairs, following the sound of voices.

They saw the open door. Four holes through it, each
the size of an egg. The peephole had been shot out. A
knot of people stood near the door, some of them peering inside. A young black woman wearing shorts and a halter leaned against the frame, her fist to her mouth, hyperventi
lating. A black man, older, tried to soothe her. Ca
rl
a
slipped between them and into the apartment. She flipped
on the lights.
“
Oh, my God
,”
said another man behind
her.