Eye Of The Storm - DK3 (69 page)

Well, you know, Kerry
, her mind muzzily considered the problem
, you
aren’t the lightweight you used to be and it probably would speed things up if
she wasn’t carrying your butt.
“Dar?”

The blue eyes looked down at her. “Hey.” Dar was clearly out of breath, but she kept moving, following a dimly seen back just in front of them.

“I can walk. Let me down.” Kerry hoped that was true. She had no real recollection of what happened after they’d started going through the wall.

“You sure?” Dar ducked under a piece of protruding wall framing and almost tripped, keeping her balance with her load by some miracle of luck.

“Yes. C’mon, before you pass out,” Kerry insisted.

“Okay.”

She was let down onto her feet and she straightened tentatively, finding everything relatively in one piece, save her still aching shoulder and now a tender, burning forearm. Dar put a hand on her back and guided her after her father and mother.

“What happened?”

Dar didn’t answer for a moment. “That blowout knocked you against a piece of the wall. Just had to get you out of there, that’s all.”

“You okay?”

Dar nodded. “Yeah, c’mon. Dad thinks he sees an open area up there.”

Kerry looked around. They were in the corridor that led towards Angie’s room, but it was almost unrecognizably full of debris. “Any sign of my parents?”

“No.” Dar pulled up short as Andy stopped ahead of her and turned towards them. “Problem, Dad?”

“Shh.” Andrew put a finger up to his lips. “You hear something?”

Lots of things.
Dar was exhausted from the emotional and sensory overload of the past few hours. “Like what?”

Kerry put her uninjured arm around her partner and listened. “I don’t hear anything but the fire.”

Andrew cocked his head to one side and closed his eyes.

They were all silent for a moment. Faintly, there was a scream, then a sodden crash off to the left. Then… “Wait…is that…” Kerry could hear something vaguely rhythmic. “Is someone pounding?”

Andrew nodded. “S’what I thought I heard.” They walked along the shattered wall and slowly, the sound got louder, then stopped.

Then started again, this time with an unmistakable frustration and urgency behind it.

“Lord.” Andrew sighed, hefting a sledge hammer that seemed to
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have magically appeared in his hand. “Stand out the way, let’s see if we kin make a dent in this.”

“Where did you get that?” Ceci murmured, putting a hand on his arm. “Andy…”

“Damnfool construction guys musta sealed it up behind the drywall.” The ex-SEAL lifted the hammer and swung it against the surface before them—a section of wall that had fallen down and covered a corner of the corridor. “Must be a damn room back there.”

Dar exhaled, then started pulling chunks of fallen concrete away, clearing a path for her father to edge down. There was only room for two, so Kerry stayed back out of the way with Ceci, who had tied her husband’s shirt sleeve over her eyes to keep her hair back. “Are you okay?”

she asked the older woman.

“I’ve had better days,” Ceci admitted, leaning against a bent wall support. She looked exhausted. “Most strenuous thing I’ve had to do in a couple years is walk down to the drugstore.”

Kerry gave her a wan look. “Don’t feel bad. I spend four to five nights a week in the gym and I feel like I’ve been run over by an rhino.”

“Well, seeing as how you got blown ten feet through a plaster wall back there, you’re entitled.” Ceci patted her good arm. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Ten feet? Plaster wall?
Kerry blinked. “I guess that’s why I have such a headache,” she murmured, watching Dar’s back tense as her lover lifted a huge chunk of something or other out of the way. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Why? Did you plant a bomb?” Ceci inquired.

“No.” Kerry smiled. “Of course not, but…”

“Then why apologize?” The smaller woman gazed at her with surprising compassion. “Kerry, we all do enough things in our lives to feel sorry for. Don’t take on someone else’s karma on top of that.”

Kerry could barely see Ceci’s face in the dim light, but she could feel the sad smile directed at her. She was about to answer, when a crash drew her eyes towards the wall. “Oh. Looks like they’ve about…” She edged forward, helping Dar to move a last two by four.

Only a wooden door was now between them and the hammering and Andy took a swing at it, the heavy sledge shattering the surface just over the warped knob. Splinters flew, and she ducked, then the frame sprung free from the wall and it tilted towards them. Kerry took hold of its edge one handed and wrenched the wood back, then stumbled as the panel burst outwards and two figures half fell out, almost on top of them.

They halted and stared at each other.

Kerry felt a roiling uneasiness almost mitigated by a sense of profound relief as she recognized her father’s face, covered in plaster and soot though it was. A tremendous weight came off her shoulders and she took hold of the crumbled wall, as her knees threatened to collapse on her. “I’m glad we found you.”

“Get out of my way.” Those pale eyes just looked through her, as her 380
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father walked right past, brushing by them and stumbling down the hallway without another word. Kerry’s mother glanced uncomfortably at them, the front of her shirt covered in blood spots.

“Thank you.” She addressed herself to Andrew, though her gaze slipped briefly to Kerry’s face, then she dropped her eyes to the ground and followed her husband.

Kerry’s shoulders slumped, as she studied the concrete chunks at her feet.

Dar brushed her hands off, went over to her, circled her with both arms and patted the back of her head gently as she gave her a hug.

“C’mon.” She motioned with her head.

“Ah do believe,” Andrew spat carefully and precisely at the floor,

“that there fella just ran out of his allotment of being nice to from this old seadog.” He shouldered his hammer and put an arm around Ceci. “Ah am gonna go find him and shove this damn hammer right up his—”

“Andy.” She patted him on the belly. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

They headed down the hallway, dodging the obstacles in their path and climbing over the buckled floor that seemed to bisect the building, tilting the outer section at a dangerous angle, as though the entire corner was in the process off falling off.

Kerry scrambled over the last barrier and went to the doorway of her sister’s room and stopped in the doorway, stunned.

There was nothing left of the room. It was just a jumble of plaster and iron, so dense and tangled it was obvious that nothing could have remained alive inside it.

“No,” she whispered, as Dar and her parents came up beside her and peered in. “She must have gotten out, right, Dar?”

In the midst of labor?
Dar rested her hands on Kerry’s shoulders.

“We’ll find her,” she reassured her lover.

Kerry nodded once, then stared at the wreckage. A silent knowledge came over her and she turned, putting her head against Dar’s chest in silent appeal. “But she didn’t get out, did she?” she uttered softly.

“Dear God.” An angry voice spoke from behind them. They turned to see Roger Stuart, one hand resting on the shattered doorway. “One more thing for you to carry on your conscience, you little… I hope you rot in Hell!” He advanced towards Kerry, oblivious of the others. “I should—

”

“Stop.” Dar’s voice was sharp and sudden, as she stiffened to her full height.

“You shut up you—”

“One…more…step.” Amazing how forceful that low voice could get.

“One…more…word…and I’ll wrap that girder around your head.” A rage ran through Dar, bringing welcome energy, and she let it. “Leave her alone.”

“You ruined her,” the man snarled. “You twisted her mind, you perverted little–”

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“Hey.” Andrew stepped between them, putting his hands on his hips. “You watch yer mouth with my daughter.”

“Your…” The senator shook his head. “You must be real proud of her, mister.”

Dar stirred.

“Damn straight,” Andy replied mildly.

Roger Stuart stared at them, then at the room. He pointed at Kerry.

“If something happened to your sister, it’s your fault. You’d better hope it didn’t.” Then he turned and left, his hand firmly around his wife’s arm.

Kerry leaned against the door frame and lifted a shaking hand to her face. “He’s right,” she whispered. “They’d have been home in Michigan.”

Andrew tugged on a bit of Kerry’s hair. “Kumquat, ye’re wrong about that. We don’t got the time to be stewing in ourselves here. Takes energy we’re gonna need for better things.”

It was just too much. Kerry gazed at the wreckage of her sister’s room, then gave in and just buried herself in Dar’s arms, too tired to even cry.

“I think we all need to sit down and rest a minute,” Ceci said firmly.

“The fire’s not in this area yet, and we’re all about to drop. Let’s go over there and just regroup.” Tired nods agreed and they settled in the corner of the wreckage, Dar with Kerry cradled in her arms, listening to the chaos in the darkness around them.

“THAT’S IT, McLEAN.” Ankow entered and closed the door behind him. “You’ve run out of bullshit. Now do it. You can’t deny what this is going to look like when it hits the papers tomorrow morning.”

A pool of light from the desk lamp spilled over Alastair’s desk, lighting the folded hands on its surface but throwing the CEO’s face into shadow. “I really don’t think—”

“No.” Ankow slapped the desk. “The board agrees with me and you know it. We can’t afford this, no matter what smokescreen you want to put up around your favorite little bitch. Stuart’s kid released the information. Where do you think she got it from? You think it was just coincidence she got hold of it after she started working for ILS?”

Alastair sighed. “We have no evidence—”

“Yes, we do.” Ankow dumped a folder onto his desk. “There it is. In all its glory, the entire information request with every little, disgusting detail.” He opened the folder top and pointed. “Run under Dar Roberts’

personal login.”

Alastair shrugged. “Well, the press doesn’t have that.”

“They will,” Ankow hissed. “Trust me, because I’ll be the one handing it to them.”

Alastair’s face went very still. “You’d do that, would you?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll do whatever I have to do to win my point,” Ankow rasped.

“Now cut the cord, damn you. Get rid of both of them.”

382
Melissa Good
Alastair got up and walked to his large window, gazing out across the star laden sky over Texas. For a long time, he studied the shadows, splashes of moonlight picking up glints of steel and stone as a few clouds raced past. Finally he turned and looked at Ankow, who sat with arms folded in triumph on the edge of his large, oak desk. “That’s what you want, hmm?”

Ankow smiled. “That’s what I want. That’s what you’re going to give me.”

The CEO exhaled, then walked back over and put his hands on the back of his chair, facing the much younger man. “Well, you know, given that, there really is only one thing I can say,” he mused, in a soft voice.

“You’re right,” Ankow agreed. “So say it.” He smirked. “I want to hear it.”

Alastair leaned his weight on the back of the chair and looked right into David Ankow’s eyes. “All righty then, here you are. Kiss my ass.”

There was a moment’s stunned pause. “What?” Ankow hissed.

“Kiss my ass,” Alastair repeated. “In Texan, that means get your butt out of my office before I throw you out of it.”

Slowly, Ankow got up, staring at his adversary as though the man had grown horns. “Do you understand what you’re saying, you moron?”

“Absolutely,” Alastair told him, with a gentle smile.

“I’ll go have the damned board remove you, you—” Ankow snapped.

“Probably,” the CEO agreed. “Have fun, you little pea brained no character excuse for a gutless nosepicker.”

Ankow’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“OUT!” Alastair snapped, his voice now rising sternly. “Before I get my Winchester out of the closet and make you into a wall hanging.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” The rattled board member turned and went through the door and slammed it behind him.

With a sigh, Alastair pulled his chair out and sat down in it, smoothing his hands over the clean surface. After a moment’s reflection, he nodded, and a soft chuckle forced its way out into the silence. “You know something, Dar?” He spoke to the emptiness. “If I’da known how good that felt, I’da done it more often. You shoulda told me.”

A soft buzz startled him and he looked at his phone, where the internal line was ringing. “That was fast.” He pushed it. “Yes?”

“Mr. McLean?” a voice asked, hesitantly. “This is the switchboard. I have a young lady here who is desperately trying to get in touch with you.”

“With me?” The CEO gazed puzzled at the phone “All right. Put her through.” A click was heard. “Go ahead. This is Alastair McLean. What can I do for you?”

“Oh.” There was noise in the background, as though from an airport or—Alastair heard an echo—a hospital. “Hello…um…sorry…is this the boss of ILS?”

For the next ten minutes, perhaps.
Alastair glanced at his watch. “Yes, it
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is.”

“My name is Angela Stuart,” the voice went on, with a hiss and a ragged break. “Sorry. I just had a baby.”

Alastair blinked. “I…um…congratulations. Stuart? Are you—”

“Kerry’s my sister. Listen. Something really awful happened. I was in the hospital here in Washington and I think something blew up.”

He looked quickly at the news feed, which now featured helicopters and an overhead view of a burning building.
Teach me not to leave the
sound on.
“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that but…”

“Dar and Kerry were visiting me. I don’t know what happened to them.”

A lifetime of handling crises came to Alastair’s rescue. After the initial shock, he took a breath and released it. “Thank you, Ms. Stuart, for telling me. I’ll see what I can find out about it.”