Hard Case (11 page)

“We’re assuming the assassin is still here, waiting to pick off Marshall, right?” Troy started again, faster this time as he felt a small opening for them to
do
something arose.

“Yeees,” Steve drew the word out, sounding cautious for the first time.

Troy turned around and eagerly faced his partner. Steve’s face was alight with keen interest.

“Marshall’s security team will have been briefed when the previous attempt on him failed,” Troy explained. “But the next step is logically that the assassin will try and pick Marshall off, the sooner the better, while his new routine is still in an uproar and mistakes will be made. The longer this drags out, the worse it will be for the assassin and the more pressure James will place on him.”

“Maybe,” Steve hesitated. “Or maybe James will call him off and set a whole new plan into motion.”

“Possible, but not likely,” Troy insisted, more sure of himself the longer he thought about it. “This plan has already been thought over a million times, analyzed, maybe even tested out. He’ll be attached to this. While I agree it won’t take much to tip the scales and have James cut his losses and start again, I don’t feel like we’re quite there yet. He’ll think this second assassin is still undiscovered, a wild card—and in many ways that’s true.”

Troy looked at his watch. It was a little after eleven. He glanced from the laptop—still chugging away through the numerous search engines—to Steven. Steve sat back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on his flat belly, fingers still interlocked. Troy resisted the impulse to squirm under that calm, steady blue gaze. He could practically see his lover’s thoughts, the friendly, warm amusement at his urgent rush to be in action.

“You want to go over there right this minute,” Steve said, his words completely confident and not remotely a question. “You’re itching to ask Marshall more questions, interrogate him again and then just hang around and try to spot the assassin. Aren’t you?”

“Of course not,” Troy replied loftily, lying through his teeth. “I’ve just started some runs. They’ll be at least a few hours in the making. We’re being proactive right here.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

Troy glanced again at his watch—not even a minute later than when he last checked—then peered out of the window down to the street. Unconsciously he started to pace yet again, catching himself and freezing when he realized it.

“Bloody hell.”

Steve barked out a short, sharp snap of laughter.

“What say we wait until lunch time?” Steve offered. “That will give us an hour or more to see if we can find James. Then we can pop over and tell Marshall we were out getting some lunch and decided to drop in on him. It won’t look quite as bad as telling him we want to hang around and wait for the assassin to try and shoot him to get our next lead.”

Troy nodded and came to sit down on the couch. He angled the laptop so they could both see the screen.

“Deal,” he agreed. They both scooted forward on their respective chairs. Troy grinned, eager to get back to work.

Chapter Seven

“Gentlemen,” Leland hung up the phone, stood and smoothed his vest down. “This is unexpected. Did I miss an appointment for you both? You’re not in Mr. Marshall’s book.”

“Oh, not me,” Steve said. “I’m just tagging along. I’ll hang out here—or even out in the foyer.”

Steven stopped where he was, half way across the thickly carpeted room. He and Troy had discussed the ‘plan of attack’ on the way over. Unsure whether he really should even be present, Steve had offered to wait in the car, not wanting to be in the way.

Troy had insisted he’d certainly not be a problem and they’d had a friendly banter over it. Steven was interested in Troy’s case, and curious enough to want to see it to completion, but he still felt odd bumbling along with his partner. Still, he was so attached to Troy the thought of sitting idly by—for Steven really had nothing better to do just now—rankled.

He just couldn’t shake the feeling this was a bad idea.

Despite that, Steve had a deep suspicion neither of them were really ready to be parted now they’d solidified their relationship. But Steve didn’t want to step on any toes, or use Troy’s career and perks to hobnob with any so-called important people.

They’d finally agreed Steve would accompany Troy to the outer office—Leland’s domain—and he’d simply wait around until after Troy had discussed again his queries with Marshall. They’d play the rest by ear.

“I do apologize for not having an appointment,” Troy said smoothly. “I really won’t need much of Mr. Marshall’s time, though. Just a few routine follow up questions. I should be in and out in ten minutes. There won’t even be time to get a cup of tea, my word on it.”

“Well…” Steve frowned as Leland seemed uncertain. He realized the dapper young man seemed different somehow from their previous meeting. Still suave and smooth, neat as a pin and looking like a poster boy for a metrosexual, eager young budding politician, Leland nevertheless seemed somewhat flummoxed by something.

He recovered quickly enough, pasting that bright, cheery white smile back on his face. Leland held out a hand to indicate the door that led to the inner office—Marshall’s— and seemed to try and herd both Steve and Troy in.

“Of course,” Leland said in a rush. “Pardon my manners, but it’s been a crazy morning, you understand. All this extra security and the stress of knowing someone wished dear Keyton harm and…well, I’m sure you’re perfectly used to it but I just can’t quite wrap my head around it still. Please, won’t you both come in?”

Steven was sure he must be mistaken, but for just a split second he thought Leland might be sweating slightly. He stepped forward, his instincts as a nurse to check the man’s pulse, feel his skin and offer him a seat as instinctive as breathing. Leland brightened, his smile now seeming forced, but Steven saw he was wrong. The man wasn’t sweating after all.

Shaking his head, Steve realized he’d let the intrigue of the moment catch up with him. Or perhaps the lack of sleep from the night before was letting him see shadows where there were none. He’d been discussing conspiracy theories, old cases and all sorts of devious double-crosses and convoluted plans with Troy far too much this last week, obviously.

“Thank you, Leland, but no,” Steve replied firmly. “I’m grateful for the open invitation, but I’d be of no use to Mr. Marshall in there. I’ll only be in the way. I’m happy to wait out here, or even down in the foyer, if you wish.”

“Oh, are you sure, Mr. Thompson? Really, I’m sure it’s no bother—”

“I’m certain. Thank you,” Steve insisted.

“Well, of course,” Leland said. “Mr. Price, let me just inform Mr. Marshall of your presence. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to spare you a few minutes.”

Leland hurried back around his desk and depressed the button for the inter office intercom. “Mr. Marshall, Mr. Price is here again for a few words.”

Steven thought about catching Troy’s attention, maybe asking him if he found something off, or different maybe, with Leland. But Keyton’s voice came over the speaker. Steven chastised himself for being such an idiot. He was just imagining things.

“Certainly, Leland. Send Mr. Price in.”

Leland stood and escorted Troy to the door. He opened it then closed it behind Troy again.

Steven turned and started for the door back out into the foyer, but Leland stopped him.

“Oh, there’s no need for that, Mr. Thompson. Would you like some tea? I can ring for one of the admin girls to work up a plate, too, if you like. I can’t promise the biscuits will be of the first quality, but they can usually rustle something up that’s passable.”

Steve turned back to the elegant man and was again struck by the intuition that something was…strange. The vibe he produced was so tense, on edge.

Of course he’s off his game. Some nutter is out there trying to kill his boss. Assassins aren’t always choosy in their cannon fodder, either. If someone steps into the line of fire, it might be just as simple to kill two people as one. Must be nerve racking, expecting the sound of bullets or a bomb or heaven knows what. It’s perfectly natural he’s on edge and his nerves are frayed.

A small trickle of sympathy filtered through Steven. Sure, the man was a bit of a pompous prat, but he seemed like a good enough guy. Despite the tiny voice—one easily squashed—insisting it wasn’t a smart move, he smiled at Leland and returned.

“Sure,” Steve said. “A tea tray would be lovely. Don’t worry about the biscuits if they’ll be a hassle.”

“Perfect,” Leland said. He picked the phone up and pressed a short sequence of numbers. Focused on the dapper man, Steven noticed now how Leland appeared to look up at the corners of the room, then over to the far door where they’d come in through security and reception. The short, jerky movements of Leland’s head reiterated it was as if the man was scared—or nervous of something.

Steven shook his head, forcing himself to stop being so stupid.

“Damn, Dannielle must be out at lunch,” Leland let the phone fall back into the cradle with a small clang. He looked back up at Steven with a smile, though this time it definitely appeared strained. No question. “Ever noticed how those ladies are never around when you so desperately need them?”

“Uh, well sure,” Steve commented, not quite certain what, exactly, to say. “I’m quite fine without a cuppa. There’s no need to worry. I’ll just sit over here on the couch. Troy really shouldn’t be too long.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Leland said, once again looking around the room with an almost twitchy air.

It was getting really hard now for Steven to convince himself everything was normal. For the life of him though, he couldn’t tell what was wrong except that Leland was acting strange. Steve took a hesitant step back, then forced himself to hold out a hand, indicating Leland should move to the couch with him.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Steve asked. “Why don’t you sit down? I know you must be under a lot of pressure—the stress of knowing your boss is in such danger and you’re connection to him. Stress like this, the violence of real danger…it can affect people differently. I’m sure Marshall would let you take some leave, or even just an few more tea breaks if you feel the need to, uh, have a bit of a breather and get your confidence back.”

There was no doubt in Steven’s mind now. Leland
was
sweating. Was the man about to pass out? Have a stroke? A fit? The nurse in him took over. Steve came around the desk to Leland, took his wrist in the clinical, practiced move of a person who had done this a thousand times before.

Oh yes, his heart rate was skyrocketing. Instinctively Steve bent to look at his chest, where his nurse’s watch was usually pinned. Obviously not wearing it, he stretched his arm out, then pulled his shirt sleeve up enough so he could glance at his wristwatch. Eyes glued to the second hand, he started counting the beats.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Leland insisted roughly, pulling his hand free. “There’s just a lot of stress around here and damn it, where are they?”

“Where are who?” Steven asked, feeling like he’d been dropped into a sketch half way through the program. What the hell was Leland going on about? Was he delusional?

“I really think we need to go into Keyton’s office,” Leland insisted stubbornly.

Steven frowned. Much of the charming charisma had fallen away and Leland set his jaw in a determined line. Steven wasn’t sure what was going on, but his instincts screamed it wasn’t good.

“Troy will be out any minute now,” Steven prayed that it would prove to be true. “Then we’ll be on our way—out of your hair and not bothering you anymore.”

“Oh bollocks to it,” Leland sighed. He stared up at the corners of the room. Standing next to the man, Steven then turned and followed his line of sight. He tried to work out what hallucinations Leland appeared to be searching for or checking out.

The only things he noticed were the security cameras. Steven stared at the two of them for a moment, trying to piece together whatever the hell was going on in Leland’s mind. Was the man becoming paranoid? Delusional? Manic? Was he upset—or comforted—by the camera or was he now seeing something completely different, some mental picture that was a figment of his imagination?

Steven felt in way over his head.

“Okay then, Mr. Thompson, we’re evidently going to be doing this the hard way,” Leland said.

Steven heard him open one of the wooden drawers in the large, mahogany desk. Glancing idly down, he did a quick double take when he saw Leland withdraw a small handgun. Leland gripped it firmly, like a desperate man, but with enough skill Steven didn’t doubt for a moment he knew how to use it and would, if necessary.

Steven’s stomach bottomed out. Now it was
his
heart racing like mad.

Should have listened to my bloody instincts.
I knew something was off here.

“Now, Leland, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure and I feel for you. I really do. But this isn’t the answer.”

“Oh shut the fuck up. You don’t have a clue,” Leland snapped.

Steven noticed he kept the gun under the desk, hidden from the security camera’s gaze. Part of him wanted to scream out a warning to Troy and Keyton, but he didn’t want to be shot dead for his trouble.

Steven had no idea whether Leland had just snapped and finally gone insane, or—no. He’d come prepared with this gun. It seemed laughable that Leland was the second assassin, but right now the point was moot. Leland had that gun and even hidden beneath the desk, Steven had no doubt that it was pointed at him.

He only hoped he lived to hear how Leland had passed all the background checks and numerous lie detector tests and still manage to get this job. Swallowing hard, Steven tried to think of what he could do to help his partner and Keyton, while keeping from being shot.

Stall him
, Steven thought.
That’s at least one option
.

“Okay, I evidently don’t have a clue,” Steven readily admitted. “Why don’t you tell me? How long have you been an assassin? Do you really think you can get away with this? You know what security is like here. After you’ve shot all three of us, you won’t get far. Why not go now, before they catch you?”