Stripped (42 page)

Boni Fisso.

“Boni!” Stride hissed before the man could push one of the buttons.

Boni turned around, startled. “Detective Stride. Were you invited to this little party, too?”

Stride shook his head. “Serena’s up there with Blake and Claire. She was able to let me know where they were.”

“Is Metro sending in an entire squad?” Boni asked, concerned.

“No, I haven’t alerted anyone yet. I thought this might turn out better without a crowd.”

Boni inclined his head. “My thoughts exactly. Thank you, Detective. I don’t care what happens to Blake. The only thing that matters to me is getting Claire out safely.”

“Technically, I shouldn’t even let you up there,” Stride said. “You become another hostage as soon as you walk through that door. Blake wants you dead.”

“You won’t stop me,” Boni said. “You want Serena back, just like I want Claire back. And after all, it’s my hotel. Besides, if I’m not up there in five minutes, Blake will kill Claire and probably Serena, too. I think he’s a man of his word.”

“Are they inside the suite?” Stride asked.

“No, oh the terrace outside by the pool. That’s where Amira was killed.”

“Tell me about the layout.”

Boni described the high roller’s suite and the patio area in detail from memory, as if it were still 1964 and the hotel was brand-new. The part that interested Stride was the fact that the roof of the hotel looked down on the patio area on three sides.

“Is there any access from the roof down to the terrace?” Stride asked.

Boni nodded. “There’s a locked gate and an emergency ladder near the parapet at the front of the hotel.”

“I don’t suppose you have a key to the gate.”

Boni smiled. “It’s a combination lock. One-two-one-six. My birthday. I like to make sure I have access to everything, Detective. Now we’d better go. The clock’s ticking.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor of the hotel. Stride waited out of sight until Boni signaled that the doors to the penthouse suite were closed and Blake was nowhere to be seen. Stride followed Boni into the hallway. He noted a green EXIT sign at the far end of the hall to his left.

“The stairs are down there,” Boni said. “You can go up to the roof. The door should be unlocked.”

“Try to keep him distracted. Keep him from looking toward the ladder.”

“I’ll do my best. Good luck, Detective.”

“You, too:”

Stride opened the door to the roof slowly and carefully, not knowing how well the sound would carry. He slipped outside and closed it behind him with a soft click. The hot wind off the mountains almost blew him over. He was exposed out here, with nothing except a few ventilator ducts to block the gusts.

The roof was bright, thanks to the massive Sheherezade sign stretching overhead, flashing its colors. A five-foot wall, capped by small onion domes, stretched all around the border of the roof, except for the segment where the roof dipped down and made a rectangular notch to offer a view for anyone on the elegant terrace one floor below. Stride saw the tall barbed-wire fence completely surrounding the open area of the terrace and quickly spotted the locked gate near the front of the hotel.

He wanted to run, but he was afraid his footsteps would echo down to the patio. Instead, he walked as quickly as he could, putting each foot down softly. He stayed away from the fence until he was near the gate, to make sure no one could see him.

The gate was near the edge of the roof. The winds were even stronger there. Stride dropped to his knees and crawled closer. He inched his head up when he reached the fence and saw that the terrace itself was invisible from this angle. All he could see was the upper few feet of the patio wall, with its colorful miniature tile. No one could see him here.

He checked out the lock, which was a combination lock, just as Boni had said. He hoped the old man was right about the numbers. The lock wasn’t attached to the gate itself but instead was looped through the links of a chain that was tightly wrapped between the gate and the frame. Stride carefully lined up the numbers 1-2-1-6 on the dials and tugged at the U-bar on the lock. It popped open. He slid the lock out of the chain and held the chain together with his fingers. After he hung the open lock on one of the holes in the mesh, he unwound the chain from the fence, taking care that the links didn’t rattle together. It was hard to keep his hands steady while his body was being buffeted by the wind.

Finally, the chain was limp in his hands like a dead snake. He laid it carefully on the ground. The breeze began to open the gate on its own, and Stride froze when he heard the hinges squeal. He grabbed the gate and held it tight.

He stopped and listened. The fence creaked and whined in the wind. Slowly, he began opening the gate, moving it an inch at a time, trying to minimize the rusting grind of the hinges and blend it in with the other noises on the roof. When he had a few inches of clearance, he squeezed his body through and dropped back to his knees. He pulled the chain gently to the other side of the fence, then swung the gate shut again. He rewrapped the gate and the fence together with the chain and relocked it, so that the gate wouldn’t swing wildly.

Stride was six feet from the sharp drop down to the terrace. He was at least twelve feet above the terrace floor. Immediately in front of him, almost butting up against the parapet, was a wrought-iron ladder bolted to the roof. As Stride crept closer and examined it, he saw that the ladder appeared to be original equipment from 1964. So were the bolts. The metal was rusting.

He didn’t know if the ladder would support his weight, or if it did, whether he could climb down silently. But he didn’t have a choice. There was no other way to the terrace, and it was too far to jump.

He lay flat on his stomach and stretched out his legs behind him as far as he could without colliding with the fence. He inched forward, pushing his face just past the edge so he could look down at the patio. His hair swirled in the breeze.

He heard voices below, by the pool.

Serena saw Boni standing in the doorway of the suite. No matter how small or old the man was, he still carried an aura of power. It clung to him and fitted as neatly as his suit. Claire saw him, too, and Serena tried to unravel the emotions in her face, seeing her father again. Love. Longing. Most of all, contempt.

An unhappy family reunion.

Boni didn’t even look at Blake. He looked right past him to Claire. Serena saw a father’s love in his eyes, passionate and strong; he had missed Claire badly all these years. She saw something else, too, something she wouldn’t expect from Boni Fisso. Guilt. It was everywhere in his face and how he held himself. He could barely look into her eyes, and he almost cringed under the fiery anger he saw Claire directing at him.

Not like Boni at all.

Blake scowled. “I’ve waited a long time for this. To be face to face with you.”

Boni walked out into the open air of the terrace, the neon light playing on his features. He continued to ignore Blake. “Are you allright?”he asked Claire.

“It’s a little late to worry about that,” she answered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t even think about forgiveness. Not now. Not ever.”

Blake gestured at Serena and Claire with his gun. “Both of you, get on your knees.”

“What are you doing?” Boni demanded.

“I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” Blake replied. “You of all people.”

He was preparing to kill them, Serena thought. A tight ball of frustration and despair lodged in her heart again, just as it had when she first saw Blake in her bedroom. Serena knelt near the marble skirting of the pool, with Claire right beside her. She kept a close eye on Blake, looking for any moment when he might be distracted and she could rush him.

Claire didn’t look at Blake or the gun. She held her head high and stared angrily back at her father.

“Take off your coat,” Blake told Boni. “I want to see that you’re not carrying.”

“I always carry a gun for protection,” Boni said. “It’s in my right suit coat pocket. But I hope you don’t think I can draw fast enough to shoot you.”

“Take the coat off,” Blake repeated.

Boni shrugged and complied. Serena wondered about the coldness of a man who could get a call in the middle of the night telling him his daughter would be dead in twenty minutes and could still take the time to dress impeccably, right down to the perfect knot in his tie. Blake balled up the coat and threw it to the far side of the terrace, well away from them.

“I’m here,” Boni told Blake. “What do you want?”

“What do I
want
? What the hell do you think I want?”

“I have no idea. You’re nothing but a murderer.”

Blake shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Boni jabbed afingerat him. “Don’t you dare judge me. I’ve provided entertainment for millions of people. I’ve provided homes, food, and education for thousands of employees. I’ve built hospitals, parks, and day care centers. Right here on this ground, where we’re standing now, the greatest resort in the city is going to rise up. So don’t you try to compare your pathetic little life to mine, you worthless piece of shit.”

“You
made me
what I am!” Blake spat the words out.

“That’s bullshit. So you got dealt a tough hand. Big fucking deal. I was born with nothing, and I built everything myself If you’re still a sniveling child hiding in the closet in Reno, don’t blame me “

Blake took a step forward and shoved his gun hard into the skin of Claire’s forehead. Claire’s eyes widened in terror, and she tried to back away, but Blake grabbed her by the throat. “You don’t give a shit about your son?” he asked Boni. “Maybe you give a shit about your daughter.”

Boni’s voice was like ice. “Let her go.”

“Tell me about Arnim.”

“Let go of my daughter,” Boni repeated.

Blake yanked the gun away and pointed it at Boni. “Amira,” he said again.

“What do you want to know?” Boni asked.

“Why did you make her give up her baby?”

Boni hesitated. Serena could see it again-—the calculations always spinning in his mind as he looked for the best odds. As he looked for a winning hand.

“
Our baby
,” Boni replied quietly. “I was the father”

“Do you think I don’t know,
Dad
? Blake said. “That makes it even worse.”

Boni shook his head. “I had no choice. Eva, my wife, knew about Amira. Eva hadn’t been able to get pregnant herself, and she was furious to find out that Amira was going to have a baby. My baby. She wanted it to go away. I mean, really go away. An abortion. But I wasn’t about to do that. So instead I sent Amira away to have the baby, and I led Eva to believe that Amira had had the abortion and was in Paris getting over it. Getting over me.”

“Amira wanted to keep me,” Blake said.

Boni hesitated, and his eyes flicked to Claire. “Yes, of course. She was devastated to give up her child.”

Serena remembered what Boni had told them before, that Amira couldn’t wait to berid of the screaming brat. That she had no interest in the child at all. Had that been a lie? Or was he now trying to spare Blake’s feelings and talk him down?

“Then Eva did finally get pregnant,” Boni went on. “While Amira was away. It made me wonder if she’d been taking precautions all along and not telling me.”

“But Eva thed,” Blake said. “She thed giving birth to Claire, and you had your daughter. And I was in the hands of a monster. Why didn’t you come get me then? How could you turn your back on your own son?”

“No one
knew
it was my baby. Just me, Amira, and Eva. I couldn’t very well admit it at that point. Particularly—”

Boni stopped.

Blake finished the sentence. “Particularly because you
murdered Amira
.“

Boni was silent.

“Tell me what happened,” Blake insisted.

“I have nothing to say about that.”

“Tell me.”

“It won’t change a thing.”

Blake stormed back to Claire and shoved the pistol back in her face, nearly knocking her backwards. “
Tell me
.”

Blake was breathing heavily. Serena saw that he was focused on Boni and paying less attention to what was going on around him. She began to slowly move her feet, so she was in a better position to leap when he gave her the opportunity.

That was when she noticed something in the darkness over Blake’s shoulder. She saw movement on the roof, in the corner of the terrace. For the first time, she realized there was a narrow ladder stretching along the tiled wall, and someone had appeared at the skyline, climbing onto the first step.

Her heart raced.

Jonny.

Stride knew this was the best time. Blake was absorbed in me intense argument with Boni, and he wasn’t thinking about anything going on behind him or above him. He thought about taking a shot at Blake from the roof.
If you’ve got the shot, take the shot, and make the shot
. That’s what Sawhill would say. Put an end to it right now. But the distance, the wind, and the crazy neon light were working against him. Claire and Serena were both in the path. He couldn’t see clearly. If he fired and missed, or if Blake moved, he could hit either one of them, and that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

He crouched low and turned around so his back was to the terrace. He took hold of the iron railing of the ladder with one hand; his other hand held his gun. When he looked down, he thought he saw Serena glance his way and then turn quickly back to Blake.

The wind buffeted him. He felt the railing quiver under his touch. The ladder was loose and unsteady, and he didn’t know what would happen when he put two hundred pounds of weight on the platform. He swung his right leg over the edge. His foot gingerly touched the topmost step. He tried to test it, leaning his weight back into the step, and he felt the ladder sway under the gusts and the bulk of his body.

It held.

He gripped the railing tightly, looping his arm around the metal for more leverage. He kept his gun trained on Blake, but his arm kept jostling, spoiling his aim. He swung his left leg over now, and both feet were squarely on the top step of the ladder. He could feel vibration running up his body through his legs.