Tarnished Image (41 page)

Click. Clack.

Click. Clack.

Kristen tensed. With each new metallic sound she became more apprehensive. She and Timmy were seated side by side on the sofa. The man in the red wig sat behind them. Although she could not see him, she guessed that he was playing with the hammer on the pistol. Cocking it, releasing it.

Click. Clack.

“Is that really necessary?” Kristen asked.

“I like it.”

“Figures.”

The man sighed. “It’s been my experience—and I’m very experienced—that when faced with danger such as this, people fall into one of two groups: those who whine and plead, and those who become mouthy. You, Kristen, fall in the latter.”

“Why are you doing this?” The question sounded like a line from the countless action pictures she had seen. She had always thought it was a lame question; now it was the only one she could think of.

“It’s my job. You’re the head of public relations for Barringston Relief. That’s your job. I assume you’re good at it, that you have a talent for it. True?”

“I guess so.”

“Don’t guess. You’re a smart woman. Be assertive. Of course you’re good at what you do. Well, I’m good at what I do. I have certain skills and am unencumbered by needless emotions.”

“Needless emotions?”

“Sure. Guilt, remorse, regret, sorrow, fear.”

“You have no fear,” Kristen asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’d think I care about your opinions,” the man snapped. “I have no fear. I haven’t had any since I was a teenager.”

“You’re not afraid to die?” Kristen shifted in her seat. In the wake of terrorist activities, she had once read an article about hostages. Experts said that conversation often led to a bonding between terrorist and hostage, making it more difficult for the abductor to kill the abducted.

“Not a bit. A man dies and that’s it. It’s the living that mourn.” He laughed. “I have yet to hear a dead man complain about being dead.”

“What if death isn’t the end?”

“What? You mean like heaven and hell?” He laughed again. “Save it for gullible Sunday school kids, lady. There’s no heaven. There’s no hell. There’s just this old, tired world and me.”

“And you?”

“Well, there are others, but they don’t matter. Evolution has bred all this. This situation isn’t all that different from what you find in nature. More sophisticated, perhaps, but basically the same thing. Your boyfriend, David, has stepped into someone else’s territory, and that person wants protection. I’m the one who specializes in providing that protection. It’s nothing special, really.”

“That’s a pretty pathetic view of life, don’t you think?”

Click. Clack.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

Click. Clack.

Kristen shuddered. Had she gone too far? Had she irritated the man?

“I think there’s more to death than just nonexistence. What if you’re wrong? What if there is a hell?”

“Then, my dear Kristen, I shall conquer it. Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.”

Kristen guffawed.

“What’s so funny?” the man snapped.

“Where did you get that little bit of philosophy? A bumper sticker?”

Click.
This time there was no clack. No easing of the pistol’s hammer into its resting place.

In for a penny, in for a pound
, Kristen reasoned. “Despite your actions, you seem like a fairly intelligent man. Surely you can see the fault in that statement. No one rules in hell. The cartoon picture of Satan standing with pitchfork in hand tormenting poor lost souls is just that, a cartoon. Satan is going to be the most tormented of all. What do you think hell is, mister? A stroll through the bad part of town?”

There was silence, then the soft sound of feet on carpet. Something cold and hard touched Kristen on her swollen jaw. She cut her eyes to the side and saw her captor. He had removed the blazer, but the silk shell top and red wig were still in place. He gently dragged the barrel of the gun along her cheek and ear as if caressing her with it. The metal felt cold and foreign. She trembled. A chill of terror trickled down her spine.

“I am my own god and my own devil. There is none beside me. There is none like me. I can bring pain or pleasure. The choice is mine.”

He pressed the side of the gun next to her ear. Every muscle in her body tightened.

“Don’t insult my intelligence.” He spoke threateningly. “I have an IQ of 145; I’ve taught myself four languages; I have a photographic memory.” His voice deepened in anger. “Don’t lecture me. Don’t imply that I’m stupid.”

Clack.

He had returned the hammer to its forward position.

“You leave her alone,” Timmy shouted.

“Shut up, kid,” the man bellowed. “You’re starting to get on my nerves. Do you understand that? Are you smart enough to grasp that?”

“I’m smarter than you think,” Timmy boasted.

“That’s enough, Timmy,” Kristen said firmly. “It would be better if you sat still and were quiet.”

“But—”

“Still and quiet, Timmy. Please.” Kristen made strong eye contact. Timmy relented.

“OK. But I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Too bad, kid. You’re not going anywhere.”

“But I really,
really
gotta, go.” Timmy insisted.

“Let him go to the bathroom,” Kristen said. “We’re fifty-three floors up. What’s he going to do, jump out a window?”

“All right, kid, but make it quick. Do you hear? Quick, or I’m coming in after you.”

“I’ll be quick,” Timmy said as he leaped from the couch and sprinted toward the bathroom.

David pulled back from the door. He could not make out all the words, but he heard three voices. Kristen’s, Timmy’s, and one he didn’t recognize. He was simultaneously relieved and terrified.

Relieved because Kristen and Timmy were alive and sounded unharmed. Terrified because a stranger was in his suite holding his loved ones. David had to assume the man was armed.

The real question was what to do next. He played with the idea of storming into the apartment. He would have the advantage of surprise. Perhaps he could tackle the man before he could harm Kristen and Timmy. If so, they might be able to make an escape. But logic kicked in hard. It was more likely that David would be shot and killed in the act. With him dead, the abductor would have no reason to keep the other two alive. As horribly ironic as it seemed, Kristen and Timmy might be safer with David at some distance.

But he had to do something. It was just as likely that the kidnapper would get frustrated and kill them anyway.

David walked away from the door to the elevator lobby. He began to pace. The thought of the danger that was just a few steps down the hall tormented him. He had to do something, but it had to be right, smart, and logical. He struggled to suppress his emotions while freeing his mind.

David paced some more. He prayed. He fumed. He prayed again. The elevator indicator chimed. Instinctively, David ducked around the corner into the hall. The elevator could be bringing anyone up. Maybe the man in the apartment had an accomplice or even a dozen accomplices. For all David knew, all the guards were dead and the building had been taken over by a mob of hit men. He could take no chances.

Desperately, David looked for a weapon. His eyes traced the hall but at first found nothing. A big, heavy fire extinguisher was mounted on the wall. It might serve as a decent weapon against one, maybe even two men—provided they didn’t have guns. It was his only choice.

Dropping the folder, he took the metal canister from its
rack. David set it down, seized the neck just below the handle and nozzle, and quietly stepped to the corner formed by the hall and lobby. He prepared to swing and swing hard.

David strained his ears to listen, hoping to hear voices or to get some clue as to who was stepping from the elevator. He heard only the slow padding of shoes on the lobby carpet. Taking a deep breath, David raised the fire extinguisher, stepped forward, and prepared to strike.

Calvin’s eyes widened, and he brought up his arms. David was barely able to redirect his swing so the metal cylinder missed his attorney’s head.

“David! You’re all right.”

“Quiet,” David commanded. He pushed Calvin to the back wall of the lobby. In a voice barely above a whisper he said, “I just got back from communications. Someone is in my apartment. I could hear them talking. Some man is holding Kristen and Timmy.”

“Man? You’re sure you heard a man’s voice?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t hear a strange woman’s voice?”

“No. Should I have?”

Calvin explained about the “Kristen” being escorted to her office.

“Kristen has been in my apartment all night. She hasn’t been out of my sight except for the twenty minutes or so that I was down in communications.”

“It must have been a disguise.”

“I can believe it. This whole thing has been nothing but smoke and mirrors since the beginning.”

“What about weapons? Are there any weapons in the building?” Calvin asked.

“There are none on the Barringston floors, that much I
know. Do you think I’d be swinging a fire extinguisher if there were?”

“Swell,” Calvin said. “So we have a professional hit man holding two hostages on the top floor of a fifty-three-story building, the extra guards didn’t show, and the ones that are here aren’t carrying guns, and we’re armed with a fire extinguisher.” He shook his head. “This is not good, not good at all. At least the police are on their way.”

“That’s a plus.”

“I’m not so sure. If our bad guy gets nervous, things could go from bad to worse.”

“How so?”

“Look, David, the police are trained for many things, including situations similar to this one. They have hostage negotiators and sharpshooters. But this is not a typical situation. Those things are fine if you’re dealing with a trapped bank robber or some depressed husband who has taken his family hostage. Our bad guy is a professional. Some negotiator isn’t going to talk him into giving up.”

“I agree with the professional part. Whoever it is that has set me up with those videos and sent those pictures has put a lot of thought and money into this. They certainly aren’t going to hire some two-bit hood.” David paused. “What will the police do when they get here?”

Calvin looked across the lobby at the hall. “They’ll send a patrol car, maybe another as backup. First officer on the scene will talk to the guards and attempt to assess the situation. A couple of officers may come up here, so go easy with that fire extinguisher. Once they know that it is a hostage situation, they’ll call for supervisors, SWAT, hostage negotiation. Most likely they’ll evacuate the building.”

David studied Calvin. “You don’t think that’ll work, do you?”

Calvin shook his head. “Most times yes, but not here. If she … he is the professional I think he is, then we’ve got real trouble. There’s a good chance that he might kill Kristen or Timmy.”

“Why?” David was shocked. “They’re his safety net.”

Again Calvin shook his head. “Two hostages are more difficult to handle than one. He knows that. By killing one, he sets the tone for negotiations. I’m sorry, David.”

“I’m not going to let that happen. Not while I breathe. We must do something.”

“There’s another problem too. If I’ve pieced this together right, we have a man dressed like Kristen. If the police give up on negotiations and charge the room, they could mistakenly shoot the wrong person.”

David sighed heavily.

“Animals become more ferocious when trapped,” Calvin said coolly. The transition from attorney back to FBI agent was easily seen. “It’s going to be the same for him. What we need to do is give him a way out. At least a way he thinks is out.”

“Or give him me. I’m the one he wants. This whole thing orbits around me. I don’t know why, but it does.”

“He would still need a way out.”

“I can become his hostage and …” David trailed off.

Calvin finished the thought for him. “And he can kill you as he makes his getaway. I don’t think so, David. We don’t release control. We maintain it. Use it to our advantage.”