The Jigsaw Man (36 page)

along the line, a downward spiral that eventually led

to this. I mean, look at us! That man lying on the floor

isn't my father anymore; hasn't been for a long time.

N o t the father I loved and respected, anyway. It might

sound cold, but I'm glad he's dead. Somebody had to

stop him."

I dug into my pocket and showed Andrew the Bic

lighter I had, getting it ready for the big show.

"The job's only half done. We have to blow this place

off the face of the earth so no one else can walk in and

take over where y o u r dad left off. I have no problem dy¬

ing, but what about you, Andrew? I overheard you tell

your father you'd rather die than live like this. Did you

mean that?"

"Of course. I've wanted that for years now but I've

never been able to pull it off. I was either too sick or j u s t

didn't have the body parts to hold a gun or pop a bottle

of pills."

Yeah, I know that feeling. Poor bugger.

"Good, 'cause I don't think there's any way I can get

you out of here. Drake's security team is going to start

looking around soon. We're relatively safe up here, I

think, but I couldn't get you out the door. Besides, I'm

too busted up to carry you, so I guess we'll j u s t wait

here together and take it easy. Sound okay?"

"Sounds fine, but why
do you
need to die? I agree you

can't take me,
I
wouldn't go even if you could, but

there's no need for you to stick around."

"Sure there is. W h o ' s going to set off the explosion if

I'm not here?"

"Well, me, obviously."

"You? But you're paralyzed."

"I'm paralyzed for the most part, but not everything.

I can still wiggle my fingers, especially on my right

hand. H e r e , look—"

Sure enough, he could move a few of his fingers on

his left hand, and all of the ones on his right. I watched

him wiggle his right t h u m b rapidly up and down and I

couldn't believe it. It was almost as if fate, or some other

higher power, had preordained that Andrew would need

to use that digit for something important.

Like flicking the Bic.

I shouldn't have thought that. Shouldn't have even

considered it. I'd never for a moment envisioned the

possibility I might live through this day, but now that I

had, my mind started racing, my heart pounding, and

the short hair stood up on the back of my neck. A big

shit-kicker grin was slowly creeping onto my face and I

tried to kid myself it was only the oxygen-saturated air

making me feel so giddy.

Maybe Andrew's, right. If he can operate this lighter, I

could slip down to the fourth-floor hallway, use the back

stairs to get outside, and go hide in the woods. Get a front

row seat to watch the fireworks!

Those were bad thoughts-A-silly thoughts—and I had

to stop right now before they started making sense. There

was no way I could leave Andrew up here to finish this. It

was my j o b to do. My responsibility. Wasn't it?

Seeing the confusion on my face, Andrew pressed

the issue. "I can do it. I know I can. H e r e , let me show

you I can hold it."

Curious, but all the time cursing myself for starting

to get my hopes u p , I handed Andrew the lighter, help¬

ing him get it into the correct position and seeing if he

could hold on. He did. Easily.

"What did I tell ya?" Andrew said, probably more

excited and happy than he'd been in twenty years.

I could tell he really wanted to do this—
needed
t o ,

maybe.

"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" I asked. I

already knew the answer, but needed to hear Andrew

say it one more time before my conscience would allow

me to leave.

"More than you'll ever know, Michael. I'm the rea¬

son my father became obsessed with transplantation

and if it wasn't for me, none of this would exist. All

those people died because of me."

"That's not true," I said. "Your father's to blame.

Maybe Drake, too, but none of this was your fault."

Andrew sat quietly for a moment, a single tear slid¬

ing down his cheek. "I know that, I really do, but it still

doesn't make me feel any better. There's no denying a

lot of people would be alive today if I'd j u s t died at

birth. I can't do anything about that, but I can at least

do this. My fault or not, I started this madness; it's only

right I be the one that ends it. My life has to have had

some purpose. Maybe this is it."

How could I possibly argue with that? Life had been

cruel to Andrew. He'd been getting the short end of the

stick his entire life. If being the one who triggered the

explosion would give h i m a sense of satisfaction, closure,

or perhaps atonement for all the suffering and death in¬

flicted on his behalf, who was I to stand in his way?

I wheeled his chair over beside the cluster of emer¬

gency oxygen tanks. "Let the gas build up for as long as

you can, okay? The longer, the better. Soon as you see

a security guard's head pop out of this stairwell, let that

t h u m b of yours work its magic. Don't worry about me.

If I'm not out of here by then it's my own bloody fault.

Understand?"

"Get moving, then," Andrew said, a contented smile

on his face. "My trigger finger's getting mighty itchy."

I nodded, and headed for the stairs.

C H A P T E R F O R T Y - O N E

I picked up the gun off the top stair and made my way

down onto the fourth floor as quickly and quietly as I

could. I was in big-time pain, hurting all over, but there

was n o t h i n g I could do except clench my teeth and keep

moving. Turning the bend in the hall I made my way

toward the back stairs and was nearly at the exit when I

heard the sound of heavy boots stamping on the other

side of the door, getting closer.

Guards!

Had to be, which meant the search was on. Sound

echoed in the stairwell, so I wasn't exactly sure if they

were coming to this floor or were still down on level

two or three. Didn't matter; if they were on the way up

it meant I couldn't risk charging down the stairs to get

outside. That would be suicide, and now that I'd been

given the opportunity, I desperately wanted to live to

see this hellhole crumble. As much as I wanted out of

here, I needed to slow down and think. The front stairs

would be j u s t as bad of a choice, maybe worse, because

Drake would have his men trained well and I was sure

they'd post someone to man each stairwell, covering

the exits. There had to be another way—a safer, un¬

guarded way—out of here.

My mind drew a blank. I couldn't think of a single

t h i n g to try and I was seriously considering r e t u r n i n g

to the tower room to see this through to the end along¬

side Andrew. Either that or take the mad dash down

the back stairs and hope for the best. I had Drake's

gun if need b e , but I couldn't really picture myself do¬

ing a Lone Ranger sprint into a crowd of security guards,

gun blazing, and consequences be damned. Just wasn't

my style.

Limping back along the corridor, my heart nearly

stopped when I heard shouting coming from j u s t around

the corner. I tensed up, brought my gun into what I

thought was a respectable policeman's shooting stance,

and waited. Ten grueling seconds went by but n o t h i n g

happened. I lowered my weapon and peeked'around the

corner only to find the hallway empty. I was starting to

relax when I heard the voice again, this time coming

from inside the room on my right.

The Bleeders' room.

I approached the door, noticing that it was half open.

I tried to recall if I'd left it that way when I exited the

room but I couldn't remember. With my heart doing a

drumroll within my chest, I shoved the door wide open

and prepared to shoot anything that moved.

The room was empty. Well, empty of living, breath¬

ing, ready-to-kill-me people, at least. Dr. Marshall's

blood bank looked j u s t the way I'd left it—a sticky red

mess and stinking of death. The phantom voice sounded

again, but this time I realized where it was coming

from and what was happening.

Drake's walkie-talkie.

The voices I kept hearing were the other security

guards shouting for Drake and communicating amongst

themselves via radio. I felt like a goof, wasting precious

minutes and nearly giving myself a heart attack over

nothing, but it wasn't a total loss. If I grabbed Drake's

radio and carried it with m e , I'd have a better idea where

the guards were and where they might be searching next.

That kind of information might get me out of here alive

so I walked in and slipped the walkie-talkie out of the

leather case on Drake's belt.

Maybe I can say something on the radio and send the

guards all running on a wild-goose chase toward the front of

the building. Then I can slip out -

Something caught my attention and shut me u p , midthought. The curtains in the room were pulled open to¬

day and outside of the window I could see the woods off

in the distance across the grass-covered field. I wasn't

looking that far away, though. W h a t caught my eye was

the mass of green ivy leaves visible on the left side of the

window.

The metal trellis!

The same ivy-covered trellis I'd used to climb out of

my guarded room and up here to the fourth floor so

long ago, back when I was j u s t starting to figure out the

truth about Dr. Marshall and his little castle of horrors.

It ran all the way up the side of the building to this

window, and, more importantly, all the way down to the

ground. I could crank open the window, climb down

the trellis and make a dash for the woods. From the

chitchat still going back and forth on Drake's radio, the

guards were busy doing a sweep of the third floor and it

was doubtful anyone would be watching the outside

grounds. Sure, someone might look out a window and

spot m e , but at least I'd be outside and have a chance.

Definitely the best option I was likely to get, so I stuffed

Drake's radio in the front of my pants and decided to

go for it.

W h e n I cranked open the left-hand window, a freez¬

ing blast of air hit me in the face, stealing ray breath.

Man, it was cold out today. I wouldn't make it very far

outside in this weather, not the way I was dressed.

I needed a coat.

Turning around, I glanced at my own old coat I'd

discarded on the floor earlier, but it was ripped and

torn and so covered in Drake's blood I dismissed it im¬

mediately. That left only Drake's big security bomber

jacket. It was bloody, too, but not nearly as bad as my

own. Better yet, it was practically brand-new, and was

made for this kind of frigid weather. I hated the thought

of touching Drake again, but it had to be done. Thirty

seconds later, I'd manhandled Drake's considerable

deadweight and managed to wiggle the coat off his arms.

Wrapped up in my nice warm coat that had a large

gold patch proclaiming me the new chief of security

around here, I headed back to the window and started

to climb out.

Getting onto the trellis was tricky, only having one

good hand, but once I'd swung onto the metal ladder,

climbing down wasn't a problem. I had no way of know¬

ing if anyone would be watching the windows, so I just

started hobbling as fast as I could toward the entrance

to the wooded trail, hoping my luck would hold up for

a few more minutes.

It was a strange feeling, moving toward the relative

safety of the woods, seeing it get closer but with every

painful step fully expecting to get a bullet in my back. I

didn't dare turn around and look, but in my imagina¬

tion I could clearly see the members of Drake's security

team all lined up in the windows taking aim at the cenA

ter of my back, waiting for the signal to let the bullets

fly. I'd hear someone shout,
"FIRE!"
on the radio tucked

in my pants and half a second later feel the sting of a

dozen bullets rip through my body, the sharpshooters

peppering me with lead even after I went down and

sprawled face-first in the frozen grass.

I reached the wooded trail without incident.

As I'd done earlier to stay out of sight, I lay down on

the ground off to the side of the path and spent a few

seconds camouflaging myself with a blanket of leaves

before finally looking back in the direction of the cas

tle. Everything looked quiet. No one was rushing out

into the cold after m e , and n o t h i n g that was being said

on the radio indicated that I'd been spotted. Somewhat

surprised, I congratulated myself on a clean getaway.

All I had to do now was lay still and wait for the big

bang.

Let 'er rip, Andrew, Blow her straight to hell!