A man was coming toward him. A small man, looking a little uncomfortable in his black tuxedo.
Nell froze in shock.
Kabler?
Kabler was smiling too. He took Gardeaux’s hand and shook it. He said something jokingly before slapping him on the back.
Not Kabler. Kabler hated him. Kabler would not be here.
He was here, and treating Gardeaux as if they were best friends.
But he was a policeman. He had to be undercover or something.
She drifted closer, her gaze fixed on the two men.
Gardeaux was introducing Kabler to his wife. His good friend, Joe Kabler, head of the Drug Enforcement Agency in America.
He knew who Kabler was. Kabler, his good friend.
Money can buy almost anyone, Nicholas had said.
She hadn’t thought it could buy Kabler.
He was smiling at Gardeaux’s wife and murmuring something about a nice party and how nice it was for them to invite him. His gaze casually wandered around the room. Oh, yes, he belonged to Gardeaux.
And he could recognize her.
Her heart jerked with panic. What was she doing standing here? She quickly wheeled away from them and headed for the door.
Had he seen her?
She was afraid to look over her shoulder. The most he would have been able to see was the back of her head and her profile.
The most? That would be enough. They had spent hours together.
She bolted through the door into the foyer.
Please. Don’t let him have seen me.
She tore down the front steps to the courtyard. She risked a glance over her shoulder.
Kabler, his expression grim, was weaving through the crowd in the foyer.
He caught her as she reached the bottom of the steps and spun her around.
“Let me go.” She glared up at him. “There are people not twenty feet from us. I could call out.”
“But you won’t. You don’t want to blow whatever you’re here for. I warned you to stay away from Tanek. Look what he’s done to you.” His tone was pained. “I don’t want you hurt. Give it up. I can still save you.”
“By interceding with your friend Gardeaux?” she asked bitterly.
“That filth is not my friend, and he’d pay no attention to any intercession if he knew who you were.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“I said I thought I saw someone I knew. I don’t want you dead, Nell. Let Tanek be put down. He’s just filth like the rest.”
“And what are you?”
He flinched. “I couldn’t fight them anymore. It had gone on too long. I came home from Idaho that day and Gardeaux’s man was waiting for me again. So was my kid’s doctor. My son has leukemia. He deserves the best and now I can give it to him. You can’t beat them. They have too much money and too much power. No one can beat them.”
“So you joined them. How much does he pay you, Kabler?”
“Enough. My wife is getting some of the things she deserves at last. My kids will go to good schools and have a future. I’ll be able to give them anything they need or want.”
“How nice for you. I don’t have a child. Gardeaux killed her.”
“But you’re alive. I want you to stay alive. You’re not like them.”
“I’m like you?”
He nodded. “It doesn’t matter what happens to them. I didn’t care about Calder or that woman. They were as dirty as Gardeaux.”
She stared at him in shock. She had not made the connection. “You killed them.”
He shook his head. “I just told Gardeaux where to find them. He wanted me to take you there first so that I could claim I was followed.” He smiled wryly. “I’m in a very valuable position. He didn’t want it jeopardized.”
“You used me. You did the same thing you accused Nicholas of doing.”
“You had a right to know about Calder.”
“And how will you explain your presence here tonight? Your people know what Gardeaux is.”
“I’m only trying to gather information. Just doing my job.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We’ve been out too long. Tanek should arrive any minute and I don’t want you in the way.”
“You’re going to help him kill Nicholas.”
“I don’t have to help him. That’s not why I’m here. Gardeaux wanted me to come, slap him on the back and nix any harm Nicholas might inflict on his image.” He took her arm. “I’m going to take you to my room and stay there with you. When it’s over, I’ll let you go on your way.”
When it was over. When Nicholas was dead. “What if I won’t go with you?”
“Then I’ll have to tell Gardeaux who you are. And he’d kill you as well as Tanek.” He said gently, “I don’t want to do that, Nell. I want you to get out with your skin intact. Will you come with me?”
He wasn’t bluffing. He would tell Gardeaux. He wanted to save her, but he would let her die rather than endanger his affiliation with Gardeaux. “I’ll come.”
He was immediately beside her, cradling her elbow as they entered the foyer.
“I have a gun holstered beneath the jacket of this monkey suit. Just thought I’d let you know.” He led her toward the staircase. “Smile,” he murmured.
She glanced at the grandfather clock next to the doors to the ballroom. Her hand clenched on the banister.
Ten fifty-five.
11:10 P.M
Four people got out of the limousine as it stopped just inside the courtyard. Two women in rich Renaissance dress under velvet cloaks, their escorts in tuxedos. Talk. Laughter.
The perfect opportunity for Nicholas to blend in with the crowd. He stepped out of the shadows of the trees and quickly crossed the moat.
He fell in close behind the four guests as they strolled across the courtyard.
“Ah, Tanek, there you are.” Gardeaux stood on the front steps. He wasn’t looking at the guests, but at Tanek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Nicholas stopped short and then moved closer to the group of guests. “I can never resist a party.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to miss this one.” He gestured and the four partygoers parted like the Red Sea. “You seem to be lacking your advance guard.”
Nicholas watched the four hurry back toward the limousine. “Your people?”
“Obviously. Did you think I couldn’t counter such a simple ploy? You gave me the time of your arrival and I had only to set up the trap. I really couldn’t allow you to go into the ballroom. You might have made things awkward for me.” He looked over his shoulder. “Rivil, we’re going to escort Mr. Tanek to the auditorium. You remember Rivil, Tanek?”
“How could I forget?” He watched Rivil come down the steps. “He made a big impact on me.” Rivil was followed by a smaller man. Marple, Nicholas recognized, vicious, good with a garrote, excellent reflexes. Gardeaux had called out the top guns.
“Terrible pun,” Gardeaux said. “But I’m glad you’re not too disconcerted. It will make things more interesting if you don’t fall apart.” His gaze fastened on the leather-wrapped sword Nicholas was carrying, and a flicker of excitement appeared on his face. “That’s it?”
Nicholas nodded.
Gardeaux hurried down the steps and took the sword. “All this trouble for nothing. You’re out of your league, Tanek.” He started to unwrap the sword and then stopped. “Let’s get him out of this courtyard.”
“Suppose I decide not to go?” Nicholas said.
“Then Rivil hits you on the head and we take you.” Gardeaux started toward the auditorium. “Simple.”
It was enough of a protest. Gardeaux knew him well enough not to expect a futile struggle.
He let Rivil and Marple usher him toward the auditorium.
11:20 P.M.
Gardeaux ripped off the leather wrappings as soon as he got inside the auditorium. He held the sword up to the light. “Glorious,” he whispered. “Magnificent. I can feel the power.”
He
fondled it lovingly before starting down the long aisle toward the stage and runway. “Bring him. You’ve never seen my auditorium, have you? The greatest swordsmen in Europe competed here this afternoon. But not Pietro. Though he probably could have beaten them all.” Gardeaux stopped in front of the runway and gestured to the tall, slim fencer standing there. “May I present Pietro Danielo.” The man appeared totally anonymous in the white fencing garb and mesh mask. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet for a long time.” He offered the Charlemagne sword to Nicholas. “I’m even giving you the sword of the conqueror to fight him. That should bring you luck.”
Nicholas ignored the sword. “I’m not fighting him. I won’t entertain you, Gardeaux.”
“Pietro, come here.”
The fencer jumped down from the runway and bounded toward them, his sword held before him. Rivil and Marple shied away from him.
“Show Tanek your sword. He’s developed an interest in such weapons of late.”
Pietro extended the sword until it was only an inch from Nicholas’s chest.
“Notice the tip, Tanek.”
The steel tip gleamed wet under the strong overhead lights.
“Coloño. I had a fresh supply flown in from Medellin when I knew you were coming. All Pietro has to do is break the skin. Do you remember how small O’Malley’s wound was? But that didn’t last, did it? Almost immediately, a tiny blister formed around the cut. He was a mass of blisters and sores when he died. The virus ate him from the inside out.”
Nicholas couldn’t take his gaze off the tip of the sword. “I remember.”
“If Pietro slices you now, you’ve no chance. Take the sword. It’s a weapon. You’re a clever man. Make the opportunity work for you.”
“And if I win, Rivil and Marple hold a gun on me and you prick me with Pietro’s sword anyway.”
“I didn’t say it was a golden opportunity.”
“While you sit like a god and watch your will be done.”
“There’s no thrill like it,” Gardeaux said. He offered the sword again to Tanek. “Take it.”
Pietro moved the tip of his sword the tiniest bit closer until it almost brushed the front of Nicholas’s shirt.
“Take the sword,” Gardeaux said softly.
It was moving too fast, Nicholas thought. He had another twenty-five minutes before Nell doused the lights.
“You don’t want to die like this,” Gardeaux said.
A vision of Terence writhing in pain came back to Nicholas. He stepped back away from Pietro’s sword. “No, I don’t.” He reached out and took the sword Gardeaux was extending. He turned and jumped on the runway. “Let’s get to it.”
11:35 P.M.
Nell jerked open the velvet drapes at the window.
A light was on in the auditorium.
Her hand clenched on the drape. Nicholas was there now. Gardeaux had taken him there to kill him.
“Come away from the window,” Kabler said from across the room.
She whirled around to face him. “You can’t do this. He’s there. Do you know what they’re going to do to him?”
“I didn’t ask for details.” He studied her for a moment. “I’m sorry, but you appear to be a little desperate. I’m afraid I’ll have to take precautions.” He drew the gun from his holster and pointed it at her. “Now come back and sit down. I’m not like Calder—I know your capabilities. You won’t catch me by surprise.”
“You’re ready to kill me yourself?”
“I don’t want to do it.”
“But you’d do it. Doesn’t that make you the filth you call Gardeaux?”
His lips tightened. “I’ll never be like him.”
“You will, if you kill me.” She deliberately moved toward the door. “But I don’t think you will.”
“Stay away from that door.”
“You might let Gardeaux kill me, but you won’t do it yourself. We’re alike, we’re not like them.” She deliberately played on his rationalization. “There’s no way you could justify killing me to yourself.”
“Stop where you are. I can’t let you go.”
She couldn’t stop. Panic was racing through her. Her hand closed on the knob.
He muttered a curse and launched himself across the room.
She spun and caught him in the abdomen with a flying kick. He cried out and bent double.
Another kick to the groin. A slash to the back of his neck with the edge of her hand. He was disabled but still conscious. He had to be taken out of the picture. She took the gun he’d dropped at the first kick and crashed the butt down on his head.
He crumpled to the floor.
She unlocked the door and flew down the hall and down the steps. Her eyes flew to the clock. Eleven-fifty.
No time to take out the guard at the auditorium.
No time to cut the lights and give Nicholas the darkness he needed.
She was too late.
11:51 P.M.
Where the hell was she?
Pietro lunged at him, almost touching him with the tip of the sword and then dancing away.
The fencer was just teasing him. Putting on a good show for Gardeaux’s amusement. He could have driven the point into him a dozen times in the past ten minutes. Nicholas was as clumsy as a bear brandishing a sword, dodging and trying not to get stung.
He chanced a glance at the auditorium clock.
Eleven fifty-two.
“Getting tired, Tanek?” Gardeaux asked from the front row.
Nicholas blocked Pietro’s next lunge and backed away.
“I thought you were stronger,” Gardeaux called. “Pietro can go on for hours.”
Eleven fifty-three.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
He lowered his sword.
“Giving up? I’m disappointed. I thought—”
Nicholas lifted the sword and threw it like a spear at Pietro. The man screamed as the sword struck his upper thighs and bounced to the floor.
Nicholas dove from the runway, hit the ground running toward the aisle seat where Nell had hidden the gun.
A bullet whistled by his head.
“Stop him. Don’t shoot him, you fool.”
No, Gardeaux wouldn’t want to be cheated at this point.
He reached under the seat and ripped out the Magnum.
They converged on him before he could raise the gun. Rivil tackled him, knocking the gun out of his hand. Gardeaux was standing before him. Smiling.
He had probably smiled like that at Terence’s helplessness too, Nicholas thought. A surge of hate tore through him. “You son of a bitch.” He lunged upward and drove his fist into Gardeaux’s face.
Rivil kicked Nicholas in the stomach. Marple crashed the butt of his gun against his temple. He fell to the floor, fighting darkness.
Gardeaux’s face was above him. His lip was cut and bleeding and he wasn’t smiling any longer. “One of you get Pietro’s sword.”
Rivil moved toward the stage.
Nicholas struggled to get up and Gardeaux put his foot on his chest to hold him down.
“Do you feel helpless, Tanek? Are you so scared you want to vomit?” He took Pietro’s sword from Rivil. “It’s nothing to what you’ll feel in a day or so.” He poised the sword above Nicholas’s left shoulder. “Not too deep. I don’t want you to die too soon.”
Nicholas could see the sword point glisten as it came toward him.
Gardeaux plunged the sword into his shoulder.
Nicholas gritted his teeth to keep back a scream as agony shot through him.
Gardeaux pulled the sword out.
Nicholas closed his eyes as warm blood streamed out of his shoulder.
“Happy New Year!”
Gardeaux whirled toward the doorway across the auditorium.
People were streaming in. Gardeaux stared, stunned, as the orchestra began playing “Auld Lang Syne” while moving down the aisle toward the stage.
“What the hell is happening?”
Con
fetti was being tossed in the air, noisemakers were being blown.
“Happy New Year!”
“My God, there’s the Prime Minister.” Gardeaux glanced down at Nicholas. “Rivil, get him the hell out of here! Out the far door. They haven’t seen him yet.” He carefully wiped Pietro’s sword and slid it under the row of seats next to him. Then he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his cut lip. “Marple, the Charlemagne sword is on the runway. Tell Pietro to get it before one of those fools finds it.” He pasted a smile on his face and moved toward the waves of guests flowing into the auditorium.
Rivil lifted Nicholas to his feet and half carried him toward the exit.
Nell was suddenly there before them. “I’ll take him.”
Rivil tried to brush her aside.
“I said, I’ll take him.” She lifted a gun from the folds of her gown. Her voice was shaking. “Let him go, you bastard.”
Rivil shrugged and took his arm from Nicholas’s shoulders. “Take him. Gardeaux only said he wanted him out of here. He’s through with him. He won’t care now who gets him out.” He strode toward the crowd that had surrounded Gardeaux.
She put her arm around Nicholas’s rib cage and slung his arm over her shoulder. “Lean on me.”
“I don’t have much choice. I’m not feeling too well.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears were running down her cheeks. “I tried—Kabler—I couldn’t—”
“I’m too woozy to make much sense of what you’re saying. You’d better tell me later.” He looked over his shoulder. “But why the hell are all these people here?”
She opened the exit door. “I was too late,” she said jerkily. “I couldn’t think of any way to get rid of the guard outside the auditorium and get to you in time. So I ran to the bandstand in the ballroom and announced that Gardeaux wanted to celebrate the new year in the place where the athletes had their greatest triumphs. The crowd just swept the guard in with them. It was all I could think of doing.”
“Good.”
“It wasn’t good,” she said fiercely. “I came too late. They hurt you. How bad is it?”
“Blow to the head. Sword through the shoulder.”
She inhaled sharply. “Sword? Whose sword?”
“A very nasty one. Pietro. I think you’d better get me to a hospital.”
“Oh, God.”
The Ugly Duckling Page 33