She tried to wet her dry throat with a painful swallow; well, they’d just have to make sure Harding didn’t get his way. Or die trying.
* * * *
The offices and halls of TelTech were deserted when Harding let himself in. He’d realized earlier that it was pointless to try to keep things going while the theft was being investigated. The security office was empty, crime-scene tape still strung across the doorway.
The silence, broken only by the sound of his footsteps on the marble entry, calmed the agitation brought on by seeing Nadine. This was his turf, the seat of his power, his kingdom. This building, this life, he’d built from the near ruin of the old. He’d learned much in the years since Nadine had escaped. His tastes, his passions, had been refined to near perfection, as she soon would learn.
She would die this night, but not until she’d completely and totally submitted to his will. As the elevator rose, his longing to be with her rose, too. He was almost willing to turn aside from RABBIT, from all this, to finish what she’d run from all those years ago.
Almost.
Patience, he reminded himself. No woman was worth losing a working prototype of RABBIT. With it, his power would grow. Nadine was an interlude, an old page turning to bring on the new, not the main event. Besides, she was old now, good only to prove his power was absolute. For the main event, there was the power of the governor’s mansion and Audrey’s money and connections.
And her daughters. Her lovely…young daughters.
He smiled as he unlocked the door to his office and went in for this last act—though not the last scene—of his old life. The smile disappeared when he saw Nadine’s partner waiting for him. Sitting in his chair.
“You took your sweet time,” Dewey said. “I was getting ready to call the general.”
“Where’s RABBIT?” Harding’s hands curled into fists in the pockets of his expensive suit. This young man needed to be taught a lesson before he died. Lily was going to get very lucky tonight.
“Safe.” Dewey stood up and gestured for Harding to take his seat. “And ready to show off for…daddy…after you prove Phoebe is all right.”
“She’s fine.” Harding walked around his desk and sank into the chair without taking his gaze off Dewey. “If you don’t have it on you, how am I supposed to know it works?”
“I’ve rigged a remote camera for you.” Dewey pointed toward Harding’s computer. Some kind of headgear and a pair of odd-looking gloves had been connected to it. “It’s not that I don’t trust you—well, that’s not true. I don’t trust you any more than you trust me. Creates some interesting difficulties, but we’ll deal with those as we come to them.” He rubbed his hands together. “First, I see with my own eyes that Phoebe is alive and well, then I give you a demonstration of RABBIT’s capabilities.”
Harding wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t part of the plan to make him happy, so Dewey didn’t waste any worry about it. All his worry was for Phoebe. He should never have let her do this. Just being in the same room with Harding, who was in a state of creepy excitement, made his skin crawl. Harding was seriously unstable.
Harding shrugged, a slight twitch below one eye as he pulled the phone toward him and dialed. “Get her out, and have her look up.” Harding covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Look out the window.”
Careful to keep one eye on Harding, Dewey did as he was told. Two people stood by a white van, but they were too far away to be sure. “That could be anyone out there.”
Harding gave an exasperated sigh, opened a drawer and handed him a pair of binoculars. Dewey didn’t ask what they were doing in his desk drawer. He didn’t want to know.
He adjusted the focus until the woman’s face sharpened; Phoebe looked tense, the strain obvious, and her mouth looked bruised and puffy. Dewey lowered the binoculars, pulled the gun out of his jacket and pointed it at Harding. “You hit her, you bastard. I could kill you now.”
Harding nodded toward the window. “If he doesn’t see me come out that door in fifteen minutes, he has orders to kill her.” His shrug was arrogant, his triumph obvious. “You’re right. Our mistrust is quite mutual. I suggest we get on with our business or a couple of slaps won’t be the worst thing that happens to Nadine.”
He thinks he controls the board, Dewey thought, fighting to regain calm. Well, we’ll see who controls what. He picked up the headgear and handed it to Harding.
“You put this on your head, your hands in the gloves,” Dewey said. “When you’re ready, I’ll activate the remote connection.”
Harding picked up the headset, examining it for a long moment before fitting it over his head. Dewey allowed himself a silent sigh of relief.
“I’m ready.”
Dewey briefly crossed his fingers, then hit Enter on the keyboard.
“What am I seeing?”
“You’re inside the vehicle RABBIT is controlling. I’ve programmed it to drive an obstacle course, choosing the best possible route for itself. It will go through it once, calculating the variables, then go through it again. Artificial-Intelligent-Automation. Just what the military ordered.”
Dewey looked at his watch, then started the program.
“This is impressive,” Harding said. “I can’t believe that bastard Stern hid it from me.”
“You shouldn’t have believed it,” Stern said from the private doorway, his cold gaze and his gun both pointed at Dewey.
Harding ripped off the gloves, then the headset. “What the—”
“That should be who the and the answer’s him. And Nadine, of course.” He nudged the door wider. “Bring her in, Harley.”
With a terrified look at Stern, Harley pushed Phoebe into the room.
“That’ll be all,” Stern said, then shot Harley twice in the heart.
Harley fell at Phoebe’s feet, his eyes, wide and shocked, stared at her for a small eternity before awareness faded. She’d seen the man kill as indifferently as he was killed, but that didn’t stop her from feeling an odd sense of loss, even some guilt. Maybe there was something to that “…every man’s death diminishes me…” thing. Or perhaps it was realizing it was her game that took him out. He wasn’t a game piece being bumped off the board. That this hadn’t been part of the plan was no excuse.
“Drop your gun, or she’s next,” Stern said to Dewey, turning the barrel toward Phoebe.
Dewey started to lay it on the desk, but Stern shook his head. “On the floor. Kick it toward the door.”
“Stern.” Harding smiled and started toward him.
“Don’t even start.” Stern turned the weapon on Harding. “Sit.”
“What are you doing? They set us up to—”
“And you bought it. I don’t forgive. Or forget.” With his free hand, he pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, extracted one and lit up, his cold, steady gaze never faltering or showing distraction. He didn’t even blink when the smoke curled up around his head. “You two, sit. There and there.”
He indicated the couch near the bar for Dewey and the chair in front of the desk for Phoebe. Divide and conquer. A good strategy.
He hooked one leg over a barstool, resting his gun hand on his elevated knee as he studied the remaining players with an air of leashed menace increased, not lessened, by his relaxed stance.
“I’m afraid I’m not up to speed on what’s going down here. I was tied up.” His cold gaze found Harding, whose angry look had faded to ashen. “Someone enlighten me.”
Phoebe exchanged a look with Dewey. “What do you want to know?”
Stern took a long, slow drag on his cigarette, then blew it out. Through the smoke he studied her. “I had a feeling you were pulling the strings on this little game. With your past knowledge, you’d know right where and when to apply pressure, wouldn’t you?” He ground the cigarette out in the ashtray before he added, “Let’s start with your cards on the table.”
Phoebe started. “I don’t—”
“The handcuffs. I notice the rose is missing. Wh
y don’t you put the flower on the desk and secure those cuffs for me.”
Phoebe unpinned the rose from her waistband and put it on the desk, a tiny spot of red that looked like a drop of blood on the wide, dark expanse. She secured her handcuffs with an audible click.
She’d underestimated Barrett Stern, failed to research him thoroughly. He wasn’t Harding’s knight; he was the far more powerful queen, though he probably wouldn’t appreciate the description.
It was a relief when his gaze moved off her and onto Harding.
“Now, you.” Stern pulled another set of handcuffs out of his pocket. “So thoughtful of you to make sure I had a plentiful supply of these. Around the wrists and through the arm of your chair.” He tossed them at Harding. “I thought we agreed you’d get rid of them. You should have listened to me.”
With a venomous look at Stern, Harding looped the cuffs through the arm and then snapped them around his wrists.
“And now you, what the hell is your name?” Stern tossed Dewey some cuffs.
“Hyatt. Dewey Hyatt,” he muttered, snapping the cuffs around his wrists.
Stern stared at him, his look assessing. “I think I need you to be secured a bit more than that.” From his pocket he pulled out yet another set of cuffs. “One to your wrist, the other around that bookshelf behind you.”
The snap of the cuff sounded final in a silence broken only by Harding’s agitated breathing. With Dewey secured, Stern relaxed enough to pour himself a drink. The glass in one hand, gun steady in the other, he approached Phoebe, his feet sinking silently into the expensive carpet. She needed a move, but her mind was blank, her gaze locked with he was the cobra and she was a snake charmer without an instrument.
He stopped and studied her, something sexual flickering very briefly in his dead eyes. Her skin crawled, but she had to consider it. She didn’t have a lot of options just now. Only she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
She gave Dewey a quick, apologetic look and got a thumbs up as an answer. Okay. She took a deep breath. She’d play this scene as herself, whoever that was.
Stern sat in the chair next to Phoebe’s and drank without taking his gaze off her. She didn’t look away, even though it was like a glimpse into hell.
“So, Nadine—or should I call you Phoebe?”
“I haven’t been Nadine for a long time.”
“Okay. Phoebe.” He drank again, a slight, very slight frown between his pale brows. “You intrigue me.”
This wasn’t good.
“You’re not going to obsess on me, too, are you? Doesn’t seem like your style.”
Stern smiled, one that was almost attractive. “No, it’s not my style.” The smile faded. “But you do present a—problem for me. Unlike these two, who tried to screw me over and failed…” He tossed back the last of his drink, then fixed her with a curious stare. “…you…didn’t. Farley gave you all the credit for his change of heart when I left him in my place at the warehouse.”
“Well, no need to get warm and fuzzy,” Phoebe muttered, answering Dewey’s incredulous look with a slight shrug. “I just didn’t want to see anyone tortured to death. It wasn’t personal.”
His smile flickered again in the empty expanse of his face. “That doesn’t change the fact that my only reason for killing you is what you know about me.” He studied her dispassionately. “You appear to have an agile and devious mind. I’ll be rebuilding my organization. I could use someone like you.”
It seemed to be her week for job offers. Talk about déjà vu.
“You’re only interested in my mind?”
His gaze traveled down her body, then back up to meet hers.
“Of course.”
“Well, as tempting as that is, I think I’ll pass.” Would he take no for an answer?
“Don’t worry. Unlike our friend here, I prefer my women cooperative.” He stood up. “Are you sure?” His gaze found hers, with regret and something else almost warming his eyes. They looked at her now, tempting her to give in to him. To survive.
Her body, her cowardly body, urged her to do it. It wasn’t love, but life, any life, was better than dead.
Only her brain knew it wasn’t true. She’d had “any” life. Lest she forget, she looked at that life, that past, sitting across the desk from her.
“I’m sure.”
“All right then.” He stood up. “That brings us to the question of RABBIT.” He looked at Dewey. “I’d like to believe you got it to work, but it’s a stretch.”
“I just saw it working, on that helmet thing. We can still do this, Stern,” Harding said. “We can have it all.”
“What did he see?”
Dewey looked at Phoebe. She said, “Tell him the truth.”
“VR smoke and mirrors. The chip is and always was crap.”
Harding slumped in his chair, the ugliness of his soul now visible on his face.
“That’s what I thought.” Stern’s gaze slid toward Phoebe again. “It’s a pity you didn’t limit your adventures in VR to video games for teens.” He frowned, his gaze moving from Phoebe to Harding to Dewey, then back to Phoebe. “Normally I’d go from left to right around the room, because I like to be orderly, but for you—” He gave Phoebe a slight smile, “I’ll kill Harding first.”
Harding gasped as the barrel of the gun swung his way.
“You wanted revenge,” Stern said to her.
“I wanted justice,” she said.
“There he is. Montgomery Justice.” In quick succession, he fired three times, the shots so close together they sounded like one. He looked at Phoebe.
Check and mate. Just like that, it was over. Harding was dead. This hadn’t been the plan, but the world was better for it. She could lay her burden down. Die in peace. It didn’t matter now, it was over.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” Stern sounded far away, at least a light year or two.
Only it did matter. She wanted to live, not die. She wanted to turn her devious brain to the problem of how to bridge the gap between a larcenous lady and a US Marshal.
Stern leaned over her, trapping her in the seat, not just with his body but with the menace he gave off like after-shave. He brought the gun up. “Last chance to change your mind, before it’s splattered all over this expensive chair.”
He might like her a little, but he liked killing more. She saw the anticipation in his eyes. Distantly, she knew Dewey was trying to break free of his bonds. For her, at this moment, there was only this man. This gun.
“I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you this whole scene was being beamed to the cops and they’re surrounding the place as we speak?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
His finger tightened on the trigger.
She jerked her hands, knocking the hand holding the gun up. Then she kicked him, low and hard. He doubled over, presenting his chin. She kicked that, and he staggered back, sprawling across the desk.
Too bad he’d managed to hang onto the gun. The barrel started to swing toward her as a stream of profanities poured from his mouth. The office doors burst open.
“Do not move!”
For the space of one heartbeat, Stern looked at Phoebe and she knew he was going to move. That he wanted to die. Why? Her mouth shaped the question, but it didn’t come out. Then it didn’t matter. He started to bring his gun around.
Their guns coughed at him. His body jerked one way, then the other, as bullets from both directions found him. He stopped, almost suspended in time, then fell back across the wide, dark desk.
He looked surprised. Blood trickled from his mouth onto the desk as he looked at her.
“I…have a…soul.” He tried to touch something only he could see, then his hand fell back to his side. Awareness faded from his eyes.
Men and woman in black swarmed into the room like flies. Bryn approached Dewey.
“Where’s your weapon?”
“What?”
She unlock
ed one set of cuffs, so he could lower his arms, but not the other set securing him. Smart lady. “Your gun. You had a gun.”
“Oh. That.” He looked around. “It’s there. On the floor by that plant.”
An agent closer to it picked it up and handed it to Bryn. She hefted it, examined it, then looked at Dewey. “A water gun? You took on these guys with a water gun?”
His grin came slow, a little ragged around the edges. “I’m not into violence. Besides, a gun can add a nickel or more to your time in stir.”
Tension rushed out of Phoebe, replaced by giggles bubbling up from inside. They were alive. It was over. Jake crouched in front of her, launching a different kind of tension.
“You took your sweet time getting here,” she said.
Jake’s chest heaved with the breath he was still trying to catch. They’d been at the warehouse when the call came. Bryn and Alice had been subduing Lily, a sight he wouldn’t soon forget, mostly because he’d never seen breasts that large. It had been an education to see the two women take down and cuff the wildly squirming, completely naked woman. The funny part, though large breasted, she was otherwise small and wiry. He could still hear the shock in Sebastian’s voice when the security monitors from TelTech suddenly overrode his game, could still hear his play-by-play of the action coming at him through his earpiece as they rushed across the city.
“Some things…” His breathing was starting to slow, but looking at her his heart sent his heart into overdrive. “…take a little longer than others. How did you manage to stay alive?” When he’d seen her shoes lying on that tray next to a row of scalpels…
“Magic.” She grinned. It was crooked and a bit puffy, but most definitely a grin.
TWENTY-ONE
“I don’t think Phagan’s Fibbie trusts us,” Phoebe said, holding an ice pack to her sore mouth. She had good reason for her belief. Before bustling off to manage the crime scene, Bryn had attached them to the van like a couple of lost dogs on a short leash. To add insult to injury, the handcuffs, which looked like some she’d seen in Harding’s creep show, were of the bondage variety with long thin chains between the steel bracelets. Bryn also didn’t appear to trust the hordes of armed police milling around. Or she was seriously over estimating Phoebe and Dewey. Phoebe rattled the chain looped through the door handle. “Does she think we’re a couple of Houdinis? I really don’t know what Phagan sees in her.”
The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy Page 58