Poison Flower

by Thomas Perry

  Jane opened the glove compartment. She found the plastic pack of razor blades she had used to scrape off the dealer's stickers on the windows. The blades were the old-fashioned kind with one sharp edge and one thick and blunt, used mostly for linoleum cutters and paint scrapers. From the drugstore bag on the floor she picked up the roll of adhesive tape she had used whenever she changed the bandage on her thigh. She took off her shoes and socks, taped one razor blade to the top of each foot, and replaced the socks and shoes.

  The house was about a quarter mile back up the road, so she began to walk. The right leg was still weak, but the pain had subsided over the past few days. She kept to the shoulder of the road, but when a car came along she diverted her path into the orchards and bushes where the headlights would miss her and she wouldn't be seen in the dark. She walked back to the mailbox, but she went more slowly up the outside of the driveway, where the view was complicated by trees, then slipped across to the side of the house.

  It was a single-story house with a high, pitched roof and narrow clapboards painted the dried-blood color of a barn. She looked in the first window and saw the dining room. There had been an attempt to furnish the neat little house with authentic early-nineteenth-century furniture. The dining table and chairs were bird's-eye maple, and in the part of the living room she could see were a couple of red cherrywood tables and short cabinets. There were built-in bookcases along the far wall.

  For all the lights, Jane could hear no sounds inside, and saw no people. Before she went to the front door and knocked, she wanted to reassure herself that Sarah Shelby was here, and alone.

  Jane walked farther between the driveway and the side of the house, and around to the kitchen window in the back. She had to go up the first step of the back porch to see in the window. There was a counter, and in the sink she could see pots and pans that Sarah must have used to prepare her dinner. She pulled herself up a little farther and peered in at the kitchen table. There were four dirty plates, four glasses, and four sets of silverware. Everything was pushed aside or piled, as though dinner was over and four people had eaten. It was too many. Who could Sarah Shelby know in Ithaca, New York.

  Jane walked to the garage and looked in the side window. There were two cars inside. One would be Sarah Shelby's. Jane had an awful suspicion about whom the other might belong to. She tried to assure herself that if someone were trying to ambush Shelby when he came to meet his sister, he wouldn't leave his car in the garage. But she couldn't prove that to herself.

  Jane moved to the front of the house and crouched among the shrubs. She was careful not to touch the clapboards and not to make a sound that could be heard inside. Slowly, carefully, she raised her eye to the corner of the front window.

  Sarah came through the living room, but right behind her was Maloney, the man who had shot Jane in Los Angeles. Sarah was carrying some beer bottles that someone had left in the living room, and Maloney was carrying something, too. As Sarah went through the dining room into the kitchen, Jane could see she was hobbling, as though her ankles were tied with a short rope to keep her from running.

  Jane moved with her along the outside of the house, then saw her in the kitchen starting to wash the dishes in the sink. Then Jane saw Maloney step in. This time Jane could see that what he was carrying was a short-barreled pump shotgun. The sight of it made Jane sick. She knew what he would do with it if he met resistance. If Sarah tried to run, or if someone tried to drag her away, Maloney could hardly miss. There wouldn't be much chance of her surviving.

  Jane couldn't see a simple way to get Sarah out of the house without getting her killed. If Jane got the right angle, she could probably shoot Maloney in the head and kill him before he killed Sarah. But then Sarah would still be in the kitchen when Gorman and Wylie raced in, guns drawn.

  Jane walked carefully along the side of the house, moving from window to window to determine exactly where Gorman and Wylie were. She had to make whatever move she was going to make before Sarah finished with the chores. When she was done, they would almost certainly make her more difficult to rescue-maybe with the shotgun and maybe by tying or chaining her to something immovable, with someone close enough to kill her.

  At least they didn't seem to have harmed her yet. She looked all right. Jane thought carefully as she searched for Wylie and Gorman. If she could find them in one place close together, she might be able to take them both out. She could fire without warning, take the first one through the head, and then immediately fire several rounds at the other, who would be a moving target by then. If she got the second one, she could move around the corner of the house to the kitchen window, and maybe shoot Maloney from behind as he stepped to the other room to see what had happened. Sarah had seemed smart when she had visited Jane. She could only hope that Sarah was also alert enough to know that when shooting started she should duck and run from a man with a shotgun. But Jane knew it was a terrible plan. It depended on so many unlikely breaks. She craned her neck to see if anyone was in the living room to her left.

  "Hold it." The voice was Wylie's terrible Texas drawl.

  Jane turned her head slowly in the direction of the voice. She could see him at the corner of the house to her left. Only his right arm and gun hand and his right eye were visible. Jane was standing in front of a lighted window, her body not even turned far enough toward Wylie to see him clearly, let alone take her gun out of her pocket, aim, and fire at him. Her right leg was still weak from the wound in her thigh, and she couldn't hope to run fast enough to avoid getting shot.

  Jane threw her body backward between the bushes, rolled and pushed her gun into the center of a thick, dense yew bush, then kept crawling back away from the house and the light.

  Wylie fired once and hit a tree, exploding particles of bark above her. Then he fired low and to the side, missing her again and spattering dirt in the air. "Last chance. You've got no place to go."

  Jane's heart beat harder with anticipation. That was exactly the impression she wanted him to have-that she was unarmed and helpless. She stood and raised both hands in the air.

  "That's right," Wylie said. "Much better." In the corner of her eye she saw him come slowly around the house. His gun was still aimed at her, but his body was fully visible now. "Let's walk slowly to the front door."

  Jane took two steps forward, and that brought her up to the low yew bush where she had hidden her gun. In a moment she would drop to her left knee, snatch her gun from the bush, turn, and fire. One more step.

  "Not that way." It was a second voice, coming from the opposite direction. It was Maloney. "Over this way toward the light."

  They had her in a cross fire. Maloney was aiming his gun at her with both hands, and he had a perfect view of her back, with nothing to shield her. Jane's heart dropped to her stomach. She had told herself she would never let herself be taken alive by these men again. The reason she had taken such a foolish risk was that she didn't want Sarah to be in their hands as she had been. Now they had not only Sarah, but her. She should have shot Gorman through the window as soon as she'd seen him, and taken her chances with the others. If she picked up the gun now, they would kill her in a second.

  "Come on. What's it going to be"

  Jane stepped past the yew bush toward the light, her hands in the air. She had just thrown her life away, and probably Sarah's, too.

  The front door opened before she reached it, and Maloney came up behind her and put his hand in the center of her spine. He pushed her in. Jane saw Sarah across the room, standing with her back to the wall with Gorman, who held the shotgun on her.

  Jane stared straight ahead so she could hold all three men in her peripheral vision and detect any sudden movement. She would get another chance, she told herself. She only had to be ready to take it. And her gun was still a secret. It was in the yew tree with its safety off and a round in the chamber so all she had to do was grasp it and pull the trigger.

  The next few minutes were unbearable. It was worse because t
his time she knew all of it before it happened. Wylie and Maloney searched her together, roughly and with no restraint. Jane made sure to seem as weak and injured as possible, to be barely able to stand. When she thought it was over, Wyle knelt and lifted her pants legs to be sure she didn't have a boot knife. He ran a finger around the inner elastic of her socks to be sure there was nothing else, then stood. She knew that as soon as they had reassured themselves that she had no weapons, they would begin with, "Where's Shelby" They would go on from where they had left off in Los Angeles. She knew every painful sensation that was coming, every stifled wave of fear.

  "Where is Shelby right now" Wylie asked. "I'm sure Sarah would like to hear about her brother."

  "I don't know," Jane said. "I was supposed to meet him in Salt Lake City. Because of you, I got there late and he had already left. I thought this would be the first place he'd come." She braced for a punch.

  Wylie grasped her shoulders so hard she winced from the pain, and looked into her eyes as though he were searching for the truth. Then, surprisingly, he shrugged and pushed her. She fell, as though she could barely stand.

  "What" Jane said.

  "You're probably right. He seems to be the sort of guy who will travel across the country and end up here at some point. I'm not surprised that you're faster at it than he is. He's not a pro like you."

  While Maloney watched her, Wylie stepped into the kitchen and returned with a length of rope and a roll of duct tape. He tied her wrists in front of her with rope, then wrapped duct tape around the wrists and covered the knot so she couldn't untie it or slip out of it. Then he knelt and took a second length of rope and tied it around her ankles, so she could take a stride of only about a foot.

  He stood and looked at her. "That ought to do it. With that bullet hole in you, I guess you won't get in too much trouble."

  Jane gave him a frightened, defeated look, but she was elated. He had missed the two razor blades taped to her feet under her socks.

  Wylie said, "You're wondering why I'm not worried about Shelby anymore."

  She looked as though her immediate predicament left little room for caring. "A little."

  He put his face close to hers. "Because he's practically dead already. The cops will get him in the next few days, probably, and if they don't, we know he'll turn up here eventually. You're the one we're thinking about. Now that we've caught you, we'll be able to take the next few years off." He turned. "Hey, Gorman. You're the best kiss-ass we have. Give our esteemed employer a call and tell him what we've got."

  Gorman pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and walked out of the room through the short hallway into the kitchen. His voice could be heard muttering and mumbling through a conversation that took place mostly on the other end.

  Wylie said, "This is going to be about you."

  "What about me"

  "It's the auction I was trying to get arranged when we were in Los Angeles. As soon as he gets the bidders here, we'll go ahead with it. Since you showed up, Jim Shelby is a minor worry for him."

  "I thought you said you weren't interested in Shelby anymore, and you'd let the cops arrest him. Why is he a worry at all You could let Sarah go, and forget trying to trap Shelby. He can't harm you."

  "We can't just drop it, because that's the way our employer is. It's what made him rich. He doesn't leave things to chance; he makes sure."

  "Why Shelby"

  Wylie moved close to her ear and said quietly, "Because our boss is the one who killed Shelby's wife."

  Jane heard Sarah Shelby's indrawn breath. She must have heard what he'd said, even though it was close to a whisper. Jane kept her face expressionless. "What for"

  Wylie shrugged. "Beats me. He wanted her for a while, and then I guess he didn't." He smiled. "That's just an observation. He doesn't talk about his love life to me."

  Gorman came back into the living room, putting his phone back in his pocket, and Wylie stepped away from Jane.

  "What did he say" asked Wylie.

  "He's happy. I think he's going to have a party or something. He kept saying we'd get part of the take."

  Wylie took Jane into the bathroom. "Stay in here for a few minutes. Don't try anything, and don't come out until I let you out." Jane stood in the bathroom, her ear to the door.

  "How much" It was Wylie's voice.

  "He didn't say anything you can get a grip on. He said half, then he said, `You'll get a slice,' and then it didn't sound like enough, so he said, `a big slice for the three of you.'"

  "Shit. Sounds like ten percent," said Maloney.

  "Sounds like ten each," Wylie said. "If we got a million for her, we'd keep a hundred grand each. That's not bad."

  Jane considered trying to say something that would undermine their confidence, but she sensed she would only make them angry. She wanted them to see her as weaker and more debilitated than she was. The best she could hope was that their greed and their distrust of the boss would offer some opportunity later.

  Maloney said, "When's this auction going to be"

  "Tomorrow night," Gorman said. "He doesn't want her on our hands for too long."

  Wylie said, "I'm pretty sure we can handle that."

  "If you disagree, call him. He's not afraid we can't hold on to her. He's afraid if the word gets out, people big enough to kill us might take her for their own auction. If she's been at this for long enough, she could have pissed off just about anybody."

  Wylie paused for a moment. "All right. There's not much point in arguing with him."

  Jane was beginning to feel more anxious. If the auction was going to happen tomorrow night, there was very little time. She had to find an opening and get herself and Sarah out of this house.

  Then Wylie said, "I want to keep the women separate. Let's keep this one in the living room. I'll go tie Sarah in the bedroom where she's been sleeping. Whoever's awake on the next shift can come and check on her every hour or so. I don't want anybody messing with her, though."

  Gorman chuckled.

  "I'm not kidding," Wylie said. "We've got people coming tomorrow, and then we've got to ask her some questions. One thing at a time."

  "I agree," said Maloney. "What we ought to be thinking about is if somebody shows up early to take the other one away from us."

  A few minutes later, Wylie opened the bathroom door and let her out. Jane was never alone. There was always someone sitting within a few feet of her, and she was always secured to an immovable object. Now and then, when one of the men had to use the bathroom, they would untie her wrists and let her go afterward. She would get there in an exaggerated limp, as though her leg were useless. On the first trip, she got the razor blade out of her right sock and retaped it to her back just below the belt, but she didn't try to escape. There was always a rope tied around her neck and draped out the door, so she couldn't get out a window. When she came out, they would tie her wrists to the free beam above the living room.

  Hours passed, the sky brightened, and then it was too late to think of slipping away into darkness. Jane was tired, but the men all seemed to be fresh and alert. She knew the impression had to be an illusion, but it made her more wary. The men would not free Jane's hands even for a few minutes to help Sarah, who had to do all of the cooking and serving and cleaning alone. There was no chance to speak with her. As the day went on, the three men became more tense and nervous. They were always up, standing by a window to look out, checking their guns, or going out to the road to watch for suspicious cars.

  And then, slowly, the sun went down again. Jane had remained quiet and watchful all day, and never had a chance to make an escape attempt. Then, at just after nine in the evening, Wylie's cell phone rang. He spoke a few sentences in a low voice, his face turned away from her. But finally he said, "I'll see you in a few minutes." He pressed the disconnect button and called out, "The first one's here. Get ready, everybody."

  Gorman sat Sarah on a kitchen chair in the living room and untied her wrists so she cou
ld serve drinks if they were needed. Her ankles were still tied about a foot apart so she couldn't run. Maloney and Wylie moved furniture so all the seats faced the front of the living room.

  Gorman took the shotgun and went out the back door of the house. Jane knew he would take up a position among the trees outside so he could guard against someone taking Jane by force. After a short time, Wylie's telephone buzzed again, and he had the same kind of conversation. "Come ahead. We'll be ready to start within a half hour." Several more times in the next few minutes, he received calls. Each time, Jane felt her chances to escape fading.

  There was a knock at the front door and Maloney went to answer it while Wylie pulled Jane out of the living room into Sarah's room. He sat on the bed and let her sit, too.

  "Why are we in here"

  "A little suspense might jack up the price. You need to make an entrance."

  They sat in silence and listened to the sounds of men arriving, coming into the living room, and being seated by Maloney. Jane thought she heard him say "Welcome" about eight or nine times. A few minutes passed, and then Gorman appeared at the bedroom door. "They're all inside, all gathered in the living room. It doesn't look like anybody's prepared any tricks ahead of time."

  "Good," said Wylie. "Go back and keep an eye on them, and we'll be there in a minute." He sat on the bed beside Jane, studying the floor in silence. She assumed that he was trying to think of a safe way to divert some of the money from the auction. Finally he stood. "Let's go."

  He clutched Jane's arm and pulled her roughly up the hall into the living room. She limped as though her right leg were paralyzed and as if she were in terrible pain. While they had been out of the living room someone had brought a low, thick-legged round coffee table that was about a foot and a half high and set it under the free ceiling beam. Wylie saw it and said, "Up there." He could see she could never do that with her ankles tied, so he took the rope off her ankles and half-lifted her onto the table, but her hands were tied behind her. She stood there, looking ahead at the far wall. There was a loud wave of murmuring and whispering. She looked down, first at Wylie's sardonic smirk, and then let her eyes rise a bit to survey the audience.