Gabby thought for a moment. "I have an idea." He felt his way over to the wall.
Rebecca followed him.
"There's a door here. The guy who used to own these buildings wanted to be able to go back and forth easily, so he cut a passageway."
"Can you still get through?"
"I think it's just nailed."
"What about the door on the other side?"
"I don't know."
"If can get through, we'll hide out in the other building. The shooter will think we died in the fire. You got any tools?"
"A few." Gabby fumbled around in the darkness until he found his toolbox. He located the flashlight. It was small but the batteries were still good. He picked up the toolbox and carried it over to the door. "We've got two hammers and a big screwdriver."
"Great." Rebecca took the flashlight and shined it at the door. "Look at this. They didn't nail the side with the hinges. We'll pop the pins and pry it open."
Gabby held the flashlight while Rebecca removed the pins with the screwdriver and hammer. Then she drove the screwdriver in between the door and the frame and began to pry with it. Once it opened slightly, she jammed the claw of her hammer into the crack. "While I hold this, see if you can get the claw of the other hammer in here, so you can help me pry the door open."
Gabby put the end of the flashlight into his mouth. He picked up the other hammer and forced its claw into the narrow opening.
They worked their hammers from the top to the bottom of the door. One by one, the nails began to give way. Finally, they were able to swing the door to one side.
Gabby shined the light into what he expected to be a short hallway. Instead he saw a white wall. "What is that?"
"Foam insulation. They must have sprayed it into the gap between the doors to absorb the sound."
Gabby turned around and shined the light toward the stairwell. The smoke was flowing up the staircase into the room. "We've got to get out of here fast."
Rebecca swung her hammer into the foam, claw first. She yanked it backwards, ripping out a small chunk of the foam.
Gabby joined in. They chomped away at the foam like a couple of beavers.
By the time they hit the other door, they were soaking wet with sweat, and beginning to cough.
"How are going to get this door off? The hinges are on the other side."
Rebecca thought for a moment. "Do you have anything we can ram it with? Some heavy piece of equipment or furniture?"
"No, I don't have—wait. Yes, I do. Come with me."
Rebecca followed Gabby into his office. He opened his closet door.
"I bought this weight set a while back."
"Perfect."
They tore into the boxes, put the weights on the ends of the bar and locked them in place.
"That's 130 pounds," said Gabby.
"I hope it's enough."
They picked up the bar at the ends, and Rebecca led them through the work room, into the passageway between the doors. "Okay," she said. "We'll swing back on three and forward on four."
"Got it."
After three rams, the door had still not budged.
"It's not going to work," mumbled Gabby. He took the flashlight out of his mouth to cough. "Maybe we should take our chances on the roof."
"No. It has to work. We've got to hit it harder."
"I'll try." He put the flashlight back into his mouth.
"One, two three, four! Did you feel that, Gabby?"
"Yeah."
"One, two, three, four! Hell, yeah, Baby!"
"We're gonna make it." Gabby coughed hard, and the flashlight flew out of his mouth. He picked it up from the floor and shined it toward Rebecca. He could barely see her through the smoke, even though she was standing right in front of him.
"Hang in there. One more time."
They both knew this might be their last chance—before collapsing into a smoky grave. They slung the barbell with all their might. The door swung open a full foot. They lost control of the barbell and it fell to the floor.
Gabby took the flashlight out of his mouth. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Come on." She squeezed through the opening.
Gabby followed her. "We made it. I can't believe we did it."
Rebecca heard the sirens. "The fire trucks are here. If the shooter is still out there, he's watching for us on the roof. He has to know that if we don't come out soon, we're dead from the smoke. So, let's hurry downstairs and slip out to the alley."
Gabby shined the flashlight back toward his shop.
"I'm sorry, Gabby."
"I'm just glad I didn't let my insurance coverage lapse."
They watched the smoke billowing in through the partially opened door.
"Good thing this side is vacant," said Gabby.
She put her hand on Gabby's arm. "Why don't we go find another motel and crash for the night?"
"Why get a different one? We're still checked in."
"Did you use your real name? How did you pay?"
"I used my credit card. Oh."
"Yeah. We need to go find an ATM and get some cash. Then we can give a fake name at another motel. We don't want to make it too easy for somebody to find us."
"Right." Gabby shined the flashlight in front of them to locate the stairs, and they went down to the first floor.
They slipped out into the alley, got into Gabby's car, and drove away.
Rebecca took out her phone.
"Who are you calling at this hour?"
"Carly. I need to tell her Big Bill is dead."
"Can't it wait until morning?"
"She'd want to know now. She works until midnight. Never goes to sleep before two."
"Lousy schedule."
"She's not answering."
"Leave her a voice mail."
Rebecca thought for a moment. "No. This is not good. Something's wrong. I need to get over there."
CHAPTER 9 - Tuesday, 1:37 a.m.
Mandibul slipped into the lab. As nimble as a jaguar, the 6-foot-5 black man moved slowly along the wall toward Phillipa's office. His firearm was holstered. With hands the size of an NFL quarterback, he rarely needed a gun.
Her office was empty.
He spotted her, standing at a workbench—in a state of high vulnerability. His timing could not have been better. The steady hiss of her acetylene torch would mask any inadvertent scuff of his boots on the tile floor. He stayed low to avoid any reflection in her welding goggles.
Within a foot of her back, he stood upright. "Don't move."
Phillipa flinched.
"Kill the torch."
She turned it off and set it down on the workbench.
"Feel that?"
She gasped. "Yes." She took off her goggles.
"Hold still, or it might go off."
"Have you no control over your weapon?"
"Very little."
Phillipa spun around. "What the hell took you so long?"
He grabbed her up in his rock-hard arms and kissed her hard on the lips.
She pulled away. "How much time do you have?"
"Fifteen minutes."
"Let's make it count."
He scooped her up as though she were a feather pillow. Phillipa loved that. She was tall and fit, but at 175 lbs., very few men could make her feel weightless.
Mandibul carried her to her office and set her down on her feet.
She threw off her lab coat and began to unbutton his security guard shirt while he took off her blouse.
Phillipa looked up into his eyes. "You could get fired for this, you know."
"We won't get caught."
"I'm not talking about getting caught. I'm saying if you give a sub-par performance."
"You know better than that."
She grinned. "Yes, I do."
He stripped off her bra, poised to devour her breasts.
"Mandibul?"
He did not take his eyes off her chest. "Yes? What do you desire tonight? Your wish is my comman
d."
"Good. But first...I have a question for you."
He stood erect, and looked directly into her eyes.
"Have you ever...killed anyone? I know you were in the military, and—"
"—yeah, I've killed a few men."
"Was it hard?"
"You don't think about it. You're in survival mode."
"I see."
"The problem is...you think about it afterwards."
"Could you ever do it again?"
"I guess. If I had to. Why? You got somebody you want me to knock off?" He smiled.
She giggled. "Of course not. I'm being hypothetical, Silly."
"How about I hypothetically pull your panties off and throw you down on the couch?"
"Better yet, do it for real."
"Yes, Ma'am."
CHAPTER 10 - Tuesday, 1:40 a.m.
Gabby waited for the traffic light to turn green. "So, where are we going?"
"The Grande Pimpton Hotel," said Rebecca.
"I know where it is. But it's two o'clock in the morning. What is she—a night clerk?"
"No. She's a hooker."
"You're working for a hooker?"
"Yeah. But what I've been working on has nothing to do with her...job. It's about her daughter. Big Bill raped her."
"That bastard."
"He didn't force her. But legally, because she's underage, it's still rape."
"How do you know she did it willingly?"
"Well..."
"You watched, didn't you? You videoed the whole thing."
"I know—it's not pretty, but it's part of my job."
"What in the world would make a young girl want to have sex with that old fart?"
"To get a job at Café Nue."
"Of course. So she could be discovered by a Hollywood agent."
"Those young women will do anything to get a job there. I'd like to knock some sense into all of them."
"Maybe Carly isn't answering her phone because she's busy, if you know what I mean."
"Serving a customer?"
"Is that what she calls it?"
"Yeah. But no, it's not that. Not after midnight."
"Maybe she already went home and went to bed. Turned her phone off."
"She stays at the hotel for a while, to shower and recuperate."
Gabby shook his head in disgust.
"Then she goes home to her husband."
"Does he have any idea what she's doing?"
"Oh yeah, he knows. He doesn't seem to care as long as she brings home the bacon."
"Is he a drunk? Or a lazy bum?"
"Neither. He's weird. He works on cars all day long. It's all he cares about. And he's very good at it. Meticulous, but very slow. So he doesn't make much money."
**********
As they walked up to the hotel lobby, they saw their reflection in the glass doors. Their faces and clothing were smutty. Rebecca's half-curly hairdo was leaning to one side.
Gabby said, "We're a mess."
"We look like we just had sex in a dumpster."
Gabby grinned at her. "The sex part sounds good."
"Gabby." She pushed his shoulder and he lost his balance, and nearly fell down. "Oh. Sorry."
"Maybe we should have got a motel room and taken a shower first."
"But we don't have any other clothes. And I really need to do this right now. It won't take long."
When the young man at the counter saw them approaching, he began to rummage through the cabinets below. Probably looking for a can of Lysol, Rebecca thought. Or pepper spray.
"Could I please get an extra key for Room 412?"
Without saying a word, he went to the rack of key cards.
"I appreciate this," said Rebecca.
"No problem." He handed her the key card, being sure not to touch her sooty fingers.
Rebecca and Gabby walked to an elevator.
Gabby pushed the call button, and whispered, "I can't believe he gave you the key card without making you show I.D. Do you know him?"
"I've seen him before when I've come here to meet with Carly. But I doubt he recognized me looking like this. I don't know why he didn't ask to see my driver's license. I think he was afraid of us."
"You came up here this late?"
"No. We would meet before she started working. In fact, I was supposed to come by here tonight—to bring her a copy of the video. That was the errand I told you about on the phone."
"Oh, yeah."
The elevator doors opened and they walked in.
Rebecca pushed the fourth floor button. "The Grande Pimpton—what a name. This place is not so grand anymore."
"It gives me the creeps. It must be crawling with hookers and johns."
"And roaches." Rebecca stomped one with her foot.
The guts squished out and nearly hit one of Gabby's Italian dress shoes. He gasped and jumped back.
The elevator doors opened and Rebecca led the way to Room 412. She put her ear up to the door and listened. But she heard nothing, so she knocked.
After waiting a few more seconds, Rebecca slipped the key card into the slot. She eased down on the door lever and slowly opened the door.
The light from the hallway flooded the room, revealing a woman lying on the bed in a negligee, motionless. They went in, and Rebecca closed the door and flipped the light switch.
Carly Cinaway was flat on her back, both hands on her chest. Her eyes were wide open, filled with terror.
"Look at this thing," said Gabby, pointing to the odd-looking piggy bank on the nightstand.
"Don't touch it. It's got an alarm system." Rebecca reached into her pocket and took out a pair of latex gloves.
"You're kidding."
"What?" She pulled the gloves onto her hands.
"Where did you get those?"
"I had a box of them in my purse. In my line of work, you never know when you're going to need to touch things without leaving fingerprints." She felt Carly's neck, trying to locate a pulse.
"Anything?" said Gabby.
Rebecca frowned and shook her head.
"What do you think killed her? I don't see any blood."
Rebecca inspected the neck. "Doesn't appear she was strangled."
"Overdose?"
"Maybe. But I don't see any pill bottles." She checked each arm. "No needle marks."
"From the look on her face—"
"—I know. It's almost as if something scared her to death." She slid her hands under Carly's body and rolled her onto her side.
"What are you doing? You don't want to mess around with the crime scene."
"I just need to make sure—wonder what this is?"
"What?"
"Two little red spots on the sheet, where her head had been lying. She's bleeding."
Gabby walked over to take a closer look. "Awe, come on, Becca. That could have come from a pimple. It's nothing. Let's get out of here before we get caught."
"Let me take a closer look." She began to inspect the back of Carly's head, foraging through her hair. "I wish we had your flashlight."
"It's in the car. And don't ask. I won't go get it. We need to leave. Now."
Rebecca continued searching Carly's head. "I feel something right here."
Gabby reached into his pocket and took out his key ring. "Try this."
She looked up. Gabby had a tiny flashlight on his key ring.
"Thanks." Rebecca held her place on Carly's scalp with one hand while taking the key ring light with the other. She leaned in close and shined the light where her finger was. "Check this out."
Gabby stepped closer to take a look. "What is it?"
"Something punctured the skin in these two spots."
"A needle?"
"Not unless it was one hell of a big needle."
CHAPTER 11 - Tuesday, 1:50 a.m.
A beautiful young woman walked through Café Nue, and found Bobby Ballantini standing in the side archway that led to the restrooms. "Excuse me, Sir. I wonder if you
can help me."
He smiled. "I'll try my best."
"It's about my application for employment. I've been waiting forever to hear something."
"It can take a while. You'll have to meet with my boss: Mr. Ketrousie."
"Okay. Where can I find him?"
"No. You'll need an appointment, Honey. You can't do it tonight. We're about to close. Come back tomorrow afternoon. Around two."
She stepped in closer, placed her hand on his arm, and looked deeply into his eyes with every ounce of her considerable sex appeal. "Gee, I work afternoons and evenings, so you can imagine how hard it is," she pushed one of her thighs up against his, "for me to get here at that time. I was really hoping to talk to him tonight."
"Well...I guess we can give it a try. Come with me."
She followed him out of the dining room and down a hallway.
Bobby knocked on the door and stuck his head in. "Boss? I've got a young lady here who applied for a job a long time ago, and she's wondering if—"
"—tell her to come back tomorrow."
"Aw, come on, Boss."
Joey hesitated. "Let me see her."
Bobby pushed the door wide open.
Joey smiled at what he saw. "Come on in, Sweetie."
She walked in. Bobby closed the door and walked away.
"You're quite a babe."
"Thanks."
"What's your name?"
"Megan."
"Well, Megan, as you know, this is a topless establishment. So, I'll need to see your boobs to find out if you meet our qualifications."
She began to take off her blouse. "You know, I already did this for Big Bill."
"I understand. But things have changed around here. Now I make all the hiring decisions."
"Okay." She took off her blouse, and her bra.
"Nice, Baby." He walked around to the front of his desk. "What did you say your name was?"
"Megan."
He walked toward her, eyes widening, about to take a feel of her young, plump breasts.
"Megan Cinaway."
Joey stopped cold in his tracks. "Put your clothes back on." He turned around and walked back to his desk and sat down.
She knew her mother had threatened Big Bill with rape charges. Did Joey know about it? She would never forgive her mother if she had destroyed her chances for a job at Café Nue. "What's the matter? Are they not big enough? I could get a boob job."
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