The Burning Point

by Mary Jo Putney

The devastated west wing was another matter. Donovan was reminded of photos he'd seen of bomb damage in Beirut and Bosnia. Partially demolished walls, concrete crumbled like sand, and rubble everywhere. The nearer he came to the end of the building, the more charred and treacherous the structure became.

  Kate appeared with clipboard in hand and an interesting variety of soot smudges. Through the course of a long day, she'd been making notes and calculations as if this hellhole was a normal workplace. "Shall we compare notes?"

  "Yes, but not here." Together they moved back to the more solid part of the building. After fifteen minutes of intensive study and discussion, Donovan said, "I think this is about as good as it's going to get. I'm almost ready to sign off on the explosives plan. How about you?"

  Kate gnawed at her lip as she stared at her copy of the floor plan. "I want to take another look at the reinforcement on the eighth floor, but basically, I'm ready. I doubt we're going to get any better data than we have now."

  "You check the eighth while I finish going over the fifth." He looked outside at the plywood that had been nailed across the stain glass windows of the nearest structure. "Even if our calculations are a little off, I'm sure that we won't damage the church, which is the biggest concern. Nothing else is close enough to the west end to be endangered."

  Kate checked her watch. "I heard Luther telling you that the loading is just about done in the undamaged part of the building. How long will it take to load this end?"

  "Maybe six hours, mostly because we have to be careful moving through here. Then we can blow this beast into gravel, and good riddance."

  "Emergencies can be kind of fun," she said.

  "To a point, but don't spend too much time on the eighth floor or I'll send out a search party." Building Four was as hazardous as any earthquake damaged structure; he'd ordered people to work in pairs when possible.

  "This will only take a few minutes." She turned and picked her way through what had once been a living room. Now, cold winds were blew grimy plaster dust through what had once been someone's home.

  His own clipboard in hand, Donovan worked his way cautiously westward. Jagged spikes of rusty rebar protruded from scorched columns like shattered bones. Not much dynamite would be needed to bring them down. Hell, a good kick might be enough. The trick was to cut the steel reinforcing bars in a controlled way that would work as part of the overall shoot.

  But he felt good about the plan they'd worked out. Jim Frazer, PDI's chief engineer, had already given his approval, subject to Kate and Donovan's final tuning.

  He stepped around a pile of broken plasterboard, grimly noting old bullet holes. In its latter years, this had not been a happy place. A mistake not to watch his footing, though. The flooring sagged under his weight, and he almost fell.

  Swearing, he caught his balance and retreated a few steps. The concrete floors were reinforced by a horizontal grid of rebar, but the gas blast and fire had caused massive damage. Slabs of ceiling concrete had fallen to the floor, and the steel had actually melted in some places.

  He saw a flash of movement ahead. There shouldn't be anyone in this area, so he cautiously circled a sagging wall, stopping in surprise when he saw a familiar figure by one of the columns. "Nick? What the hell are you doing here?"

  Nick Corsi spun around, a short crowbar in one hand. "Just...just checking things out." He kept his body between Donovan and the column.

  It wasn't enough to block the view of what he'd been doing. Donovan said incredulously, "Are you putting plastic explosive in there? That's all wrong."

  "Shit!" Nick snarled. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this." Dropping the crowbar, he reached inside his down vest to pull out a dark object that resembled a television remote. "Your timing is rotten, Donovan." He rammed the object into Donovan's solar plexus, and the world went away.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Dazed, Donovan found himself lying on his back on a rough surface. Where was he? And what the hell had happened?

  Cracked concrete above, the smells of demolition: a job site. Glad to have figured that out, he tried to focus on the figure looming above him. Nick Corsi, leaning down, arm extended.

  Instinctively Donovan tried to evade the other man, but his muscles wouldn't respond. Christ, had he been paralyzed in an accident?

  "If a second did that, five seconds should put you down long enough for me to finish the job." Nick pressed a dark object below Donovan's ribcage.

  Donovan felt a wave of shock so intense that he had no name for it. Time and place and reason vanished, and he spun helplessly into hell's own limbo.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Kate returned whistling from her brief expedition. The visit to the eighth floor had confirmed her original conclusions. If Donovan was ready to sign off, they were in business.

  This building would be no loss, either. Kate had regretted the grand old Hotel St. Cyr, but Concord Place had outlived its time. Particularly when she was alone, she felt traces of the lives lived within these battered walls. There had been happiness and laughter and warm family love, but there had also been anger and despair. Time to blow it all to kingdom come, and build a healthy new community.

  There was so much construction noise in the building that she didn't bother to yell for Donovan, just headed down a dilapidated hall toward where she'd seen him last. Seeing her cousin picking his way through the rubble, she called, "Hi, Nick. Looking for Donovan? So am I."

  "I should have known you'd be along soon." Nick beckoned her. "Donovan's back this way." He led her into an open area strewn with rubble that lay beyond the corridor.

  Before Kate could figure out her cousin's odd behavior, she saw Donovan lying on his side by one of the fissured columns, his body curled limply and his hard hat several feet away. "My God, Nick, what happened? Have you radioed for help?"

  She dropped to her knees beside him. No fallen concrete, no blood or bruises, yet he seemed unconscious. Surely not a heart attack, not at his age! Half suffocated with fear, she checked his throat for a pulse. To her relief, at her touch his lids flickered open to reveal dazed eyes.

  Since Nick apparently hadn't called for help, she unhooked her walkie-talkie from her belt. "Patrick, what happened?"

  Her voice seemed to focus his attention. "Kate, look out," he whispered. "N...Nick..."

  She whipped up her head to see that Nick was coming at her. "Your turn, Katie," he said with regret.

  Donovan gasped, "Go!"

  She scrambled up, but by the time she was on her feet, Nick had wrenched the radio from her grasp and was shoving a small black instrument toward her abdomen.

  Donovan flailed out and caught Nick's ankle. "R...run, Kate!"

  Cursing, Nick yanked free of Donovan's grip easily, but the brief interruption gave Kate time to put a dozen feet between herself and her cousin. "Nick, what the hell are you doing?"

  "Correcting Sam's will. Your ex is recovering surprisingly fast. Must be his protective instincts. This should slow him down again." He jammed the device into Donovan's belly, holding it there for a dozen heart beats. Donovan made a ghastly sound and went completely limp again.

  Nick straightened, expression grim. "Don't bother trying to run, cousin. This is one game of hide and seek you're not going to win."

  He tossed her radio aside. "A pity you and Donovan wandered in before I could finish loading that column, but the fault is really Sam's. He shouldn't have left PDI to someone who wasn't family. Christ, Donovan hadn't even been his son-in-law for ten years!"

  Kate backed away, horrorstruck. Dear God, it was Nick who had been harassing PDI! He had the skills and the opportunities to create trouble, and if she understood him correctly, he also felt he had a motive. Why hadn't she suspected him earlier?

  Because it was hard--almost impossible--to believe that someone she'd known her whole life could be so wicked. "Did you cause the blast that killed Sam?"

  Nick shrugged. "He was going to be dead in a couple of months anyhow. I figured I was doi
ng him a favor by taking him out before it got really painful."

  Any faint hope that this was some weird misunderstanding died with his admission. "You bastard! You stole those months from my mother and everyone else who loved my father."

  "It wouldn't have happened if Sam had done the right thing in the first place. Personally, I think the cancer had affected his brain. I was really hurt when Angie told me about the will. I couldn't believe Sam would pass over his own nephew to leave PDI to your stupid Irish ex-husband. Hell, I could have understood if he'd left it to you or even your faggot brother, but Donovan? That was a damned insult." He moved another step closer.

  Angie? That's right, Nick's wife worked for Charles Hamilton's firm. In fact, that was where Nick had met her. She must monitor files relating to her husband's family and the business. She'd probably seen Sam come in, and checked Charles's notes later to learn why. Nick had obviously taken the news of the new will very, very badly.

  "Convenient for you to have a spy in Charles's office." Her cousin was between her and the undamaged part of the building, herding her into more hazardous territory.

  "Angie is a nice old-fashioned girl who always does exactly what I tell her. She hasn't talked back or disobeyed since the second year of our marriage."

  Bastard. "I'm family, too, Nick. Our fathers were brothers. We carry the same name. Does family kill family?"

  "Don't blame me," he said with an ugly twist of his lips. "You should have stayed in California. But no, you had to work at PDI. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be here today. I just wanted to bring this end of the building down messily so the church got damaged, and PDI's reputation along with it. Not my fault that you and Donovan blundered in so I have to get rid of you both."

  He took another step forward. Kate retreated the same distance, the flooring creaking ominously beneath her. "What are you going to do--push us over the edge?"

  "Has to look like an accident," Nick said. "That's why I brought the stun gun. When the explosives go off, you and Donovan will be caught in the blast. I suppose an autopsy might show you've been stunned, but who's going to look that closely at a couple of corpses who've been flattened like road kill?"

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "With two more fatalities, the firm will either close or be sold to Marchetti Demolition. If Marchetti gets it, he'll probably hire me to run to run it. If it closes--well, PDI won't be competing with my company any more. Either way, I win. It would have been so much easier if Sam had just left the company to me in the first place."

  His selfish rationalizations revolted Kate, but there was no time to waste in hating him. No use yelling--there was too much demolition noise. Her radio was out of reach, and Donovan was down for the count. She was on her own.

  Luckily, Nick had to be within touching distance to use the stun gun. He was also complacent, sure he could take her whenever he wanted. If she could find some kind of weapon, she'd have a chance.

  A sizable length of broken rebar caught her eye. Lying about fifteen feet to her left, it would make a formidable weapon, and could be wielded from a distance beyond Nick's reach. She began inching to her left. Nick mirrored her movements in a weird dance where he drew ever closer.

  Stalling for time, she said, "Have you had anything to do with the accidents that have been happening on so many PDI projects lately?"

  "You're smart, Kate. Yeah, I've been behind most of 'em. Since I did the account work, I knew all of PDI's upcoming projects. I also know demolition people all over the country. It wasn't hard to find guys who didn't mind picking up a few extra bucks in return for playing pranks. Set a little fire, make a mistake or two in ordering or delivering explosives, or when operating equipment--no problem. I turned the gas on here myself. Dead easy."

  "So you have a talent for low-grade industrial espionage," she said with disgust. "You're a good snake oil salesman, too, but that doesn't mean you have the technical skills to run PDI. You were always a talker, not a doer. You'd probably bankrupt the firm in a couple of years."

  His face reddened. "And you were always a smart-mouthed little princess! Daddy's dear little girl, who could do no wrong."

  Donovan's shaky voice said, "You're a slob technically, Nick. That's the real reason why Sam didn't leave you the firm."

  Nick swung around, enraged. "You're the one who wasn't carrying your weight! Anyone can drill holes, but it takes talent to find and keep clients. I was the one who was indispensable, not you. But after I left, you poisoned Sam's mind against me, so that he refused when I asked to come back. You brought this on yourself!"

  "Bullshit." Donovan rolled onto his side, his whole frame shaking with the effort. "You say that Sam didn't honor family, but he did. If you weren't his nephew, you'd have been out on your ass."

  Kate had been taking advantage of Donovan's diversionary tactics to edge toward the rebar. As Nick furiously kicked Donovan in the ribs, she leaped for the length of steel and grabbed it in both hands.

  Three racing strides and she was close enough to strike her cousin. Using all her strength, she swung for the back of his neck, hoping she'd break it.

  Hearing the whistle of steel slicing through the air, he turned in time to throw up one arm and block the worst impact. He staggered backward, then caught his balance and lunged toward her, the stun gun crackling with blue-white fire.

  Oh, God, he was aiming for the rebar. Fearing that steel would conduct electricity dangerously well, she threw the heavy bar at him, then grabbed a piece of broken concrete and hurled it at her cousin's face. The rebar caught him at waist level, ironically bending him over so that the flying concrete missed.

  Undamaged, he straightened. "Forget it, daddy's little princess. You never beat me in a fight in your life."

  She bolted, moving parallel to the damaged west front. He raced after her. She scooped up a handful of grit and gravel and threw it behind her. Some struck Nick's face. "Christ, you little...!"

  It gave her the seconds she needed to get past him. Pivoting sharply, she raced toward the undamaged section of the building. With any kind of lead, she could outrun him, and just a floor below, there was help...

  "Come back here, Kate!" Nick bellowed. "If you don't, I swear Donovan will be dead before you reach the next floor."

  She stopped in her tracks. Then, heart pounding with terror, she turned to face her father's murderer.

  Chapter 40

  Nick grabbed a crowbar from the floor and positioned himself above Donovan. "A couple of blows with this should crush his skull nicely. Though jabbing him through an eye socket might be more efficient. Kind of like killing a frog in biology. I remember you were too much of a sissy for that. Had to get your nerdy friend Rachel to do it for you. Shall I show you how it's done right now?"

  His threat filled her with icy rage. She must think, think, or she and Donovan were both dead. "If you're going to murder us both anyhow, there's no percentage in me sticking around. It will just get me killed without helping Donovan."

  He frowned. "You're right. It would have worked if I could take you both out with no one the wiser, but I blew it. Not much point in offing him, then getting arrested for murder. Besides, it's not as if I really want to kill someone else. Time to negotiate. How about I give you Donovan's life in return for silence? Promise that neither of you will squeal on me, and you can both walk away. We'll all pretend this never happened."

  Did he think she was stupid enough to believe he'd let them go? Apparently. But as long as he was holding a crowbar to Donovan's head, he was in control. "All I have to do is keep quiet?"

  "That's it. After all, Katie, I haven't done any real damage. Donovan will be as good as new in a few minutes, and Sam was going to die anyhow."

  "That's true." Wanting to make this convincing, she frowned at Donovan and put a note of doubt in her voice. "I think I can persuade him to agree."

  "Don't worry," Nick said confidently. "I've seen how he looks at you. You've got Donovan's balls in your pocket. He'll do
any damn thing you want. So let's call it a wash, and get on with our lives. I wanted PDI, but I've missed my chance. My company is doing fine. I'll get my revenge by beating your brains out in the marketplace."

  She looked into his dark eyes,and saw a stone killer. If she came within reach, he'd stun her, then set off a blast that would kill her and Donovan. He must think she was an idiot. Of course, she was only a woman, and he'd never taken women seriously.

  Take advantage of that. "OK, Nick, you've got a deal."

  "Let's shake on it."

  She moved forward slowly. She had to stay out of reach of the stun gun, keep him from hurting Donovan, and summon help. Her gaze flicked about the rubble-strewn site, looking for anything that might help her.

  In a flash of lethal clarity, a plan formed. Her walkie-talkie lay about six feet from Nick. Five seconds with that, and every man in the building would come on the double.

  As soon as she picked it up, Nick would come after her instead of threatening Donovan. She wouldn't have much chance if he were armed with a real gun or a knife, but the stun gun was designed for defense, not offense. She was willing to bet she could hold him off long enough. She was betting--and her stake was two lives.

  She took the last few steps, forcing herself not to look at the radio. "You promise to leave me and Donovan and PDI alone in the future?"

  "You got my word on it. I'll admit maybe I went too far, but Sam really hurt my feelings." He scowled at Donovan. "Keep this jerk away from me. He gets on my nerves."

  His brief shift in attention was the best chance she'd get. She dived for the radio, hitting the transmit key even as she raised it to her mouth.

  Before she could speak, Nick swung around with snake-like swiftness and knocked the radio from her hand with his crowbar. "You treacherous little bitch!"

  Face contorted, he raised the stun gun. She spun away, but the contacts of the weapon caught her elbow in a glancing blow. A dazzling blue-white arc crackled wickedly and stinging needles blitzed from the point of contact.

  Left arm half-numb and half-tingling, she grabbed a chunk of concrete in her right hand. "Not so easy to use that nasty little toy if the person knows it's coming, is it?" she snarled. "The only way you could take Donovan was by surprise. He's ten times the man you are! That's why Sam wanted him to have the company."