FIFTY
SOMETHING WOKE ME. I opened my eyes.
"I've been waiting, but can wait no longer."
It was Jack McSweeney. He was holding a butcher knife.
"It's full daylight now. I admit, lass, you looked so fine lying there I was tempted to take my pleasure wi' you. But there's other business more important."
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on the plane to Scotland," I said stupidly.
"An' did you think all was finished wi' me? No. I have scores to settle. And above all I must have those Burns relics."
"What?"
"An' you're goin' to help me get them." He leaned closer. His eyes glistened, and he looked haggard. He hadn't shaved, and he wore the same bloody clothes from yesterday. For that matter, I was wearing what I had worn yesterday, too. Suddenly all of yesterday's bruises were screaming at me. I felt like a pinned-down butterfly. I tried to twist away and get up, but he jammed the chef's knife to my throat.
"Stay still. Don't move. I'm a bit unsteady with this arm, as you can well imagine."
I froze.
"What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm goin' to let you up, lass, but slowly. Come out this side. I don't want to use this knife unless I have to."
I lurched and rolled to the opposite side of the bed. I was on my feet in an instant. We were at a stand-off-facing each other across the expanse of the bed.
Jack McSweeney let out a yell and leaped across the bed in one jump, like Liam Neeson in that Rob Roy movie. I had underestimated him. I had nowhere to go except a corner. I dodged and pivoted to get leverage to toss him over my hip, an Aikido move I'd learned from Sensei. But Cavalier, in his idea of a rescue attempt, ran between my legs, and I lost my balance. Sensei's classes never included wayward cats or narrow aisles between beds and walls.
Jack McSweeney kicked Cavvy and slashed at me.
I screamed. Cavvy squealed and retreated out of the room.
McSweeney grabbed my arm, held it behind my back, and put the knife to my throat. I could feel the sharp sting as it broke the skin. He shifted his weight so I had no chance to throw him. Now I was in real trouble.
"Leave my cat alone, dammit. How'd you get in here anyway?"
"Never mind aboot that now. I want those Burns things. I've got to sell 'em."
"You can't get away with this. George will stop any sale you try to make."
"I've no need to use the open market. I've got a buyer who'll pay a king's ransom. T'will set me up again. Otherwise my life's in a ruin. Now where are my objects?"
"I don't know."
"Has Murray got them? Has he giv'n them to your Auntie?" With each question he sliced a little deeper into my neck.
I yelled as warm blood streamed down my back.
I began to feel faint from the pain and yesterday's exertions. I found myself being dragged toward the kitchen.
"You're not gonna pass out. I dinna cut that deep" He pushed me down the corridor to my kitchen where he grabbed a dish towel hanging near the sink. He wet it and slapped me across the face with it. I grabbed the towel and held it to my slashed neck.
Clearly he knew the route to my kitchen-he must have taken in the lay of the land before he woke me. What kind of a watch-cat was Cavvy, anyway? Then I saw the empty space in my block of Henkel's knives. I briefly wondered what the statistics were of being stabbed by your own knife.
The towel stopped the bleeding, but my neck was painful and throbbing. I broke into a sweat, but determined I wasn't going to give this bastard anything. He forced me back into the living room where my coat lay on the sofa and told me to get dressed.
Cavvy, still under an adjacent chair, peeked out at the scene.
I wrapped my scarf around my neck, over the wet kitchen towel.
"We'll go see your Auntie. She won't want to see you hurt. Mind, I'll keep you as hostage till I get what's mine."
"I'm feeling weak," I told him, which I really was, but I was also trying to buy time.
"Get into your coat and take a few deep breaths. 'Tis not my intent to kill you unless I have to."
Somehow I didn't believe him. I figured he was going to kill me anyway. I remembered his threats of yesterday. Why involve Auntie?
I struggled into my coat and automatically picked up my purse. Too late, I remembered that the Burns artifacts were in it.
"You must know I'm desperate. Now let's be off. I know the way. I've been there afore."
I knew I couldn't let him get to Auntie. The Dragon marched to her own drummer and McSweeney would kill her for sure. She didn't even know he'd stolen the Burns artifacts from me. She'd make big trouble, and she'd get hurt for sure. I had to think, but I felt woozy again.
"Let's go," he ordered. His voice was fading as he pulled me toward the door. The pain in my neck was sharp. My knees were wobbly, and Cavvy's little shining eyes under the chair were blurring into a black mist that was rising. As he opened the door, I took a deep breath and then another, forcing myself to remember that Scot's never faint.
FIFTY-ONE
MCSWEENEY JERKED OPEN THE door and was suddenly confronted by a woman just preparing to knock. It was Sparky. Dimly I wondered what she was doing here.
McSweeney's hand darted out, grabbed Sparky's coat, and he pulled her in. He kicked the door shut and raised the knife, confronting her. I watched through a haze, unable to do anything.
Suddenly the arm Sparky had been holding stiffly at her side came up. She had a gun. She fired once, then again as Jack McSweeney toppled slowly to the floor. This is some dream I'm having, I thought distantly and wondered if I was in more or less trouble now than I'd been in before.
FIFTY-TWO
"LET'S GO," SPARKY ORDERED. She held the gun in my back and pushed me out the door so hard I was moving on sheer momentum. We headed toward the back door of my building.
"Hurry up," she said, opening the door and shoving me into the alley. The cold wind hit me, but it didn't help at all.
"Stop right here," she ordered as we approached a car with its motor running and the trunk open.
I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn't work. Sparky tipped me into the trunk and closed the lid before I could react. The cold wetness of the bloody towel around my neck was suffocating. I closed my eyes. The last thing I realized before I passed out was that I was lying on top of Auntie's precious treasures in my purse, and I wondered how Sparky knew I had them.
FIFTY-THREE
OFF IN THE DISTANCE, Sparky was calling me. It got closer and louder, and I realized I was very cold and my neck was hurting.
"Come on, get out," Sparky tugged my coat. "We have some things to do, so don't try to fake a faint."
I had a flash of Sparky shooting Jack McSweeney without a word, and I sunk even deeper into the trunk. Just that movement made me dizzy. I was still not sure whether this was real or a dream.
Sparky lifted my legs over the top of the trunk then jerked me out. I stood unsteadily, the bitter wind penetrating my clothes and chilling me to the bone. As Sparky slammed down the trunk, I realized my purse with the treasures was still in there.
I began to shiver uncontrollably, but my mind was clearing. I saw we were at HI-Data and wondered why. We were standing behind a wall of yews in the "Executive Parking Lot," according to a sign. The only visible signs of life were a few sparrows darting back and forth in the hedges. The lot was virtually empty.
My mind was working well enough that I recognized I was in shock. As Sparky hustled me toward the executive elevator, I tried to focus. It wasn't Jack McSweeney who'd fiddled with my brakes. It must have been Sparky. Something bad was going on at HIData. Harry Marley thought it was Ken and Norman. He was right, but he forgot to add Sparky. She really fooled me. Harry Marley figured Norman panicked when he found out Ken passed some of the funny money to Marcie. Now, after seeing Sparky in action, I wondered if we'd ever know which of them had actually killed Ken and Marcie.
As we waited for the elevator
, I wondered if Jeffrey suspected it was Sparky and Norman. And I wondered if anyone else at HI-Data was involved in the counterfeiting scheme. John Olson aka Dan Karton? Rivers? Tanaka? Could Jeffrey Fere get out of this alive? I was certain he was in danger, and I hoped I wasn't going to find his body next.
"Here we are," Sparky said, her breath becoming a big white cloud in the frigid air as the elevator door opened. We entered, and the cold wind greedily followed us.
She pressed the button for the executive suite. The smooth ride was over in an instant, and when the door opened, she pushed me out-right into Norman.
FIFTY-FOUR
JusT THE PERSON I didn't want to see. "Norman, please..."
"She was spying on us," Sparky said to Norman.
"You won't get away with spying on this company," Norman said. He took my elbow and started to walk me to his office.
"Wait. I ... "
"Let's take her in to Jeffrey," Sparky said, and steered us toward Jeffrey's office door.
I wondered if Jeffrey was still alive. If he was, we might have some kind of a chance against these two. But Sparky had the gun, and she was dangerous. She'd already killed one person, and I feared for Jeffrey-and for myself. Why else would she bring me here to HI-Data except to kill me? No matter what else happened, she sure wasn't going to let me go after I witnessed her murder Jack McSweeney.
Norman twisted my right arm in a hammerlock and jostled me along the corridor to Jeff's office. "You must think we're amateurs here at HI-Data," he said. "I promised you'd pay for what you're doing to this company. I know that somehow those three deaths are connected to you. And now you're caught spying. I'm going to find out just what's going on."
"Norman, I..."
"How long have you been spying on our top secret R&D to undermine the company?" He twisted my arm even harder. I tried my best not to scream.
"You think that I ... ?"
"Don't move," he ordered.
We stopped in front of Jeffrey's door. I wondered what I'd see behind it.
Sparky knocked softly, and the door opened.
Jeffrey Fere stood silhouetted in the doorway, looking surprised.
I exhaled, relieved, at least for the moment. We were, after all, both alive, and it would be two against two, even though our side was minus a gun. I blinked, not wanting to contemplate those odds.
"Jeffrey," I cried, "you've got to..."
"Shut up!" Norman tightened the hammerlock and the pain shot through my body. I almost fell to the floor, but Norman held me up inadvertently with the hammerlock.
Sparky retreated into Jeffrey's office, but Norman stayed at the doorway explaining to Jeffrey his version of what happened. "She broke in, and Sparky caught her red-handed. Sparky's calling the cops. This time they'll haul her out in cuffs."
"Call the cops?" I yelled. "Sparky just shot a man to death!"
I couldn't believe Norman said he wanted to call the cops. I couldn't figure out what he and Sparky were up to.
"Watch out Jeffrey," I warned. "They're the ones who killed Ken and Marcie."
Jeffrey frowned. "She's obviously hysterical, Norman. I'll take her into my office and find out what she knows," he announced with a tight smile. "You go home. It's New Year's Eve. I'll straighten this out."
"No, Jeff. She could be dangerous. I'm staying right here."
I saw Sparky edge behind Jeffrey and pull a putter out of his golf bag.
I screamed at Jeffrey. "Look out!"
Jeffrey looked back at his office door. All eyes turned to Sparky as she came out of his office toward us, her quick steps muffled by the plush carpet.
Without so much as a glance at me, she strode quickly to Norman and raised the putter high above her head.
I gasped.
Norman suddenly saw what was about to happen. His eyes bulged wide.
"No," I yelled as Sparky swung the putter. It slightly grazed the top of my head before it made a very solid thump as it connected with Norman's forehead.
Norman's eyes kept their surprise, but he never made another sound. He dropped like a stone and pulled me down with him.
FIFTY-FIVE
NORMAN'S LEFT LEG TWITCHED, and a thick trickle of blood was oozing down from the wound towards the carpeting.
Jeffrey reached for his putter and carefully inspected it as I extricated myself from Norman's lifeless grip
"I hope you haven't ruined this, Sparks," he said, cradling the club. "This is what's giving me my seven handicap."
"Sorry, Jeff," Sparky said. "I thought that would be less obtrusive than using Marley's gun."
I gaped at them both, and my innards constricted. I shook myself, unable to get my bearings.
"I wish you hadn't had to do that to such a loyal employee," Jeffrey said as he stared at Norman's crumpled form. "I'm going to miss him."
"It can't be helped," Sparky said. "He should have gone home when you told him to."
Sherlock Holmes was wrong when he claimed it was no crime to have a cold heart. He hadn't met Sparky.
Norman had fixed me as the villain, whereas Harry Marley and I had zeroed in on him. And neither Harry nor I believed either Sparky or Jeffrey were involved. I felt trapped in a Mobius strip, a hamster turning my wheel faster and faster, going absolutely nowhere.
Jeffrey was still gazing down at Norman's body.
Sparky said, "Darling, we'll find another Norman." Her longlegged silhouette was reflected in the dark glass of the windows as she touched Jeffrey's arm and then retreated into his office.
When she re-emerged, she had a towel and was pointing the gun at me again. Fear surged through every blood vessel in my body, like water soaking into a sponge. I figured it was now my turn. Now I could see the gun was a Smith and Wesson .38, and the light glinted off the copper-colored bullets in the cylinder. Sparky put the towel under Norman's head to keep the blood off the carpet.
"It was a lot less trouble getting here than I anticipated," Sparky said to Jeff. "Except that I had to shoot some guy. He had a knife, and it was the only thing I could do. I left him dead in her apartment, and he'll just be one more thing the cops will want her for."
"I knew I could rely on you, Sparks."
"You got me here to kill me too, didn't you?" I said. "Why didn't you just kill me in my apartment?"
"I told you, we needed you," Sparky said.
"And first we must address that issue," Jeffrey added.
"What?"
"Relax, Miss McGil." Jeffrey's smile somehow terrified me even more than Sparky and the .38. "We need your help. Come along."
Sparky jabbed me in the ribs with the gun, and I followed Jeffrey into his office.
"This is why we need your help." Jeffrey opened his office closet and pointed to the floor. Harry Marley's body was lying on the closet floor in a bundle.
FIFTY-SIX
I'D HAD TOO MANY shocks. I wanted to scream, tried to, but my throat closed.
"You may scream if you like, Miss McGil," Jeffrey said. "No one is here except the three of us. I gave everyone else the afternoon off for the holiday. Norman would still be alive if he'd just gone home. But he came back, and we had to do what was done. Now let's get on with this."
I wondered why they wanted my help. It didn't appear they needed any assistance killing people, and I told them so.
"Your friend Mr. Marley here was an unfortunate accident," Jeffrey said. "He tried to enlist my help to entrap Norman. He let something slip about how your investigations helped put him on to Norman and the counterfeiting. I believe he thought he was doing you a favor by giving you credit. I had a difficult few moments there forcing myself to not laugh out loud. It all fit so nicely into my plan."
"But why kill Norman? Why not just bring him in as an accomplice?"
"Norman served me well, even to being the number one suspect. But Norman could never be trusted to keep his mouth shut about the counterfeiting. He never learned how to keep quiet. Now get him into the elevator."
I
stared at Jeffrey, now holding the revolver. Sparky shoved me toward the closet. She grabbed one of Harry's arms, and ordered me to take the other.
"I'm not helping. Do it yourselves."
"Do you want to die right here and right now, Miss McGil? I'll give this back to Sparky, and before the clock ticks another minute, you will be in eternity."
I had no doubt they would do it. I didn't want to die yet, so I reached down, grunted, and grabbed one of Harry Marley's arms.
Sparky was much stronger than she appeared, and together we maneuvered him into the elevator. My neck was still throbbing, but not as bad as before. That super cold air must have helped. Still I felt beaten up. And I was mad. I'd let down Sensei. How could I ever tell him that not one, but two people, had gotten the better of me today? His mind would never take that in. He'd rip off my belt and literally throw me out the door. Maybe my next lessons should involve defensive techniques against knives, guns, and cats.
I looked around for someone who might still be in the building-a guard or a janitor-but saw no one, and we performed our grisly chore uninterrupted.
After putting Harry Marley on the elevator floor, we went back for Norman. Sparky gave Jeffrey his own coat as well as Norman's. Then she and I dragged Norman as we had Harry Marley.
"Keep his head off the rug, Miss McGil," Jeffrey ordered as he followed us to the elevator. "And let's hurry. I'm giving a big New Year's Eve party tonight, and I need time to change into evening clothes. I'll be announcing the financing package that will save HI-Data, and I can't afford any mistakes."
"If you already have the financing, why did you have to commit murder?"
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