Catherine stood and led Vladimir by the hand onto the dance floor. Across the ballroom the leather-and chain-clad band terminated their bump ‘n’ grind on stage and eased into a somewhat gentler tune.
Catherine’s eyes darted from face to face as she eased Vladimir into step. We have to get away from all these people. She pulled Vladimir close, nuzzled her head onto his shoulder, and whispered into his ear, “Do you see the third man yet?”
“Not yet…” Vladimir replied. Suddenly his entire body shuddered. “I…
I think I…” his voice sounded hollow, “I better… sit down… I feel sick….”
Vladimir tried to speak, but his throat had dried up.
“Vlad—” Catherine said. Then one look at him told her all she needed to know. His face was flushed and he was perspiring profusely now. Catherine helped Vladimir back to the table and sat him down in his chair. She picked up his glass and sniffed it. There was a slight coppery-almond sent.
“Merde!” she spat under her breath and dropped the glass. Without wasting any more time, Catherine yanked Vladimir to his feet. “I’ve got to get you out of here,” she said and slung her arm around his waist. Vladimir felt the contents of his stomach climbing, “Cathy—help…”
Catherine probed the room for the three men as she half helped-half dragged Vladimir to the nearest door. She glimpsed the man in the blue suit pushing his way through the crowd toward her.
“Merde,” she whispered and quickly hunted around for another exit. Finding one hopeful, she pulled Vladimir toward it, but halted as the man with the scar started to close in, “Merde!” Just then Vladimir’s legs gave out and he collapsed, dragging Catherine to the floor with him.
“My legs…Cathy… help…” his voice was faltering as his breathing came in gasps, “I can’t… feel my… legs…”
“It’s all right, Vlad, I’m here,” Catherine said. He is going to die and there is nothing I can do about it. Whoever did this, the son-of-a-bitch must pay.
Catherine kicked off her stilettos heels, seized Vladimir under his arms, and slung him over her shoulder. Vlad was heavy, but she was able to handle his bulk easily. Catherine skirted the dance floor and slipped out the first door she found.
17
DAVID A. LLOYD
*****
Raymond Smyles’ jaw dropped as he watched the dame carry the Russian across the dance floor. Fuck me. He glanced at the guests oblivious to the scene. DeCoteau was right. Nobody cares. They’re all too stoned to give a flying flop.
The man in the blue suit approached, “Well?” he asked.
Smyles blew out a low wolf whistle, “Man-o-man DeTully! Do I want a piece of that. Where’s Max?”
“Still behind the bar making drinks.”
“Tell him to move his ass, then meet me over there,” Smyles pointed at the door the woman and the Russian left through.
“Right.”
Smyles smiled. The diamond glinted.
*****
The track lights automatically activated as Catherine pushed the door shut with one shapely hip. Lowering Vladimir to the carpet she knelt down and cradled his head in her arms. Catherine gently stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. His eyes were screwed shut and his face distorted in a grimace of agony as the strychnine burned through his body.
“Vlad,” she pleaded, “Please wake up.”
His eyes cracked open slightly, “Cathy… I… I don’t want to die….”
Catherine caressed his cheek. “Where did you get the disk?” She felt tears well up behind her eyes.
“Death…” he smiled. That simple motion caused him pain. “Beautiful death…” Vladimir coughed up blood. It dribbled down his chin as his fingers found hers. Feebly he squeezed her hand for reassurance.
“Vlad…” Catherine said. Non… non….
“You have such pretty eyes, Cathy. I’ve always wanted to tell you that,”
Vladimir said. He then vomited up something solid and died there in her arms.
“Vlad! Non! Non, non….” The tears flowed. “Vlad, I’m so sorry. You needed my help and I let you die.” Catherine kissed him gently on the cheek.
“Au revoir, mon ami.”
For a moment there was no sound but her gentle sobbing when a voice whispering from the other side of the door snapped her mind back to the task 18
GREEN-EYED BURN
at hand. Catherine eased Vladimir to the floor, looped her handbag over her shoulder, and glanced around the room. She was in a small office being used for storage. On her left was another door.
Catherine sprung to her feet and crossed the room. She pulled the door open. It led to a washroom shared with another room. She paused and whispered a prayer for her friend, then entered the room and locked the door.
*****
With his toe Smyles slowly pushed the door open, “The lights are still on,” he whispered under his breath. He knew they were programmed to shut off after ten minutes of inactivity. He then saw the body and waved Max and DeTully over.
“Yeah?” DeTully asked.
“Go and see if he’s dead.”
DeTully, weapon leading, entered the small office. Then, certain he was alone, squatted next to the body. Careful not to touch the vomit, DeTully poked Vladimir with the gun barrel. “Croaked,” he announced, then looked at Max, “What the hell did’ya use?”
“A strychnine mix.” He noticed their faces. “So I’m a traditionalist.”
“Frisk him,” Smyles said to DeTully, then to Max, “The boss is getting hissy. Do your bit with the car.”
“Yes sir,” he said and jogged away.
*****
In the washroom, Catherine closed the silver box and placed it back in her purse. She then destroyed a small plastic tool kit and flushed the remains.
*****
Smyles and DeTully swung around at the sound. The weapons in their hands pointing the way. DeTully glanced at Smyles’ pistol. “You know,” he said, “it’s not the size. It’s how you use it.”
*****
Catherine gently eased open the second door and stepped into a darkened 19
DAVID A. LLOYD
boardroom. She eased the door shut behind and pressed the lock on the knob. The lights, she noticed, had been overridden to remain off until manually switched on. Better not turn them on anyway. In the brief illumination from the washroom Catherine spotted a slightly open patio door on the far side of the room. Silently she padded toward it.
“Oh, yeah….”
Catherine froze. A man’s voice drifted from somewhere in the boardroom. Merde! Quickly she dropped to her hands and knees and started to crawl.
“How’s that?” Another male voice.
“Oh yeah!”
Both voices came from the large table in the center of the room. Catherine fought the urge to peek.
Reaching the window, Catherine carefully slide the glass enough to slip through and crawled out onto the small balcony. The night air tore through the thin fabric of her dress and chilled her to the bone. A soft pop from a silenced weapon grabbed Catherine’s ears as her pursuers shot out the lock on the washroom door.
Didn’t think a locked door would hold them; time to move it, chick!
Catherine looked down, but the moon was hidden behind some clouds and the yard below was a sea of darkness.
Another pop. This time from the boardroom door.
Mounting the stone banister, Catherine sucked in a lung full of the icy night air to help clear her brain. I have to make sure they see me and ignore the guys on the table.
Smyles kicked the door open.
Now!
“The window!” he cried and bolted across the room.
Catherine leapt blindly into the void.
DeTully slammed his fist down on the light switch.
“There!” Smyles cried. He raced for the balcony. In the dim light from the patio door he pointed at a figure sprinting across the yard. Smyles and DeTully opened fire.
Catherine dove through the air and rolled behind the fountain as clumps of grass beneath her naked feet burst in dull pops, demonstrating how close death was.
“Shit fuck!” Smyles hissed.
“We missed,” DeTully informed him.
“Shut up.” Smyles glanced over the edge. “If she can do it, so can we.”
20
GREEN-EYED BURN
Holstering his weapon, Smyles climbed up on the stone banister, then slipped and tumbled into the darkness.
DeTully, upon hearing a sound, spun with his Smith & Wesson cocked and pointed. The two lovers rolled off the table and cowered underneath. DeTully thought about forcing them to continue, but reconsidered and followed Smyles.
*****
Smyles struck the ground, hard. A moment later DeTully landed on top of him.
“Sorry,” he said, helping Smyles to his feet.
*****
Hidden behind the fountain, Catherine watched and cursed her actions. Merde Chick. Whether they saw you or not they still could’ve killed those two guys. You’ve got to get them away from the main building. Catherine glanced to her left. She was about one hundred meters from the parking lot, and Gene! With a plan forming in the back of her mind, Catherine steadied herself against the side of the fountain and retrieved her pink 9mm Beretta from her purse.
Squinting, she lined the ugly one up in her sights. A smart woman once said to me, ‘Take out the leader and rest should fall like dominoes. ’
Catherine’s finger eased around the trigger and she slowly started to squeeze when a third man approached the first two. He was dressed as a bartender.
Catherine backed off the trigger ever so slightly. She wanted to know how this was going to play out.
The bartender suddenly pointed at the fountain and yelled.
“Merde,” Catherine hissed and squeezed the trigger twice. The first discharge of lead chafed the bartender across the back of his skull. With a spray of gore he spun around and stuck Smyles in the face with his flaying arms. The ugly man staggered and fell.
The second slug ripped a hole in DeTully’s jacket and chipped a nugget out of the Estate wall. He dove for cover.
Her head low, Catherine sprinted across the ground and toward the parking lot.
21
DAVID A. LLOYD
“Christ! Max!” Smyles cried out.
DeTully rolled and yanked the body of his partner off Smyles. “He’s a goner.”
“Shit,” Smyles cursed. Using the fresh corpse as cover, he rolled over onto his belly next to DeTully.
“Where did he say he saw her?” Smyles whispered.
“He said something about the fountain, I think.”
“Then lets give her something to remember. On three.”
“And do what?”
“Rush her.” Smyles shook his head. “Christ. One, two, three!”
Both men leapt to their feet and charged with guns blazing. Chips of imitation marble shot off into the night.
“Yeah-Ha!” Smyles whooped. They dropped and rolled in unison behind a shrub a meter from the fountain.
The night air was still and quite, save for the sound of their own breathing.
“I think we got her,” DeTully whispered.
“Goddamn it!” Smyles exclaimed, “I love this. It’s just like Rondônia in
’02. Remember that? Yeah! Cover me.” Keeping low to the ground, Smyles moved toward the pockmarked fountain. There was nothing on the ground but fragments of their wild gunmanship. “She’s gone!” he squawked. DeTully rose to his feet and joined him, “Well,” he said pushing what looked like a marble hand with his shoe, “If damage counted, we did pretty good.”
“Did you see where she went?”
“Nope.”
“Shit.”
*****
Catherine kept her profile low and her breathing even as she darted across the parking lot. The sound of gunfire echoed behind her. She told herself that it was the icy fingers of the night, not the gunfire, that seeped through her skin and drummed chills down her spine.
At lease with the gunfire they can’t hear my teeth chattering. I hope Gene didn’t hear the hullabaloo and try to charge to my rescue. He can be stupid that way.
Just then Catherine found her waiting limousine. The engine was idling. Good! He waited and is ready to cut out! That’s my man! Catherine yanked 22
GREEN-EYED BURN
open the door, “Gene!” she cried and leaped into the passenger seat, “We’ve got to get—”
The image she saw would haunt Catherine’s dreams for nights to come. The body of the man she had fallen in love with during the past few months toppled onto her lap with a wet smack. Blood and gore oozed from where his face should have been and onto her lap as his heart beat for the final time. Catherine shoved her fist into her mouth to force herself not to scream and fought to focus, to keep her mind on the mission and purpose that brought her here. There would be time for grief later.
Non… Keep it together. Then something snapped. “Non! Non! Non! ”
Catherine screamed frantically shoving and kicking the body away. Her mind refused to believe what had just happened. Non, non. A small flashing light next to the gas petal managed to snared her attention. Non….
Catherine’s mind shifted gears and her training took over. She seized the door handle, twisted, pushed, and fell from the limousine, striking the pavement with her shoulder. The sudden jolt of pain fired adrenaline through her body and burned the numbing fog from her brain.
Move!
Catherine scrambled to her feet and bolted toward the center of the circular driveway. She dove into the shrub maze as the limousine exploded behind her. A low brick partition was all that protected her from being shredded by shrapnel, but the blast sucked all the air from her lungs and blackness enveloped her mind.
23
2
“Do you think she was in the car when it blew?” DeTully asked. Both he and Smyles raced toward the driveway when they heard the explosion.
“Max liked to arrange the charge to go off when the body is moved,”
Smyles explained. They stopped about five meters from the burning wreck. DeTully held his hand up against his face to ward off the heat, “I didn’t hear a scream.”
“We’ll wait for the fire to die out. Then we’ll check it out,” Smyles said eyeing the driveway. There were eleven limousines parked in front. The one that exploded was far enough away from the others that it did not set off a chain reaction. Smyles’ primary concern was if she survived, the other cars in the lot could provide cover for her to escape while they stood and waited for the heat to die.
“Do you think anyone in the house heard the explosion?”
“No. Crudup had the place soundproofed and there isn’t a living soul for miles around.”
“What about the other drivers?”
“They’re inside. Crudup doesn’t like anyone lurking around outside.”
They both fell silent as the flames licked the sky.
“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?” DeTully said after a moment.
“Shut up,” Smyles sighed as he stared through the pyre at the maze, “Circle around. Check the perimeter.”
*****
Oh, oui… right there… deeper… deeper… oui, oui, that feels good. 24
GREEN-EYED BURN
Oh…you’ve got the touch. On one have ever touched me like that…oh…that hurts… oh…stop… that hurts… no... no... stop... No! Non ! Non !
“Non!” Catherine’s eyes snapped open, sending spears of pain rocketing through her brain. Oh God, how long have I been out. She closed her eyes again and forced the misery aside before slowly opening them and staring up at the night sky. Smoke and licks of fire flickered in the corner of her vision as the smell of burning rubber and metal invaded her nostrils. The car… oh God… Gene.…There was something damp and squishy under her back and head. His face... where was his face? Non ! Catherine squeezed her ey
es shut. I’m in the maze. It’s wet. That’s all. Forcing her mind to focus, Catherine opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but the world started to pirouette in her skull. She clutched her head with both hands, twisted onto her side and vomited. Oh God chick, you can’t do this. You’re not cut out for this… damn you St. James. After a moment, Catherine unsteadily sucked in a chest full of the cool night air mixed with the thick oily smoke, and burnt flesh, from the limousine. Don’t go there…. Focus.
Catherine gritted her teeth and forced herself to sit up. The shift caused her stomach to protest. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard to combat the urge to vomit again. Proud that she won that small battle, Catherine eased a peek over the brick lip of the outer boundary of the maze. She was struck in the face by a wave of searing heat. Catherine squeezed her eyes shut and retreated behind the rim with her back pressed to the mossy bricks. I’m not getting out that way.
She took a quick inventory and was relieved to find she still had her purse and Beretta, but her cellular took a hit. Catherine caressed her forehead and pushed her hair back from her face. I’m sweating. She pulled her hand away and gazed at the moisture on her skin. It must be close to zero tonight and I’m sweating. Catherine watched the reflection of the flames dance in her palm. Then she remembered. Light. I saw a light. Catherine turned and peered over the lip again. The sweat on her brow evaporated and the smoke seared her eyes. Catherine pushed the pain from her mind and stared through the flames.
There.
Through the smoke and the tears she spotted two shapes walking away from one other. That would be the bad guys.
Catherine rolled back behind the edge and began to crawl toward the road.
25
DAVID A. LLOYD
*****
Smyles pointed past the fire, “Did you see that?”
“What?” DeTully called back. He and Smyles were at opposite ends of the burning wreck and beginning their perimeter check.
“I’m not sure. Crap. I’ve told Crudup he needed spots out here, but he likes keeping the place dark. Fat prick.” Smyles pointed toward the far end of the driveway, “Go around that way and follow the driveway to the road. I’ll do the same from this side.”
“Roger,” DeTully smirked and, stroking his weapon, moved off.
*****
Green Eyed Burn Page 2