by Jim Heskett
With his hand out, he snatched the pole. In one motion, he spun, sweeping it down. He thrust it between Conner’s legs and gave it a twist.
The giant’s legs tripped on the pole, causing him to lose his balance and tumble forward. The thin pole bent from the impact. Layne somersaulted out of the way, and there was an audible whoomph when Conner hit the floor, face first. His mouth bloodied, chin on the hard floor. For a second, his eyes were shut. Not knocked out, not dead, but momentarily rattled by the force of the collision.
Layne pushed himself to his feet and raised a leg to stomp on Conner’s head, but the giant moved. He rolled once to the right, landing on his stomach. Layne stomped the bare floor, sending a jolt through his lower body.
Conner snatched Layne’s foot and gave it a jerk. Layne toppled backward, landing on his butt. As Conner scrambled forward, Layne scooted back. Once again, on his feet faster than the giant. He eyed the pole, but it wasn’t sturdy enough to use as a club. He needed something better.
The giant seemed slowed by the fall. Layne had to use this to his advantage. Move fast.
And then he saw a nameplate next to an office. Donald Castillo. Layne flashed back to his conversation with Mariana from before. An idea formed. A long shot, but at the moment, it was the best thing he had.
He turned and leaped into the office. A quick inventory of the room. A whiteboard against one wall. A couch underneath the window. Opposite that, a desk, and a file cabinet perpendicular to it. Nothing that seemed like a good weapon.
But then, he discovered exactly what he’d hoped to find. According to Mariana, Don was Hillcrest’s avid climber. And there it was. The same gym bag as before, sitting open on top of the desk. Much like the one Conner had thrown off the building a couple minutes ago. Except, instead of guns, this one held rock climbing gear. A pair of chalk-dusted climbing shoes, a climbing harness, and a braided rope.
The rope could work. It was the best thing he had access to. Tricky, but possible.
Layne could hear Conner stomping the floor behind him. He was lumbering, perhaps a bit dazed. Layne snatched the colorful rope from the bag. He gave it a quick test for strength. It was stretchy and too long to easily manage, but it would have to do.
He turned to see Conner standing in the doorway, his eyelids dimmed, blood dripping from his mouth. With Conner dazed, Layne had to hurry. He looped the rope around the giant’s neck once, twice, then he got a firm grip on it. Conner tried to lunge forward and wrap his hands around Layne, who ducked underneath his arms and positioned himself behind the brute.
Turning around to face away so they were back to back, he tugged it, raising Conner up onto his back like a man carrying a sack over his shoulder.
Conner’s weight pressed down on him. Layne had to spread his legs wide to prevent the sheer girth of the man from forcing him to the floor. The giant tried to swat at the rope around his neck. His own weight pulled down on him, sinking the rope tighter and tighter. Layne couldn’t see Conner’s face, but he could hear him gasping for air.
In another sixty seconds, the giant stopped fighting. He went limp, and Layne released his grip on the rope. The giant’s body crashed to the floor. His face red, eyes bugged out, fat tongue protruding from his mouth. Choked to death by his own body mass.
Layne breathed, flexing and unflexing his hands, trying to settle himself.
Next, Layne had to figure out who had run past him in the hall, although he had a good idea. He rushed back into the maintenance room and up the stairs to the roof. A few seconds of pause to shake the cobwebs from his head and ready himself.
When he opened the door, he saw it immediately.
Farhad, standing next to the edge of the roof. And, Jonah was there, too. Farhad had looped a rope around one of the air conditioners, the other end of the rope a noose around Jonah's neck.
And Jonah was dangling off the edge of the building. Farhad held the rope, keeping him from falling. There looked to be enough slack on the rope that if he let go, Jonah would drop ten or fifteen feet, and possibly he might break his neck.
Farhad grinned at Layne. “I wondered if I would see you or Conner coming through that door. Let’s talk, Layne Parrish.”
39
Serena awoke. At first, she couldn’t see anything. It took her a full second to realize the bedspread from the motel room was still wrapped around her, shrouding her in darkness. Her head throbbed, a gift from Mariana’s baseball bat swipe. The bleariness in her brain told her to go back to sleep, but the sense of danger pumped enough adrenaline into her system to keep it from happening.
How long had she been out? Her instincts told her it was only seconds. Before she made any motion, she concentrated on listening, and she could hear something about ten feet away. A muffled scraping through the wall. Then, a door opening. The door to the next room, where Harry had been completing his morning ritual.
Serena threw back the bedspread and raced to the window to see Mariana, baseball bat in hand, entering Harry’s room. Next, a yelp of surprise came from inside that room. Harry was alone in there. Vulnerable in there.
Wobbly, Serena’s head pounded, eyesight blurry. But, she had no time to wallow in the aftereffects of a baseball bat to the head. She launched into action, rushing out into the exterior walkway, then turning toward Harry’s door. She caught it with her foot before it could close, and kicked it open. Once in the doorway, she took in the whole scene. Harry was sitting on the bed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. His laptop was next to him, a set of headphones plugged in. One earbud still jutting from his ear. Mariana stood in front of him, the baseball bat in her hand. Harry seemed frozen, like a deer in the headlights. He had been totally unprepared for an invasion.
“Harry!” Serena shouted, trying to break his concentration or distract Mariana, or both. Neither happened. Their eyes stayed connected, Mariana advancing on him.
She took another step forward, raising the bat. Serena could see how hard she was gripping it. She would swing it down and crack his skull open within the next two seconds.
Serena went for her legs. She dove, hands out, and wrapped them around Mariana’s knees. She gave her body a twist on the way down, and Mariana yelped as she collapsed to the carpet.
The bat came free from her hands, thunking off the side of the bed. Serena had planned it so Mariana would land on her back, on top of her in a pile. Serena threaded her hands over Mariana’s arms and under her back, then she used her heels to hook Mariana’s knees, pushing them apart. Locking her in place above Serena.
Mariana had no leverage. She tried to wriggle free, but Serena had her pinned from below. They were in a total stalemate, neither able to get away from the other, unless Serena let go first.
“Harry, get the bat.”
He was still sitting on the bed, eyes wide, frozen. Shoulders pumping up and down.
“Harry!”
This time, he broke out of his paralysis and sprang into action. He shuffled off the bed, in his skivvies, and picked it up. It jittered in his grip, and he held it like a snake that might suddenly bite him.
Chest heaving, shoulders rising and falling, he looked down at the two women writhing on the ground. Serena still had control from below, but Mariana would figure out a way to wriggle free, sooner or later.
“What do I do now?” he asked.
“In my suitcase, I have duct tape. Go get it.”
Harry’s head jerked to the left. “You brought duct tape in your suitcase?”
“Boukadakis, go, now!”
He shivered, startled, but jumped over them to run back into her room. He returned a moment later with the duct tape in one hand and the bat in the other. Serena guided him through taping Mariana’s wrists together, then her legs. Finally, a piece over her mouth.
Still wriggling, Mariana had lost all the mobility she’d had before. Serena scooted out from underneath her prisoner. Mariana could do little more than shimmy like a worm on the floor.
“You okay?” Serena a
sked as she lifted herself to the edge of the bed. Her head still swam, a thudding ache now forming behind her eyes.
“Fine,” Harry said. “My heart’s a jackhammer, but I’ll be okay. How about you?”
“She got me pretty good in the other room, but it’s fine. I’ll manage.”
“Who is this?” Harry asked.
Serena rose to her feet, a little woozy, but she kept it together as she stood over their captive on the floor. “Your name is Mariana, right?”
Harry’s eyes bulged. “This is Mariana? This is the woman Layne’s been… talking with?”
The woman on the floor didn’t give a nod of the head, but the look in her eyes confirmed it. And, the way Harry had paused told Serena something else. Layne had slept with this woman. Not that it mattered, but it was an interesting detail. Layne must’ve had a good reason to do so, if it were true.
And then, Serena noticed how much Mariana resembled herself. Same complexion. Same facial features, similar figure, they could have been sisters. But, she pushed it out of her mind. None of that mattered right now.
“What do we do next?” Harry asked.
“First, go get me my phone from the bathroom sink in the next room. I’m going to reach out to my FBI contact in town. It’s time we brought in the heavy guns before this gets out of hand.”
“But Daphne wants to keep it quiet.”
Serena nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t care. I’m making the call here.”
“Sure thing, Serena. Whatever you say.”
Serena paced, trying to get her breathing under control, as Harry left the room and then returned a few seconds later. When he handed her the phone, the adrenaline coursing through her veins made her hand jittery. The phone slipped and fell from her grasp, and she had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself.
That hit to the head had scrambled her brains a little. She could feel herself slowing, both mentally and physically.
Harry pointed the bat down at Mariana, trying to shout through the duct tape covering her mouth. “What about her?”
Sirens rang out, growing louder by the second. One of their neighbors in the motel must have already called the cops. “We’ll leave her for the feds. We don’t have time to wait around to talk to them. I was supposed to meet Layne at Hillcrest to set a trap, but I didn’t, so there’s a good chance he’s in a bad way right now.”
Harry gulped. “Okay.”
“Put some pants on, K-Books, then let’s go find our friend.”
40
Layne stood at the top of the stairs, then stepped through as the door shut behind him. On the rooftop, a rope loop ran around an air conditioner. Farhad held onto the rope, midway between the air conditioner and the edge of the roof. At the end of the rope, Jonah dangled, a noose around his neck. His hands were on the noose, his fingers barely threaded inside the rope, keeping it from strangling him. His body was over the side of the roof, his feet kicking free next to the building.
Farhad maintained about ten feet of slack. If he let go, Jonah would immediately drop that ten feet. Layne didn’t know if there was enough slack to snap Jonah's neck when he reached the end, but it might. Unlike the climbing rope Layne had used to strangle Conner, this rope didn’t appear to have much flexibility.
“Hello, Layne. It’s nice to know your real name now, so I don’t have to call you Louie any longer. Louie is a terrible name. I should have known right away when I heard that.”
Layne raised his hands in surrender. He knew Farhad had him. If Layne made a move, Farhad would let go of the rope. Jonah would fall.
Also, Layne noted a handgun in Farhad’s waistband, sitting at his left hip. “What’s the point of this, Farhad? Why not just kill me?”
“Because we need to have a talk. There are things I want you to know. What happens at the end of that conversation is up to you, but I insist that you hear me out before you try to engage in any macho heroics.”
Layne took stock of the area. About fifty feet separated him and Farhad. No one else on the rooftop. But, Layne did notice another rope on the far end of the roof, tied to a different air conditioner. Farhad’s escape route?
“Okay, let’s talk.”
“I know you killed Omar. You staked out his house in Seattle, you invaded his home, and you shot him while he was brushing his teeth. I know all of this.”
“He was a threat to America. I was only doing my job.”
“Your job killed a good man.”
“Is that what all of this is about? Whatever you’re planning, all of it is basic revenge for killing a friend of yours? I would have thought you to be above something so petty.”
Farhad smiled. “It’s not so simple. The people I work for have lost millions because your government froze their assets. I helped them recover much of the money by picking through Jonah’s brain, and that gave me the chance to add my own priorities into the mix. It would have happened, with or without the information. But, yes, part of the pain America will feel today is in honor of Omar Naseer and the sacrifices he made. How many do you think we’ve recruited to the cause because of Omar’s death? Do you know the ripple effects of your decisions?”
“Like I said, man, I was only doing my job. There wasn’t anything personal about it. I’m the point of the knife.”
“As am I. And I am doing my job today, Layne Parrish.”
“I found your sex tape with Mariana. I gave it back to her.”
Farhad chuckled. “Those recordings were her idea. Did you think I was blackmailing her?”
Layne pursed his lips and said nothing. The realization settled on him like the sudden chill of a cloud darkening the sun.
“Mariana has been my assistant for years.”
So much made sense now. Why Mariana had so willingly slept with Layne and had gone so far as to take the lead in the seduction. The awkward looks she had given him after, even during the confrontation in the motel parking lot. She had only acted wounded so she could keep her cover story in play for possible use later.
Layne realized now why Serena was late. Mariana had intercepted her.
“You recruited her?”
Farhad shook his head. “Not exactly. Mariana has been one of us ever since US authorities kept her in a detention center at the border for six months without reason. You think it was much of a challenge to make her see the truth about America after that? Your country is sick and diseased. American brutality does most of the work for us.”
“And you sweep in and pick up the pieces, Farhad?”
“What is it you called yourself? ‘The point of the knife?’ Well, Layne, I can play with metaphors too. Here’s one for you: America loaded the gun. We simply point it in the right direction and pull the trigger.”
Layne breathed, hands balled. His thoughts raced, trying to keep Farhad occupied while he came up with a solution. But, nothing came to mind. Farhad was no dummy. He’d thought this through. Unless a SWAT team magically appeared to tip the scales, there was nothing Layne could do to keep Farhad from dropping that rope.
Any movement and this would be over. Layne could only stand and watch.
”I see you looking at this gun on my hip,” Farhad said. “I have no intention of drawing it, because I want you to see. You will see what I am going to do today. I want you to see the damage you’ve done by killing my friend, and to know you can do nothing to stop it. None of that is possible if you are dead, so you get a pass for the time being.”
“If you want me alive, then why send your big brute Conner to kill me?”
Farhad shrugged. “If you had died, I would have been disappointed, but I would have understood. Besides, I didn’t think you would fall to Conner. Not after all the other men of mine you’ve killed over the last several days. But, I knew he would rough you up and slow you down, for sure.”
Layne looked down at Jonah, his face starting to turn red. He wouldn’t be able to keep his airway open much longer, and his bodyweight would eventually choke him. Maybe thirty more
seconds.
“Fine,” Layne said. “Why don’t you get on with it? Let’s cut out all this small talk and see if you can pull off your grand plan before I can stop you.”
Farhad grinned. His hands opened, and the rope sank to the roof. The snake of a rope immediately slithered toward the open air as Jonah's body plummeted. Layne listened to the friction of the rope against the concrete edge of the roof.
Farhad turned and sprinted toward the other rope, as Layne had suspected. He would rappel down for his alternate escape route. But, Farhad didn’t matter right now.
Layne sprinted toward Jonah, slipping down the side of the building. He fell ten feet and then bounced at the end of the rope, his legs kicking wildly. Layne dropped down at the edge of the roof and snatched the rope.
Jonah’s lower torso flailed. Still alive. The fall hadn’t broken his neck. His face was as red as an apple and his eyes were dim. Almost closed. He had only five more seconds of air, at most. But, there was still a chance to save him.
Jaw clenched, using all his strength, Layne pulled on the rope. As he strained against the weight, he rose to his feet for more leverage. Hand over hand, he pulled Jonah's thrashing body up onto the rooftop and loosened the noose around his old partner’s neck.
Jonah heaved in a desperate breath. His throat lined with red welts. He spent several seconds gasping and touching the area around his neck as Layne removed the noose from over his head. Eventually, his color returned to normal, and he coughed himself back awake.
Awake, but not whole. His eyes were blank and dreary. He looked drugged again, the same as he had on the day Layne had first seen him at the fundraiser.
“You’re okay,” Layne said, gripping Jonah by the shoulders. “You’re okay. It’s over now.”
With one hand on his neck, Jonah pointed the other toward the rope on the other side of the roof. “He got… he got away.”
Layne listened for a moment, and he heard a car start up, the tires screeching as it drove away. He looked over the edge of the roof, but couldn’t see anything. Farhad was already gone.