by Jayne Castle
It was a little too much like playing Elf Hunt for real: the inability to see what lay around the next corner; the persistent shadows; the conviction that there was a secret to be discovered. Too real, Guinevere thought as she slipped quietly along the concrete floor. Much too real. At least in Elf Hunt you had some clear-cut options. What she needed was an option.
As if by magic or computer sorcery, an option presented itself when she rounded the corner of a long aisle. A few feet ahead she could just barely see the outline of what appeared to be a workbench. Workbenches had tools. Carefully she threaded her way toward the metal table and shelves. Halting in front of it, she peered around until she found a long strip of heavy metal. It was a crowbar. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around the end of the object. It was heavier than she would have guessed.
Feeling at least minimally armed now, Guinevere turned to start back down another aisle. Her soft-soled shoes made little, if any, sound on the concrete, but she was certain anyone listening would be able to hear her breathing. That thought reminded her that she had to start listening for someone else’s breathing.
Again she wanted to call to Zac, but once more she talked herself out of it on the grounds that she didn’t know if there was a third party in the room. Her hunch was that there probably was. It seemed a good bet that said third party wouldn’t be expecting her. She would provide an element of surprise, Guinevere told herself bracingly. Visions of acting as Zac’s backup squad danced in her mind. Of course, he hadn’t requested any backup, but that was because he probably didn’t realize just how much danger he might be in tonight.
The illusion of being in the middle of Elf Hunt grew stronger as Guinevere traipsed slowly down one aisle. If the malevolent elf suddenly jumped out at her from behind a stack of crates, the fantasy would be perfect. The thought sent a shudder through Guinevere. Genuine fear began to replace the bravado that had been propelling her forward. She came to an uneasy halt at the end of one aisle.
This might not be the brightest way to approach things. Perhaps she should go back to the lighted area and think of a more brilliant strategy. Maybe she should do something simple and straightforward, like call the cops.
Guinevere didn’t get a chance to go through the full list of possibilities. The force that struck her from behind cut off her thoughts as well as her supply of air before she even realized what had happened. The next thing she knew she was lying on the cold concrete, the taste of dust and grit in her mouth. A terrible weight seemed to be pressing her down. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
There was a small snap, and then a glaring light burned on the other side of her closed eyes. The weight on her back shifted, and rough hands turned her onto her side. With an effort Guinevere opened one eye.
“Damn.”
Guinevere dimly recognized the voice of the Frog even though she couldn’t see Zac’s face beyond the bright ring of light.
“My sentiments exactly,” she mumbled.
“Christ, Gwen. It wasn’t supposed to be you. What the hell���”
Before she could respond, another voice sounded from across the aisle. “Well,” said Russ Elfstrom, “this is going to turn out very tidily after all. You always were very thorough, Zac. Slow, but thorough. I wasn’t expecting Miss Jones, but she can be accommodated, I think.”
Elfstrom stepped forward and switched on his own flashlight. It produced a powerful beam that cut a swath across the tableau of Guinevere lying on her side with Zac down on one knee beside her. There was enough glare to reflect back onto the Elf’s satisfied expression. The light also clearly revealed the small handgun he held. Guinevere decided that the harsh lighting effects made Elfstrom look very much like a character out of a very dangerous computer game.
Zac stayed where he was, studying the gun for a moment and then Elfstrom’s face. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, Russ. When I heard Gwen, I thought it must be you.”
Elfstrom nodded almost sadly. “I was afraid you’d figured it all out. For a while I had hopes of convincing you that Bender and Hixon and Miss Jones constituted the ring of thieves. I went to a lot of trouble to make it look that way. It would have made things easier, but it wouldn’t really have altered the plan.”
“Why did you get me involved in the first place?” Zac was calm, his voice even and controlled. He asked the question as if it had been generated by sheer curiosity.
Elfstrom shrugged. “Didn’t have much choice. When that guy in accounting discovered the inventory discrepancies, he came to me first to check out the possibility of the problem’s being caused by a computer error. He also talked to Bender, who swore the program was accurate. There was no way I could pretend it was a computer error, and I was sure the accountant was smart enough to know that. So I told him and Bender I’d take charge of the matter and go straight to Hampton Starr. I assured them management would handle it. That satisfied the eager beaver in accounting. And it kept him from going to Starr on his own.”
“But it didn’t satisfy Cal, did it?” Guinevere could barely get the words out. There was a fine trembling throughout her whole body.
“That bastard just kept digging away.” Elfstrom gave an exclamation of utter disgust. “I told him to forget it, that everything was under control, but he just wouldn’t let go. It was his program that had turned up the errors and you know how goddamned possessive programmers are about the stuff they’ve written. I was afraid he was getting too close to the truth. Then one night, after he’d gone home, I found the Calliope address. He’d written it down on a pad near his computer and torn off the page, but I could see the imprint on the next piece of paper. I left that address in the computer for only a period of twenty-four hours at a time. After a shipment left the warehouse, I always removed the address and any related records. But Bender must have been monitoring things, watching for any little hint. He must have rigged the computer to report back to him if there were any odd movements of information.”
“Such as address information being inserted and then removed?” Zac asked.
Elfstrom nodded, his head moving in a short, jerky manner that registered his inner tension. “I knew I had to get rid of him. I followed him home, knocked him out, and used his car to drive into the mountains. I thought he’d stay in that ravine at least until next spring. By now he should have been under a couple of feet of snow.”
“But the snow is late this year.” Bleakly Guinevere recalled Jackson’s complaints about the slow start of the ski season.
Zac eyed Elfstrom thoughtfully. “In the meantime, you were explaining things to Starr in your own way.”
“I couldn’t hide the situation, so I decided to camouflage it. You know the routine, Zac. A little misdirection and distraction can go a long way.”
Zac paused before saying softly, “I know the routine.”
“You should. I’ve seen you follow some incredibly mixed-up trails before.”
“You thought you could keep me focused on the wrong trails this time, though, didn’t you?”
The Elf smiled with a touch of resignation. “What can I say? We were friends. We went back a long way together. You owed me. You trusted me. And I’d done you still another favor by recommending that StarrTech hire you. Given all that, sure, I thought I could handle you. You should have heard the sales pitch I gave Hampton Starr, Zac. Described you in glowing terms. I didn’t tell him that they used to call you Glacier, though. It wouldn’t have gone with the image Starr wanted to hire. He had the impression he was getting an ex-James Bond. And he got to be the secret agent’s boss. It was the ultimate intrigue for him.”
“So everyone was happy. Hampton Starr was having fun, I got my first big client, and you got to keep pulling the strings behind the scenes.”
Guinevere sucked in her breath as she struggled up on one elbow. Her side ach
ed a little from the impact with the concrete. “Nobody seems to have considered my happiness in all this.”
Elfstrom didn’t bother looking at her as he answered. He kept his eyes on Zac. “You were just a means of focusing Zac’s attention on certain areas. You’d already fooled around once with StarrTech’s computers. I discovered that when I went through the system looking for red herrings I might be able to use. In a company the size of StarrTech there’s always the possibility of a little computer fraud going on. Even a few simple errors could have been made to look like fraud. Then, if necessary, I’d have my scapegoat ready to throw to the wolves. Sure enough, there you were. I thought that sooner or later, with a few subtle suggestions from me, it would eventually occur to Zac that you might have been involved in the thefts. When everyone finally realized that Cal Bender’s absence was definitely suspicious, I figured even Zac here would begin to put two and two together.”
“The final player was Larry Hixon, right?” Guinevere winced as she sat up completely.
“I wanted the three of you, Bender, Hixon, and Jones, to stage a nice little drama for Hampton Starr’s pleasure.”
“And my role in the theatrics was to expose the scheme in the final act.” Zac slanted a quick sideways glance at Guinevere before returning his attention to Elfstrom.
“Just before the final curtain,” the Elf said, nodding. “Don’t worry. Even though you didn’t come to all the right conclusions, you’re still going to go out a hero. Want to hear the complete scenario as Hampton Starr will hear it when he returns on Monday?”
“I can’t wait.”
“Bender is the victim of a falling-out among thieves. He was killed by his partner, Larry Hixon, when Hixon decided that a two-way split is better than a three-way split. Hixon and Guinevere, who have already pulled off a few side stunts on their own, such as draining ten thousand from the benefits program, proceed merrily on their way.”
“Until I catch them one night in the StarrTech warehouse busily addressing a crate to Calliope, Alaska,” Zac added.
Guinevere swallowed, aware of an unpleasant tightness in her throat. There was no rush of heady excitement circulating through her veins tonight. Where was the old adrenaline charge? She felt light-headed and frightened.
The Elf shook his head at Zac’s ending to the story. “Not quite. You catch them in the warehouse, all right, but you find them quarreling. Hixon has just shot Miss Jones when you come upon the scene. He turns the gun on you. You get off one shot in true, heroic fashion, but Hixon also fires. Presto. All three of you are quite dead.”
Guinevere’s stomach threatened to rebel. Her shirt felt damp under the arms. Zac was nodding politely, as if appreciating the symmetry of the tale.
“And the security guard?”
“Received instructions not to report for duty this evening. Instructions that were generated by a computer and look quite official.”
“It might work,” Zac said.
“Oh, it will work. Misdirection and distraction. Very effective.” Elfstrom looked pleased with himself but not particularly relaxed. His inner agitation simmered just beneath the surface.
“How long have you been rerouting equipment shipments, Russ?” Zac moved his hand along his thigh, as if his leg were getting cramped from the crouched position.
“Two or three years. It could have gone on forever if Bender hadn’t decided to get fancy with the inventory program. It was a nice little scam, Zac. I simply rerouted some reasonably valuable equipment to folks who regularly prefer to buy from discount suppliers.”
“None of the stuff StarrTech makes is high-tech enough to have an iron curtain market,” Guinevere said, thinking of all the stories she had read of people selling technological secrets to foreign nations. “You don’t even have to have a security clearance to work there.”
“I’m not nearly that ambitious or that stupid, Miss Jones.” The Elf looked at her briefly, as if she weren’t too bright. “Sooner or later the government always seems to move in on that sort of activity. Much too risky. No, I preferred the safer, more sedate approach of dealing with the home market and the legitimate overseas market. There are plenty of small firms in the States and in friendly countries just getting started that are happy to purchase good-quality equipment at bargain prices. They’re smart enough not to ask too many questions, and there is no paper trail to follow once the equipment leaves StarrTech. It simply arrives in Calliope, Alaska, where a certain party dispatches it on to the real destination, wherever that happens to be. StarrTech even winds up paying the freight bill to Alaska. The only expense I incur is the cost of forwarding the shipment on to the purchasers.”
“Very neat.” Zac ran his palm down his thigh again. “Until the computer system you were using caught up with you. I think there’s a kind of justice in that somewhere, Russ.”
“If one thinks ahead, one can misdirect justice along with everything and everyone else.” The Elf smiled wryly. “You probably won’t believe this, Zac, but I’m going to regret killing you.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. I’ve enjoyed working with you on this project. It’s been almost like old times.”
“Almost.”
Guinevere could feel the tension in Zac as he crouched beside her. As if she could read his mind she knew he was waiting for even the smallest opportunity to launch himself at the Elf. She looked at the gun in Elfstrom’s hand and tried not to think of how the bullet would feel when it entered her brain.
“I think we’ve wasted enough time,” Russ Elfstrom announced. He motioned ever so slightly with the nose of the gun. “On your feet, Miss Jones. You have to die over there near the holding area. People might ask questions if you were found in this aisle. Zac, you stay where you are until Miss Jones is in front of me.”
He was going to use her as a shield to keep Zac from making any rash moves before reaching the holding area, Guinevere realized. She didn’t make any immediate effort to climb to her feet. The Elf grew impatient.
“I said on your feet, you little bitch! You’ve caused me enough trouble.”
Guinevere drew a painful breath and clutched at her side. “I—I don’t think I can get up. I think I’ve cracked a rib.”
“The hell you have.” Elfstrom motioned to Zac. “Move back out of the way. Slowly, Zac. Very, very slowly. You should be good at that.”
Zac inched backward unwillingly as the other man came forward. Elfstrom kept the gun and his gaze trained on Zac. Clearly he considered his old friend the greater risk. He set the large flashlight down on the concrete and then reached out to snag Guinevere’s hand and yank her forcibly to her feet.
This was going to be her only chance. From out of nowhere the adrenaline exploded in Guinevere’s system. She screamed as she stumbled to her feet under the impetus of the Elf’s hand on her wrist. The scream echoed in the warehouse and caused the Elf, already clearly tense, to flinch. In her other hand she clung to the crowbar she had found at the workbench. It was supposed to provide an option. She swung it wildly.
Out of the corner of his eye the Elf saw the movement. He yelled as the metal bar caught him fiercely on the arm holding the weapon. The gun in his hand dropped to the concrete floor with a clatter. Zac was already moving, launching himself at the other man from his crouched position.
But in the last instant Elfstrom reacted. He still had hold of Guinevere’s wrist, and he used it to yank her forward and send her spinning into Zac’s path. Elfstrom’s wiry strength was more than enough to lift her off the ground.
For the second time that night Guinevere felt the air being driven from her lungs. Zac swore, a muffled, infuriated sound that was cut off as he was pushed off-balance. Guinevere tried frantically to roll to one side to get out of his way. She opened her eyes to find the glare of Elfstrom’s flashlight full in her face.
There was the sound of running feet disappearing into the darkness, and then she looked up to find Zac staring into the shadows, a gun in his hand.
It wasn’t the same one that Elfstrom had dropped, she realized dazedly. That one still lay on the floor.
“A real Laurel and Hardy act,” she muttered, staggering to her feet. Her hand went to her ribs. She was going to be very sore, although she was fairly certain nothing was badly damaged. “At least he’s unarmed now.”
“No.” With a swift motion Zac leaned down and turned off both flashlights. “He’s not unarmed. Elfstrom always carried a second gun. And we don’t need these flashlights acting like spotlights.” He grabbed Guinevere’s bruised wrist. “Come on. Let’s move.”
“Where? Zac, shouldn’t we—”
“Shush, Gwen. Not another word.”
Fear returned in full force again as the temporary surge of energy faded from her bloodstream. Guinevere felt unaccountably cold and realized she was shaking slightly. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she followed Zac down the aisle. Her eyes began adjusting slowly once again to the darkness. She wanted to ask where he was leading her, what plans he was making, but she didn’t dare break the silence he had imposed.
Straining to listen, Guinevere tried to catch the sound of a closing door, which might indicate that Elfstrom had left the building. There was no such reassuring noise. Zac rounded the corner of one aisle and started cautiously up another.
Perhaps Zac was heading for an exit, Guinevere theorized. There was a risk because over the exit doorways the fluorescent bulbs still glowed, the only lighted areas in the building. To get out one of the doors, they would have to pass beneath the light. If he were watching the right door, the Elf would see them. They’d be sitting ducks.