Deadly Potential

by Jennifer Carole Lewis

  “No, he’s not. And we already know you get drugs for the performers here.” Aggi’s matter-of-fact pronouncement caught him by surprise. “Is that what she asked you for? Drugs?”

  “She said she had trouble sleeping.” He wouldn’t admit to dealing, even though all three of them knew it already.

  The question was what did Katie plan to do with a sedative? If the Director forced her to do it, then maybe he planned to kill her with it.

  Ben’s ribs threatened to collapse at the thought. But the scenario didn’t seem right. The Director is a planner. He’s always used industrial poison before. Katie wasn’t an addict, and she certainly wouldn’t dull her ability to react to what the Director did. Unless she’s planning to use them to fake being sick, force him to take her to a hospital?

  No. That doesn’t make sense either. There were other readily-available options if she wanted to make herself appear ill. Sleepiness wouldn’t be likely to prompt panic in her captor, not when he planned to kill her anyway. Another massive compression painfully locked down his chest.

  “Ben! I have something.” Aggi’s shout interrupted his train of thought. She held up something small and white.

  Katie’s hair clip. The one with the seashells from the Fair.

  “I found it tucked into the phone book. Here.” Aggi pointed at the open yellow pages resting on the long counter.

  Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d used an actual physical phone book. “Do you usually keep this here?”

  The receptionist frowned. “No. It should be beside the courtesy phone. You know, in case someone wants to check something without a digital record. We’re big on discretion here.”

  Dismissing the kid’s attempts to explain, Ben stared at the book. The right page gave an alphabetized list of hotels, but the other bore a full page ad. For a hotel in the nearby community of Coronado.

  If Katie had attempted a computer search, or to send a message, the Director would have tracked it. But a hair clip inside a phone book guaranteed digitally invisibility. It meant she was still thinking, still fighting, still giving them a chance to find her.

  “Let’s go.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Katie took a nervous swallow of champagne to wet her throat as the clock ticked closer to midnight. I need to keep my wits, but I also need to seem relaxed. Even though she knew it was impossible, she seemed to hear the small plastic bag of pills crackle every time she moved. It felt as if she were carrying a dozen bricks tucked into her bra.

  Walter sat beside her on the couch, eagerly flipping through the channels to see which ones were playing the video. She still wore the outfit he’d chosen, complete with itchy stage makeup, and the tight clamp of rows of hair extensions across her scalp. According to the notes in her book, she’d already asked to change back to her regular clothes and been denied. She tried not to stare at the two glasses of celebratory champagne sitting beside the ice bucket holding the bottle. She’d dosed his glass, but so far, he showed no sign of growing tired.

  She needed to buy time for the drugs to work. For Ben and Aggi to find her. Or for another opportunity to escape.

  She shifted uneasily on the couch. How does he kill? She couldn’t remember, or maybe she hadn’t wanted to. Now she wished she knew. Is it poison? Does he strangle them? A gun? A knife? Knowing would allow her to plan, to know if she could defend herself. With her training, she could try to fend off a physical attack. If he used poison, she could hopefully avoid ingesting it, or allowing him to inject her.

  He already has a gun. If he used it, she would be helpless, especially if he surprised her. He wants to display the body after. A big hole would ruin my body for him, wouldn’t it? She tried not to think of taxidermy displays. There would be ways to disguise bullet holes.

  Stop thinking about it! She needed to stop before she twisted herself into being unable to react. Planning was good, but not if it paralyzed her into believing every action would be hopeless. The best defense is not giving him an opportunity to kill me in the first place.

  His glass of champagne was half-empty, resting on the pale wood coffee table. She’d used the heavy stone soap dish in the bathroom to crush the tiny white pills into dust. Doing it without making any noise seemed to take forever. She’d been forced to keep one foot braced against the door, so Walter couldn’t slip inside without her realizing it.

  It worked faster with that producer. He’d been snoring within fifteen minutes. Maybe I didn’t give Walter enough? She glanced at the glass again, wondering if she could pour the rest of the bag into his drink without him noticing.

  On the screen, she was singing, staring intently into the camera.

  They always ignored you, nearly driving you mad

  You gave up your hope, and accepted the bad

  You longed to trust, and find a place to belong

  Then you opened your heart, and gave me a song

  It had been awkward, performing in front of a camera held by a man planning to kill her. Especially knowing that if she didn’t give a first class performance, he would forget making a video, and kill her immediately. The big screen amplified the tiny twitches of fear in her own face, but overall, she’d maintained an attitude of smoldering intensity. There was no real nuance to the performance, but the intended audience didn’t care.

  “It truly is your best work, my dear.” Walter picked up the glass, and lifted it for a toast. “I can’t think of a better finale. Like Cinderella, you’ve become the queen of tonight.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy.” Katie managed a weak smile, and quickly hid her expression behind her own glass.

  For all of his supposed expertise, he truly didn’t seem to grasp the distinctions between greatness and mediocrity. I suppose you have to actually work at a craft in order to know such things. Like most fans, his criteria appeared to be influenced primarily by whether or not he liked the work, and how much it followed what he wanted. She’d given him exactly what he’d asked for, and he naturally found it amazing.

  “It has been a pleasure working with someone for a change. I thought it would be a nuisance of demanding compromises and unpredictable reactions, but you’ve been less irritating than I expected.” He tilted his glass, watching the bubbles drift upward in the golden champagne. “It is fitting these will be your last hours.”

  Her heart pounded, and she tried not to gag on rising bile as he continued.

  “I’ve envied my creations, you know. For one eternal moment, they know perfection without knowing the inevitable failure that follows. For them, it is a never-ending instant of sublime bliss and achievement.”

  If you really believed what you’re saying, why haven’t you killed yourself to enjoy ‘perfect happiness’? Why cut off others’ lives, making the choice for someone else? Even as she seethed, she knew the answer. The words were a grand philosophy, something to justify his horrific desires. It didn’t need to be consistent. They were excuses to do what he would have done anyway. A psychologist might have been driven to understand why he deceived himself about his actions, but Katie only cared about one thing. How to make him stop.

  She made herself smile, lifting her glass. “If this is the end, then there’s no point in wasting the champagne.”

  He drained his glass, and smiled back at her. “Indeed.”

  “Shall I pour us another?” She reached for the flute. I can add the rest of the pills in the next one, and he’ll be out before he realizes what’s happening.

  “That won’t be necessary.” He caught her wrist, moving the drink out of her reach. “The hour approaches.”

  The clock on the mantel chimed softly to announce midnight.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t allow you to suffer the indignity of transforming back to rags and pumpkins.” His hand clamped harder around her arm.

 
Katie began to struggle. Cinderella might have meekly returned to servanthood but she refused to go down without a fight.

  Walter’s face lit up with insane glee as he dragged her toward him. “You will always hold a special place in my heart.”

  Like hell. Katie stopped trying to pull away from him, and instead shoved toward him.

  Surprised by the sudden change in direction, his grip loosened for a fraction of a second. She twisted her wrist, and popped it free. Once his hold broke, she launched herself off the couch toward the door. I just need to get out of this room. The pills she’d given him would surely kick in before long. If she could buy enough time for them to work, she would survive this.

  A hard grip clamped around her ankle, and pulled. She fell heavily onto the thin carpet. Pain blossomed in her hip and arm as she landed on her side.

  “You bitch!” Walter hissed, climbing on top of her. “I gave you everything!”

  “Nothing I wanted, you entitled sadistic prick.” Katie shouted back.

  She twisted under him. Wriggling, she managed to get a leg bent between them. Then she kicked him with all the strength of muscles built from years of dancing and martial arts practice.

  His weight lifted off of her, and crashed into the coffee table.

  Combat euphoria flooded her veins, bringing the urge to attack and taunt the man who wanted to hurt her. Common sense and training overruled the impulse. This wasn’t an action movie with choreographed fights and guaranteed victory for her. She needed to get out of this room if she wanted to survive.

  She scrambled to her feet, adrenaline leaving her clumsy. Get to the door. Get to the door. Her focus narrowed to the tall wooden rectangle holding the promise of hope.

  It was a mistake.

  Walter tackled her from behind. He drove her into the wall, and knocked the breath out of her. He punched her painfully in the kidney once. Then twice. Then three times. The agony locked her muscles in place.

  He buried his fingers in her hair, and yanked her backward, hurling her across the room. A narrow armchair half-broke her progress, knocking her feet out from under her. She landed on her back, her head slamming into the floor.

  Then he was on top of her again, his hands squeezing her neck.

  Chapter 45

  “We need to clear the hotel.” Ben had already explained it twice to the blustering manager.

  There was still no sign of Orlund, even though the FBI agent knew where they were going. He struggled to keep hold of his temper. Every instinct told him they were rapidly running out of time. If I had my badge . . . But there was no point wishing. Everything about this place screamed high-end money.

  The manager shook his head. Again. “I’m not sending our guests outside at this hour. They’re used to privacy and discretion—”

  “That’s it. Do you know who I am?” Aggi demanded, her voice echoing off the ribbed ceiling.

  Ben stepped back. If Aggi wanted to use her celebrity to bully this idiot, he wasn’t going to argue. They needed to clear the civilians out of the line of fire.

  “I am familiar with your work.” The manager inclined his head. “I regret having to disappoint you. Should you visit in future, we would protect your privacy just as we have done for our current patrons.”

  “Your current patrons will be much more upset about the horde of paparazzi arriving in the next five minutes.” Aggi held out her phone. “I sent tips to all of the major outlets and gossip sites. This place is going to be swarming with cameras. So you have two choices. You can give your guests a heads-up, allowing them to evacuate before the press arrives. Or you can keep stonewalling us, and I will personally make certain that everyone I know never stays at your hotel again.”

  The man blanched.

  Aggi waggled her phone. “Tick tock.”

  He hurried away, shouting for help in evacuating the guests, his footsteps echoing on the intricate interlocked tile.

  “Not bad.” Ben’s foot tapped against the stone tile.

  Next they needed to determine which room the Director was using. Adler sent them a list of three reservations flagged as suspicious. Those three rooms would not be included in the general evacuation, but Ben couldn’t cover all three by himself. If he guessed wrong, the Director would have a chance to escape with Katie.

  There were too many ways the man could get away. Too many nooks where he could hide. Ben glanced around at the upper walkway circling the lobby, the massive dark wood stairs sweeping up to the upper levels. The giant crystal chandelier blocked his sightlines, the massive wooden pillars did the same.

  People began to trot down the stairs with the irritated stiffness of men and women accustomed to the world ordering itself around their wishes instead of the other way around. Ben watched them for any signs of unexplained disturbance.

  A stray conversation from further down the long wooden front desk caught his attention.

  “I’m sorry about the noise, ma’am.” The clerk at the front desk said into the phone. “I’m afraid a more pressing issue has arisen, and we need to evacuate the hotel. . . . . No, ma’am. I don’t expect it will be more than an hour or so.”

  A thin lead, but Ben seized it. “Who was that calling? What noise complaint?”

  The young woman blinked, but answered quickly enough. “Guests on the second floor. The people above them are banging on the floor.”

  “Which room?” Ben demanded. “What’s above them?”

  Her eyes flickered to the side as if searching for someone with more authority to intervene. “The noise would be coming from our Victorian Signature suite.”

  That matched one of the flagged reservations. Ben didn’t wait for more information, hurrying through the descending crowd.

  The hall in front of the suite was deserted. He heard a loud thump, and a female cry.

  Katie.

  He charged the door, hitting it at full speed with his shoulder. The hinges gave, and the door shuddered, but it held intact. Wishing a heavy police door ram, Ben backed up, and slammed into it again, aiming for the weakest point.

  The door held. The latch didn’t. The frame cracked, and the whole mess swung inward. He stumbled forward, catching himself before he fell.

  At first, he only saw Katie, kneeling on the floor and gasping for breath. He wanted to rush to her, but made himself scan the otherwise deserted room. He stood in the ruined door to prevent escape, and consciously examined each square foot.

  This time he saw the man kneeling beside an overturned armchair with a shocked expression on his face.

  “Got you,” Ben snarled, advancing.

  The man staggered backward, looking wildly for escape. “You can’t be here! You’re ruining everything.”

  Ben heard a moan, but didn’t dare take his eyes off of his target. One blink, and he’ll be out of sight, out of mind. He aimed his gun squarely at the unsub. “Lay down on the floor with your arms over your head.”

  “This is not how it’s supposed to go.” He wasn’t complying.

  Ben fought his training, which said to talk the suspect down, and avoid escalating the situation. But he couldn’t make himself pull the trigger on an unarmed man with his arms spread in surrender.

  “Katie?” Aggi shouted, and rushed forward.

  “Ag . . .” The harsh croak didn’t sound like his Katie. Ben risked a glance. Brilliant red marks circled on her pale neck.

  He strangled her. Anger threatened to blind him. He wrenched his eyes back to the Director.

  Who wasn’t there any longer.

  “Dammit.” Ben frantically searched while backing toward the door. He would not let this bastard get away.

  “Dining room,” Katie croaked, pointing.

  “He’s going to jump off the balcony!” Aggi shrieked at the top of her
operatically-trained lungs.

  With only a three story drop and sand directly below them, a jump wouldn’t be fatal. The Director might injure himself if he landed badly, but he’d likely walk away.

  Ben charged, arms spread wide. He couldn’t concentrate his attention enough to see the unsub, but when his left arm hit another person, the technique proved effective. He wrapped his arms around the killer, knocking the man to the floor. They were sprawled half in and half out the opened French doors leading to the balcony.

  Drawing on fuzzy memories from half a semester of high school wrestling, Ben concentrated on immobilizing the Director’s flailing arms and legs with his own limbs. He longed to drive his fist into the other man’s head and torso, he couldn’t risk losing track of the unsub again.

  “You ruined it. My perfect moment,” the Director slurred.

  He slammed his head into Ben’s face. The impact broke Ben’s grip, and the man squirmed free.

  Ben got to his feet, and reached for his weapon. His fingers closed on empty air. I must have dropped it during the tackle. The Director crouched about six feet away, behind the still-standing armchair, staring at the two women.

  “What . . . did you . . . do to me?” His long fingers curled over the chair’s arm for support.

  “Put a half dozen sleeping pills in your drink,” Katie rasped.

  “But I was giving you everything.” He seemed hurt and confused by her rejection. “I freed you from slavery to your stepsister. I made you a princess.”

  “My sister”–she angrily emphasized the word–“is my partner and my friend. She’s family.”

  “And you’re a sick and twisted fuck who gets off on making women into objects,” Aggi spat, eyes blazing. “You’re not even original. You’re just an everyday pervert troll.”

  “I am a visionary!” Anger seemed to be counteracting the drug in the Director’s system.