And Then You Die

by Iris Johansen

  The streetlight cast shadows on the brick wall, shadows that looked vaguely like hunched gargoyles.

  Interesting, Bess thought. She must have stared out this window across the street a hundred times. Why had she never noticed that effect before? Maybe she hadn't wanted to see gargoyles that close by.

  She held the camera up to her eye and focused.

  “What are you doing?” Kaldak asked from behind her. “Do you see someone?”

  “A gargoyle.”

  “What?”

  “Only a shadow across the street. But it's too good to miss.”

  “I told you never to stand directly in front of a window.”

  “I forgot.” She stepped to one side.

  “I would have thought you'd taken enough photos for one day. You were in the darkroom all afternoon.”

  “I have to do something or I'll go crazy.”

  “I can sympathize. I'm close to that point myself. You really missed that camera.”

  “Yes.” She turned to look at Kaldak sitting in the easy chair across the room. He was in shirtsleeves, his long legs stretched before him. He should have looked relaxed, but he didn't. The edge was still there. She had never seen him really relaxed. “But no more than I would my eyes.”

  “Or an old friend.”

  She nodded.

  “Don't you ever look at anything without seeing it through the lens of a camera?”

  “Sometimes. Not often, I guess. Even when I don't have my camera, it's not unusual for me to see things as if I were taking the shot. Emily said––” She stopped. So many things in her life led back to Emily. “She used to laugh and say I was obsessed.”

  “Are you?”

  “Maybe. Okay, I guess I am. There are times when it's worse than others.” The gargoyles seemed taller now, more Gothic. Had the light changed? She took another shot. “I know I felt naked when I didn't have it.”

  “No armor?”

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “Doesn't taking the photos distance you from the situation? Keep the pain away?”

  “Distance me?”

  His gaze was fixed intently on her face. “When do you do it most often, Bess? When do you distance yourself?”

  “I don't know.”

  “The bad times? Danzar? Tenajo?”

  “Maybe.” She frowned. “Back off, Kaldak. I don't need you to psychoanalyze me.”

  “Sorry, it's just habit. You're right, it's none of my business. And I didn't mean to intimate there was anything wrong with putting up barriers. We all do. I just found it interesting that you use a camera.”

  “And what do you use?”

  “Anything I can. I improvise.”

  “It's not just a barrier. I like what I do.”

  “I know. Forget what I said. Actually, I envy you.”

  But she wouldn't forget what he had said. He was sharp and perceptive and annoyingly right too often. She had the sudden desire to disconcert him. She lifted the camera. “Smile, Kaldak.”

  She smiled herself as she caught the look of surprise on his face. It was deliciously satisfying to catch Kaldak off guard.

  “Again.”

  Focus.

  Shoot.

  “May I ask what you're doing?”

  “Taking your picture. You're a very interesting subject.”

  It was true. Through the lens of the camera his face was a fascinating mixture of boldness and subtlety. She wished she had the proper lighting to shadow those cheekbones.

  “Because I'm so pretty? Or do you feel the need to compare gargoyles?” He smiled sardonically and waved his hand. “Be my guest, if you want to risk that new camera. I've been known to break them.”

  He was relaxing just a little; the tenseness flowed out of his muscles as she watched. It was odd. She had never been able to look at Kaldak with any objectivity before. From their first meeting, every moment had been colored with a wild range of emotion––anger, fear, frustration . . .

  The hand he'd waved was big, well formed, she thought absently. Like the rest of him. Muscular thighs, narrow waist, broad shoulders.

  Power and grace and sexuality.

  She almost dropped the camera.

  Sexuality? Where had that come from?

  “Something wrong?” Kaldak's gaze had narrowed on her face.

  “Nothing.” She hurriedly lowered the camera, turned away, and headed for the darkroom.

  She was feeling safe. So safe that she was even going out on the street, Esteban thought.

  And De Salmo was doing nothing about it. He was only giving excuses.

  She was trying to show him that her sister's death meant nothing to her. He knew it had affected her. She had collapsed at the funeral home. Yet there she was, going out, taking pictures, when she should be hiding, terrified. She was taunting him. The thought enraged him.

  It wasn't to be tolerated.

  The phone was ringing when Bess and Kaldak walked into the apartment the next day.

  “Did you enjoy the funeral, Bess?”

  Shock rippled through her. “Esteban.”

  Kaldak moved swiftly toward the kitchen.

  “I'm sorry I missed it, but I was represented by one of my employees. He said you held up very well at the crypt.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Her voice was shaking. “You killed her.”

  “I told you I did. You should have believed me. But then I'd have been cheated of the pleasure of presenting you with such an exquisite gift. Unfortunately she was a little worse for wear, wasn't she? What did you think when you saw––”

  “Shut up.”

  “You're upset. But then, what can you expect from Mother Nature? It was hot. We know about that heat, don't we? You must have gotten very hot running through those hills.”

  “But we got away from you. You lost, you bastard.”

  “Not because of you. You're only a woman. I would have gotten you if it hadn't been for that helicopter. Are you listening in, Kaldak?”

  “Yes,” Kaldak said.

  “I thought you would be. You're taking very good care of her. But it's not going to do you any good. I'll still get her. The bitch isn't going to stop me, but she has annoyed me. However, to show my forgiving nature I've sent her another present.”

  Bess's hand tightened on the receiver. “Why don't you come and give it to me yourself?”

  “I'm otherwise occupied, and you're not that important.”

  “The hell I'm not. You wouldn't be calling if you weren't scared shitless.”

  “There's a trash can one block away. Your present is on top.”

  He hung up.

  Kaldak was already out of the kitchen and heading for the front door. “Stay here. I'll get it.”

  “I'm going with you.”

  “He may be setting you up.”

  “Then you keep me safe, dammit. I'm going with you.”

  “You put one foot out that door and I swear I'll knock you down. I'll send an agent to get the damn thing.”

  He ran down the stairs, and the street door slammed behind him. He was back in seconds. “He'll be here in a couple of minutes. He's going to set the box inside and then go back to his post. Now, you stay put.”

  It was a long two minutes before the agent set the cardboard box inside the door.

  She stared down at it.

  “Don't touch it. Back away. I'll call the bomb squad,” Kaldak said.

  “It's not a bomb. He'd know that would be your first thought.” She moistened her lips. “I made him angry. This isn't meant to kill me.” She reached down for the box. “He wants to hurt me.”

  He knocked her hand aside. “I'll do it.” He carefully lifted the lid.

  Inside was a white cotton shirt, a child's shirt with a school insignia on the pocket. Julie's school. Bess had seen her wear that shirt many times.There was a dark red stain beneath the pocket.

  Blood. Fear rocked through her. “Julie.”

  “Steady.” Kaldak's hand was
on her arm. “This is what he wants.”

  “That's Julie's shirt.”

  “But Julie wouldn't have taken a uniform shirt on a camping trip, would she?”

  The relief that flooded her was so intense, her knees felt weak. “No. She never wore it except to school.”

  “Then he had someone go in and get it from Emily's house. He doesn't have her, Bess. He didn't hurt her.”

  Yet. Esteban's threat lay between them like a burning brand. First Emily, and now her daughter.

  “She's out of his reach. And we have a man waiting at the ranger station. Esteban won't be able to get at her.”

  But how long would she remain out of his reach?

  Kaldak was urging her gently away from the box. “I'll send the shirt out and get the stain analyzed. It's probably animal blood.”

  “No, it's human blood. He wouldn't make it that easy for me.”

  “It's not Julie, Bess. He just wanted to show you that you aren't out of his reach here. You could let me take you to that safe house and we'd––”

  “I know what he wanted to do,” she said. And he had succeeded. This latest obscenity had frightened and hurt her. “His damn ego is hurt because he can't manage to kill a ‘mere' woman.” Anger ripped at her. “Well, screw him.”

  “You won't go?”

  “And let him win? Let him know that he scared me enough to make me run away? I'm glad I'm making him angry. Maybe if he gets annoyed enough, he'll come himself. You find out why that agent who's supposed to be guarding Emily's house let that shirt be taken. And make sure there's more than one of Ramsey's men at that ranger station.”

  “You didn't have to tell me that.”

  “Yes, I did. Nothing's going to happen to Julie and Tom.” Oh, God, the blood on that shirt . . . “Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” he said quietly. “I'll call Ramsey and chew him out for letting this happen.”

  She nodded jerkily. “Be sure to tell him––”

  “I know what to tell him.”

  Of course he did. “I'm sorry, it's just––”

  “It's just that you're so damn stubborn, you won't let me take you away from this town even though you're scared to death,” he said roughly.

  She was scared. Until a few minutes before, anger and numbness had shielded her like armor. But Esteban had pierced that armor and let the fear come in.

  “It's not Julie's blood,” Yael said when he called the next morning. “We got her blood type from her doctor and it doesn't match.”

  She felt a burst of relief. “Thanks, Yael.”

  “It must have been an ugly surprise. Are you okay?”

  “Just mad.” And frightened. She was still frightened. “As you say, it was ugly.” She hung up the phone and turned to Kaldak. “No match.” She put on her jacket and reached for her camera. “Let's go.”

  “You're going back out there?”

  “Nothing's changed.”

  He looked at her.

  “He's not going to know that he upset me.” She headed for the door. “I'm not going to give him that victory.”

  More pictures.

  She hadn't singled him out, but she must have five or six photographs of him now.

  It shouldn't matter. Who was going to recognize him?

  It did matter. He had made sure no pictures had been taken of him since he had become Marco De Salmo. Photographs were dangerous. People remembered a face when they couldn't remember anything else, and all kinds of technical things could be done to photographs these days.

  Would she ever stop taking those fucking pictures! He'd thought he'd be able to take her out sooner, but Kaldak was always there, watching. He hadn't been able to get near her, and Esteban was getting impatient. He should probably go back to his first plan and hit the apartment.

  Regardless of where the hit was made, he couldn't leave those photographs behind. He'd have to go in and get them.

  “Are you satisfied?” Kaldak said between his teeth as they walked down the street toward her apartment. “We've been out more than two hours. Did you want to make sure that they got a nice try at you?”

  She didn't answer. She had known Kaldak was tense all the time they had been on the street.

  He opened the street door. “Well?”

  He wasn't going to let it go. She started up the stairs. “Nothing happened. He has to know he can't––”

  Rats.

  Dozens of rats. Huge rats.

  On the stairs in front of her. And behind her too. Scurrying wildly up and down the steps.

  She shuddered as one ran over her foot.

  “Out.” Kaldak grabbed her arm and pulled her down the steps and out onto the street.

  The rats streamed out the door onto the sidewalk. Another rat brushed against her foot.

  Agent Peterson ran across the street. “What happened?”

  “How the hell did they get in there?” Kaldak asked.

  “No one was in the building. I've been watching––”

  “Get them off the stairs.”

  Peterson disappeared into the building.

  “I hate rats. Filthy. . . .” She couldn't stop shaking. “Esteban?”

  He nodded. “Considering his background, I'd bet on it. He wanted to give you his own worst nightmare.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It was just the shock.” She opened her eyes and moved toward the staircase. “I need to get upstairs. He'll call me. He's going to want to know what this did to me.”

  She passed the agent, who was struggling to shoo the rats down the stairs, and unlocked the apartment door.

  Kaldak was right behind her and nudged her aside. “Let me check out the apartment first. That agent must have fouled up.”

  The phone rang as Kaldak was coming out of the darkroom. “Let me get it.”

  “No, he wants to talk to me. And I want to talk to him.”

  “Ah, you've come home at last. This is the third time I've called,” Esteban said when she picked up. “Did you like my little surprise?”

  “It was a pretty weak attempt. I knew you didn't have Julie,” she said. Be calm. Don't show him the fear and revulsion. “As for those rats . . . they didn't bother me. I like them. I had a pet rat when I was a kid.”

  There was a silence. “You lie.”

  “He was a white rat and his name was Herman. He had a cage with a treadmill and a little––”

  He hung up on her.

  “Did you really have a rat when you were a kid?” Kaldak asked.

  “Don't be crazy. I can't stand them.” She let her breath out. “But I think he believed me.”

  “If he did, he'll hate you even more. You're now in league with his nemesis.”

  There was a knock on the door and Kaldak opened it. It was Peterson, and Kaldak said to Bess over his shoulder, “I'll be right back. I need to check something out.”

  She was glad he was gone. She hadn't wanted him to see how unsettled that latest attack had made her. She needed a moment to recover. Hell, she needed a year to recover.

  First, the mental attack with Julie's shirt, and then the physical one with the rats.

  “There's a hole drilled in the wall that borders the alley,” Kaldak said as he came back into the apartment. “It could have been done anytime and Peterson wouldn't have seen him from across the street.” His lips tightened. “From now on there will be a guard in the alley too.”

  “That's the way they came in?”

  He nodded. “A length of tunnel tubing was inserted. We went out, the rats were let in to wait for us.”

  “De Salmo?”

  “Or one of Esteban's other men. De Salmo's a specialist and this is small stuff.”

  It hadn't seemed small stuff to her. It was the stuff of which nightmares were made.

  “If you don't like it, you know what you can do.”

  “Shut up, Kaldak. I'm not going anywhere.”

  “Except out in the
Quarter tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  “Bright,” he muttered. “Very bright.”

  The next afternoon she tossed the new batch of photographs on the coffee table in front of him. “Here they are. See what you can make of them.”

  He leafed through the prints. “You took enough.”

  “Four rolls. I wanted to make sure I got him if he was out there.” She plopped down in a chair. “Well?”

  “Nothing so far. I'll have to study them.”

  “We could go out again,” she said, disappointed.

  “No!” He quickly looked down at the photos again. “The streets are starting to get too busy. We may not be able to go out again.”

  “The hell we won't.”

  “The hell we will,” he said curtly. “It's not safe, dammit. We'll stay here.”

  Don't get angry. Try to keep it light. “And what about the missile through the window and the mamba in the drain?”

  “I'll take care of them.”

  “We agreed the risk wasn't that much greater.” She leaned forward, frowning. “You're not making sense, Kaldak.”

  “I never agreed to anything, and I'm making perfect sense. You wanted me to keep you alive. I'm doing it.”

  “We've been out on the street every day and nothing's happened so far.”

  “We're not going out again.”

  “Why are you objecting now? What's different?”

  “I thought he'd make a move and I could take care of him. But he's playing cat and mouse.”

  “Then we'll play too. And in the meantime, I'll keep on taking photos and you can––”

  “No, it's too risky.”

  “You didn't think it was too risky before.”

  “Goddammit, I do now.” He swept the photographs to the floor. “Just do what I tell you.”

  He had erupted like a volcano, taking her completely by surprise, shocking her. She had seen him violent before, but the violence had been cold and controlled. There was nothing cold about this outburst. The man standing in front of her was nothing like the Kaldak she had come to know. “What's wrong, Kaldak?”

  “What's not wrong? Esteban's trying to feed you to the rats, the strike can come at any time, Ramsey hasn't been able to find Morrisey or Esteban, and De Salmo is out there just waiting for me to make a wrong move so he can take you out.”