Then she said, “You’re not going to kill me.”
And he laughed. A soft laugh, but one that chilled her and made her back away. A soft laugh that continued as he rose to his feet and leaned on his fingertips over the desk, watching her, making her feel like the next meal for a cobra.
“Kill you?” he said. “Miss Field, no.”
Caution flew. For the first time since the nightmare had begun, each was aware of what the other knew, and each knew there was no profit in pretense any longer. She was relieved because the enemy was there, in front of her, no longer hiding. And yet she was frightened, more frightened than she had ever been.
But more determined than ever to stop him and his unearthly friends.
“No,” he said, “I’m not going to kill you. But I am going to stop you, Miss Field. You have no idea what you’re up against, none at all. You may think you do, but you’re mistaken.” He walked around the desk and followed her step for step as she backed toward the door. “You’ll be stopped, just as your friends have been.”
“What?” Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“The cavalry,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I believe you were waiting for the cavalry to arrive? I think not. I think you’ll find the Indians have cut them off at the pass.”
Jennifer’s hand rose to strike him, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him, holding her other shoulder against his chest. When she looked up, she saw the contempt in his eyes. She was little more than an insect waiting to be crushed under his heel. When he felt like it. Not before.
“Now,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “In the movies the bad guys offer the good guy a chance to join them. To be friends. To be on the winning team. And the good guy always refuses because he has principles—honor—and so-called right on his side.”
His hand closed more tightly on her shoulder.
“That’s ludicrous. You know it, and I know it. Which is why I’m not going to do the same for you. The bad guys are going to win because the good guys won’t know what hit them. We’re going to win, Miss Field, and you—you are going to lose it all.”
There was no thinking now. No words. No negotiation. No threat.
Still staring into his eyes, she jammed her heel into his instep and pushed at the same time. He swore as he released her and hobbled a few paces back, swore again when she whirled around to throw the door open. A secretary stood in the middle of the foyer and looked at them curiously.
Dramon straightened up but didn’t otherwise move.
Jennifer stepped over the threshold, looked over her shoulder, and said, “Go to hell.”
Run!
The thought screamed at her as she walked calmly toward the exit, smiling brightly at the secretary who, surprised, smiled back. Jennifer opened the door.
Run!
Outside, she paused on the top step and inhaled deeply several times, fighting the urge to scream, fighting to stop the violent trembling that her muscles demanded. Then she closed her jacket and headed for her dorm, paying no attention to the occasional call of her name.
She didn’t want to think about what the man had meant when he said the cavalry had been headed off if he had been referring to Marysue and the others. If he had been referring to Borden—but, no, that was impossible. No one knew where the instructor was.
Unless, she thought as she broke into an abrupt run, someone had gotten into her room while she’d gone and had gotten word to Dramon.
Impossible.
It had to be impossible.
She palmed the dorm door open and ran up the stairs.
He had to be there, he just had to be.
Several girls were hanging around in the hall, leaning against the wall and gossiping. They grinned as she rushed past them, called out to her as she unlocked her door and slipped into the room.
It was empty.
She gasped when the closet door opened and Overbrook stepped out.
“You forgot the secret knock,” he scolded her lightly. “I didn’t know who … Jennifer, what’s the matter?”
She stood still, trying to maintain her composure. But she couldn’t. Instead she flung herself into the man’s arms and began to sob, hating herself for what she thought was weakness, yet unable to do anything about it. She felt his arms enfold her, gingerly, and a hand nervously patted her back while she wept. And even as the tears flowed, she couldn’t help a brief smile when she wondered what Lee would think if he could see her then.
Less than a minute later it was over, and Borden moved away from her as if embarrassed. He fussed with Mrs. Klopher’s notes while Jennifer dried her eyes, and he dropped into a chair when he heard what Dramon had just told her.
“They must be ready,” he said grimly. “He wouldn’t be so foolish as to come out in the open if he wasn’t sure they were ready to begin the change.”
“Then what do we do?” she asked, struggling to keep her panic from taking over.
“First, we find out what happened to Miss Beauford and Lee. If there’s something we can do, we’ll help them. Then we’ll carry on with your plan.”
“But how can we?” she asked.
“We have no choice, Jennifer,” he said as he stood. “It’s either that or watch them succeed.”
He looked at her.
And Jennifer knew he was right.
He raised an eyebrow.
She nodded, turned, and was about to unlock the door to check the hall when someone knocked.
Borden immediately ducked into the closet, winking at her before he disappeared. When Jennifer opened the door, Monica Holt burst in and said, “Jen, you just are not going to believe what’s happened now.”
Nine
MONICA DIDN’T GIVE JENNIFER A CHANCE TO PROTEST. She grabbed her arm and dragged her into the hall.
“Honestly,” Monica said, “it’s unbelievable. Come on, Jen. What’s the problem?”
Jennifer, whose mind was slowly switching tracks, only looked back at her room.
“Sorry, forgot about the door,” Holt said, turning to close it. “But you should see—”
She stopped.
Jennifer stood behind her and put a hand to her mouth when she saw Borden’s jacket lying on the floor beside the desk.
“Well,” Holt said, “what have we here?” She crossed the room and picked up the jacket. Holding it in front of her, she grinned. “I don’t think this is your size, Field.”
All Jennifer could say was, “Where have you been, Monica? I’ve been looking for you all day.”
“Had to go into town” was the answer as Monica held the coat up to the light. Her fur jacket made the leather look incredibly shabby by comparison, and when she finally dropped it onto the bed, it was with a grimace of distaste. “But don’t change the subject.”
“What subject?”
Monica pointed. “The coat, Field. It isn’t yours, it sure isn’t mine, and we know Miss Marysue Beauford wouldn’t be caught dead in it.” The grin returned. “Field, are you hiding a man in here?”
Jennifer stiffened. “Right. I’ve got a whole platoon of them in the closet.”
“Well, you’d better get them out,” Monica said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because you’re gonna need them, believe me.”
“For what?”
Monica closed her mouth and shook her head.
“Monica!”
“The coat first.”
Jennifer considered for a moment. Then she closed and locked the door to the room. “Okay. You win.”
Holt gaped. “You mean …” And she looked at the closet door.
Which opened to admit Borden.
“Oh. Oh, no,” Monica whispered.
“Excuse me,” Borden Overbrook said, leaning in front of her to pick up the coat and slip it on. “Jennifer, we have things to do.”
Monica only stared.
“And, Miss Holt, it seems that we can use your help.”
It took a few
seconds for Monica to get over the shock of seeing the instructor, especially in the condition he was in. But when she realized they were waiting for her, she said, “Yes! Of course. We’ll—but where have you been, Dr. Overbrook?”
“That’s a long story,” he replied and pointed to the door. “Would you mind?”
She nodded quickly. “Right. Yes. Jennifer, I thought I had big news but—” She ran to the door, opened it, and poked her head out. Someone yelled something at her, and she yelled back while, at the same time, waggling a hand behind her to warn the others to be ready to run. Then, suddenly, she flung the door all the way open and said quietly, “Run to the fire stairs!”
Jennifer was out instantly, and Borden was right behind her. They ran up the hall and slammed into the emergency stairwell, taking the steps as rapidly as they could, using the banister to propel themselves until, panting and gasping, they reached the bottom. Monica was not far behind.
“Now what?” Overbrook asked, his expression weary and amused at the same time.
Monica wrestled the fire exit open, looked out, and glanced back at Jennifer, saying, “The gate.”
Jennifer nodded her understanding, and when the signal was given she pushed Overbrook into the open and led him at a dead run across the lawn. Beyond was a heavy stand of evergreens between the lawn and the high brick wall that ran along three sides of the academy’s ground. Once into the trees, she made her way to the wall and along it for several yards until she came to an old iron gate that she and the other girls sometimes used to go through to sneak off campus.
The rusted hinges complained as the trio pushed through.
On the other side were more trees and underbrush that had lost many of their leaves to the turning autumn season. They followed a narrow path to the left, almost paralleling the road until they caught a glimpse of Monica’s white Mercedes parked on the shoulder.
Jennifer paused, puzzled by where the car was parked, but there was no time for questions. They dove inside and were moving almost before the doors were closed.
Borden stretched himself out on the backseat as best he could and closed his eyes.
Jennifer said, “Now, what’s going on, Monica? Don’t tell me Marysue got picked up for speeding.”
“Worse.”
“Worse? Marysue?”
“Yeah. She’s being questioned as an accessory.”
Jennifer squirmed until she was leaning back against the door, glancing into the back to see if Borden was all right. He was. He was resting, his eyes closed, but his lips were so tight they were nearly bloodless.
“Accessory to what?” Jennifer asked.
“Robbery. Actually, robberies.”
Jennifer covered her eyes with one hand and massaged her temples. This couldn’t be happening. First Lee and now Marysue. And all of it in one day. She couldn’t imagine what would happen next.
“Tell me about it,” she said in a small voice.
“That’s all I know,” Monica said, speeding down the curving road toward Staines Valley. “I was in the Hilltop having a late lunch when I heard some kids talking. At first I thought it was someone else, but when they mentioned the T-bird I knew it could only be Beauford.”
“What about Lee and Conrad?”
“I don’t know. I stopped at Conrad’s house, but no one was home.”
She said nothing more about Lee, and Jennifer knew why. From the first day they had all met, Monica had insisted the boy was trouble. He wasn’t “right” for Jennifer, meaning that because his father ran a hardware store and he himself took classes at Thaler on a scholarship, he didn’t belong.
What Monica forgot was that Jennifer was at the school on a scholarship too.
“It’s just like this morning, y’know?” Jennifer said, rubbing hard at the back of her neck.
“I’m not surprised about Beauford,” Holt continued. “I’m sure she didn’t do anything, but she can get herself into more trouble just by opening her big mouth. But not to worry. It’s only Rumbel being a pain again.”
“How can you not worry?” Overbrook said from the backseat. “Something like that isn’t the same as being cited for a traffic violation.”
“I know,” Monica answered impatiently. “But this guy, Rumbel, he’s only blowing smoke, that’s all. He already did it to Lee.”
“I heard,” Overbrook said.
Monica swore then as she yanked the steering wheel over, barely avoiding a gleaming black pickup that had drifted into her lane. She sounded the horn angrily and glared at the other driver.
Jennifer held her breath.
Overbrook calmly suggested that the girl not be in such a hurry.
Monica glared at him in the rearview mirror but said nothing. She concentrated on getting into and through town as fast as she could, squealing defiantly into a parking space half a block from the police station. They couldn’t park behind the station because Borden might be seen. Monica leaped out of the car as though she were going to attack the station single-handedly.
Jennifer got out more slowly and looked into the back. Borden told her that he’d remain behind. She nodded and followed Holt into the same room they’d been in that morning.
And the same sergeant was there behind the counter. When he saw Jennifer he greeted her with a smile; when he saw Monica, incongruous in her fur jacket and baseball cap, he frowned.
“What can I do for you now?” he asked Jennifer.
“Marysue Beauford.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Well, this time I’ve bad news, I’m afraid. It looks as if she’s going to be here for a while.”
“But she didn’t do anything,” she protested tearfully.
“I wouldn’t know,” he said, his expression sympathetic. “I just work—”
“Sergeant Easton,” Monica interrupted coolly, “does she have an attorney present?”
“She hasn’t been arrested or booked,” Sergeant Easton told her, just as coolly.
“It doesn’t make any difference, and you know it. She still has the right to an attorney, and she’d better have one or someone’s going to pay for false arrest, abridging a woman’s civil rights, and—”
Easton looked away from Monica to Jennifer. “If you want to wait here, it’s okay with me. But I think you’d do better coming back later.”
“Later?” Jennifer asked, looking at the clock on the wall behind him. “It’s close to five now. How long—”
“I don’t know,” he said, courtesy clearly giving way to impatience. “I’m not on the case, as you can see.” And he walked away and through a door under the clock.
“I’ll have his job,” Monica muttered as they went back into the hall. “I’ll have his badge.”
“Monica, calm down, okay? This isn’t going to do us or Marysue any good.”
With her hands clenched helplessly at her side, she looked down the length of the brightly lit hall, wondering where Marysue was being kept and wondering, too, what they could do if they found her. They certainly couldn’t run away with her. She turned and said to Monica, “C’mon, let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?”
But Jennifer just said they should return to the car and explain to Borden what they’d been told. He nodded thoughtfully from his prone position on the backseat and stared at the roof of the car.
“All right,” he said at last. “Monica, I need some clothes, and I don’t have any money. Do you have plastic?” She nodded, and he rattled off his shirt and trouser size and, after a rueful look down at his feet, his shoe size. He didn’t care what he looked like, as long as he didn’t look like a tramp. Then, after Monica left, he asked Jennifer to run to the nearest luncheonette or fast-food place and get him a hamburger or two. “I don’t want to keel over from hunger,” he said with a wan smile. “And I’m going to need more strength than I have.”
Jennifer had a few dollars in her pocket, and she climbed out hurriedly and ran up the block. A coffee shop was the first place she came to,
and she ordered three hamburgers and a coffee. While she waited, she stared blindly out the window to the street.
Was it only coincidence, she wondered, that Jack Rumbel was coming down so hard on them at the same time that Dean Dramon felt confident enough to openly show his hand?
And if not, was Rumbel one of them? Or was he just working for them? The latter seemed to be the most logical since Conrad had told her Rumbel had grown up in this town.
But that didn’t help her current situation.
The man behind the counter spoke to her then, and she paid him, picked up the food in the white paper bag, and left.
Almost back at the car, she stopped.
There, across the street just in front of the park’s wall-like hedge, was Jack Rumbel, in his cheap suit and with his large cigar. She felt her mouth open in surprise.
He wasn’t alone.
He was talking to Conrad Chang, and he had the boy firmly by the arm.
Ten
A FULL MINUTE PASSED WHILE JENNIFER tried to figure out what to do. She rested behind a tree because she didn’t want to be seen. She glanced over every so often and saw Conrad resisting. Not pulling or yelling, but his stance made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere.
She hurried away to the car.
She flung open the door, handed the bag to Overbrook after she climbed in, and was pleased to see Monica sitting smugly behind the wheel.
“Drive,” Jennifer told her.
“What?”
“Do as I say! Drive. Turn around, and head back the other way. Don’t stop until I tell you.”
Monica looked at her in astonishment before nodding solemnly and doing as she was asked. Jennifer looked in the back, saw that Overbrook was changing, and looked hurriedly to the front again. She told them what she had just seen and asked Monica to pull up just before they reached Conrad.
“Why?” the girl asked as she swung the Mercedes around. “You gonna grab him or what? Is this going to be real kidnap stuff?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No, but I’ll tell you one thing—you’re not going to do it with this car, lady. Suppose that guy shoots or something? We could get killed. He could put a hole in my car, for crying out loud.”
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