by Rachel Ford
He could hear Nancy screaming behind him, and the sound of her chair scraping on the floor. She was, he knew, coming to aid him. Fear flooded his mind, and he pushed with renewed energy. A blade flashed close to him, slashing wildly. Still, he kept pushing. To back off meant to expose Nancy to that knife. And no fear for his own safety would allow that.
Another sound reached his ears. It was Josh’s voice, and in a most uncharacteristic turn of events, he was profoundly grateful to hear it. The assassin heard it too, because he cursed. All at once, the door slammed shut. The sound of hurried footfalls raced down the hall.
The killer, he realized, had fled.
He turned the lock with trembling hands. Nancy, meanwhile, threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Alfred. Are you alright?”
He was replying in the affirmative when the door handle turned. They both froze, until Josh’s voice reached them. “Nance? Favero?”
This time, Alfred glanced through the peephole before releasing the lock. Then, once convinced it was safe to do so, he opened the door.
Stevenson burst in, brushing past him to survey Nancy. “You’re okay?”
“Yes.”
Then, he turned his attention to the taxman. “What the hell just happened?”
“Uh…I think that was the killer.”
“Dammit! I told you not to open that door.” Josh dropped the bag of food he was carrying, and took off down the hall in the direction the assassin had fled.
Alfred shut and locked the door after him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Josh Stevenson returned shortly after he’d left, and the taxman could practically see the smoke streaming out of his ears. “What in the ever-loving hell did you open that door for, Favero?” he demanded. “Didn’t I tell you not to open it to anyone?”
“We thought it was you,” Nancy put in. “With breakfast.”
“All he had to do was look, Nance,” Josh returned. Exasperation was heavy in his tone, but Alfred was keenly aware that he was still the target. “He could have gotten you killed.”
“It was an accident,” she said with some finality.
Josh clenched his jaw, but let it drop with a last, “Goddammit.” Then, after a moment of mutual silence, he spoke again, and his tone was strained but quieter. “Alright, I barely caught a glimpse of the guy. He was about six-two, probably about two hundred ten pounds, dark hair, Caucasian. But I have no idea what he looked like.”
Alfred blinked. That was a far more detailed description than he could have given.
“You,” the marine was saying, “got a much better view, Favero. What’d he look like?”
“Uh. Well, uh, like you say, uh. Tall. White. Male.”
Josh frowned at him. “I know that. I said that already. What about his face, his features?”
“Uh…kind of square. Dark hair.”
“For God’s sake. What color eyes did he have? Did he have any distinguishing characteristics? Did you recognize him?”
Alfred felt his cheeks flush. “His eyes were green, I think. Or maybe blue.”
“Maybe?”
“I…didn’t really pay attention until he was trying to kill me. And then,” he said, his tone growing more aggravated by the moment, “I was kind of focusing on other things. Like staying alive.”
“Which,” Josh reminded him icily, “wouldn’t have been necessary, if you had listened to me in the first place.”
Nancy cleared her throat. “I didn’t get a good view of him,” she said. “By time I realized something was wrong, the door was mostly closed. But he did have a very square face.”
“Square?”
“Yeah. Square chin, very athletic look to him.”
The marine nodded. “That’s good.” He turned a sour look at Alfred. “That’s something, at least.”
“There was something familiar about him,” Nancy was continuing.
“There was?”
“What?” Alfred wondered.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not much help. But I think I’ve seen him before.”
Josh considered this, then nodded. “That means he’s probably been scoping you two out as he plans his hit. You’ve probably seen him around the convention somewhere.”
“I wish I could figure out where, though.” She was frowning.
Alfred tried to recall the face, but it was mostly a blur now. It was entirely possible that he’d seen it before. The more he thought on it, the more it seemed likely. But, then, when he considered the opposite possibility, he conceded that it was equally possible that he’d never seen the killer before in his life. “I don’t know,” he said aloud, after a few moments of these fruitless ponderings. “I don’t know if I’ve seen him. I might have. But I might not have.”
Josh rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“Well,” Nancy said, “we’ve got to figure out if we are going to the police.”
“We can’t tell them about the device,” Alfred reasoned.
“No. But we could tell them someone in a housekeeper’s uniform showed up and tried to kill us.”
“I don’t know what good it will do,” Josh said. “I mean, they could pull any security footage, but he’s long gone by now. Especially at an event like this. He could have switched costumes fifteen times already. And they’re not going to be looking for anything related to the case, or ECF. They’re going to think this is a random attack, with a random guy trying to kill you two.”
“And giving statements is going to take a long time,” she agreed. “Which will be a long time we’re not on the actual case.”
It was decided, then, that they’d hold off on reporting the incident, and focus on finding the killer.
“What I don’t understand, though,” Alfred mused, “was why this is the first time he’s tried to get us in our room. I mean, he attacked you in your house the first time, Nance. But after that, he’s waited until something drew us into public.”
“Maybe he’s tired of waiting. Maybe he decided to just get it done.”
“Well, if Walker got an alert that I opened the file,” Nance put in, “he might not dare wait for us to come out on our own.”
“That’s true,” Josh agreed. “That might have made them more desperate.”
“If only I could figure out what the hell it actually is,” she sighed. “Dammit, I feel like such an imbecile. What would I have seen before that I’m missing now?”
“Don’t talk like that, babe,” Alfred said. “You’ll get it. Let’s eat breakfast, and then take another look at it.”
They’d collected the bag of food and the towels their killer had dropped. It was cold now, but a cold breakfast sandwich and hash browns were better than nothing. The taxman wolfed his down, and so did his companions.
Then, they returned to the file. “You said the twelfth,” Nancy mused. “Let’s go back there.”
“I’m not sure it was the twelfth,” he reminded her.
“No, but we might as well start there.”
They did, and poured through pages of transactions. None of them stood out as suspect.
“My eyes are going to bleed,” the taxman protested.
“I know,” she sighed. Then she asked, “What was the other date you said?”
He considered. “I don’t know…the tenth maybe?” He saw Josh roll his eyes behind them, and flushed. “But, babe, I really don’t know. It could have been anything.”
“Well, it can’t be any more of a waste of time than everything else I’ve tried this morning,” she returned. “So let’s give it a shot.”
They navigated back to two days prior, and started afresh. Alfred’s eyes stung as he continued to stare at the screen. He was just about to suggest that they throw in the towel, and just go to the police with what they did have, when he heard the sharp intake of her breath. “Nance?”
Josh must have heard it too, because he joined them. “What did you find?”
“Look at this,”
she said, pointing to one of the rows. “It’s a transaction on the tenth, for a hotel stay in New York City. Twenty thousand dollars.”
Josh whistled. “Jesus. That’s a little upscale for a charity, isn’t it?”
“You’re not kidding,” Nancy agreed. “But look at the name.”
“Kate Dallas. She runs ECF, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice gig, if you can get it, I guess,” Josh said, shaking his head.
“It’s not just that.” Her tone was growing more animated as she spoke. “This says it was for a charity gala that night. But Kate Dallas wasn’t in New York City on the tenth.”
Alfred frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because she was at the London premiere of Fire Fell.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “That’s right. You showed me the pictures of the red carpet that night.”
Nancy was nodding excitedly. “Everyone was talking about the surprise appearance of Pteropine Guy.”
“I remember. Because it meant he’d be in the next movie.”
“Exactly.”
Very vaguely, Alfred remembered having had this conversation with Nancy. “Pteropine Guy? He’s another superhero, right?”
“Yes. He and Swell Dude form BLAB for Justice.”
Alfred blinked. “What?”
“It’s their superhero group: Band of Loosely Associated Buddies for Justice.” He felt an eyebrow creeping upward. Nancy shrugged. “It’s meant to be funny.”
“It’s not.”
“That’s not really the point,” Josh interjected. “The point is, Dallas was there, in London. Not in New York City.”
“Then that’s a fraudulent charge,” Alfred realized.
“Exactly. And so is this one. And this one. All of these.” Nancy was pointing to a set of charges related to that stay, ostensibly payouts to a local charity.
“She’s embezzling,” the taxman said. “She’s embezzling from her own charity.”
Nancy laughed excitedly. “This has to be it. This has to be what I found the first time. The other me, I mean.”
Josh grinned. “Dammit, Nance. Good work.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Okay. So we know Dallas is embezzling, and that she’s willing to kill to stop herself from getting caught.”
“And she’s got a mole in the IRS,” Alfred put in.
“And an assassin on the payroll,” Josh agreed.
“How do we take her down, though? I mean, I can bring this to Caspersen right now. That still doesn’t get the assassin off our trail.”
“No. As long as she’s free, you’ve still got a target on your back, Nance,” the marine said.
“We can’t prove anything about the assassin, either,” Alfred mused. “Because we’d have to try explaining the spacetime field generator.”
“You can’t do that,” Josh put in. “Once people realize that’s possible, other companies will develop it. Who knows what kind of chaos would ensue.”
“Agreed,” Nancy nodded. “We have to keep the device a secret.”
“Which means, other than the guy this morning, we’d have no way of knowing there’s someone after us.”
“And no way to prove the attack this morning was related to Dallas.”
“Which means we’re going to have a hell of a time proving that Dallas actually is willing to kill to keep her secret.”
“I think,” Josh said, “the best thing we can do is get you out of here. Go talk to your boss, tell her your suspicions about Walker and what you found on Dallas. Even if we can’t prove the assassin piece – yet – she’s going to have less reason to kill you once the cat’s out of the bag.
“But we know there’s an assassin here, and with crowds like this, he could be hiding anywhere. And he’s getting desperate, as evidenced by the assault this morning. So the longer we stay, the more danger you’re in.”
Nancy’s face fell. “Leave?”
“What else can we do, babe?” Alfred reasoned.
“Sorry, Nance,” Josh said. “I wish I had a better answer. But you’re not seeing much of MarvelousCon holed up in your room anyway.”
Despite her disappointment, Nancy concurred. So, they packed their bags. “Don’t worry, babe,” Alfred said. “There’s always next year.”
“After this?” She shook her head. “It’s probably the end of MarvelousCon. Hell, it’s probably the end of MDC.”
Despite the fact that the comic empire’s financier had put out a hit on her life, Nancy seemed deeply affected by the thought. Alfred wrapped an arm around her. He couldn’t begin to understand her sorrow, but he didn’t like to see her sad. So he trotted out a tried and true platitude: “I’m sure it’ll work out.”
“I can’t believe Kate Dallas would be a killer,” she said. “I mean, she always seemed like such a good person. Always giving back, always caring.”
Again, Alfred found himself at a loss for a response, so he relied on another cliché. “You never can tell.”
Josh rolled his eyes, saying to Nancy, “She was good at what she did. She fooled a lot of people.”
“Yeah.”
“But who knows, MDC may survive without her,” he continued. “I mean, she’s just the money behind it. But Ashworth’s got plenty of money of his own now. Miller’s a respected director. They’ve got a lot of star power, especially with Becket as Swell Dude.”
Her expression brightened. “That’s true.”
“It’ll be a scandal, but the studios would be crazy to give up on those movies. Not with the kind of money they bring in.”
Nancy smiled. “You know, you could be right.”
“See?” Alfred put in. “Like I said: it’ll all work out.”
“Okay, is that everything?” Josh asked.
“I think so.”
“It’s all I can see,” Alfred agreed.
Slinging a bag over his back and carrying one of the suitcases, he said, “Alright, then, let’s head out.” They waited until he confirmed the path was clear, and Alfred got the remaining suitcase. Nancy got the door behind them.
Josh walked with an alertness that rather unnerved the taxman. The tense posture, the careful movement of the other man’s eyes, impressed upon him the full weight of the peril of their situation. He felt his stomach tense, and his legs tremble.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, he thought. But, unlike the creator of that verse, Alfred could not claim to fear no evil. On the contrary, his eyes darted up and down the hall in search of that shadow of death.
A door opened in the distance, and he felt his heart leap into his mouth. But then a pair of voices, high and raised in laughter, reached his ears. A moment later, he spotted two female forms decked out in elaborate cosplay, with great swaths of colorful fabric trailing behind them. They seemed to him almost like an amalgamation of giant, rainbow-colored peacocks and medieval warriors. Another time, he might have wondered what in all creation they were supposed to be.
Today, though, he wiped his sweating palms against his pants legs and carried on.
They passed a few more cosplayers on the way to the elevators. These costumed forms passed them laughing and smiling, enjoying the day’s promise. He watched the grinning, painted faces pass by with a kind of disembodied curiosity. He had the sense that he was on the way to be slaughtered, but first treading through a gauntlet of hyaenas.
They reached the elevator bank and were joined as they waited by some kind of space ninja cosplayer. “Morning,” a voice, muffled through the wearer’s face shield, greeted.
“Morning,” Alfred said glumly.
All four of them piled in together into the empty cab, and Josh pressed the button for the lobby.
The doors closed, and Alfred felt Nancy take his hand. He glanced over to see her flash him a smile. He smiled back. Maybe it was being safely out of the open; maybe it was just knowing that Nance was at his side. But the taxman felt his anxiety lessen.
For
about two and a half seconds, anyway. That’s how long it took him to catch sight of the space ninja’s reflection in the polished steel elevator cab, reaching for one of the fake weapons strapped to his chest.
Except, Alfred realized as the other man drew the silenced pistol and levelled it at him, it was no fake weapon. “Nance!” he yelled, pivoting as he did so, so that his body was between hers and the shooter’s. “Look out.”
The taxman wrapped her in his arms, and pressed his eyes closed. The assassin had found them. He was going to die; he knew that. But the overarching thought in his mind as he waited for the bullets that would end his life to tear into his back was that he hoped he’d be able to remain on his feet long enough for the elevator to reach the lobby. Long enough for the doors to open. Long enough for Nance to have a chance to run.
He heard Josh shout behind him. He heard a shot ring out, terribly loud in the confined chamber. He heard Nancy cry in alarm, and he pressed her closer. Still, for a moment longer, he kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see his death coming.
But the fact that it hadn’t already arrived with that first shot, nor in the interval afterward, gave rise to a curiosity that overpowered fear. He opened one eye a sliver, then entirely. Then he opened the other.
Josh Stevenson was grappling with the space ninja over the gun. Nancy pulled free of Alfred, moving to intervene; but as soon as she neared, the two men shifted positions, and Josh’s back was to her. She stood back.
They crossed from one side of the elevator to the next rapidly. Alfred screamed as the gun went off again, and darted aside as the two men tumbled toward him and Nancy.
“Josh!” she called.
“Sugar cookies,” Alfred said.
The marine seemed to be getting the best of the fight, for he’d pressed the space ninja into a corner. Another shot fired, and the ninja extricated himself from the corner.
“Fudge muffins.”
Finally, an eternity later it seemed to the taxman, the elevator reached the lobby. Josh stumbled out, pulling the assassin with him by his gun hand. Another shot sounded, and Alfred heard glass shatter in the distance.
