The Tower

by Gregg Hurwitz

  He leaped out and circled the front of his car, falling to his knees in front of her. His heart was pounding. Another victim, he thought, this one killed before my very eyes. As he heard the first cries from the boys behind him, his hands went to the girl’s chest to administer CPR. Before he even pressed down, her body shook and her eyes opened. She immediately began crying—a loud, healthy cry.

  “Fuck,” Jade said. He turned to the boys on the sidewalk as he ran back to his car. “Call nine-one-one. Now!”

  Suddenly quiet, they stood regarding him with saucer eyes. Jade backed up his car so he could maneuver around the girl without moving her. The boys stood motionless. He leaned over and rolled down the passenger window, picking one boy from the crowd. “You. Kid with the blue jacket. Go into the deli and call nine-one-one.”

  The boy scampered off, leaving his friends still frozen on the sidewalk.

  Jade peeled out, zooming around the crying girl. It was too late, though, and he knew it. He had lost too much time.

  He patrolled the surrounding streets, making looser and looser circles around where he had last seen Allander, but there was no sign of the yellow cab. After spending twenty minutes pulling over and asking people if they’d seen a cab traveling at a high speed, he gave up.

  No doubt aware of what had happened on the street behind him, Allander had probably slowed down, turned the corner, and faded into the San Francisco traffic. Few cars were less noticeable than taxis. Since they’re everywhere, no one really sees them.

  On his way to 280, Jade drove past the street where Allander had hit the little girl. He didn’t stop, but he saw that an ambulance had picked her up. He could tell from the strength of her cries that she was going to be okay. Bruised and scared, but okay.

  Jade’s shoulder was starting to swell from his dive to the floor in Singspiel’s, but he did his best to ignore the pain. Removing Sketches of Spain from its CD case, he slid it into the stereo. He tried to calm down as he heard the first notes of the trumpet, but it would take a while. He was too angry with himself.

  Another trap had been orchestrated, had been put into play, and had failed. Allander had taken the bait this time, but he had also injured, maybe even killed, Thomas, and in the end, Jade hadn’t been able to keep track of him. Allander had played right into his hands, and he had lost him. Everyone had done their jobs except for him.

  Even though it was unfair, Jade felt anger at Darby for forcing him to promise to bring Allander in alive. Maybe if he could’ve shot to kill, it would all be over. It was a lot harder to shoot to wound someone. Jade hadn’t had much practice at that.

  The drive home was miserable. Jade replayed every second of the evening in his head, thinking of what he could have done differently. He was furious with himself, and more than a little irritated at the complete failure of his backup support. If a helicopter had joined the chase in time, they probably would not have lost Allander.

  One thing had become clear—Allander didn’t panic on the run, which made sense given the fact he’d been running almost his whole life. Now he would be almost impossible to track down.

  Jade pulled down his street and turned into his quiet driveway. The house seemed dead to him as he entered through the garage. Sinking heavily to the couch, he gazed around his dark living room. It had all begun here, with Travers’s visit to his house.

  Allander’s liquid eyes gazed out of the photographs on the walls, taunting Jade with their silent focus. Where was he? Jade wondered. Headed back to his base, no doubt, but where was that? He would wait there for a few days, recovering and plotting his next move. Or maybe he already had it all lined up. He had had time, transportation, access to God knows how many resources.

  The light from the setting sun cast horizontal lines through the venetian blinds in the living room. They fell across the books and papers on the floor, the photographs taped to the walls, and on Jade as he sat on the couch.

  His eyes closed for a moment and he felt a complete surrender wash over him. It was a new sensation, something he had never felt before. He took his Sig Sauer out from the back of his jeans and laid it on the coffee table.

  He held his head in his hands for what seemed like hours, and then he rose to go take a hot shower. As he headed for the hallway, something in the kitchen caught his eye—the red blinking light on the answering machine.

  55

  “ALL right, kid. The bad news is, we had a slow week here in Falstaff Creek. The good news is, we put two men on your shit assignment. Don’t thank me, I’ll take payment in beers next weekend. So, let’s see who the grand winners are.”

  There was a pause as Tony breathed heavily. Jade scrambled to find the map of San Francisco on which he had drawn the circle.

  “Okay. Secluded rich houses twenty years old that used to be green in the target area. One: Presidio Heights. 223 Clay, at Clay and Baker. Two: St. Francis Wood. 311 Santa Ana, two blocks from where it crosses St. Francis Boulevard. Three: Sutro Heights. 23 Taos Drive. This one’s way up Geary, winding into the park. Almost by the Cliff House.”

  Jade scribbled the addresses onto a pad, then marked them on the map with a big red marker. They were all in rich neighborhoods, pretty well spread out through the target area.

  “That’s all. If you need any more help, be sure you don’t call me.”

  There was a click and the answering machine shut off, leaving the house quiet. Tony’s voice could really fill a room, and now its absence accented the silence of Jade’s house.

  Jade looked at the three red circles on the map. Sutro Heights—that was where Steve Francis’s body had been found, on the edge of Sutro Heights. The house was on a hill by the Cliff House, so if the kid had indeed been parachuting, Allander could have stumbled across him near there.

  Jade traced his finger along the route of the car chase. It definitely seemed that Allander had been heading in that direction. At least before Jade had lost him, Allander’s path had pointed straight for Sutro Heights.

  Charging out to the garage, Jade hopped into his car. He was backing up when he braked suddenly and got out, leaving the engine running. He went back into the house and directly to the living room, where he grabbed his pistol, spun it once around his finger, and jammed it into the back of his jeans.

  His car laid tracks as he peeled out backward from his garage. His head smashed into the headrest on his seat as the back of his BMW plowed into a car pulling into his driveway. The other car spun around in a one-eighty, landing halfway on his front lawn. Yanking the pistol from his jeans, Jade stepped out of his car and found himself aiming at Darby’s head. She didn’t seem to notice.

  He lowered the pistol and walked over to her as two dark sedans drove up the street and pulled over on the far side of the road. A sideways glance at his car revealed that it was still drivable. The bumper was loose and the brake lights on the left side were smashed, but with the exception of a few wrinkles in the black metal of the trunk, the body of the car was surprisingly intact.

  “They told me … they told me not to come,” Darby said.

  For a moment, Jade mistook her shock for drunkenness. Her eyes were glazed and her voice had a foreign flatness to it. But there was an awareness beneath the fog. She always knows what she’s doing, Jade thought. Even now.

  “Thomas?”

  “Don’t. They don’t know. He’s getting … help.” She shook her head and looked around the dark street before her eyes settled on the gun in Jade’s hand. “You’re going, aren’t you? To my son.”

  Jade nodded. The air seemed too thick for words.

  Darby reached a trembling hand up to Jade’s shoulder. She squeezed it tightly, almost lovingly, then reached across to his necklace. She wound one finger in the thin silver chain, made a fist, and yanked it. The chain broke and dangled from her hand.

  “Go,” she said.

  Darby felt the chain swinging in her hand as Jade’s car backed up and shot down the street, one of the dark sedans following close b
ehind. She lowered her head and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her shoulders shook with sobs.

  Jade raced up 280 all the way to San Francisco and cut across town to Sutro Heights. The FBI tail followed him all the way. He knew they’d wait to see the direction he was headed and then call in backup. Hopefully, he could have a few critical moments alone with Allander before they arrived.

  Eventually he pulled off the main street and moved up winding roads into the hills. It was getting hard to keep the road in view as darkness set in, especially around the hairpin turns. He could no longer spot the tail behind him. He heard a helicopter somewhere in the distance, but its noise faded away.

  The car almost got stuck on one embankment, the wheels turning listlessly in the dirt for a few seconds before catching and jerking the car ahead. The road cut back and forth up the hill in fierce crisscrosses. Jade strained, his head out the window, to look up, but couldn’t see where he was headed.

  Finally, he saw a green sign that indicated the turnoff for Taos Drive. Moving off the road, he drove to the mouth of a long driveway that led to a secluded house. The mailbox flashed the number 23 in gold letters.

  The house was shaded by a small forest that crept into the front yard. Pulling over close to the main road, Jade got out of his car and gazed through the woods. He scanned the area slowly, his eyes straining to see through the leaves and branches. Waiting. Waiting for the slightest crack of a twig or crunch of a leaf. Somewhere, a stream moved against its banks, its melodic flow tickling Jade’s ear. A soft roll of thunder issued from the distance.

  As he looked, Jade turned in a full circle. When he’d returned to his starting position, he headed toward the house. He moved forward and sideways, never taking his eyes off the front door.

  If Allander’s here, he’s watching me right now, Jade thought. And something told him that Allander was expecting him.

  The chopping of a helicopter sounded overhead. It approached swiftly, its searchlight zooming across the landscape. It would pick up Jade’s car and direct the backup. Anger swept over Jade. He wanted this one alone.

  He walked boldly up the front walk to the house, then sprinted for the door. Clearing the three stairs, the small porch, and kicking down the door with a single flying leap, he landed beside the door, inside the foyer, balanced in a boxer’s stance.

  He stood motionless as the dust settled around the stark interior. The furniture covered with dust cloths and the rolled-up rugs leaning in the corners of the rooms made the house look like it belonged in a ghost town. Tools lay scattered about the floor.

  A small mound of dirt was fanned in a semicircle at the base of the stairs. Jade walked over to it and pinched some in his fingers, raising it to his nose. Fertilizer. Probably tracked in during the landscaping makeover. He rose from his crouch and looked up the stairs.

  Complete silence. Outside he heard another rumble of thunder, closer now.

  Jade moved quickly, overturning the covered desks and chairs, smashing doors open and kicking through closets. He ran upstairs and sprinted from room to room. There were no signs of life.

  Only the master bedroom remained to be searched; he looked down the length of the hallway at the closed door. With his Sig Sauer leading the way, Jade stalked toward it, cushioning the sound of his footsteps by walking toe to heel.

  The door left its hinges entirely when he kicked it, crashing to the floor. The light from outside was fading rapidly, and much of the bedroom was cloaked in shadow.

  An antique mirror stood in the corner of the room, next to an enormous maple wardrobe with intricately carved handles. Jade aimed his raised pistol at the wardrobe. He was ready. He approached it slowly.

  His finger was white-knuckled against the trigger as he nosed the wardrobe door open. It swung outward on creaky hinges. He leaned back and fired once into the dark interior. A single wire hanger dangled from the bar, lit with the flash from Jade’s shot. That was all.

  The house was empty. It had all been a wild-goose chase. In his excitement, he had forgotten that the green paint and remodeled house only had been part of a theory, and that this had been one of only several possible houses.

  Rage filled his body, and he spun to face the room. Catching his dim reflection in the mirror, he glared at himself—his hard, green eyes, his ineffective body.

  Cursing, he hurled the pistol at his reflection. The mirror shattered and the wooden board behind it swung to the side like a window shutter, held there by two bent nails. As the mirror fell away in shards, it seemed that Jade’s reflection still remained, his eyes peering back at him. Then the eyes blinked when his did not, and a smile crept across the face of Allander Atlasia.

  56

  THE element of surprise decidedly in his favor, Allander stepped through the shattered frame and pounced on Jade, pressing the point of a screwdriver to his throat. Jade swallowed roughly as the probing tool dug into his Adam’s apple.

  Allander smiled. After all this time, he and Jade were together. Here at the new house. His house. Allander felt a chill teasing his legs, and his testicles tightened. The dance had begun.

  The noise of sirens outside escalated, and red-and-blue lights flashed through the window. Jade tried to talk, but the screwdriver was pressed so tightly against his windpipe that he only choked.

  He looked into Allander’s face, savoring the feeling of his flesh against his own. After so much distance and time, the two men were finally touching. The beat of Allander’s heart pounded in Jade’s ears, and for a moment, he could not distinguish it from his own.

  “Not a movement, not a word,” Allander hissed in his ear. “At last, Marlow, we’re together. I know you’ve waited desperately for me to come out of hiding. Or should I say, out of repression.”

  Jade saw the dried blood covering one of Allander’s knuckles where his shot had grazed him in the restaurant. There was another smudge of blood on Allander’s cuff, but it was lighter, a cherry red. It looked like paint.

  Jade struggled again to speak, twisting his neck until he could force out a few words. “Kill me if you’re going to. Just don’t waste my fucking time.”

  Allander eased the pressure from the screwdriver just enough for Jade to continue.

  “You’re done, Atlasia. We got cars, agents, ’copters. And you’ve got a fuckin’ screwdriver.”

  “And your gun, Marlow. And your gun.” Allander reached for the Glock tucked in his jeans.

  The moment he moved, Jade seized the hand gripping the screwdriver and dropped all his weight off his feet. As he collapsed to the floor, he twisted Allander’s hand across itself until he felt the elbow lock. Allander screamed in pain and swung the butt of his pistol to the back of Jade’s head, dropping him to the floor.

  The death grip on his hand eased and Allander pulled it to freedom, sending the screwdriver skidding across the floorboards. In seconds, he was through the door and down the stairs.

  Jade pushed himself up on all fours. The bump on his head was painful, but the skin wasn’t split. He grabbed the pistol he had thrown through the shattered mirror and stumbled after Allander, gripping his head and banging forcefully into the door frame with his shoulder. The stairs and the floor below were quiet.

  Walking unsteadily from room to room, Jade planted his hand on countertops and walls to support himself. He was familiar with this drill, the disappearance. He knew Allander had to be in the house somewhere, especially with the FBI barricade outside. He tried to focus, but saw only blurry images.

  He had a haunting feeling that Allander had spared his life. It was the worst thing he could imagine—charity from a murderer. If Allander had wanted to kill him, he would probably have done it right away, sending the screwdriver through his neck to the handle and watching his blood spray the floor.

  Jade’s vision was getting worse. He knew he had to get some fresh air or he would pass out. He staggered over the flattened front door, blinded by the searchlights that covered the front yard. Most of them, at this m
oment, were angled directly into his eyes.

  The clicking of gun hammers greeted Jade as he stumbled off the porch. Still gripping the back of his head, he shouted, “Relax! It’s me, Marlow. He’s pinned down on the property, so hold your positions.” He walked behind the phalanx of cars. “I need to sit down a minute and then I’m going back in.”

  A tall agent stormed over and bent down like an umpire, hands on his knees. Jade recognized him as Fredericks; he’d last seen him at the meeting in the federal building. Evidently, he had replaced McGuire. “Until you bring me up to speed,” Fredericks yelled, “you’re not going anywhere, Marlow.”

  Jade reached over and grabbed Fredericks’s tie, yanking his head forward. He tried to make his eyes focus as he spoke. His voice was low, calm, and surprisingly tired. “I don’t think you should push me right now.”

  Fredericks stumbled back when Jade released his tie. “We will discuss this later, Marlow. I don’t have the luxury right now.” He backed off and pretended to busy himself by repositioning a few of the snipers.

  A row of FBI agents dressed in black swept past Jade as they rolled into position. Same game as at the apartment. Agents around the house, on the roof ready to rappel. Snipers in the trees. There was no way out for him. Not this time.

  Jade pulled himself to his feet. He checked his pistol, clicking the chamber and glancing down the hard shaft as he pointed it at the ground.

  “Put on your condoms, gentlemen,” he said. “We’re going in.”

  As he turned to move, a shoulder blocked his path, striking him in the ribs. His eyes still on the ground, Jade noticed an ankle loosely wrapped in a bandage.

  Jesus Christ, he thought. She must’ve tried to run with her ankles cuffed together.

  He raised his eyes to Travers’s. “If you don’t get that thing looked at there’ll be no more ballet lessons for you.”