Last to Die r-10

by Tess Gerritsen

  “It’s a trap!” Claire screamed. “He hasn’t left! He’s right …” Her voice died, her gaze fixed on something—someone—standing behind Maura.

  Blood roaring in her ears, Maura turned and saw a man towering in the doorway. Saw broad shoulders and glittering eyes in a face smeared black with paint, but it was the gun in his hand she focused on. The silencer. When he fired, there would be no deafening blast; death would come with a muted thud, heard only in this stone room buried deep within the mountain.

  “Drop your weapon, Mr. Sansone,” he ordered. “Do it now.”

  He knows our names.

  Sansone had no choice; he eased the gun out of his waistband and let it thud to the floor.

  Julian, already kneeling beside Maura, reached out and grabbed her hand. Only sixteen, so very young, she thought, as they held hands, squeezing hard.

  Bear howled again, a cry of rage. Of frustration.

  Julian suddenly looked up, and she saw his bewildered expression. Realized, just as he did, that this did not make sense. If Bear’s still alive, why isn’t he defending us?

  “Kick it toward me,” the man said.

  Sansone nudged the gun with his shoe, and it slid across the floor. Stopped just short of the doorway where the man stood.

  “Now down on your knees.”

  So this is how it ends for us, thought Maura. All of us on our knees. A bullet to each head.

  “Do it!”

  Sansone’s head dipped in surrender as he dropped toward the floor. But it was only the windup to one last, desperate move. Like a sprinter exploding from the starting block, Sansone leaped straight at the gunman.

  They both tumbled through the doorway, grappling desperately in the gloom of the wine cellar.

  Sansone’s gun was still lying on the floor.

  Maura scrambled to her feet, but before she could scoop up the weapon, another hand closed around the grip. Lifted the barrel to her head.

  “Get back! Get back!” Teddy screamed at Maura. His hands were trembling, but his finger was already on the trigger as he aimed at Maura’s head. He yelled over his shoulder: “I’ll shoot her, Mr. Sansone. I swear I will!”

  Maura dropped to the floor again. Knelt there, stunned, as Sansone was shoved back into the room and forced to his knees beside her.

  “Is the dog secured, Teddy?” the gunman asked.

  “I tied him to the kitchen cabinet. He can’t get loose.”

  “Bind their hands. Do it quick,” the man said. “They’ll be getting here any minute, and we need to be ready.”

  “Traitor!” Claire spat out as Teddy unpeeled strips of duct tape and bound Sansone’s wrists behind his back. “We were your friends. How can you do this to us?”

  The boy ignored her as he moved on to Julian’s hands.

  “Teddy tricked us into coming down here,” Claire said to Maura. “Told us you were waiting for us, but it was all a trap.” She stared at the boy, her voice thick with disgust. Doomed as she was, the girl was fearless, even reckless. “It was you. It was always you. Hanging those stupid twig dolls.”

  Teddy peeled off another strip of tape and wound it tightly around Julian’s wrists. “Why would I do that?”

  “To scare us. To freak us out.”

  Teddy looked at her with frank surprise. “I didn’t do that, Claire. Those dolls were meant to scare me. To make me call for help.”

  “And Dr. Welliver, how could you do that to her?”

  A flash of regret registered in Teddy’s eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to kill her! It was just supposed to confuse her. She was working for them. Always watching me, waiting to see when I’d—”

  “Teddy,” the man snapped. “Remember what I taught you? What’s done is done, and we have to move on. So finish the job.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy answered, cutting off another strip of tape. He wrapped it so tightly around Maura’s wrists that no amount of twisting or struggling would free her.

  “Good boy.” The man handed Teddy a pair of night-vision binoculars. “Now get up there and watch the courtyard. Tell me when they arrive, and how many there are.”

  “I want to stay with you.”

  “I need you out of the line of fire, Teddy.”

  “But I want to help!”

  “You’ve helped me enough.” The man laid his hand on the boy’s head. “Your job is on the roof. You’re my eyes.” He glanced down at his belt as an alarm beeped. “She’s reached the gate. Headset on, Teddy. Go.” He pushed the boy out of the room and followed him out.

  “I was your friend,” Claire screamed as the door swung shut. “I trusted you, Teddy!”

  They heard the padlock thud into place. Up in the kitchen Bear was still barking, still howling, but the door muffled the sound, made it seem as distant as a coyote’s cry.

  Maura stared at the closed door. “It was Teddy,” she murmured. “All this time, I never imagined …”

  “Because he’s just a kid” was Claire’s bitter observation. “No one pays attention to us. No one gives us credit. Until we surprise you.” She looked up toward the ceiling. “They’re going to kill Detective Rizzoli.”

  “She’s not coming alone,” said Maura. “She told me she’s bringing people. People who know how to defend themselves.”

  “But they don’t know the castle like this man does. Teddy’s been letting him in after dark. He knows every room, every stairway. And he’s ready for them.”

  In the kitchen, Bear had stopped howling. Even he must have grasped the futility of their situation.

  Jane. It’s all up to you.

  THIRTY-ONE

  THE CASTLE LOOKED ABANDONED.

  Jane and Frost pulled into the Evensong parking lot and stared up at dark windows, at the jagged rooftop looming against the starlit sky. There’d been no one to meet them at the gate, and no one had answered the phone when she’d called from the road half an hour ago, using the last weak blip of a cell signal. A black SUV pulled up beside them, and through the windows Jane saw the silhouettes of Carole and her two male associates. One was Denzel, the other was a buff and silent man with a shaved head. When they’d all stopped for gas an hour earlier, neither man had said a word; it was clear that Carole was running this show.

  “Something’s wrong,” Jane said. “We would’ve tripped the sensors on the road, so Maura’s got to know we’ve arrived. Where is everyone?”

  Frost glanced at Carole’s SUV. “I’d feel a lot better if we had Maine State Police backup. We should’ve called them anyway. Screw the CIA.”

  Car doors thumped shut, and Carole and her men stepped out. To Jane’s alarm, they were all strapping on weapons. Already Denzel was moving toward the building.

  Jane scrambled out of her car. “What do you people think you’re doing?”

  “Time for you to get us inside the building, Detective,” said Carole as she slipped on a communications headset. “Now go to the front door and speak into the intercom. Let them hear your voice, so they’ll know it’s okay to let us in.”

  “We came just to collect the kids and get them to a safe place. That’s what we agreed on. Why do you have all this Rambo gear?”

  “Change of plans.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I decided we need to search the building first. Once we’re in the front door, you wait in your vehicle until we give you the all-clear.”

  “You said this was just an evacuation. That’s the only reason we agreed to help you get inside. Now it looks like you’re launching an assault.”

  “A necessary precaution.”

  “Fuck that. Children are in there. I’m not going to let you shoot up the place.”

  “The front door, Detective. Now.”

  “It’s not locked,” said Denzel, returning from the building. “We don’t need them.”

  Carole turned to him. “What?”

  “I just checked it. We can walk right in.”

  “Now I know something’s wrong,” said Jane.
She turned toward the building.

  Carole instantly blocked her way. “Get back in your vehicle, Detective.”

  “My friend is in there. I’m going in.”

  “I don’t think so.” Carole raised her gun. “Take their weapons.”

  “Whoa!” said Frost as Denzel forced him and Jane to their knees. “Can we all bring this down a notch?”

  “You know what to do with them,” Carole snapped to Denzel. “If I need you inside, I’ll be on com.”

  Jane looked up as Carole and the man with the shaved head strode off toward the building. “Lady, you are so fucked!” she yelled.

  “Like she cares,” Denzel laughed. He planted his foot against the small of her back and gave her a push. Jane landed facedown onto the cobblestones. He yanked her hands behind her back, and she felt plastic zip-cuffs suddenly bite into her wrists.

  “Asshole,” she spat out.

  “Awww. Say more sweet things to me.” He moved on to Frost, securing his wrists with startling efficiency.

  “Is this how you guys always operate?” she said.

  “It’s how she operates. The Ice Queen.”

  “And you don’t have a problem with that?”

  “Gets the job done. Everybody’s happy.” He straightened and paced a few steps away as he said into his com unit, “All secure out here. Yes, I copy. Just tell me when.”

  Jane rolled onto her side to look at the building, but Carole and the other man had already vanished inside. Now they were roaming those dark halls, adrenaline pumping, instincts primed to fire at any shadow. This mission wasn’t about saving lives; the children were merely pawns in a war waged by a woman with one objective in mind. A woman with ice in her veins.

  Denzel’s footsteps moved back toward her, and she looked up to see him standing just above. Silhouetted by the starry sky, his weapon appeared to be an extension of his hand, a black wand of death. She thought of what Carole had said to him, You know what to do, and those words suddenly held a new and frightening meaning. Then Denzel took another step, away from her. He wasn’t looking at her at all. His head swiveled left, then right, searching the darkness, and she heard him whisper: “What the hell?”

  Something whistled in the wind, like a knife slitting through silk.

  Denzel toppled across her chest, landing so hard that the air rushed from her lungs. Crushed by his weight, she struggled to take a breath. Felt his body twitching in its death throes as something warm and wet soaked through her blouse. She heard Frost yelling her name, but she could not move under that deadweight, could do nothing but stare as footsteps approached. Slow, deliberate.

  She looked up at the night sky. At stars, so many stars. The Milky Way was more brilliant than she’d ever seen it before.

  The footsteps halted. A man towered above her, eyes glowing in a face smeared with black. She knew what would happen next. Denzel’s body, dripping blood onto hers, told her all she needed to know.

  Icarus is here.

  THIRTY-TWO

  IT WAS THE DOG WHO ALERTED THEM. THROUGH THE DOOR OF THEIR cell, Claire heard Bear start to howl again, loud enough to echo through the wine cellar and funnel up the stairs. She did not know what had set him off. Maybe he understood that their time had run out, that Death was even now making His way down the steps to claim them.

  “He’s coming back,” Claire said.

  In that airless room, she could smell the fear, sharp and electric, the scent of animals awaiting slaughter. Will pressed closer to her, his flesh moist with sweat. He had finally worked the tape off his mouth, and now he leaned in and whispered to her: “Get behind me and stay down, Claire. Whatever happens, just play dead.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you know why?” He looked at her, and even though this was the same chubby, spotty Will she knew so well, she saw something new in his eyes, something she hadn’t noticed before. It was shining there so brightly it could not be missed. “I won’t get another chance to say this,” he whispered. “But I want you to know that …”

  The padlock clanged. They both froze as the door squealed open and they saw the barrel of a gun, clutched in gloved hands. The weapon swept an arc around the room, as though seeking a target, and not finding it.

  A man with a shaved head stepped into the room and called out, “He’s not in here! But the others are.”

  Now a woman entered, sleek and graceful, her hair hidden under a watch cap. “That dog had to be howling at something down here,” she said. They stood side by side, two invaders clad all in black, surveying the room of bound prisoners. The woman’s gaze fell on Claire, and she said: “We’ve met before. Do you remember, Claire?”

  Staring up at the woman, Claire suddenly thought of headlights rushing toward her. Remembered the night turning upside down and the sound of shattering glass and gunshots. And she remembered the guardian angel who had magically appeared to pull her from that ruined car.

  Take my hand, Claire. If you want to live.

  The woman turned to Will, who was staring openmouthed. “And we’ve met, too, Will.”

  “You were there,” he murmured. “You’re the one …”

  “Someone had to save you.” She pulled out a knife. “Now I need to know where that man is.” She held up the blade, as though offering it as a reward for their cooperation.

  “Cut me free,” snapped Sansone, “and I’ll help you take him down.”

  “Sorry, but this game’s not for civilians,” the woman said. She looked around at the faces. “What about Teddy? Does anyone know where he is?”

  “Screw Teddy,” said Claire. “He’s a traitor. He led us into this trap.”

  “Teddy doesn’t know what he’s doing,” the woman said. “He’s been lied to, corrupted. Help me save him.”

  “He won’t come out. He’s hiding.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “On the roof,” said Claire. “That’s where he’s supposed to wait.”

  The woman glanced at her partner. “Then we’ll have to go up and get him.” Instead of freeing Sansone, the woman knelt down behind Claire and sliced her bonds. “You can help us, Claire.”

  With a gasp of relief, Claire rubbed her wrists, felt the welcome rush of blood into her hands. “How?”

  “You’re his classmate. He’ll listen to you.”

  “He won’t listen to any of us,” said Will. “He’s helping that man.”

  “That man,” the woman said, turning to Will, “is here to kill you. To kill all of us. I’ve spent three years trying to catch him.” She looked at Claire. “How do we get to the roof?”

  “There’s a door. In the turret.”

  “Take us there.” The woman yanked Claire to her feet.

  “What about them?” Claire said, pointing to the others.

  The woman tossed the knife on the floor. “They can cut themselves free. But they have to stay here. It’s safer.”

  “What?” Claire protested as the woman pulled her out of the room.

  “I can’t have them getting in the way.” The woman swung the door shut.

  Inside the room, Sansone was cursing, shouting. “Open the door!”

  “It’s not right,” insisted Claire. “Leaving them all locked up.”

  “It’s what I need to do. It’s best for them, best for everyone. Including Teddy.”

  “I don’t care about Teddy.”

  “But I do.” The woman gave Claire a hard shake. “Now take us to the turret.”

  They climbed out of the wine cellar into the kitchen, where Bear was barking again, looking pitiful and half strangled as he struggled to free himself from the leash. Claire wanted to untie him, but the woman dragged her away toward the servants’ stairway. The man took the lead, his gaze constantly sweeping the steps above them as he climbed. Never had Claire known people who could move as quietly as these two. They were like cats, their footsteps silent, their
eyes always moving. Sandwiched between them, Claire had no view forward or backward, so she focused on the steps, on moving as soundlessly as this man and woman. They were some kind of secret agents, she thought, here to save them. Even to save Teddy, the traitor. She’d had a lot of time to think about it while sitting in that room with her hands bound, listening to the cook’s whimpers, to Dr. Pasquantonio’s nasal whistles as he breathed. She’d thought about all the clues she’d missed. How Teddy never let anyone see his computer screen, but always hit ESCAPE as soon as she walked in the room. He was sending the man messages, she thought. All this time, he’d been helping the man who’d come to kill them.

  She just didn’t know why.

  They were on the third floor now. The man paused and glanced back at Claire for guidance.

  “There,” she whispered, pointing to the spiral staircase that led to the turret. To Dr. Welliver’s office.

  He moved up the stone steps, and Claire crept up behind him. The stairs were steep here, and all she could see of him was the back of his hips and the commando knife dangling from his belt. It was so quiet she could hear the soft rasp of their clothes as they moved step by step.

  The door to the turret was ajar.

  The man gave it a nudge and reached in to flick on the light switch. They saw Dr. Welliver’s desk, her filing cabinet. The sofa with the flowery upholstery and the plump cushions. It was a room Claire knew well. How many hours had she sat on that very sofa, telling Welliver about her sleepless nights, her headaches, her nightmares?

  In this room that smelled of incense, decorated in soft pastels and magic crystals, Claire had felt safe enough to reveal secrets. And Dr. Welliver had listened patiently, nodding her head of frizzy silver hair, a cup of herbal tea always beside her.

  Claire stood near the door as the man and woman quickly searched the office and the adjoining bathroom. They checked behind the desk, opened the closet. No Teddy.

  The woman turned to the door that led outside, to the roof walk. The same door Welliver had exited to take her fatal plunge. As the woman stepped outside, the summer wind blew in, warm and sweet with the scent of pine trees. Claire heard running footsteps, then a cry. Seconds later the woman came back in, dragging Teddy by his shirt, and the boy sprawled onto the floor.