by Dee Davis
“So how do you want to handle this?” Owen asked.
“Well, I hate to go in with guns blazing, but I don’t think we can take a chance. So why don’t you knock on the door, and I’ll stay off to one side, gun drawn. Just in case Ms. Waller is expecting us.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He waited as she moved into place to the left of the door, back to the wall. “Ready?” he mouthed.
She nodded and as he lifted his hand Tyler’s gaze moved to the doorframe, her heart skipping a beat as her mind registered what it was that she was seeing.
“Stop,” she ordered, her hand whipping out to pull his back. “The door’s booby-trapped. There’s a bomb.”
They stood frozen for a moment, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist, the light fixture buzzing, the sound of laughter floating up from somewhere downstairs.
Normalcy surrounded by insanity.
“Are you sure?” he asked, both of them starting to breathe again.
“Yes.” She nodded at two strands of filament running the length of the doorframe’s header. “It’s really rudimentary. But that doesn’t mean it can’t do a lot of damage.”
“So what do you want to do?” he asked, backing away from the wires.
“Shouldn’t be that difficult to dismantle,” she said, producing a tiny tool kit.
“Girl Scout?” he quipped, watching as she assessed the situation.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Military father.” For a moment she hesitated, grief threatening, but she shook it off, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand. She took a step closer to the doorway, careful not to set off any vibration. “I’m guessing the contact is made when the door is opened. The fatter wire should be the ground, the thinner one responsible for ignition.” She studied the wires and then selected a pair of clippers. “Shouldn’t take but a second.”
“Should I take cover?” Owen asked, his tone more mocking than worried.
“Not necessary,” she said, snapping the thinner wire. Again they froze for a moment, but just as she expected, nothing happened.
“Well done,” Owen noted, as he moved toward the door.
“Hang on,” she said, still eyeing the filament. “Let me make sure there isn’t a secondary charge.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the doorframe, moving from the center of the header down each of the sides. Then she bent to check the threshold. “All clear.” With a quick twist of a pick, she jimmied the lock, and they carefully opened the door.
Inside, above the door, two sticks of dynamite were taped to the wall, the cut piece of wire dangling in the open doorway.
“Close call,” Owen said. “Looks like someone wants Ms. Waller out of the picture.”
“Or she knew we were coming.” Tyler moved into the room, gun drawn. Despite the run-down appearance of the building itself, the inside of the apartment verged on elegant, the upholstered furniture high-end, the rugs Persian, and the art, at least some of it, real. “Talk about not judging a book…”
“She’s definitely got good taste,” Owen said, picking up a crystal vase. “Steuben.”
“So why the riches among the rags?”
“Could be any number of reasons, but I’m betting none of them are on the up and up.”
“I think we can rule Ms. Waller out as the source of the bomb.” Tyler flipped through a copy of Alistair MacLean’s Guns of Navarone. “This is a first edition. No way would she want to blow this place.”
“Actually, I think she’s past caring one way or the other.” Owen was standing in the doorway to a bedroom. Tyler’s skin pricked with alarm as she rushed to his side. A woman was sprawled across the floor, her head leaning unnaturally against the bedpost. A trickle of blood trailed from the side of her mouth.
“Is she dead?”
“Looks to be,” Owen said, squatting to check her pulse. “Someone broke her neck.”
“Someone who knew what they were doing.” Tyler frowned. “Based on the picture we’ve got, I’d have to say that this is Marta Waller.”
Owen nodded. “There’s no sign of a struggle. Maybe she knew her attacker.”
“Or they simply caught her by surprise. Either way, she’s not going to be much use to us.”
“Well, if it matters, she hasn’t been dead very long. The blood is clotting, but it’s not dried. And she’s still warm.”
“But if she was already dead—why the booby trap?”
“For us,” Owen said, pushing back to his feet. “Someone knew we were coming.”
“And wanted to take us out.” Tyler nodded, her mind turning over the possibilities. “But if they know as much about me as we think they do, then they’d have to have known that I’d see the bomb and dismantle it. Anyone with a modicum of experience could have figured it out.”
“It was worth a try, I suppose. If we’d triggered the thing it would have accomplished two goals. Evidence of Ms. Waller’s death would be covered up. And we’d have been taken out of the equation permanently.”
“Or maybe someone knew exactly how we’d behave and wanted to buy themselves some time.”
“To what? Set a trap?”
“It’s possible.” She moved back into the main room, letting her eyes scan the room, looking for some secondary source of danger. “Otherwise, why not use something more sophisticated to blow the place? Like the explosives at Smitty’s?”
“Maybe they didn’t have time. Or maybe you’re right, and they just wanted to keep us off-balance. It fits with everything else we’ve encountered. Any sign of her computer?” Owen asked. “Not that I’m expecting it to be here, mind you. If they were smart enough to get rid of her, they’ll definitely have taken care of anything that might tip us off to their identity.”
“Well, one thing is for certain,” Tyler said, frowning at the overdecorated apartment as she searched for the computer. “This is a hell of a lot bigger than just stealing some high-tech detonators. We’ve got six dead if you count Petrov.”
“Let’s not forget they’ve tried to take you out as well,” Owen said, disappearing back into the bedroom. “At least twice that we can be certain of.”
“Three, if you want to count the explosives at the door. Find anything?” she asked, following him.
“It was here,” he said, pointing to some loose cables lying across a small table in the corner. “I’m guessing the killer took it.”
“Any sign of backup devices? A zip drive or an extra hard drive?”
“Not that I can see.” He pulled open a couple of drawers. “There’s nothing here.”
“How about a case somewhere? Maybe she never got a chance to unpack it?” Tyler moved back into the living room and then on into the kitchen. There was no sign of a purse or any kind of briefcase or laptop. “Someone’s been through the apartment. And it definitely wasn’t with an eye toward robbery.”
“So we’ve got nothing.”
“Well, slightly more than that,” she said. “We’ve got the body and her apartment. I’ll call it in and have Avery arrange for someone from the New York office to come and handle forensics. Maybe they’ll see something we’re missing.”
“Worth a try.” He nodded, sorting through a stack of unopened mail.
Tyler flipped open her phone and waited for a signal, but the little phone stubbornly refused. “I’m not getting any bars,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll try in the bedroom closer to the window.”
Owen nodded again, still engrossed in Marta Waller’s correspondence.
In the other room, Tyler turned her back on the body and punched in Avery’s number. The phone rang on the other end, and she waited, her mind trying to make sense of the latest developments.
She heard Avery’s deep voice on the other end of the line just as the front door splintered open and gunfire rang staccato through the living room. “Incoming,” she called into the phone, jamming it into her pocket as she pulled her gun. Dashing forward, she fired into the main room, using the door for cover.
<
br /> Owen was down, but not hit, two men alternating fire from the door. She could hear a third in the hallway outside, which meant they were well and truly penned. Motioning to Owen, she popped out from behind the door firing as he crawled toward the relative safety of the bedroom.
Once he was safely inside, Tyler dropped back behind the door. “You okay?” she asked, as she reloaded her gun.
“I’m fine,” he said, taking a shot as one of the men moved into the room. “That your last clip?”
“Yes. What about you?”
“This is all I’ve got. Didn’t realize we’d be dropping into a war zone. Any chance Ms. Waller’s hiding a weapon somewhere in here?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think we’ve got the time to search. We need to get the hell out of here before they’re all in from the hall. If I counted right, there’s three of them. Which means we’re outgunned.”
“Four, actually. At least that’s the count I got.” He dove out, shot twice, and then retreated again behind the door. “Well, there’s three now. But I’m almost out of ammo.”
“All right then, it’s time to sound retreat. There’s a fire escape outside the window. If we’re lucky they’re not watching the street.”
“And if they are?”
“We’ll need to move quickly.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “We can do this. Worst case we’ll head for the roof. I got Avery just before they came through the door. He’ll call for help. And the lovers downstairs are bound to call 911, which means this can’t go on forever.”
“If they’re still alive,” Owen said.
“Not much of an optimist, are you?” She smiled. “Cover me while I get the window open. Then be ready to run.”
Owen nodded, shifting so that he could more easily shoot around the door. “We could always use Ms. Waller as body armor.”
“Don’t put it past me,” Tyler said, casting a glance in the direction of the dead woman. “But she’d just weigh us down. I’m going now.” She scrambled across the floor, careful to keep low and out of the line of fire, but the men in the living room clearly saw her, shots ringing out from both their direction and Owen’s.
Moving on a burst of adrenaline, she pushed to her feet and tugged at the window. It groaned once and then moved upward. Above her a bullet shattered the upper pane, but she kept pushing the sash. “We’re clear. Get ready to move. I’ll cover you,” she called behind her as she swiveled and began to fire.
Owen dove across the open space between the door and window and then rolled to his feet. “You go first,” he said, turning to shoot as the men in the living room rushed forward. “I’m right behind you.”
Tyler threw a leg over the sill and pushed herself out the window, moving to the right toward what should have been the ladder leading down to the third floor. Only there was nothing there. The ladder was missing.
“Score one for the bad guys,” she called over her shoulder. “There’s no way down, and it’s too far to jump. We’ll have to go up.”
Owen nodded, fired another volley through the window, and then reached up to pull down the ladder leading to the roof. “Ladies first,” he said, pointing upward with his gun.
Tyler jumped onto the ladder and began to climb. Below her, from the street or possibly a building across the way, someone fired, the bullet breaking brick beside the ladder. “We’ve got a sniper,” she called, as Owen pulled himself up onto the ladder below her.
“Company from inside as well,” he said. “Just keep moving.”
She covered the last few rungs as quickly as possible, swinging over the edge of the masonry onto the roof. The two-foot ledge gave her a modicum of protection, and she used it as a momentary advantage to locate the shooter. He was on the fire escape of the building across the street, a floor below them.
She risked a shot, and the man ducked for cover, the seconds bought allowing Owen to pull himself up onto the roof.
“Now what?” she asked. “We’ve got at least one shooter across the way. And three below us. My guess is that at least one of them will double back and use the stairway to the roof.”
“Not if we can jam the door first.”
She nodded and they ran across the roof toward the open door leading to the stairwell. It was tempting to risk trying to muscle their way down the stairs, but with limited ammo, she knew it would be foolhardy to try.
“We’re going to have to find our way off the roof another way,” Owen said, echoing her thoughts. “Do you see anything we can block the door with?”
She scanned the roof as a volley of bullets bit into the tarpapered roof a few feet behind her. “I think we’re too late. They’re almost here.”
A head appeared at the top of the ladder, and Tyler got off a shot, sending him scurrying down again for cover.
“We’ve got to go now.” Owen nodded toward a second rooftop adjacent to theirs, and they sprinted across the open roof just as a gunman emerged from the stairwell. Owen fired behind him, hitting the man in the shoulder, but not bringing him down.
Running full-out now, Tyler and Owen crossed the second rooftop, the men behind them in full pursuit. Using chimney stacks and other protrusions for cover, they made their way forward, until suddenly, the building ended, a huge gap separating it from its neighbor.
“Shit,” Tyler said, flailing as she pulled herself to a stop, pieces of roofing raining down into the courtyard below them. “Now what?” She shot a look behind her. The men were closing fast, their gunfire getting closer to the mark.
“We’ll have to jump.” Owen backed up, his muscles tensing in preparation. “It’s our only chance.”
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get rid of me?”
“Darling, you’re the one who wanted to end things. Not me. I’m fully prepared to spend my dotage with you. But that isn’t going to happen unless we jump. Now.”
He sprinted forward and leaped into the air, sailing over the gap and landing with a roll on the far side. “Come on, Tyler,” he said, as a bullet hit the roof next to her foot.
“Dotage, my ass,” she murmured as she followed his lead and raced for the edge, using her legs to launch herself into space.
For a moment she felt as if she were flying, and then she realized that she wasn’t going to make it. Stretching forward in panic, her fingers closed on the stone rain gutter edging the rooftop. Her arms snapped with the tension, her body slamming into the wall, but she held tight.
“Hang on,” Owen called. “I’ve got you.” His hands closed around her wrists, and she forced herself to breathe.
“They’re going to kill us,” she said.
“They’re still a little way off,” he replied, his voice soothing. “Which means we’ve got a couple of seconds.”
“I’m all ears,” she said, her grip on the bricks weakening.
“Good.” She felt his hands tighten in reassurance. “I’m going to count to three. And when I do, you’re going to push off the wall with your feet. I’ll pull at the same time and the combined momentum should propel you up onto the roof.”
She nodded, her arms feeling as if they were going to break out of their sockets.
“One…” he started, a shot ringing out but going wide. She pressed her feet against the wall, bending her knees slightly. “Two.” A second shot followed, this time much closer. She sucked in a deep breath, her muscles tightening as she prepared to push. “Three.”
She shoved herself off the wall, as Owen jerked her upward, and she felt herself vault up and over the edge, her skin scraping against the masonry, the bricks below her exploding with the impact of a round of bullets.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “Now I suggest we get the hell out of here.”
“I’m right behind you,” she called, already running across the open roof, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. “Sounds like the cavalry’s on the way.”
She turned to look behind her, but with a last shot, the men were already withdrawi
ng, intent now on making their escape.
At the far side of the building, Owen and Tyler stopped, the Hudson River visible on the horizon, the last rays of the sun turning the water a glittering gold.
“Looks like we’re home free,” he said, his dark eyes meeting hers as he bent to give her a quick hard kiss. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece.”
“Yeah, well don’t get any ideas.” She shook her head, sucking in a breath. “You may have saved my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive you.”
CHAPTER 19
Hey, I heard what happened,” Nash said, joining Tyler in the elevator leading down to A-Tac operations. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty banged up,” she said, ruefully indicating a scrape across her cheek. “Turns out buildings are hard. But whatever aches and pains I have, it’s a hell of a lot better than what I’d have been if Owen hadn’t been there.”
“So you’re not angry about his lying to us?” Nash asked, as the elevator doors slid shut and the box lurched downward.
“I’m furious. But that doesn’t change the fact that he saved my life.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes I guess it isn’t always easy to characterize the good guys. I mean, he’s working for the king of slime, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cut from the same cloth?” The last bit came out sounding like a question, which of course symbolized perfectly Tyler’s screwed-up emotions when it came to Owen Wakefield.
“Hey, I’m the go-to guy on making wrong assumptions.” He held up his hands with a grin. “I thought Annie was a traitor, and she’s the love of my life. Talk about conflicts. Sometimes it’s just hard to sort out the facts. In all honesty, none of us are above reproach. And even the most reprehensible people have saving graces. Basically, people aren’t perfect.”
“But how do you figure out the real truth then?”
“Maybe there isn’t such an animal. Best I can tell you is that if your gut says you can trust someone, you probably can, no matter what the facts are telling you.”
“You make it all sound so easy.”
“Look, Owen lied to all of us about his background—in part because that’s his job. We’ve all been in similar situations. But as far as his work here, he seems to have been on the up and up. And he’s certainly come through for you on more than one occasion. So, if nothing else, I think that warrants giving the man the benefit of the doubt. The main thing I learned from the situation with Annie was that there are two sides to every story.”
