As he turned back, he stiffened. Standing directly in front of him, between two of the cardboard characters, was Kate Ramsey, her pistol pointed at his chest. “Put down the gun,” she ordered.
King hesitated, then laid down his gun. The lights returned to normal and the special effect sounds stopped.
“Get up,” she told Bruno. “Stand up, you bastard,” she screamed.
Bruno rose on shaky legs, but King kept between the candidate and his would-be assassin.
“Listen to me, Kate. You don’t want to do this.”
A voice boomed out from somewhere. It was Morse, playing the role of the director, calling out his next “shot.”
“Go ahead, Kate. I’ve delivered them both to you, just as I promised: the man who ruined your father’s career, and the man who took his life. Your bullets are steel-jacketed. One shot and you can kill them both. Do it. Do it for your poor father. These men destroyed him.”
Kate’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“Don’t listen to him, Kate,” said King. “He’s the one who set up your father. He was the one who got him to kill Ritter. Bruno had nothing to do with any of it.”
“You’re lying,” she said.
“The man you overheard talking to your father that night. It was Sidney Morse.”
“You’re wrong. The only name I heard was Thornton Jorst.”
“You didn’t hear his name, Kate, you only thought you did. What you heard wasn’t ‘Thornton Jorst.’ What you heard was Trojan horse.”
Kate didn’t look as confident now.
King pressed this small advantage. “I’m sure Morse told you everything to say to us. But that part you told us was true, only you didn’t realize its significance.” Kate’s expression became confused, and her finger relaxed ever so slightly against the trigger.
King continued, talking fast. “Morse was the Trojan horse, the inside man on the Ritter campaign. That’s how he explained it to your father. Morse knew Arnold hated what Ritter was doing to the country. But Morse didn’t care about Ritter’s politics. So why did he join the campaign? Because Morse loved your mother. She was his Broadway-star-to-be. With your father out of the way, she’d be his. And when that failed, he killed your mother. And now he’s using you just like he used your father.”
“That’s crazy. If what you say is true, why is he doing all of this now?”
“I don’t know. He’s insane. Who else would put something like this together?”
“He’s lying about all of it, Kate,” boomed out Morse. “I’m doing this all for you. To give you justice. Now shoot them!”
King held Kate’s gaze. “Your father killed, but he did so in what he believed was a noble cause. That man”—King pointed in the direction of Morse’s voice—“that man is a cold-blooded murderer, and he did it out of sheer jealousy.”
“You killed my father,” she said bluntly.
“I was doing my job. I had no choice. You didn’t see your father’s expression that day. But I did. You know what he looked like? Do you really want to know?”
She looked at him, tears in her eyes, and slowly nodded.
“He looked surprised, Kate. Surprised. At first I thought it was the shock of actually killing someone. But then I realized he was surprised because Morse hadn’t pulled his gun and fired. Morse was standing right near me. They’d made a pact. Your father was actually looking at him. It was right then he knew he’d been deceived.”
Morse called out, “Last chance, Kate. Either shoot them or I will.”
King looked at her with pleading eyes. “Kate, you can’t do it. You can’t. I’m telling you the truth. You know I am. Whatever lies he’s fed to you, you’re not a killer, and he can’t make you be one.”
“Now!” screamed Morse.
Instead, Kate started to lower her gun. Suddenly the door to the room crashed open. This distracted Kate for a moment, and King grabbed the velvet rope, swung it up and knocked the gun out of her hands. She screamed and fell back.
King shouted at Bruno, “Run! Out the door!”
Bruno turned and raced toward the exit where Michelle was just coming through.
The lights came fully on and blinded them all momentarily. Michelle saw it before anyone else did. She screamed and launched herself. “Bruno, down!” she yelled.
The gun fired. Michelle lunged in front of the candidate, and the slug hit her in the chest.
King pointed his pistol in the direction of the shot and fired. That’s when he discovered Morse had never intended on giving him a chance. His gun was loaded with blanks.
King screamed out, “Michelle!”
She wasn’t moving, even as Bruno fled out the door. And then the lights went out again, pitching them into darkness.
74
King crouched in the dark, frantically searching for something. Then the lights came back on, although at a lower level of brightness. He sensed something behind him and whirled. Sidney Morse was standing there pointing his gun.
“I knew she didn’t have the guts for it,” said Morse, flicking his pistol in Kate’s direction where the young woman still lay on the floor. “Not like your father!” He swept his hand around the room. “I gave you a grand stage on which to perform, Kate. I scripted you perfectly; this was the great finale. Your mother would have given a dazzling performance. You failed miserably.”
King helped Kate up and then stood between her and Morse.
“A human shield again, Sean, eh,” said Morse, smiling. “It seems to be your miserable lot in life.”
“Bruno got away, and so help me I’ll kill you for shooting Michelle.”
Morse eyed him confidently. “Bruno will never leave the Fairmount alive. As for Maxwell, her luck ran out. At least she went down in the line of fire. What more could a Secret Service agent ask for?”
He turned his attention to Kate. “Now, you asked a question. Why all this now? I’ll tell you. This is no more about John Bruno than it was about Clyde Ritter.” He pointed his gun at Kate. “Eight years ago it was about your father. Today it’s all about you, dear, sweet Kate.”
Her chest heaving and tears streaming down her face, she said, “Me?”
Morse laughed. “You really are a fool, just like your father.” He eyed King. “You said that Regina rejected me because she didn’t love me, she didn’t want the magic. That was only partially true. I believe that she did love me, but she couldn’t go back on stage after Arnold died, she couldn’t become my star once more, because someone else needed her more.” He looked back at Kate. “You. Your mother couldn’t leave you. You needed her, she told me. You were her life. How incredibly wrong she was. What was a single, pathetic teenager to a legendary career on Broadway, a life with me?”
“That’s because a man like you can’t understand real love,” said King. “And how can you blame Kate for that? She knew nothing about it.”
“I can blame her for any reason I want!” Morse screamed. “And on top of that, when Regina wanted to marry this Jorst idiot, Kate was all for it. Oh, yes, I had my spies. She wanted a man just like her father. That alone is enough to justify her death. But there’s more. I’ve followed your career, Kate. And you grew up just like your miserable father with all your pathetic protesting, marching and being such a noble do-gooder. It was déjà vu. I had killed Arnold, but there he was again: come back to life like the Hydra.” Morse’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the young woman. He said more calmly, “Your father ruined my life by keeping the woman I needed, the woman I deserved, away from me. And then you took up the banner after he died. But for you, Regina would have been mine.”
“I can’t believe my mother ever would have loved someone like you,” Kate said defiantly. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”
“Well, I’m quite an actor myself, dear Kate. And you were so gullible. When Bruno announced his candidacy, I immediately thought of you. What a stroke of good fortune. Here was the very man who’d prosecuted your father for a crime I�
�d set him up for, running for the same office as the man your father had gunned down. It was perfect. The idea for the entire reenactment came to me instantly. And so I came to you, gave you the whole sad story about your poor father, and you bought every syllable of it.”
Kate started toward him but King held her back.
She cried out, “You told me you were their friend. That you helped my father when he was arrested for murder and that John Bruno had destroyed his career.” She looked at King. “He brought me all these news clippings. He said he knew my parents and helped them, long before I was born. They never mentioned him to me, though. But he said he was at the Fairmount that day and that you didn’t have to shoot my father; that he was putting his gun down when you fired. He said you were really a murderer.” She looked back at Morse. “It was all lies.”
Morse shook his head. “Of course, it was. It was part of the play.”
“It’s a dangerous thing to believe a madman, Kate,” said King.
“Not a madman, Agent King. A visionary. But I’ll grant you, there’s a fine line between the two. And now,” said Morse with a dramatic sweep of his hand, “comes the third and final act. The tragic death of Kate Ramsey as, aided and abetted by the poor, demented former Secret Service agent Bob Scott, she avenges her beloved father, taking with her John Bruno and Sean King—with, of course, all supporting evidence being found later courtesy of me. When you think about it, the symmetry really is breathtaking: father and daughter, the assassins of two presidential candidates perishing on the exact same spot. It’s really one of the best pieces I’ve ever written.”
“And you really are insane,” said King.
“The mediocre always throw stones at the brilliant,” Morse said smugly. “And now the last member of the Ramsey family—the sweet, loving Ramsey family—will finally disappear from this earth. I’m sure you’ll die beautifully, Kate. And then I can go on with my life. My artistic power has been completely restored now. Another new identity and Europe beckons. The possibilities are limitless, even without your mother.” He pointed his pistol at Kate.
King raised his gun too. “Actually, Sid, I’ve pared down your options to one.”
“It only fires blanks,” said Morse. “You found that out a few minutes ago.”
“Which is why I knocked Kate’s gun out of her hand and picked it up when the lights went out.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I? My gun’s on the floor. But if you try and check, I’ll shoot you. Sort of like the trick you used with the elevator. And the two guns look exactly the same anyway. It’ll be impossible to tell. But go on and take a peek. Then when my bullet slams into your head, you’ll know you were wrong. You screwed up, Sid. On a set you never lose track of the gun props. A brilliant director like you should know that.”
Morse suddenly didn’t look as confident.
King pressed his advantage. “What’s the matter, Sid? A little nervous? It doesn’t take courage to shoot an unarmed man or drown old ladies in bathtubs. But now we can see how brave you really are because you’re not safely behind the scenes anymore. You’re the star of the show, front and center, and your audience is waiting.”
“You’re a lousy actor. Your bravado is hardly convincing,” replied Morse, but there was tension in his voice.
“You’re right, I’m no actor, but I don’t have to be, because this isn’t make-believe. The bullets are real, and at least one of us is going to die, and we won’t be getting back up for an encore. I tell you what, duels make for great theater, so let’s have one, Sid. Just you and me.” King put his finger on the trigger. “On the count of three.”
His gaze bored into Morse, who was now pale, his breathing accelerated.
“Come on now, don’t freak out on me. I’m just an ex-Secret Service agent. Sure, I’ve gunned down guys who were shooting at me, but how good can I really be? Like you said, I can’t possibly be in your league.” King paused and then started to count. “One…”
Morse’s hand started to tremble and he took a step back.
King squeezed the pistol grip tightly. “I haven’t fired a gun in eight years. You remember the last time I did, right? I’m so rusty. In this light even at this close range, I can probably only hit your torso. But it’ll still kill you.”
Morse’s breathing accelerated even more and he took another step back.
“Two.” King’s gaze never left Morse’s face. “Make sure you hit your marks, Sid, and don’t forget to take a bow as you’re falling to the floor with a big hole in your chest. Don’t worry, though, death will be instantaneous.”
As King started to count “Three,” Morse screamed. The lights went out, and King ducked down as the shot sailed over his head. He breathed a sigh of relief. His ruse had worked.
A minute later the woman who’d shot Michelle moved through the darkness past mounted figures on her way toward King. As soon as the lights had gone out, Tasha slipped on a pair of night-vision goggles and could see things clearly, whereas King could see nothing. She passed the fallen Michelle, then ducked in between two of the wooden frames. King had retreated with Kate to a corner, but from here Tasha had a clean shot. The orders she had just been given were clear. Regardless of what else happened, Sean King and Kate Ramsey had to die.
Tasha took aim, smiling as she did so. Killing people, that’s what she did. And now she was about to add two more to her hit list.
The slight noise behind her caused her to whirl around. The beam of light from the flashlight hit her right in the eyes, blinding her, and a far harder object followed. As the bullet slammed into Tasha’s head, her homicidal career came to an abrupt end.
Michelle rose on shaky legs. She rubbed her chest where the bullet had ripped into the body armor she’d taken off Simmons. The impact had actually knocked her out. It stung like hell but she was alive. Luckily she’d come to just in time.
Using her flashlight, she found King and Kate. “Sorry, I had a little problem, or I would’ve been backing you up sooner. Are you all right?”
He nodded. “Did you see Sidney Morse?”
“Sidney, he’s behind this?” King nodded. She looked puzzled. “I thought it was Peter Morse.”
“I just recently figured it all out myself. Do you have a knife?”
She handed him one. “I pulled it off Simmons along with this flashlight. What are you going to do?”
“Just wait for me outside the room. And take Kate with you.”
Michelle and Kate headed to the door. King made his way over to the elevator where Joan was still strung up. He checked her pulse. She was alive. He cut her down, lifted her over his shoulder and met Michelle and Kate outside.
Suddenly he put Joan down, leaned over and sucked in long breaths. The effect of his risky face-off with Morse was now hitting him.
“What’s the matter?” said Michelle.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he snapped. “That’s what.”
Kate spoke up. “You were bluffing about the gun, weren’t you? It wasn’t mine. You just had blanks.”
“I was bluffing about the gun, yes,” he said between gritted teeth.
Michelle put a hand on his back. “You’ll be okay.”
“I’m too old for this macho crap.” He took a few last deep breaths and straightened up. “Do you smell smoke?” he asked.
They ran toward the exit and were met by a horrified-looking Bruno. He pointed down the hall where the flames were already impenetrable. Another wall of flames blocked the passageway to the upper floors.
Michelle spotted a black cable on the floor. She pointed it out to King.
“Is that what I think it is?”
He examined it. When he looked up, his face was pale. “He’s wired the building with explosives.” He glanced around. “Okay, we can’t go out and we can’t go up.” He eyed the other way down the hall. “And if I remember correctly, that goes to the basement. And there’s no exit from there.”
“Wait a minut
e,” said Michelle. “We can get out through the basement.”
75
They reached the lower level as smoke from the growing inferno followed them. The lights were on down here, so they could see reasonably well.
“Okay, now what?” said King as he looked at the long hallway that was blocked by debris about midway down. “I told you there were no exits down here. We checked that out when Ritter was here.”
“No, over here,” said Michelle. She opened the door on the large dumbwaiter. “We’ll take this up to the third floor.”
“The third floor!” exclaimed Bruno angrily. “And then what, we jump? That’s brilliant, Agent Maxwell, just brilliant!”
Hands on hips, Michelle stood right in front of Bruno. “This time you’re going to do exactly what I tell you, so just shut up and get in… sir.” She pushed Bruno into the dumbwaiter and then turned to Kate.
King stepped forward. “You go up with Bruno, then send it back down. I’ll follow with Joan and Kate.”
Michelle nodded, then handed him her pistol. “Real bullets. Just watch yourself.”
She climbed into the dumbwaiter, and she and Bruno started pulling on the ropes, propelling themselves upward.
As King tried to revive Joan, Kate slumped to the floor.
“You can just leave me. I don’t want to live,” she said.
He knelt beside her. “Morse played with your head and your heart, and that’s a hard combo to beat. Still, with all that, you couldn’t pull the trigger.”
“I feel like such a fool. I just want to die.”
“No, you don’t. You have a long life ahead of you.”
“Right. For what, prison?”
“What exactly have you done wrong? You haven’t killed anybody. As far as I know, Morse kidnapped you too and held you here.”
She looked at him. “Why are you doing this for me?”
He hesitated, then said, “Because I did take your father away from you. I was only doing my job, but when you take someone else’s life, doing your job doesn’t seem a good enough explanation.” He paused. “And you did try to help us. You knew the story you told us about the 1974 war protest wouldn’t wash, didn’t you? You knew you were way in over your head in something really bad. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Split Second skamm-1 Page 35
