“I think I can walk now.” The woman’s voice behind him took Morgan completely by surprise. Marlene Seagrave squirmed off his shoulder and smiled a woozy smile, trying to square her own proud shoulders and regain some dignity in her silk nightgown.
“Thank God,” Felicity said, barely above a whisper. “This one’s just passed out.”
“Yeah, and I’m smelling more smoke,” Morgan added.
“It is getting warm in here, isn’t it?” Felicity said, nodding with her dramatic understatement. Morgan took three deep breaths and pulled off his light windbreaker, handing it to Marlene. “It is warm, but I thought you might want to cover up some.”
Marlene nodded her thanks and accepted the jacket. Her reaction to his shoulder holster and knife was barely perceivable. Morgan noticed it, and he saw that Felicity did too. Marlene pulled the jacket on without comment. It hung past her hips and covered her hands completely.
Paul replaced Marlene in a fireman’s carry across Morgan’s shoulders, and the group continued descending the long vertical tunnel at a somewhat better pace. Morgan led, with Felicity close behind and Marlene Seagrave following. With each step, Marlene’s mind seemed to become clearer. No one would mistake her for an athlete, but she was working hard to keep up, and to catch up in another sense.
“I have to ask you people something,” she said in a breathless tremor. “I’ve been able to piece together a little of what’s been happening here.”
“I can imagine your confusion, eh...”
“Marlene,” Mrs. Seagrave replied to Felicity’s unvoiced query. “Thanks for verifying that we haven’t met before. I don’t recognize either of you. I know you don’t work for my husband. He makes sure they all know who I am. On the other hand, you hardly behave like police or emergency personnel or anything like that. So the most confusing thing to me I guess is why I’m here. I mean, my husband’s staff all left me behind. Why didn’t you?”
“That would take a bit of explaining,” Felicity said, brushing some long red strands from her face. “It’s a little complex.”
“I think we have time,” Marlene replied, out of breath but still able to manage a small smile.
“Well, alright then. You see, I was in your room earlier and I drugged you. If we left you there, in a fire like that, well, that’d be murder, wouldn’t it?”
Marlene seemed to consider her words carefully, or maybe she was just having trouble catching her breath. “But you, well, this might seem a bit wrong to say under the circumstances, but you were there to hurt my husband, weren’t you? ”
Felicity rushed to say, “I was there to rob him.”
Morgan appreciated Felicity’s response. She must have liked Marlene Seagrave just for her straightforward attitude. She was trying not to hurt Marlene’s feelings, but the woman persisted.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Marlene said, “but there are surely easier targets for a robbery. Why Adrian?”
Felicity kept pushing forward, not looking back at Marlene. “Sorry to tell you this, but he cheated me in a business deal. I wanted back what he took. We, eh, had a bit of a conflict with your security guards. Things got a little out of hand is all.”
“The fire?”
“That was an accident,” Felicity said with a raised index finger. After that remark, Morgan could not resist breaking into a grin. If he turned he imagined that he would see Felicity blushing.
Ten steps later, Marlene said, “I know the man your friend is carrying. He’s one of my husband’s business associates. A security specialist I think he said. He’s probably one of the men you had your conflict with.”
“So what?” Morgan asked over his shoulder. “Should we have left him to die?”
“Would he have saved you?” Marlene returned.
“Of course,” Morgan said, but without much conviction. He wanted to end the conversation, because he found life easier when he did not examine his own reasons too closely. He got along just fine as long as he did what felt right at the time.
Morgan was moving forward on automatic pilot. Time lost meaning as he moved past identical flights of stairs. His back was screaming at him, but he shut it out. All his energy focused on simple tasks. Breathe. Step down. Maintain balance. Do you hear two sets of footsteps behind you? Good. Breathe. Step down. Maintain balance.
Walking in a daze Morgan felt his right foot thump to a halt inches before he expected it to, and he stumbled forward, nearly falling. With a shock, he realized there were no more steps to descend. They had reached the ground floor landing and he could hear sirens. No smoke wafted into the stairwell, but he would not expect any to pass under a fire door, even if noises did. Regaining his balance, he pressed his hand against the steel door. It was slightly warm. Morgan felt like a wrung out dishrag, despite the fact that his clothes were soaked through with his sweat, and the sweat of those he had carried. His lungs burned from dragging in all the air they could hold on his long overburdened descent. Fighting to keep his balance, he turned to face the girls and shifted Paul off his shoulder into his arms like a baby.
Marlene was breathing hard, wheezing like an old window-mounted air conditioner. Felicity held her arm to steady her. Felicity’s eyes seemed a little out of focus, but her mouth was drawn into a hard line of determination he had only seen before on Rangers near the end of an all day road march. She was mad. Not mad at him or anybody in particular, but at the situation, and her anger was carrying her. His mind started playing an old Army cadence call.
Had a dog, his name was Blue.
Blue wanted to be a Ranger too.
They made him march for 28 days.
Now old Blue’s in a zombie haze
He smiled. Felicity wanted to be a Ranger too. Morgan had been there and done that. When people got that tired they didn’t think too well. His new partner was there now, and he had to fill in the thinking for her.
“Now listen,” Morgan said. His words were clipped, his voice terse. “It’s probably all smoke out there. You won’t want your eyes open, but you’ve got to get out. If you get lost in the lobby, you’re dead. Understand? The lobby door is about six paces to the right, then left about twenty. Got it?”
“Right six, left twenty,” Felicity said in a robotic voice. “Right.”
“When I push this door open, take a deep breath and crouch down as low as you can. Hold your breath, clamp your eyes shut and run. Hang on to Mrs. Seagrave and drag her if you have to. There’s nothing in your way. When you hit the door to the outside, you’ll know it. Ready? Go!”
Morgan slammed his back against the door’s lever, swinging it open. Smoke curled in on him. The women slipped past, arms linked. He followed, hefting Paul in his arms. It was a long twenty seconds of darkness, following the sound of Marlene’s feet on the marble floor. He was grateful that she was barefoot because despite her exhaustion, Felicity’s boots were silent. Paul choked and gagged in his arms. Morgan’s eyes smarted from the thick smoke, even with his lids clamped shut. Even his own saliva tasted of smoke while he held his breath.
Strong hands clamped onto his left leg, pulling him off balance. Someone must have gotten trapped in the lobby. It could be an innocent employee, or it might be one of the guards who ran from Seagrave’s meeting room. Morgan didn’t have the luxury of distinguishing. He managed to right himself on his left foot just long enough to manage a single stamp kick. It was enough to free him. He staggered forward, out of breath and out of time. He stumbled, almost dropping Paul. His shoulder hit something hard, but whatever it was, it moved.
The barrier slid aside and a blast of cool air froze the dampness on his face. Two sets of arms stopped him. He gulped fresh air and collapsed. He cracked his eyes open to see that a pair of firemen was helping him walk. Someone clamped an oxygen mask over Paul’s face and lifted him away. The firemen holding Morgan’s arms lowered him to a seated position, leaning against the giant tire of a hook and ladder truck, and went back to work. His head hung between his legs, his eyes
burning. Bull horns nearby blasted instructions to bystanders and emergency personnel.
Morgan’s head spun, and the air tasted like water that had been in the refrigerator too long. It was all catching up to him now. His showdown with Paul. The shoot-out in the conference room, so much like a mad minute back in Vietnam. His brief, terrible battle with Monk. The fire. Forty-one flights of stairs, carrying a body all the way, racing against the blaze. And now, after all that, would come the moment of greatest danger.
There he sat, surrounded by police. His windbreaker was wrapped around Marlene Seagrave now, so there was no concealing the loaded gun he was carrying, not to mention three knives. Felicity was still laden with burglar tools and a live hand grenade. The building they just left was ablaze and two charred bodies were stretched out on the pavement around there somewhere. Any minute now, a nurse medical tech would be asking him how he was and what happened upstairs. He and Felicity were left with way too much to explain. What, he wondered, would they be charged with? Breaking and entering? Burglary? Arson? Murder? These days, maybe even terrorism. They were alone, with no witnesses and no defense.
Gathering his remaining strength, Morgan forced himself to his feet and trudged heavily over toward Felicity. She and Marlene Seagrave were talking to a police captain. Morgan had to step over hoses and avoid rushing fire fighters on the way. This scene of confusion, he realized, was all taking place inside a police barricade. Several trucks and emergency vehicles were parked too closely together in an overlapping pattern, like so many red and yellow pick-up sticks. What looked like an army of men was fighting what he could now see was a major fire. He looked around for Monk and Seagrave, but someone must have already cleared that mess away.
When he reached Felicity, he was surprised to find her looking solemn, but not worried or frightened. She raised a palm to Morgan, cautioning him to stay silent. Marlene, still in her nightgown and Morgan’s windbreaker, was speaking to a detective now. Morgan could barely hear her words over the fire fighters’ clopping boots and shouted commands.
“That’s right, Marlene Seagrave,” she said, as a fireman wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She was biting her lip and looking every bit the grieving widow. “My husband is, or was, Adrian Seagrave, the importer. We live, lived, in an apartment in this building. Our offices were here and he insisted on living where he worked.”
“And these people?” the policeman asked.
“These people? Oh, they’re in my husband’s employ as, eh...”
“We’re security personnel, sir,” Felicity said, somehow looking helpful and supportive.
“Yes, that’s right, security,” Marlene said, nodding. “There were others, but they all ran off. This man and this woman risked their lives to save me and that other fellow, and I don’t even know their names.” She gulped back a very sincere and convincing sob. “I’ll be happy to make a more extensive statement to you and the press after my new friends and I get a shower. Can I please go get some clothes on?”
As the police moved away, Felicity turned toward Morgan. Her confident expression melted like a wax mask. Exhaustion washed over her face and she fell into Morgan’s arms. A man standing nearby turned from the police to point a camera at them. His automatic flash stabbed Morgan’s eyes. Morgan twisted away, reflexively trying to avoid being identified.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Daily News,” the man said, not even bothering to offer his name. Instead he pushed a pocket tape recorder toward their faces. “Fires happen every day. You guys are the story here. From what the other woman said, you two are real heroes.”
-34-
On a cool spring evening, a sleek black Corvette slid into a parking space in at an exclusive marina on the ocean side of Long Island. The passenger side door opened and a tall, powerfully built black man got out. He appeared vaguely uncomfortable in a navy blue suit and tie. His shoes were hand made Italian slip-ons. He walked around the car and opened the door for the driver, a slender, stately redhead. She was dressed simply in a jade silk gown that matched her eyes.
“That’s her boat,” Felicity said, pointing down a long pier.
“Boat?” Morgan snorted. “Red, when they get into the two hundred foot class, I don’t think you call them boats. They become yachts. This old girl’s two hundred eighteen feet from stem to stern.”
“I just love that nautical talk,” Felicity said. Arm in arm the couple walked slowly up a long gangplank. Its guide ropes were strung with small electric lights. As they got closer to the deck the subdued chatter of polite celebrants greeted them. The vessel ahead was jammed with smiling faces. Felicity scanned the tuxedo and gown crowd, but saw no familiar faces. As they were about to step aboard the vessel, their hostess appeared as if from nowhere.
“Thank God you came.” Marlene beamed as she literally dragged them aboard. “My first party on my own and I’m a wreck. I would have died if you didn’t show up.”
Felicity took a good look at their hostess, as if for the first time. Marlene was somewhat older than Felicity, a little shorter and stockier. Still, she looked several years younger than the night they met. She had lost weight over the last two months. She may never be beauty pageant material again, but even in a tight fitting black evening gown, her figure was now nothing to be embarrassed about, and flattering highlights danced in her honey blonde hair.
“Well, did you enjoy your vacations?” Marlene asked as she hustled Morgan and Felicity into the center of the party. A buzz of polite, happy conversation enveloped them. A tray went by, and Marlene made sure they all collected drinks.
“You’re certainly popular,” Felicity said. “I have to apologize for Morgan. Tried to get him into a tux, I did, but he flat out refused.”
Marlene turned to her, then paused, and the festive glow momentarily left her face. She forced the smile back into place and nodded toward Felicity’s throat.
“I see you do wear it, at least.” Felicity expected this moment. Marlene was looking into the antique brooch pinned at the top of her gown. It was the item that had driven the bizarre sequence of events that brought them together. And she saw that her friend was wearing a bittersweet smile.
“Wear it every chance I get,” Felicity said. “Hope I didn’t offend you by wearing it tonight. Guess I wanted you to know it wasn’t just, I don’t know. I didn’t think of it bringing back bad memories.”
Morgan leaned forward, interposing his body between the two women. “Why don’t we go up top?”
Three minutes later they were standing alone on the upper deck at the stern of Marlene’s motor cruiser. A warm wind whipped the women’s hair and carried both the ocean’s salty scent and the sounds of passing sea birds. Felicity’s martini had started a glow in her stomach, matching the moon overhead. With her back to the shore, she was able to get lost in the endless black of the night sky.
Felicity stared into the faces of her two friends, and there was an undeclared moment of silence. They had not all been together since the excitement sixty days before. Two months had passed since that awful day of danger and the following day of police reports and news reporters. That had been a day of torture as well, a day of minute public scrutiny for three exhausted individuals who all had secrets to keep. Three, because the camera shy man known only as Paul had somehow slipped out of the hospital unobserved and disappeared, saving them the trouble of explaining a bullet wound.
“So?” Marlene said at last. “How did you enjoy your vacations?”
“Morgan just got back a couple of days ago.” Felicity turned to watch the lights of an unknown nearby town. “He says he has a secret place he goes to after a bad time. An island he actually owns in the Pacific somewhere. Just a cabin he says. No electricity or plumbing or anything. Doesn’t that sound romantic? Wouldn’t take me, the git. Says no one else has ever been there. But he sure came back looking good.”
“And yourself?”
“Oh, I had fun,” Felicity answered. She chose not to
mention exactly how she went off to relax as well. She spent three weeks at her Riviera place, wearing her newly acquired brooch at every opportunity. She gambled. She sailed. She took a lover. And she returned mentally and emotionally refreshed.
“Okay, what about the future?” Marlene asked. “When you left New York, you were talking about starting a business. Have the two of you discussed those plans further?”
“Extensively,” Felicity said, her voice filled with energy and enthusiasm. “I’ve made contact with a number of security equipment manufacturers. And I’ve got to admit, the publicity after the fire helped a lot, especially when you publicly declared us your personal security advisors. I’ll be marketing my services as a designer of security systems for businesses, museums, and the homes of the very wealthy. I’ll be in the business of protecting the art and jewelry that I used to nick myself.”
“And this will content you?” Marlene asked.
“Well, I suppose. And if one of my clients does take a loss, who better to recover what’s been taken? That part sounds like fun. And with Morgan’s help, I’ll be able to provide security for major events too. He’ll be training our security force, you see.”
“Really?” Marlene turned to Morgan. “Do you have any experience in that sort of thing, or will you just fake it?”
“Actually, I’ve trained personal protectors and executive drivers in anti-terrorist tactics in the past,” Morgan said. “I just haven’t done it in the U.S. before. Overseas, a lot of that work is done my people with military experience. To tell you the truth, private companies do a lot of security work in other countries, often in conjunction with the U.S. military. Civilian paramilitary companies supplying contractors to Uncle Sam is a billion dollar business and I plan to take my share.”
“Sorry, but you just don’t strike me as the business type,” Marlene said with a smile.
“Well, maybe I figure its time for me to settle down. A little.” Morgan glanced at Felicity with a lopsided grin. “Besides, who says I won’t be out there with my guys in Bosnia or Colombia or wherever?”
The Payback Assignment (Stark and O'Brien Thriller Series) Page 23
