CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Austin, Texas
December 6, 1999 / Monday / 1:18 p.m.
The man stepped in front of her so quickly that Andrea had no time to react. Pain exploded in her solar plexus and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. As she struggled to draw a breath, the man lifted her up and started to half carry, half drag her down the stairs. He had one arm around her back and his fist pressed up against the left side of her navel. His other hand gripped her right arm just above the elbow, in a crushing grip. When she tried to resist, he pressed his fist against her navel with brutal force. He was holding something hard in his fist, and he pressed it through her shirt, against her navel. It was a knife. The man lowered his head and put his unshaven cheek against her face. He smelled of chewing tobacco and sweat.
“That’s right, babe, it’s a real mean knife, and I will gut you like a fish if you make one goddamned sound. You and I are going to walk out of here like two lovebirds. You got it?”
There was a barely restrained brutality in the man’s voice. The impression was magnified by the man’s size and weight. He had to be over six and half feet tall, and she could feel the corded muscles in the arm wrapped around her back. Andrea sensed that the man was just waiting for an excuse to hurt her. She just nodded her head and continued to gasp for air.
As they walked down the stairs, the man’s grip on her tightened to the point where he was almost carrying her down the stairs. When they started down the second flight of stairs, the man slowed and Andrea looked up from her hunched-over position. A middle-aged Latino man dressed in a pair of worn jeans was coming up the stairs. The big man guided her to the right side of the stairway, but the other man moved over to intercept them.
“Excuse me, I’m the—”
The man holding her didn’t let him finish. He kicked the man savagely in the groin, pulling her forward with him as he struck. The impact of the kick lifted the smaller man off the floor. The man’s face was a mask of agony and shock for second, and then he collapsed to the floor, without a sound.
“No,” Andrea gasped.
“Shut up, bitch,” the man growled, jamming the butt of the knife he was holding against her navel. Andrea felt as though her stomach was being driven into her throat. When she reacted to the blow by bending at the waist, she almost impaled herself on the blade of the knife.
As he yanked her forward down the steps, he whispered in her ear, “Hurts, dun it?”
A wave of terror washed over her, and Andrea felt her body starting to collapse. She forced herself to continue forward, knowing that if she fell, the knife would penetrate her stomach.
Austin, Texas
December 6, 1999 / Monday / 1:20 p.m.
Andrea replayed the plan in her mind, as they approached the door to the garage. She would only have seconds to attract attention. As soon as they stepped into the garage, she would scream for help and continue screaming as long as she remained conscious. The front of the garage was open to the busy street. Someone outside would come to help. They had to.
When the man pulled open the door, Andrea opened her mouth to scream, but froze in the middle of the effort. A deafening wave of noise came through the door. It was the jackhammer across the street. The sound was blasting into the parking garage and reverberating around the concrete chamber. She could scream at the top of her lungs and no one would hear a sound.
Anders looked around the garage and began to push her toward a corner that was shrouded in darkness. Andrea instinctively started to resist, but the iron grip around her chest tightened further, crushing the breath out of her. Anders bent over and pushed his face against hers. “I told you bitch, don’t fu—”
“Excuse me, excuse me! You dropped something.”
Anders froze. Then his head whipped around toward the sound.
“I have it right here. Just give me a minute.”
Andrea couldn’t see who was behind her, but she recognized the voice. It was John Caine. She thought about trying break free, but restrained herself. Caine would have a plan. She needed to let him make his move.
Anders turned back to her and leaned close again. “Any bullshit and I’ll kill the shithead and cut your guts out.”
Anders snapped the blade of the knife he was holding against her navel shut and slid the weapon into his jacket pocket. He switched the hand holding her arm from his right to his left, giving him more freedom of movement, but the grip on her arm was still painful. Then he slowly turned to face Caine, pulling her around with him.
Caine was down on one knee, about two yards away from them. He was searching through a worn brown leather briefcase. Andrea recognized the pair of glasses on the end of his nose. They were Richie’s.
“It was a letter. I think. You dropped it on the way out the door. I was just coming out of my apartment. It’s … it’s in here somewhere. Just give me a minute,” Caine said.
Caine didn’t look up as he spoke, but continued to fumble with the briefcase. Anders couldn’t resist the opportunity. He stepped forward, pulling Andrea with him, and swung his boot at Caine’s head. Andrea tried to scream a warning, but couldn’t get the sound past her lips. The boot was within a foot of Caine’s head, when his hand shot out and shoved it away.
The move threw Anders off balance and created a gap between Anders and Andrea. Caine exploded off the floor, dropped the glasses, and stepped in between them. He brought his left elbow down on the crook of Anders’s outstretched arm, dropping his body weight into the strike. Anders’s hand was ripped off of Andrea’s arm, drawing a grunt of pain and rage from the other man. Caine followed up the blow with a strike at the side of Anders’s head. Anders twisted away from the attack, but the back of Caine’s fist connected with the side of Anders’s head, sending him reeling backward.
Anders regained his balance while Caine was guiding Andrea out of the way, and started back toward Caine, his face a picture of rage. Caine sprang out of Anders’s path and snapped a side kick at his left knee. The kick was at the limit of Caine’s reach, but it had enough power to knock Anders’s knee out from underneath him. The big man fell forward, dropping heavily to one knee, his hands slamming into the concrete floor.
Caine moved in for another strike, not realizing that Anders was intentionally overreacting. Using his hands as a brace, Anders launched a back kick at Caine’s groin. Caine tried to guide Anders’s foot past him, but was only partially successful. The heel of Anders’s boot caught Caine’s left leg and spun him backward against a parked car.
Anders followed up on his advantage with stunning quickness for a man his size. He shoved himself off the floor and swung a crushing right at Caine’s head. Caine dropped beneath the strike, guiding it over his head, and smashed the blade of his other hand into Anders’s exposed ribcage, drawing a grunt of pain. Then he tried to step past Anders, positioning himself for a kidney strike, but the bigger man wheeled away, cutting off the attack.
Caine shifted his fighting stance from the left to the right and snapped a kick at Anders’s left kneecap. Anders desperately lifted his leg off the floor to avoid a crippling blow. The ball of Caine’s foot struck Anders’s calf muscle, inflicting pain, but not a disabling injury.
The instant his striking leg touched the ground, Caine wheeled, using the leg as a post, and thrust a side kick at Anders’s other knee. Anders was already off balance, but he turned away from the blow, and Caine’s heel slammed into his lower thigh. The force of the blow drove Anders backward, and Caine followed, wheeling again with a third kick, but this time something went wrong. Caine seemed to slip as he wheeled and had to drop to one knee to regain his balance.
The mistake was the opening Anders needed. He exploded forward intending to do whatever was necessary to close with his smaller opponent and crush him with his greater strength. Caine heard Andrea’s scream of warning behind him. For a fraction of a second, it seemed as if Caine was desperately trying to get away from Anders’s charge. Then he took a q
uick step toward the onrushing giant and grabbed his outstretched arm and jacket. As Anders closed with the smaller man, Caine pivoted, dropped his center of gravity and threw Anders over his hip, in one explosive movement. Anders realized what was happening at the last instant and tried to slow his momentum, but it was too late. He flew forward and slammed into the side of an old Volvo with stunning force and dropped to the floor beside the car.
Caine started toward his dazed opponent, but then stopped abruptly. Another figure had entered the garage through the front entrance. Caine recognized the elongated barrel of the weapon the man was holding, and raced toward Andrea. She was standing just outside the steel door to the apartment building, her face frozen in shock.
“We have to get out of here, now.”
The desperate edge in Caine’s voice had its intended effect. Andrea wheeled and ran toward the door behind her. Caine caught up with her, yanked open the door, and shoved her into the hall. As he was pulling the door shut behind them, Andrea heard three sharp bangs against the outside of the steel door. Caine ignored the sound and grabbed her arm.
They raced down the corridor to the front door of the building. Caine threw open the door and they pounded down the concrete stairs to the sidewalk and into the street. He ran parallel to the traffic flow for a moment, pulling Andrea after him, and then dodged between the cars, drawing angry horns from the startled drivers. When they reached the far side of the street, Caine glanced over his shoulder and then raced around the next corner.
The next street was not as crowded as the first, and Caine increased the pace, forcing Andrea to run at a flat-out sprint to stay up with him. They pounded down the sidewalk, weaving between the people in front of them and running into the street when they couldn’t find an opening. Andrea was gasping for breath when they reached the next block. Caine slowed and glanced behind them as they raced around the corner. Andrea followed his gaze. A muscular Hispanic man was just coming around the far corner at a full run. Caine pulled Andrea down the next street and increased his pace to a full sprint again.
When they raced around the corner at the end of the third block, a bus was just pulling out from the curb. Caine sprinted down the sidewalk, ran in front of bus and across both lanes of traffic, pulling Andrea with him. As the bus accelerated down the street, they raced beside it, using the vehicle as a blind. When the bus started to pull away from them, Caine struggled to stay within its visual protection, with another burst of speed. Andrea followed his lead, but she knew from the burning in her legs that she was reaching her limit. She was used to running long distances at a steady pace, not sprinting at the limits of her ability.
Just as they were about to lose the cover from the bus, Caine gasped out “There!” and they dodged through an open gate in a six-foot brick wall. As soon as they passed through the gate, Caine moved behind the cover of the wall. Andrea let go of Caine’s hand and bent over at the waist, gasping for breath. Caine turned to her.
“We have to keep moving, Andrea.”
Without waiting for her to reply, Caine grabbed her arm and guided her along the inside perimeter of the wall to the far side of the yard. The archway on the opposite side of the property opened onto the next block. Across the street was a small municipal park. The path through the park wound through a stand of cottonwoods. They ran across the street and raced down the path, into the cover of the trees.
When they emerged on the far side of the park to the next street, Caine maintained a fast walk along the sidewalk until they came to the next intersection. They crossed the street with a group of people who were just getting out of work. On the other side of the street, a municipal bus with the word “Downtown” on the front was just about to close its doors. Caine ran toward the bus, pulling Andrea behind him. For a second, the driver continued to close the doors, but then he saw them coming and reopened the doors. When they reached the top of the stairs inside the bus, Caine pulled a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and said, “Will this get us downtown?”
“Sure will, and then some, but we don’t make change. So you folks are gonna overpay by a dollar. Put your money in the slot,” the driver said as he pulled away from the curb.
Caine dropped the bill into the plastic cylinder and they walked over and sat in the nearest empty seats. As soon as they sat down, Caine leaned over and whispered, “Tie your shoelace.”
Then he bent over and started to work on his laces. When she hesitated, Caine nodded at the window. Andrea realized what he was doing and bent over to pull up her socks. Sweat was pouring down her face. As the bus pulled away from the intersection, Caine raised his head and glanced through the rear window of the bus. When he turned back to her, he shook his head, squeezing her hand softly. Andrea leaned against him. She was about to cry with relief.
“Andrea, do you know where this bus is going?” Caine said.
Caine’s whisper brought Andrea back from the edge. She glanced ahead to get her bearings. As she read the street names, a map of Austin formed in her head. She knew the basic route the driver was taking.
“Yes.”
“We need to find a place where we can get a cab.”
“We’ll be in the downtown area in about two miles. We should see signs for the Marriott or the Hyatt. We can get a cab out front,” Andrea said.
Andrea glanced over at Caine when she spoke. He was looking through the window at the road ahead. Andrea looked down. He was still holding her hand. She suddenly realized that she didn’t want him to let go.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Austin, Texas
December 6, 1999 / Monday / 4:15 p.m.
Paquin walked through the wrought iron gates into the small park adjacent to the Helius Building. The security guard inside the gate nodded to him and said, “The park closes in forty-five minutes, sir.”
Paquin nodded and walked down the cobblestone path toward the center of the park. The two-acre urban oasis was owned and maintained by Helius, but it was open to the public during daylight hours. Paquin followed the cobblestone walkway to a large fountain in the center of the park. A flower garden bordered the outside perimeter of the area. Four smaller paths meandered outward from this central point through a series of grass-covered mounds separated by a sprinkling of firs.
Paquin could see Mason standing on the far side of the fountain when he came around the last curve. Mason saw him coming, but didn’t acknowledge him. He turned and began walking down one of the secondary paths. Paquin caught up with him and matched his pace. Paquin could see Mason’s profile in his peripheral vision. A nervous tic played across the skin just above Mason’s right eyebrow, and his jaw muscle flexed involuntarily. Paquin decided not to update Mason about the near miss outside Steinman’s apartment building earlier in the day. Mason was already on the edge.
They walked together for a minute in silence and then Mason spoke without looking at him, controlled exasperation in his voice.
“Enlighten me, Mr. Paquin, about what you have done to solve our problem.”
Paquin ignored the antagonism in Mason’s voice. He didn’t have time to get in an argument. He needed to get to the restaurant downtown to orchestrate the ambush.
“The girl has a relationship with one of Austin’s senior prosecutors. His name is Michael Bosmasian. She’s meeting him at 7:00 p.m., at a restaurant downtown.”
Mason stopped beside a weeping willow tree and turned to look directly at Paquin.
“How did you find out about this meeting?”
“We searched the phone records at the motel where they stayed last night and found an outgoing call to the prosecutor’s number. One of my operatives called Bosmasian’s office and pretended to be a friend of the Marenna woman. His secretary told her about the meeting.”
Mason nodded and started to walk down the path again.
“And what do you propose to do about this problematic meeting?” Mason asked.
“The woman and Bosmasian used to be lovers. A hysterica
l friend will contact the police just before Caine and the woman arrive at the restaurant. The caller will advise the police that Ms. Marenna intends to shoot Bosmasian and then kill herself. With luck, the police will do our work for us, but if they fail, our shooters will put them down.”
“Very well, Mr. Paquin. Call me when it’s done.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Austin, Texas
December 6, 1999 / Monday / 4:45 p.m.
The Italian restaurant was located about half a mile south of where they left the bus. The concierge at the Marriott Hotel near the bus stop had recommended it. The interior was small, and the décor quaint and welcoming. There were about fifteen dark wooden tables covered in red-and-white-checked tablecloths. A small bar was located at one end of the room. A fire was burning in the fireplace at the other end.
It was still early for the dinner crowd. The restaurant was only about half full. Andrea and Caine were sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant, near the rear exit door. The glass of chardonnay sitting in front of Andrea was untouched. She was staring at the fire across the room. Caine tried to engage her in light conversation about the menu, but it didn’t go anywhere.
“Andrea—”
“They were waiting for us, weren’t they? They knew we were coming.” Caine swirled the beer around in the heavy glass mug in front of him, reluctant to talk about what happened.
“I don’t think they knew we were coming. They knew it was a possibility, and they had the place staked out just in case. They must have recognized one of us when we entered the building and followed us in. I … I’m sorry I brought you there.”
Caine’s comment jogged her memory. Andrea remembered seeing the big man with the reddish hair outside the building. He must have recognized her and followed her in. As the memory replayed in her head, the fear and sense of helplessness that she’d felt when the monster dragged her down the stairs seized her all over again. She closed her eyes and struggled to slow her pounding heart rate. Then she felt a terrible rage. She wanted to kill him for what he did to her. She looked over at Caine.
Helius Legacy Page 19
