“Excuse me,” she said as the elevator door opened, and they all recoiled to let her out first. She could get used to this, she reflected, trying not to laugh. Maybe she should permanently change her look.
The same thing happened in the Lazar Import & Export office. People who had browbeaten and ordered her around all month scurried out of her way, eyes wide, flattening themselves against the walls to give her space. As if she were dangerous. A spark of grim amusement kindled inside her. She'd come a long way from the girl whose knees had knocked when she had to serve melon chunks and mini-muffins to a room full of suits.
Harriet bore down on her like a fighter jet as she strode down the corridor for Victor's office. She blocked Raine's path, her tight, pinched mouth trembling with outrage. “How dare you come here looking like a slut! Have you lost your mind? You've got blood on your face, and you're actually... dirty!” Her voice cracked with horror.
Raine swallowed down a cackle of hysterical laughter. “Out of my way,” she ordered. “I need to get into that office, right now.”
“No!” Harriet held out her arms, prepared to martyr herself. “No amount of intimacy with Mr. Lazar gives you the right to intrude on—”
“He's my father, Harriet,” Raine snapped.
Harriet jerked back, her eyes huge and startled behind the frames of her glasses. Raine advanced upon her. “So get your bony ass out of my way. I'm having a really bad day, as you might have noticed, and I don't have the time or the patience to explain myself to you. Go!”
Harriet swallowed and backed away, her face stiff. “Call security,” she said to the cluster of staring, murmuring people behind her.
Security. Lovely. She wouldn't have much time. Raine locked the door and dropped into the thronelike desk chair. The computer was already logged on, the password request up, cursor blinking dutifully.
She seized the phone, punching in Seth's cell phone number. The recorded voice informed her that the phone was out of range. Would she like to leave a message? She slammed it down and rubbed her burning eyes. What was it that Victor had said? More than four letters. Less than ten. What he wanted from her.
Damn him. Always a power struggle, always a guessing game. What she wouldn't give to have the power to make people rack their brains trying to guess what she wanted from them. As if. She had to beg for what she wanted on her hands and knees. And she never got it anyway.
Oh, stop it. This was no time for self-pity. She had to concentrate. Victor was a control freak. He liked to control people by....
She typed in “fear.” It didn't work. She tried “control.”
“Revenge.”
No go.
She tried “power.” Then “respect.” Still nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to think like him. More convoluted, more abstract. Victor was nothing if not abstract. But nothing came to her brain; stress had battered it to a numb pulp. She shook her head to clear it and just started typing in every word that popped into her head.
She tried “trust” “Truth.” “Honor.” “Justice.” “Courage.” No. She tried “Mercy.” “Forgiveness.”
She hesitated for a long time, bit her lip hard and typed in “love.”
Nothing.
She swore, using some of the brand-new, violent combinations of words she had learned in the past few days from listening to Seth.
The goddamned password should have been “love.” That was what she wanted it to be, sentimental idiot that she was, always wanting what she couldn't have, seeking love where it couldn't be found. She wanted out of this screaming madhouse of hate and revenge. She wanted to rescue them all: herself, Seth, Connor, even the unknown, hapless Erin. She wanted to rescue the perfect, precious bliss she had known last night before the killer came and murdered it.
She wanted to go back in time, rescue Peter from Ed, rescue Victor from himself, rescue everyone from their fear and desperation and loneliness. But she was so small and helpless, and the boat was drifting away from her. She needed help, a moment of pure grace from the great mysterious unknown to help her unravel this puzzle, please—
Her hands dropped into her lap. Her swollen eyes stared at the computer screen, frozen in a moment of exquisite, paralyzing hope.
She spun back to the keyboard, and very carefully typed in “g-r-a-c-e.” She entered it.
Password accepted. The menu options popped up, inviting her to proceed. She blinked the tears she had no time for, and clicked on the glasses icon. The X-Ray Specs logo flashed up, a catchy blur of animation that her eyes were too watery to follow. She selected, “Last area viewed.” Then “Track all.”
A map popped up on the screen, showing a large chunk of the residential neighborhood of her Templeton Street house. Tiny colored points blinked all over the place. She wiped her eyes and nose on her grimy, sticky arm. There was a big magnifying glass on the tool bar. She dragged it over the map, letting her eyes relax and unfocused. One moment of grace, she prayed silently. One little moment, and she would take care of the rest.
There it was, a flicker of movement at the bottom of the screen. She dragged the magnifying glass to the point, and selected Zoom, vaguely aware that someone was yelling and pounding on the door.
The jewel icon was on the move southbound on Carstairs Road, a parallel of Templeton. It turned off the main road, and stopped. She knew that place. It had been a timber baron's luxury estate back in the twenties. Now it was an abandoned, dilapidated mansion surrounded by a big, overgrown forest park. She had jogged there, back in the days before she'd gotten too tired to jog.
The office door burst open. That was all the grace she was going to get. A burly man in a security uniform peeked in and eyed her as if she were a rabid animal. “Miss, I'm afraid you're going to have to, uh, come with me now,” he rumbled, trying to look stern.
“I don't think so,” she said politely. “I've got things to do.”
He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the door.
Damn. She'd hoped to avoid this, but there was no time to waste. She reached back, pulled out Ed's Glock and gave the man a big, toothy smile. “I'm out of here,” she said. “Have a great day.”
The guy almost tripped over himself to get out of her way, and Harriet squawked in protest. “See? I told you she was dangerous!”
Raine backed away from the horrified faces of the people she'd been trying so hard to please and placate for the last month. The Glock was intimidating, but it wasn't going to take them long to figure out that she would never use the thing.
“Uh... I'll see you guys around,” she said. “It's been real.”
She stuck the Glock back into her pants and ran like hell.
The cell phone rang. Victor checked the number before picking it up. It was Mara, whom he had assigned to watch the monitor in the control room. Memories of what he had done to the delectable, adventurous Mara in his bedroom the night before flashed through his mind. Memorable, yes, but the girl had better have a damn good reason for calling other than pillow talk. He pushed the button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Lazar, the jewel icon is very close to the marina, and moving closer,” Mara said.
He was unpleasantly startled. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It's at the level of Morehead Street. Moving south, at about thirty miles an hour. It's within range of your monitor.”
He pulled the monitor out of his coat pocket, entered the password and keyed in the code. Mara was right. Katya was here.
“Thank you, Mara. Carry on.” He broke the connection and pulled the collar of his coat higher, chilled to the bone.
Katya wasn't supposed to be here. She should be far out of reach, guarded by both Mackey and Riggs.
He should abort the meeting. Something was very wrong. He could feel it. But if Novak had Katya in his grasp, he couldn't walk away. He had thought himself invulnerable, but Katya was his weak point. She always had been. And he had nothing to bargain with but a piece of cold metal, and images from a nightmare.
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They were approaching the marina. The readout on the monitor shifted constantly with the changing flow of spatial information.
He switched off the useless thing and flung it into the water.
Maybe it wasn't Katya. Maybe someone else was carrying one of her tagged belongings. Maybe it was a malfunction. He could only hope.
To think that after all his plotting and planning, that he should be reduced to relying upon something so fragile as hope.
“I have got to get myself a pair of these,” Sean said, staring through the foggy woods with his goggles. “I haven't been so jazzed since the last time we burgled that bastard. I can already spot three ... no, four of Novak's goons with the long-range TI function. Playing with your toys is like having superhuman powers.” “That's the whole idea,” Seth said. He handed a pair to Davy and looped his own around his neck. He handed a tiny mike and earphone set to the brothers, identical in their green camouflage gear. They put them on with a swift efficiency that showed such equipment was not new to them.
“So what's your plan?” Davy asked. “March up to the front door and ring the bell?”
“No way to do recon if you don't know the site. I was going to wing it. You guys got any ideas, let's hear 'em.”
Davy and Sean looked at each other for a long moment. Their matching sets of perfect teeth flashed through the green ski masks.
“Hunting season,” Davy said, popping open the back door of the Jeep Cherokee. “Time to show you the McCloud family arsenal.” He pulled out a heavy black case and slanted a questioning glance at his brother. “Do you want the Remington 700 or the Cheytec .408?” He snapped open the case and hauled out a huge sniper rifle.
“You take the Cheytec,” Sean said. “You're the better sniper.”
“That's exactly why you should take the Cheytec,” Davy said with exaggerated patience. “And besides, you're a perfectly good sniper.”
“Sure, I don't suck, but you>e still better. You're the marksman. I'm the demolitions man.” He grinned at Seth. “Too bad we didn't know the site beforehand. God, how I would've loved to bomb the shit out of those assholes. There's nothing so satisfying as a nice big kaboom, know what I mean? Gives you a real sense of emotional closure.”
“Focus, Sean,” Davy muttered. “Take the fucking Cheytec.”
“Nah. The Cheytec gives me performance anxiety. You take it. I like the Remington with my Leupold power scope. We're old pals.”
“Whatever.” Davy hauled the Cheytec up into position and peered through the scope. “We used to hunt with a bow and arrow when we were kids. For run “ He shot a glance at Seth. “Ever try it?”
Seth stared at the massive rifle, impressed in spite of himself. He focused belatedly on Davy's question. “Give me a break. I'm a city boy.”
“Dad taught us how,” Davy said. “To prepare us for the inevitable day of doom and judgment when government is overthrown, anarchy rules, and civilization is flung back into the Bronze Age.”
“And the prepared, the elect, the chosen ones, would be the dukes and princes of that new world order,” Sean intoned. “Namely, us.”
“And I thought my childhood was weird,” Seth muttered.
“Yeah, Dad was a pretty original thinker” Davy said. “Anyhow, when you hunt with a bow and arrow, you have to get really close to your prey. Sometimes we'd make a game out of it, get close enough to the deer or elk to slap them on the rump and watch them run. Sometimes we shot 'em. Depended on how much was in the freezer.”
Seth held up his goggles and peered through me trees that obscured the house. “Do you guys have a point to make with all this?”
“Nah, not really” Davy said. He pulled a bunch of plasticuffs out of his bag, and offered a handful of them to Seth and Sean. “It's just been a really long time since Sean and I have gone hunting.”
“Too long,” Sean added. “Too bad Connor couldn't come. He was the best of all of us. The original shadow man.”
Seth looked down at the plasticuffs, and back at the McClouds. Two sets of disembodied green eyes glowed with hot anticipation out of the ski masks. “You guys are really into this, aren't you?”
'Those bastards put Connor in a coma for two months,” Davy said softly. “And they killed Jesse.”
“Jesse was our friend, too,” Sean said. “We wouldn't miss this party for any money.” He reached into the back of the Cherokee and pulled out another case. “Check this out, Seth. You're not the only one with a few magic tricks up his sleeve.” He popped open the lid and held the case out for Seth to see. Seth peered in. “What's this?”
“Gas powered air pistols converted into tranq dart guns. With super-fast acting tranquilizer darts,” Sean said triumphantly. “I got 'em from Nick, one of Connor's task force buddies. He specializes in just this kind of situation. When a guy wants to even up the odds without having to cope with all the red tape of an all-out bloodbath.”
Seth stared at him. “No shit,” he said slowly. “You mean to tell me you've already used this stuff? What do you do for a living, anyway?”
Sean shrugged noncommittally, and gave him a bright, impenetrable grin. “Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I get by. Here. I brought along Connor's for you. A Beretta M92, with a power scope. A laser sight, too, if you want, but I personally think that kind of takes the fun out of it.”
Seth took the proffered gun and stared down at it, starting to grin. His mood had unaccountably lightened. “You McCloud boys are a strange breed.”
Davy grinned back. “You're not the first to make that observation,” he said.
Another man was lying on the ground.
Raine crouched beside the second motionless body, checking with trembling fingers beneath the dark hood to make sure it wasn't one of the McCloud men. She sighed with relief when she saw that it was not. It was a young man with buzz-cut red hair. He was alive, a tiny needle dart sticking out of his neck. Plastic bonds were ratcheted tightly around his wrists and ankles.
She looked around, but she saw no one in the murmuring forest besides her and the unconscious man. It was like the enchanted forest of Sleeping Beauty. Everyone but her had gone to sleep.
She had parked as near as she dared to the abandoned mansion, and sneaked through the woods as quietly as she could, using the monitor to guide her. Seth and the McClouds must be roaming around, taking out Novak's guards one by one. That was heartening.
It had started raining again, but she was too keyed up to feel it. Her metabolism must be raging like a grassfire. The raindrops that hit her skin felt like they ought to hiss and sputter like water on a griddle.
She huddled by a tree trunk and looked around, clutching Ed's Glock with a white-knuckled hand. Racing to Seth's rescue had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now, in this silent, creepy forest, doubts were racing back. She was out of her depth, as always.
But it was far too late for good sense or second thoughts. She couldn't just abandon Seth with that necklace in his pocket; and besides, she had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Nothing existed but this moment, this place, this task. It pulled at her like a vortex. It was the key to unlock the whole wretched puzzle of her life.
The culmination of everything.
The monitor indicated that the necklace was less than three hundred meters from her to the northeast If she sneaked along under the cover of those willow trees, maybe she would see—
Something hit her between the shoulder blades with incredible force, knocking her face down in the muddy leaves. Something heavy was on top of her. It moved and breathed and stank of cigarettes.
It pried the pistol out of her hand and jammed it against her neck. An arm slid under her chin, pressing against her windpipe. She hunched her back up with the strength of terror, giving herself just enough space to shove the flat monitor beneath a soggy drift of leaves.
The thing on top of her grabbed her hair, pulled her face around to the side. She saw white-blond eyebrows, pinkish eyes, a hoo
ked nose. The thing grinned at her with big, yellow teeth.
“Hello, pretty girl. The boss is going to be real happy to see you.”
Chapter 27
Finally Seth was back in the zone. His concentration was almost back to normal; instincts razor sharp, utterly focused. He was almost to the punchline of this crazy joke, and nothing would keep him from it—as long as he didn't pay attention to that burning cloud that hung in the middle of his mind. Raine.
He wrenched his concentration back with a savage jerk. Nothing existed but here and now. He was on his belly, fifty meters from the house. Cameras were a sure thing, but there was no way to tell if Novak had motion detectors. He doubted it, with that army of sentries on the grounds. Besides, this wreck didn't look like a place that warranted a hard-core security installation. It looked like a creepy haunted mansion. Trust Novak to go for atmosphere over security.
He allowed himself to feel cautiously optimistic. Between him and the McClouds, they'd evened out the odds quite a bit. The monitor told him that the Corazon was in that house. Getting in was going to be an interesting challenge. He wiggled another few feet closer, under cover of an overgrown shrub. The line on the earpiece clicked open.
“Yo, Seth.” Sean's voice was strangely subdued. “Hate to tell you this, but... your lady friend has decided to join us.”
Seth’s mind went blank.
No way. She was supposed to be wrapped in a blanket, sipping a cup of herbal tea under Connor's watchful eye. Nowhere near here.
“Where?” he snapped into the little mike clipped to his collar.
“She must've come through the hole I made on the western side. One of the goons has her in a twist. He's taking her into the house.”
“Can you get him?”
“Too far,” Sean said. “Too risky. I might hit her. Sorry.”
Behind Closed Doors m&f-1 Page 39
