A minute later, she was lying on the floor of the balcony. Her back, arms, and legs ached. She would have bruises. She waited until she was breathing normally, then stood up and patted her pocket. The .38 was there.
She moved to the sliding glass door. If the door was locked, she would have a problem. There was no way she could climb back down. She’d have to smash the glass or shoot the lock off. Which would, of course, announce her presence.
Reaching out, she gripped the handle of the door and gave it a tug. Nothing. She tried again, pulling harder. This time she thought it budged. She tried again. The door seemed to want to move, but it was caught on something. Rust? Dirt and dust in the tracks? Either way, her spirits lifted. It was moving a little. Which meant it was unlocked. She braced herself, bent her knees, and pulled with both hands. The door slid open an inch. She kept pulling, hearing the scraping sound of metal on metal. The door gave, but in stingy increments. Finally it was about ten inches open. She slithered inside.
A guest room. Dark, but a mirror above a bureau reflected the floodlights outside. Lila could see a queen-sized bed with a heavy quilt, and a braided rug on the floor. The door to the room was closed. She crept to it and leaned her ear against it. At first she heard nothing. She pressed her ear harder. She became aware of a murmur, but it wasn’t coming from the other side of the door. She cocked her ear, trying to pinpoint its source.
It came from back near the balcony door. She moved silently across the room. The murmur was louder. Still indistinct, but she recognized Dar’s voice. Where was it coming from? The room with the gap in the drapes was below and to her left. Were they in there? She tried to concentrate, but the wind outside had kicked up and a draft whistled through the door. She couldn’t close it; couldn’t risk making more noise. What now? She realized she didn’t have much of a plan.
She could still hear conversation. But where was it coming from? She looked at the floor. An air vent! She knelt down and put her ear against it. The voices were clear. Dar was talking.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Dar was saying. “I guess I’ll be leaving now.”
A gruff voice. “You didn’t really think I’d allow you to go, did you?” Markham.
A pause. Then Dar again, “No. I didn’t.”
Chills skipped up her spine. Lila straightened up, unzipped her pocket, and fished out the .38. She moved to the door. As she opened it, air blowing in from the balcony rushed through the room. But there were no other telltale sounds.
She stepped into the hall. After being in semi-darkness, the blinding light from a ceiling chandelier was disorienting. She blinked to adjust her vision. A flight of stairs lay to the right, flanked by a wide curving banister with carved spindles. A thick oriental carpet covered the floor. She took a step. No noise. The carpet felt cushiony. She took another. She made it to the top of the stairs. A voice rose from downstairs, more distinct than what she’d heard through the air vent.
Markham. “David has a trick which is quite effective. It involves lit matches … ”
She tiptoed to the edge of the carpet. The steps were hardwood and covered by a thin runner. She’d heard somewhere it was better to tread on the edges, not the middle. Less noise. She took a tentative step down. No squeaks. She took another. So far, so good. She began to feel more confident and snuck down to the third step.
It squeaked.
Lila froze, the .38 in her hand.
At the same time she heard an intake of breath from downstairs. “I thought I heard something on the stairs.” Markham sounded concerned.
“That’s impossible.” A low-pitched voice. Irritated.
“I tell you I heard something.” Markham again, irritated as well. “Go see.”
“What about him?”
Lila heard the sound of a drawer sliding open, followed by Markham’s voice. “I’ll handle it.”
“A .22 won’t do the job.”
Markham’s voice was impatient. “David, stop wasting time. I need him alive for the moment. Go check the noise.”
Lila pressed herself against the wall. Whoever came out would see her, but she might have the advantage of surprise. She aimed the gun down the steps. Straightened her arms and her body. Tried to clear her mind.
The door opened. A beefy man with a shaved head emerged. The same man who’d opened the drapes. He pointed a huge gun her way. Lila’s eyes widened, and she ducked behind the spindles of the banister as he fired. She saw a flash of light, heard two deafening cracks. Her stomach lurched. She didn’t know if she’d been hit. Her ears were ringing. She smelled gunpowder.
“David!” Markham yelled. Querulous. Fearful. “What’s happening?”
Chips of paint and plaster rained down the steps. But Lila was still alive. He’d missed. The shots must have ripped into the wall beside her. She forced herself not to panic. With the gun in front of her, she moved her aim slightly to the right between the spindles. The beefy man mirrored her movement. But before he could take another shot, she squeezed the .38’s trigger.
The muzzle flashed, and the crack of the discharge slammed into her ears. The recoil made her arm fly up. The beefy man groaned, dropped his gun, and fell to the floor clutching his thigh. Blood oozed out, staining the floor and carpet.
Markham yelled, his voice edged with panic. “David, what’s going on?”
A smell like firecrackers drifted through the air. Lila started to shiver.
“David, get in here. Now.”
Her heart thumped in her chest, but it wasn’t over. Clutching the gun, she stood and raced down the rest of the stairs. Stepping around the bodyguard, she pulled open the door to the room.
An old man in a wheelchair was aiming a gun at Dar.
“Drop your gun.” She raised the .38. “Now!”
Markham twisted around. Confusion swam across his face, but then his eyes grew cold, as if he couldn’t believe anyone, especially a woman, had the gall to confront him. He swung the gun from Dar toward her and pulled the trigger.
The shot went wide and plowed into the door to her left.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a blur of movement. Dar threw himself at Markham’s desk and leapt on top. Markham aimed the .22 at Dar. At the same time Lila hurtled towards him from the side and grabbed for the gun. There was another muzzle flash and explosion. The bullet pierced the ceiling, triggering a spider web design. Dar crawled over the desk, grabbed Markham, and wrestled him out of the wheelchair. The chair tipped over, and both men fell to the floor. Markham dropped the .22, and it skittered across the carpet. Dar rolled over Markham, clutching him until the man was on his belly with Dar on top. He grabbed Markham’s arms and pinned them behind his back.
Markham moaned. “My arm … I think it’s broken!”
Dar held on. Lila got up, retrieved the .22, and slipped it into her pocket. She kept the .38 trained on Markham. “Call Teddy,” she said.
Markham shook his head. He was breathing heavily.
“Oh, I think you will,” Dar said evenly. “You see, there is a piece of evidence I didn’t tell you about. Evidence that puts Teddy squarely in the middle of the bombing.” He explained about the piece of metal with the VIN on it. “It contains Teddy’s blood. And his prints.”
“You’re bluffing,” Markham said. “The DNA couldn’t possibly hold up after all this time.”
“Do you want to take that chance?”
Markham blinked.
“Your only option is how you spin it,” Dar said. “If you do it right, Teddy can hang on to his respectability. If not, we’ll expose him. His place in history is in your hands.”
Markham squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, something new was in his eyes. Defeat. “Give me the phone.”
FIFTY–FOUR
Sherry’s Café in Loves Park did a brisk business, especially in the morning. That’s when farmers, truckers, and people going to work stopped in for coffee and gossip and news. The news usually ran to who was arrested for a DUI, who was ch
eating on whom, whose kid was busted for drugs.
Lila, Dar, Cece, and Reba were lucky to find a table two mornings later. They were nursing cappuccinos and munching on bagels when someone turned up the volume on the TV on the wall. The screen proclaimed a special report was imminent. The broadcast cut to one of the network anchormen.
“In just a few moments Senator Ted Markham of Wisconsin will be announcing he is ending his quest for the presidency,” the anchor intoned.
Lila jerked her head up. Dar, Cece, and Reba did too. A hush fell over the room. A blue box on the TV screen, behind the anchorman’s shoulder, dissolved to a shot of Teddy in his Senate office. He sat behind his desk, hands folded. Two flags—one for the state of Wisconsin; the other, the American flag—flanked him.
The shot expanded to fill the screen. Teddy’s face looked unnaturally tan, as if someone had applied too much make-up. But his navy suit was sharply tailored, his shirt impeccably white, his red power tie a perfect Windsor knot.
He nodded into the camera. “Good morning, my fellow Americans. Two days ago my father—and his nurse-companion … ,” Lila and Dar exchanged glances, “ … were seriously wounded when intruders broke into his house in Madison. The nurse was shot trying to defend himself, and my father’s arm was broken. Both men, thank God, are expected to recover, but it will be a long recovery, especially for my father. He is not a young man.”
The camera started a slow move into a close-up of Teddy’s face.
“An investigation is ongoing … and I want to commend the Madison police for their diligence. They have retrieved evidence that I’m not at liberty to discuss. But there is every reason to think these criminals will be apprehended. And prosecuted.”
Dar gave a little shrug, as if to say, “he had to say something.” He and Lila had discussed what might happen if they were apprehended. Dar’s parole could be revoked, and he could be charged with conspiracy to commit murder. Lila could be charged with home invasion, aggravated battery, attempted murder, and whatever else they could drum up. Lila shrugged too. She would do it all over again. She looked back at the TV.
Teddy dipped his head and brushed his hair off his forehead. “There are some who feel this incident was politically motivated. I want to state unequivocally that I do not share that opinion. However, I cannot tolerate any risk or potential harm to my family. For that reason I have reassessed my situation.”
“He’s running scared,” someone in the café said.
“Shut up, Clarence.”
“It was my father yesterday,” Teddy went on, “but it could be my wife and children tomorrow. I would not be a good president if my attention was divided and I was constantly worried that harm might come to my loved ones. This country needs a president whose mind is focused solely on solving the problems of this great nation. And the world.
“For those reasons I have decided I can best serve the country by remaining in my seat in the Senate, creating legislation that will move us forward. Therefore, as of today, I will no longer seek the nomination of my party for president. It has been an honor to serve you, and I will continue to do so in the future as a senator. Thank you. God bless you, your family, and God bless America.”
The broadcast cut back to the anchorman. “A dramatic development from the campaign—or former campaign—of Senator Ted Markham. Recapping his statement, the senator said … ”
Cece turned her back on the TV as he droned on. “Nice spin.”
“Hard to believe he’s going to get away with murder,” Lila murmured.
“I don’t know,” Dar said, “his father was the mastermind, not him.”
“So they’re both getting away with it.”
“They’re paying a stiff price.”
“The authorities wouldn’t be this forgiving. Why are you?”
“Maybe Teddy will be a better leader,” Dar said. “You know, without the pressure to get elected. Or having his father on his back.”
“That’s crazy. The only reason he’ll stay in line is that he knows you have the VIN plate,” Lila said. “And if he comes after you, you’ll expose him.”
Dar considered it. “He won’t. As I said, the judge was the brains, not Teddy. And he’s been effectively neutralized.”
Lila looked at her father. She would never be that magnanimous.
“There’s a huge irony here, you know,” Cece said.
“What’s that?”
“Forty years ago you and Teddy and Payton were rebelling against what you believed was a corrupt establishment. Who knew Teddy would take it to the next level?”
“I’m not blameless,” Dar replied. “I used extortion to get what I needed.”
“But you weren’t running for president,” Reba countered.
“True,” Dar paused. “Speaking of ironies, don’t forget Payton.”
Lila frowned. “Payton?”
“We always thought he postured. Went too far. In the end, though, he was the one who came up with the evidence.”
“And redeemed himself,” Lila said.
“I wish your mother knew. Neither she nor Rain ever trusted him.”
“Her daughter knows,” Lila said.
“Speaking of daughters, where did you learn to handle a gun?”
Lila eyed Reba. Reba looked at the floor. Comprehension dawned on Dar’s face.
“I guess that’s another irony,” Lila said softly.
No one said anything.
“So … ,” Reba finally said. “You going back to New York now?”
“I … I don’t know. I still have some things to do here.”
“Like what?”
“Like buy Cece a new car. We pretty much trashed the Honda getting away from the rental truck. Then I want to find Dar a place to live. And get something nice for you and Benny.”
“Whoa, girl … ” Reba pointed her spoon at Lila. “That’s real nice and all, but you’re talking serious money.”
Lila pressed her lips together. “Yeah, well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She cleared her throat. At the same time the cough of a motorcycle outside chuffed, then quieted. Lila ignored it. “I got a strange message about a week ago. From a woman named … ”
She stopped in mid-sentence as the door to the café swung open. A man stepped in. Solid, not tall. His hair pulled back in a ponytail. Graying at the temples. He was wearing a black leather jacket and matching pants. In his hand was a helmet with a visor. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in his surroundings. A scar snaked on his cheek, still red and raw.
Lila gasped.
Dar, whose back was to the door, spun around. “What the … what’s he doing here?”
Cece frowned. “Shit!”
“It’s Enduro Man,” Lila whispered.
“That’s crazy. Why didn’t Teddy call him off?” Reba gestured to the TV. “The war is over.”
“Maybe no one told him,” Cece said.
“Markham’s people wouldn’t be that slipshod,” Dar said.
“So he’s a lone ranger?” Reba asked.
Lila slumped, trying to make herself small. “Whoever he is, how the hell did he find us?”
“It’s gotta be the tracker,” Reba said. “The last place he picked us up was at the house. He must have decided to hunt us down the old fashioned way.” She looked around. “And this being the center of town … ”
Lila’s skin felt clammy. “What do we do? Call the police?”
“Sure. While you’re at it, why don’t you fill them in on what you’ve been up to the last couple of days?” Reba glanced behind the counter, then at Enduro Man, who was starting to turn their way. “Listen. You and Dar sneak out the back. Go to Benny’s shop and lock yourselves up in the back room.”
They all stood. Reba and Cece moved in front of Dar and Lila, shielding them from sight. Reba gestured to Sherry, the owner, who was walking by. “Sweetheart, these fine folks need to get out the back door. Pronto.”
Sherry studied Reba, then m
otioned with her hand. “This way.”
Reba gave Dar a shove. “Follow her.”
Dar and Lila slipped behind the counter and disappeared through the kitchen. With the crush of people in the café, Enduro Man didn’t seem to notice. As Lila retreated, she heard Reba say to Cece, “I need you to distract him. For about five minutes.”
“Excuse me?” Cece said.
“Come on to him. Spill coffee on him. Whatever. Just give me five minutes with his bike.”
Dar and Lila ducked out the back door.
They were in the back room of Benny’s shop thirty minutes later when the front door jingled. Two sets of footsteps stomped on the floor. Reba’s voice called out. “Hey Benny, it’s Reba Whiteman.”
Benny cocked his head. Dar raised a finger to his lips.
“Hey, Spivak. Get off your fat ass. I got some business for you.”
Dar raised an eyebrow.
“Hold your horses. I’m comin’ …” Benny looked at Dar and Lila and nodded once. They both moved behind the door. Benny opened it, closed it behind him, and headed to the front. Lila leaned her ear against the door.
“This here gentleman … what’d you say your name was?” Reba asked.
“I didn’t,” a tinny, nasal voice mumbled.
“Yeah, well, whoever he is, he got a flat tire over at Sherry’s. I told him you’d fix it.”
Lila ached with fear. Why did Reba bring him here? What if he spotted them? This was lunacy. She started to tremble. Dar rested his hand on her shoulder.
“What seems to be the trouble?” she heard Benny ask.
“Looks like the valve on his Enduro somehow came out. The central core is missing. No way to reinflate it without replacing the valve.”
“How do you know so much about bikes?” Enduro Man broke in.
“I ride a Harley. Just not in this weather,” Reba said. “It’s bad for my skin.” She giggled. It sounded artificial. “Well, you’re in the right place. I’ll be seeing you.”
“Hey, Reba. Thanks for the business,” Benny said. “I owe you.”
Enduro Man grunted.
The front door tinkled. Then Benny asked, “So, you got a name?”
“You can call me Jergens.”
Set the Night on Fire Page 31
