by Ann Raina
The group of four went inside.
A band already played while they were escorted to their seats. They had a table left of the center, but in good distance to the stage. Guards in plain clothes patrolled the large hall, and waiters with trays moved swiftly between the aisles and offered juice and champagne. More guests moved in, slowly, enjoying the splendid decoration of walls and tables. The flags of Boston and Massachusetts were hung left and right of the stage, which was decorated in blue, red and white ribbons. A desk with microphones had been put in the center. Technicians made last minute sound checks and then left the hall.
Julian was deeply impressed and did not even try to hide it. He looked around, trying to take everything in and shaking his head slowly, unbeknown. Kyra could feel a slight tremble through his hand laced with hers and she felt even younger, like a teenager, who is accompanied to her first ball. However, her partner appeared to be the younger one in this date, almost overwhelmed by the interior of the hall and the many people gathering. More seats were taken and Kyra recognized a lot of familiar faces. People she had seen on the last reception and some she knew from the papers or TV interviews. Since the mayor was a very respected and honored politician even guests from other cities in Massachusetts had joined for this final public appearance.
They sat down, and a waitress brought champagne and orange juice. Milton whispered that most of these guests did not know that Damian Cresgood would recommend Marvin Hammer as successor. It would be a surprise and, hopefully, a good start for his election campaign. "Imagine all of them sitting here and listen to Cresgood's speech and then… that'll be really something the media will write about."
"I bet." Kyra lifted her glass as the others had already done.
"To a wonderful evening," Milton said, including Julian in his friendly smile. Lara had only eyes for her daughter and Kyra's silent urge to make peace with the situation was ignored. "I was told that the meal shall be great, too, not only the nightly entertainment."
She sighed, drank and put down the glass. "How come you got tickets, dad?"
"I drew my gun, pressed it hard enough against Damian's chest and told him that either my family got invited or he wouldn't make any speech at all."
Lara slapped his shoulder. "Blech! Come on, Milton, if you say something like that too loud you get arrested tonight."
"Ah, that would be a safe bet." Milton grinned, pointing over his shoulder. "I guess it's more bodyguards and police personnel around here than for a senator."
"Is there a chance the senator shows up, too?" Lara glanced over her shoulder as if the politician had just fallen from heaven.
"No, probably not. But who knows?" Milton beamed with happiness. "Tonight everything's possible."
"Looks like it," Lara replied, sounding grumpy and Kyra knew exactly what she meant.
"And it looks like it's going to be a wonderful night," Kyra stated with vigor and pressed Julian's hand on the table. It was showing off. It was a demonstration. She felt like challenging her mom and could not help it. Mothers were special and always influential, but daughters had to find their own way. To prove it, Kyra bent to Julian and lifted her chin to fetch a kiss. Depending on the circumstances, Julian made it chaste. Not to ruin the lipstick and not to ruin Lara's mood completely.
"Be nice," he whispered in her ear, causing her to pout. "You don't want her mad. She's your mom and I don't want her angry with me either."
"You're a good man, Julian," she gave back the same way. "She'll know that sooner or later."
He did not answer to that, just let out air. When more guests arrived his eyes wandered through the hall, taking in the seating of the people, the guards patrolling along the walls, the waiters hurrying through the aisles. The band played another very patriotic piece and with the last note a man in a black conservative suit, white dress shirt and fly stepped up the stage and cleared his throat. He welcomed the guests, made some jokes about police men and politicians and when the audience warmed up to the show he announced a follower of the mayor.
The main part of the evening had begun.
"There were times when I thought I could not go on," Damian Cresgood said with feeling. "There were times I wanted to give up and hand the torch to another man, a younger man. But the pitiful and dramatic events of the bribing affair had left the city shaken with uncertainty and my leave would have come at an inappropriate time. The city was…"
Kyra bent to Julian, who sat hunched up beside her, holding a hand to his midsection. "Are you all right?" He shook his head. "Your stomach again?"
"I fear so." He looked at her, pain filling his eyes. "I've got to see a restroom, sorry." He stood and left the hall as quietly and quickly as possible.
"What's wrong?" Milton asked, bending closely toward her for the mayor was still speaking.
"He's got an upset stomach, dad. He had gastritis and maybe it's back again."
"Poor boy." Milton nodded curtly and turned his attention back to the stage.
"Boston has lived through rough times," Cresgood went on, "and had a long way of recovery. There were setbacks and bribery seemed to flare up for criminal activities were hard to control. However, with the combined strength of police forces and government decisions, especially the new law against major criminals as well as the enhanced witness protection program finally helped to arrest the heads of two major gangs. But I will not forget that there were other, peaceful changes made in local politics. I'm very happy to stand here before you and tell you that our new kindergarten program is in effect and so far we have enough places and enough educators to guarantee your kids a place where he or she can play and learn. And all of those kids can be taken care of from six in the morning until seven in the evening. Guaranteed."
Within the applause Kyra turned. Julian was not in sight. But among the staff busily serving the guests and bringing in rolling trays with snacks, she saw a man that looked faintly familiar. "Excuse me," she said to her father and stood to leave in the direction Julian had gone.
A guard gave a passing glance. She did not bear any threat and his eyes quickly returned to the guests in the hall. She was in the wide corridor behind the western side of the hall. Telephones and restrooms were to the far left, the kitchen to the left and the emergency exit to her right at the end of the way. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw movement and turned her head. One of the waiters had opened the hatch on one of the windows beside the door. When he turned, he gave her a smile and vanished in a maintenance room on the other side of the corridor. Again Kyra thought that she had seen this man somewhere. She did not return the smile, but looked left. Worry gripped her. Julian was gone too long by now. She remembered him hanging on the wheel of the loader. She wanted to help, but hesitated. Maybe the restroom for men was empty, maybe not. Being caught by a guest who just wanted to relieve himself was not her favorite idea for the evening. He would probably shout and hand her to the guards and that would be attention she wanted to avoid. So she waited and watched when two men left the restroom and returned to their seats. The man returned from the maintenance room, but left through the exit. It seemed odd, but Kyra only glanced at him. He got something in his hand, something round and big.
Then the door fell shut and in the hall applause roared up when Cresgood said, "And who could be a better man for this job than our well respected Commissioner Marvin Hammer, my friend and brother in arms when he was most needed?" He applauded and stepped aside to make way for Hammer to come to the desk. The commissioner virtually gleamed with pride and happiness. The people stood up, shouted his name and applauded long enough to cause him to laugh and make jokes about not needing to say a word if that would last.
Finally the people settled back on their seats. Hammer grabbed the edges of the desk and looked at the audience. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I really appreciate that you invested so much energy in applauding someone you haven't seen doing anything else than giving interviews to some press people." Laughter flared up. Hammer was play
ing modest and the audience was willing to follow.
Kyra stood with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, getting restless. An old man, tall but bent with age, left the restroom and she was happy to not have entered. It would have been very embarrassing. She watched his slow movements. He had a heavy limp in his left leg and breathed noisily. A beard, partly gray, covered his face and his dark hair was matted. The suit he wore had some stains and the shoes were dusty. For a second she wondered if she should ask him for Julian, but dropped the idea. Nevertheless, her gaze returned to the closed restroom door. She decided to wait until Hammer's speech was over. If Julian had not returned by then she would drop the idea of being embarrassed and look after him.
The old man walked on slowly. The guests at the closest table lifted their gazes. Two women frowned and whispered to each other and Kyra thought of them to be narrow-minded. Was it not natural that such an old man had to see a man about a horse, no matter how important a speech was made? The two ladies shook their heads, and one turned to her husband and he, too, looked up, frowning. Kyra held her breath for a moment and uneasiness knotted her guts. She had not seen the old man when entering the hall and not after that though she had followed Julian's scrutiny.
She approached the nearest guard. "Excuse me, but do you know where the old man sits? He seems kind of…lost."
"No, I haven't seen him enter," the guard said. His voice held the common edge of suspicion when working in a job where gut feeling is half of the job. He looked closer. The old man moved along the table closest to the stage then halted, a hand on the backrest of a chair. Kyra expected him to sit down, but he stood as if to catch his breath. The guests at the table turned their heads, irritated to have a stranger stand so close. The guard talked into his microphone. "Anyone seeing that old man fifteen feet away from the stage enter with any other guest?"
The left hand of the old man went up to his chest. In one second Kyra thought he would faint and have a heart attack, the next the guard said to her, "No one saw that old man enter."
"He's drawing a gun!" The words were out of her mouth before she knew it.
"Fuck!" His gun was out of the holster and aimed in one fluent motion. "Drop the gun!"
A woman at the table near the stage screamed. The old man pointed his gun at the commissioner. The bodyguards close by jumped on the stage, shielding Hammer with their bodies. The guard at the corridor fired and the two stunning bullets hit the old man's back before he could pull the trigger. The gun dropped to the floor and he fell next to it, trashing the chair.
People were on their feet, screaming, hollering, hurrying to the exits as a mass of panicking victims. The commissioner was hustled through the back exit and taken away in an unmarked car. The guards moved in, their guns pointed at the unmoving figure on the floor. Kyra stood like rooted to the ground, unable to move. Her heart beat high in her throat. She had the feeling of being threatened and cornered.
"Kyra! Are you all right?" Her father was beside her. He had sent Lara out with the others, but would never leave without his daughter. "Ky! Are you unhurt?"
"I'm okay." She took the first deep breath. She blinked at her father. "I had never thought…" She swallowed then turned to the still closed restroom door. "Julian…" She was on her way, pushed the door open, her father close behind her. "Julian!" No one in the main room. She opened the stalls. Empty. Disbelieving what seemed logical, she turned to her father. "He should be here." But the words were hollow and Milton frowned. She passed him by, back through the corridor, back into the hall. Security had closed off every exit and bunched around the unconscious killer. "Let me through. I need to see!" she shouted and the guard she had informed turned and waved her through.
"Do you know him?" he asked and pulled away beard and wig.
Kyra looked down at the figure, lying limp and beaten on the dark blue floor. "Yes," she whispered. Her throat was by far too constricted to press words through. Tears welled up, and she bit her lips to no avail.
"You do know him?" the guard asked again.
She nodded. "It's Julian Bithrell." It seemed so strange to say his name. "I brought him with me tonight. He's…he's my lover."
CHAPTER 27
"Did you see anything else?" the guard next to her asked.
Kyra had trouble thinking, but her father's hard grip on her arm made her break the stare on Julian. He was patted down and handcuffed though the bullets had hit him good enough to stun him for an hour. "There was another man. Slender, about five foot eight or five foot nine. He had opened a side window and then, a minute later, left through the emergency exit with something in his hands. Big like a bowling ball."
"A motorcycle helmet maybe?"
"Yes." She looked up into the clean shaven face of a cop. In a second everything made sense. So easy. Why had she not thought of it before? "They had probably planned to escape with a motorcycle."
"Right." The cop turned and the order to check every motorcycle around was aired. The streets were already closed by police so the search was easier.
Kyra stared at Julian again, unable to just turn and leave. He had betrayed her. Everything he had said and done had just been a fitting lie to get into her life and stay there long enough to get a chance to shoot the commissioner. It was impossible for her to imagine that Julian worked for the mob. She felt so empty suddenly, left alone in some cold, dark place. She shivered. If she stared at him any longer she would cry. She should not. He was a liar and liars were not honored with tears.
"Come, Kyra, we should leave," her father said in her ear, gently touching her arm. "Everything's done here. They'll come to you and question you later." She hesitated. A part of her wanted Julian to wake up so she could ask him if he truly was such an asshole to misuse her in such abominable way. The other part of her wanted to leave and never ever see him again. How could he have lied to her so thoroughly that her senses had not picked up the signals? "Kyra, please."
Julian was lifted on a stretcher and carried to the waiting police van. Milton pulled Kyra's arm gently and led her out of the hall.
The reception was over.
* * * *
Kyra ignored the knock on the door, but Oliver stood to open. He came back with Josepha without the usual small talk. Depression hung like mist in the room. Josepha crouched in front of Kyra, who sat on the couch, a box of Kleenex to her right and a cup of cooling tea on the small table. Oliver sat down beside her again, sighing sadly. He exchanged worried glances with Josepha. Pulling out her electronic notebook, she said, "I thought you might want to know about the last twenty-four hours." Her voice was quiet, careful.
"Shoot." And when Josepha hesitated, Kyra gave her bloodshot eyes, trying and failing to be angry. She had cried the whole night. Her deranged exterior in jogging pants and pullover was but a reflection of her inner turmoil. No matter how often she had told herself that Julian had been an asshole she remembered his smile and affection. "Come on, you came to tell me and I really want to know. Just ignore that I look like shit."
"Well, okay, then..." Josepha felt like squirming on the carpet. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her notes. "The man you saw leaving was…"
"Perry Wilson," Kyra nodded. "I knew he was familiar when I got first glimpse, but I was too stupid to make the connection."
"You're so not stupid," Josepha replied. "It was you who pointed Julian out to the guard."
"The old man." Kyra knew she was being stubborn and grumpy, but she had to correct her. "I thought it was an old man. So…stupid. So damn fucking stupid."
Josepha let it go. Her girlfriend was in enough stress already. Discussing facts would not be helpful now. "Okay, Perry Wilson was arrested thirty minutes after the assault. He was still cruising the neighboring streets. Maybe he hoped for the assassin to escape." She shrugged and tipped on the screen. "First interrogation was twenty minutes after his arrest. He was upset and when pressed hard enough he confessed that he had helped the assassin…"
"Julian. Jus
t say his name, for God's sake."
"He helped Julian with material and the gun." She looked up. "Perry had placed the whole disguise in the men's room piece-by-piece. He was obviously in contact with Julian to know when and where it would be needed."
"A gun?" Oliver asked, puzzled. "I thought those rooms would be frequently searched?"
"Yes, but the dogs don't smell plastic guns. The ammunition was very special, truly a foreign product. We still search for the manufacturer." Again Josepha consulted her notes. Kyra was sure she did it to avoid eye contact. "Okay, Perry was Julian's legs and eyes outside and did all preparations. He also made sure Julian would be able to jump through the window, land on a dumpster and be on his bike a second later." Josepha shrugged. "A neat plan if it had worked. He would have shot the commissioner, turn around to shoot the nearest guard then jump out of the building and be away in less than thirty seconds."
"Nifty," Oliver said and Kyra cringed on the couch. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"
"No." Kyra fought not to cry again. God, for how long would she be an emotional wreckage? "I'll be okay in, say, a year or so." She faced Josepha. "Did Perry tell you how Julian informed him?"
"Yes. There were small letters Perry left close to the porch door. Julian got them and answered. Since he had some leeway in your home it was not that difficult." She kept her face and voice neutral.
Kyra felt stabbed to her heart. Her trust had made all the preparations and the assault possible. Not to mention that she had lied to the police about Perry Wilson being at her home once. Dear God, could it get worse?
"Perry also managed to get a job at the catering service. Security and checks were tight, but his preparation was better. He's a master of falsification, I tell you."
"What did Julian say about all this?"
"Not much yet." Josepha took a deep breath. "He just said that he did not shoot. And this goes hand-in-hand with the fact that the safety of the gun was on and no round chambered."
