Colby Justice

by Debra Webb

  “Slowly,” Ben whispered, “very slowly move from under the desk but stay behind it.”

  Alexander nodded. She set the backpacks to one side and carefully, one minuscule increment at a time, she scooted out of his lap and onto all fours on the floor between the desk and chair they’d pushed all the way back against the credenza.

  When she had sidled away another few inches, he placed his weapon on the carpeted floor next to his right thigh, then lifted his body weight onto his hands and feet, crab-walk style, and heaved his way from under the desk. He held his breath when he bumped the chair. Froze…until he ascertained that the men next door hadn’t paused in their conversation or their noisy search.

  Sounded like they were tearing the office apart piece by piece.

  He flinched as he settled more comfortably onto the floor. He was pretty sure Alexander’s tape job had just come loose. As if she’d felt the sharp stabbing pain herself well, she surveyed the patched area of his suit.

  He held up a hand. No questions. He was fine. He didn’t need her worrying about him. He reached under the desk, retrieved his weapon and palmed it. Having to use it now would not be good for the hostages on the fourth floor. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  “Headed your way.”

  The words had no sooner whispered across the communication link than the door flew open again. This time it banged against the wall.

  One of the men, muttering curses under his breath, moved to the wall that separated the two offices. He banged hard on the wall with his fist. “Here?”

  The stark fear in Alexander’s green eyes made Ben’s gut clench. If either of them so much as gasped for a decent breath, they would be made…dead.

  The man in the other office pounded in response. “That’s it.”

  Something hit the wall between the offices. Not a fist or a booted foot. More like an ax or sledgehammer. Ben wished he could see what the hell the two were up to. But moving a muscle even a millimeter was out of the question.

  The banging went on for several minutes. Ben held Alexander’s gaze most of that time. He couldn’t risk her losing it. The stark fear was back in her eyes. Her lips were pressed together as if every ounce of mental strength she possessed was required to hold back a scream.

  More heated curses filled the air, then an extended silence. “Wait! Wait! Almost got it.”

  More pounding and crashing.

  Then laughter.

  “Got it!” the man in the room with them shouted.

  Heavy footfalls in the corridor. The guy next door was coming to join his friend.

  Ben’s fingers tightened around the butt of his weapon.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s the ticket,” the guy who’d just rushed in announced. “He said the codes we’d need would be hidden in here. Pull the carpeting back.”

  Ben was beginning to put two and two together. These guys had an inside source. One who’d told them where to find what they needed. This plan wasn’t one they had hatched over the past few hours. They had planned this little side job prior to overtaking the Colby Agency.

  Someone had either given or sold the information needed to access the building’s security. Maybe an employee of the savings and loan. Fury blasted through Ben’s veins. If there was any justice in the world they would learn that employee’s identity before this was over and he or she would be made to pay.

  “Oh yeah.” One of the men whistled. “The codes are right where he said they’d be.”

  “He just didn’t tell us that accessing this little room would be such a challenge.”

  His partner laughed. “When you can’t get through the door, go through the wall.” More of that sick chuckling punctuated the statement.

  “Let’s get those funds transferred. Why don’t we use the computer in here?”

  Ben’s gaze lifted to the top of the credenza where the computer system sat. A chill penetrated his bones. If they came behind the desk—

  “We have to use the one in the other office,” his chum argued. “No one else has that level of access, stupid. Only the one in the president’s office.”

  Ben didn’t breathe again until both men had hurried from the room. The chair in the president’s office slammed against the desk or credenza as the two settled in to do their illegal work.

  Frustration knotted inside Ben. He would like nothing better than to overtake the two men right now. But that could very well alert the ones on the fourth floor that someone was inside the building. This operation was about rescue…not vengeance. At least not for now. All these scumbags would get what was coming to them before the day was done.

  Alexander moved in close to him and whispered, “I believe I can make the return access while they’re busy on the computer.”

  That she was dead serious wasn’t lost on Ben. He shook his head. “They didn’t close the door. They might hear you or suddenly walk out into the corridor. It’s too risky.”

  Before she could argue, he continued, “They’ll need to report back to their fourth-floor posts before long. We’ll wait it out.” During the past twenty-four-or-so hours they had watched two of the enemy’s ranks roam the lower floors, flashlights bobbing in the darkness. These were likely the two. Only their boss didn’t know they had an agenda besides doing his bidding. Whatever they were being paid, the two evidently had decided to take advantage of a little extra bonus.

  Alexander didn’t argue but she looked disappointed. Ben had an idea about the motive. She felt responsible for their current predicament and wanted to make it right. That wasn’t happening for a few minutes more.

  The two next door kept a running dialogue. Mostly swearing at each other’s ineptness on the computer. It almost sounded as if one were reading off instructions on how to make the transfers and the other was attempting to follow those instructions. As soon as they were done, they would be out of here. Ben and Alexander would get back on track then.

  “Why did you agree to do this?” Ben hadn’t intended to ask the question, but sitting here with nothing to do but look at her, he couldn’t help wondering. As long as they were extremely quiet he wasn’t worried about the guys next door. They were too caught up in their dirty work. Clearly she hadn’t trained for this sort of retrieval and rescue operation.

  “The Colby Agency needed me,” she said softly, then looked away. “How could I say no?”

  Ah, he got it now. She had something to prove. “Who are you trying to convince that you don’t have a problem? The Colby Agency or yourself?”

  She didn’t have to verbalize her thoughts. He saw the answer in her eyes. She needed to prove her strength and courage to herself. According to the briefing he’d received, she had made the leap from forensics tech in another county where there wasn’t much excitement to a private investigator in the Windy City where there was no lack of activity, criminal and otherwise. She had the know-how for the position, but she lacked the hands-on experience. Not such a big deal since experience could be gained over time.

  But this other thing he’d witnessed in the dark tunnel was something different. That was a potential stumbling block to any sort of investigative operation that involved either of the two triggers—darkness or cramped spaces. She could deny it all she wanted, but actions always spoke louder than words.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him again.

  He didn’t doubt that. She’d already proved her determination. But the worst was yet to come. Could she keep it up as the tension and danger escalated? He wasn’t at all sure she comprehended what lay in front of her.

  PENNY FELT UNCOMFORTABLE with Steele’s scrutiny resting fully on her.

  Yes, she’d screwed up. Hadn’t held it together. Now the operation was in jeopardy.

  Like Steele said, those men would be leaving eventually. Surely they could get back on track as soon as that happened.

  “How are you holding up?” she whispered. She’d seen him flinch when he had moved from under the desk. The butterfly strips had likely failed
to hold up against the twisting and turning. He should be worried about whether or not he could get through this, not focusing on her.

  “I’ll live,” he muttered.

  Men. She resisted the impulse to shake her head. Their double standards never changed. They refused to admit a weakness but obsessed on the perceived flaws of their female counterparts.

  She leaned in close and murmured directly into his ear. “Make sure you do. I’d hate to have to finish this without you.”

  His hand was up, those long, strong fingers gripping her chin before she could draw away. “I have never failed on a mission. I won’t start now.”

  For half-a-dozen thumps of her heart he stared into her eyes. Then his attention dropped to her lips. Her heart seemed to stop. The air stalled in her lungs. All either one of them had to do was lean in a fraction of an inch and their lips would meet.

  Suddenly he released her.

  The sexual tension receded, left her feeling dizzy. Penny drew back, leaned against the desk once more. She’d be okay. Good to go. All she had to do was focus on the task ahead. Not on the darkness or the tunnel…or the way Steele had looked into her eyes.

  She did not need anything else to deal with right now. For the past several minutes she’d been reminding herself that she’d made it to the second floor. Two more wouldn’t be a problem. They would stop this insanity and rescue the hostages. She would believe nothing else. Keeping that conclusion firmly entrenched in her mind would make all the difference.

  Then he had to go and stare at her lips like that.

  Why did he do that? Now?

  Penny closed her eyes. No more thinking about that.

  “Let’s go!” one of the men next door shouted. “Pederson’s going to be ticked if we don’t hurry.”

  Penny’s eyes popped open. Were they finally leaving?

  The conversation faded as the two jogged to the stairwell on the east end of the building. The thud of the door slamming and then silence.

  They could move now.

  When Penny would have gotten to her feet, Steele latched onto her arm. The heat of his touch rushed all the way up her arm, across her shoulder and bloomed in her chest like a rose opening to the sun.

  Steele shook his head. “Wait for the all clear.”

  He was right. Ian would let them know when it was safe to proceed.

  As if the thought had summoned him, Ian’s voice whispered in Penny’s earpiece. “All activity is back on the fourth floor,” he confirmed.

  Penny scrambled up, weapon in hand, and headed to the door as Ian continued, “We can safely assume the enemy remains unaware of your presence. However, using the stairwells would present a definite risk since the security system’s cameras may still be operable to those in control of the building.”

  Steele responded with his usual three taps to the mic.

  The corridor outside the office where they’d been trapped was clear. Penny moved quickly. Her destination wasn’t the small opening they’d exited what felt like hours ago, but the office next door—the one belonging to the president of the savings and loan.

  Bigger than the one where they’d hidden. Furnishings far more elegant, despite the tossing those jerks had given the room. En suite bath like the other office. But this one had a storage closet so the office wasn’t cluttered with file cabinets and such. The steel door on this side remained intact. The bastards had punched through the wall on the other side. Using a golf club no less. She’d noticed it thrown aside in the other office as they’d exited.

  Penny dropped into the luxurious leather chair behind the desk and hit a key to banish the screen saver on the computer’s monitor. A smile stretched across her lips. The idiots had left the screen up where they’d made their transactions. She knew just what to do.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Startled, she glanced up to meet the dark, accusing gaze. She’d known Steele would follow her, but she hadn’t heard a sound. Talk about stealthy. Something else she needed to learn. As a dancer, she was light on her feet. But a man of his size shouldn’t be so much so.

  “I’m canceling their transactions.”

  Steele glared at the screen as her fingers continued to fly across the keys. “You can do that without the codes they used?”

  She nodded, then said softly, “They left the screen up without logging out.”

  Just another click or two and every transaction that had been completed moments ago had been canceled. Though some transfers may have been accomplished, even those would come into question since a cancellation order followed hot on their heels. While she was at it, she set a new password for the keyboard. Without that password no one would be doing anything else on this computer.

  Penny pushed back the chair and got up. She liked being one of the good guys. “Let’s go.”

  Steele shoved her backpack at her. “You might need this.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” She’d been so determined to see if she could undo what those thieving jerks had done, she’d forgotten her gear. But she hadn’t forgotten her weapon. Didn’t she get points for that?

  Evidently not from Steele.

  “We have to make up for lost time,” he said quietly.

  She nodded. “Got it.” Translation: she couldn’t screw up anymore.

  Chapter Seven

  Inside the Colby Agency, 11:05 a.m.

  “Do you understand the grievous charges against you, Mr. Clark?” Gordon looked up from the files on the table to the man seated to his right. The swelling around his eye was markedly worse. Gordon no longer looked like the same confidant, wealthy man in the numerous talk show interviews he’d done since signing the enviable book deal.

  Clark turned to glower at Gordon. Victoria remembered all too well those angry, hate-filled black eyes. Clark’s face—and body, she presumed, since she could not see more than his face and arms—bore the marks of his chosen profession. Scars that told the tale of street fights and torture both at home and from his enemies on the street. He should have been imprisoned long ago. No one who had carried out such heinous deeds should be free to roam the city at will.

  Clark’s crude response to Gordon tightened the tension already banded around Victoria’s chest. The man couldn’t be expected to cooperate. And yet, cooperation would be the simplest way to get through the coming hours.

  “Is that a yes, sir?” Gordon pressed, the sweat on his brow like tears of sheer terror. Nothing about his past, not even his acclaimed work as a district attorney, had prepared him for this.

  Clark spit at the former D.A. The guard who stood behind him grabbed him by his greasy mop of hair and jerked his head back then pressed the muzzle of his weapon to his forehead. “Answer the question,” the man with the gun growled.

  “Yes,” Clark snarled.

  Victoria watched as Gordon wiped the spittle from his face with the back of his hand. “You may proceed with your defense, Mr. Clark.”

  Thorp stood. “No!” He swayed slightly, but quickly grabbed back his equilibrium. “He has no defense. He will not speak.”

  The uncertainty on Gordon’s face prodded Victoria to intervene. “Mr. Thorp,” she said with as much calm and dignity as she could muster, “our constitution guarantees Mr. Clark the right to tell his side—”

  Thorp leaned forward, pressed his palms against the polished mahogany conference table. “He has already gotten away with murder and God knows what else for far too long. He doesn’t deserve the opportunity to speak.”

  Victoria understood that she was treading on thin ice here, but she could not sit by and watch this travesty play out and do nothing. “I’m not arguing that issue with you, Mr. Thorp,” she acquiesced. “I’m merely pointing out that if you want to see justice served, then let him have his say. We both know that nothing he says will tip the scales to his benefit. He is guilty, there is no doubt. But if we’re going to do this, we should do it properly or else what have we proved? That you’re capable of murdering another human being? Is t
hat the goal? If so, why not do that now and be done with it?”

  Victoria held her breath.

  Thorp held her gaze, his filled with rage, for so long before he spoke that Victoria wondered if he would simply end the whole mockery now as she’d suggested. The rhythm of her heart seemed to stutter before launching into fibrillation.

  Thorp sighed loudly, wearily. “Why not? Let him try to explain away his actions.” The weary man dropped into his chair. “We have the time. I’m certain my men would enjoy the entertainment.”

  The guard released Clark’s hair. The unrepentant criminal had the unmitigated gall to stare directly at Victoria and smirk. “You people think I care what you say or do?” He shook his head. “Kill me.” He looked from Victoria to Gordon, and lastly to Thorp. “Then you’ll be just like me.”

  “He’s right, you know,” Gordon all but shouted. “We’ve already broken a number of laws.” He glared at Victoria. “Some more than others. Do you really want to spend your final days in jail awaiting trial?” he asked the man who’d set this whole mockery of justice in motion. “Think, man, for God’s sake! This cannot be how you want to be remembered by your family.”

  Thorp laughed softly. “Don’t try that nonsense on me, Gordon. We’ll get to your crimes soon enough.” Thorp leveled his attention on Clark. “Talk. Now. Or we’ll cut straight to the sentencing. And don’t think you’ll die quickly, you low-life son of a bitch. It will be slow and painful.”

  Clark did nothing more than glare at him through slitted eyelids.

  Thorp was the one smirking now. “Your bravado is entertaining, but I know you, Mr. Clark. You’re just waiting for someone to come and rescue you. But that’s not going to happen. You will die this day. I would suggest you say your piece while you still can.”

  “Whatever.” Clark rolled his eyes. “Where do you want to start, fool?” he sneered.

  Thorp nodded at Gordon. The former D.A.’s hands shook hard as he flipped through the pages of file after file. “When you were fifteen,” he finally said, “you were a suspect in the murder of your cousin, but your alibi held up and the case remains unsolved.”