Текст книги "The Simple Truth"
Автор книги: David Baldacci
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
He was dyslexic, Sara answered promptly.
How the hell did you know that?
A couple of things. Even the little I saw of it, the handwriting and spelling on the appeal was so bad. Thats a sign of dyslexia, although its not conclusive. But when I talked to George Barker, remember he told me that story about Rufus fixing his printing press? Fiske nodded. Well, he recalled Rufus saying that he didnt want to look at the manual for the printing press, that the words would just mess him up. I went to school with a girl who had dyslexia. She once told me more or less the same thing. Its like you cant communicate with the world. Although, from our encounter last night, it looks like Rufus has conquered his disability.
If he can survive in prison all those years with people trying to kill him, he can do anything he sets his mind to. Fiske looked back at the records. Looks like he was diagnosed with it after the murder. Probably during the court-martial proceedings. Maybe Rider discovered it. Preparing a defense requires some client cooperation.
Dyslexia is not a defense to murder.
No, but I know what is.
What? Sara asked excitedly. What?
First, a question: Leo Dellasandro is he having an affair with his secretary?
Why are you asking that?
He had makeup on his coat collar.
Maybe it was from his wife.
Maybe, but I dont think so.
I really doubt he was having an affair, because his secretary just got married.
I didnt think they were.
So why did you ask me?
Just covering all the bases. I dont think Dellasandro got it from his wife either. I think he was wearing it.
Why would a man a chief of police, no less be wearing makeup?
To cover the bruises he got when I hit him in my brothers apartment. Saras breath caught as Fiske continued. I havent seen Dellasandro since that night. He wasnt at the meeting at the Court after Wright was murdered. Ive been with Chandler a lot and the man never came by to check up on the investigation. At least while I was there. I think he was avoiding me. Maybe afraid Id recognize him somehow.
Why in the world would Leo Dellasandro have been at your brothers apartment?
In response, Fiske held up a sheaf of papers. The list of personnel stationed at Fort Plessy. Luckily, its alphabetized. He turned toward the end of the roster. Sergeant Victor Tremaine. He turned another page. Captain Frank Rayfield. He flipped back through some pages and stopped. Private Rufus Harms. Then he went back near the beginning, circled a name with his pen, and said triumphantly, And Corporal Leo Dellasandro.
Good God. Then Rayfield, Tremaine and Dellasandro were the men in the stockade that night?
I think so.
How did you know Dellasandro was in the military?
I saw a photo of Dellasandro in his office. He was much younger, in uniform. HisArmyuniform. I think the three of them went there to teach Rufus Harms a lesson. I think well find they all fought in Vietnam, and Rufus didnt. He wouldnt follow orders, was always in trouble.
But what the hell did theydoto Rufus Harms?
I think they
The car phone rang. Sara glanced at Fiske and then picked it up. Her face went pale as she listened. Yes, Ill accept the call. Hello? What? Okay, calm down. Hes right here. She handed the phone to Fiske. Rufus Harms. And he doesnt sound good.
Fiske gripped the phone. Rufus, where are you?
Rufus was inside the Jeep parked next to a pay phone. He had one hand on the phone, the other on Josh, who was now slipping into longer periods of unconsciousness, but still had the pistol wedged against his side. Richmond, he answered. Im two minutes from the address on the card you gave me. Josh is hurt bad. I need a damn doctor and I need him quick.
Okay, okay, tell me what happened.
Rayfield and Tremaine caught up to us.
Where are they now?
Theyre dead, dammit, and my brothers about ready to join em. You said youd help me. Well, I need help.
Fiske glanced in the rearview mirror. The black sedan was still back there. He thought quickly. Okay, Ill meet you at my office in four hours tops.
Josh aint got four hours. Hes shot the hell up.
Were going to take care of Josh right now, Rufus. Im meeting you, not Josh.
What the hell you talking about?
Im going to call a buddy of mine whos a cop. Hell get an ambulance. Theyll take care of him. MCV Hospital is only a few minutes from my office.
No police!
Fiske yelled into the phone, Do you want Josh to die? Do you? Fiske took the silence as Rufuss surrender to whatever help Fiske could give him. Describe the car to me and give me the intersection where you are right now. Rufus did so. My friend will have help there in a few minutes. Leave Josh in the car. As soon as you hang up, walk to my office building. Its open. Go in the front door and go down the flight of stairs on your left. You go through another door. Theres a door on your right marked Supplies. Its unlocked. Get in there and sit tight. Ill be down quick as I can. I also want you to take your brothers wallet because I dont want him to have any ID. If they know its Josh, theyre going to start looking for you nearby. That includes my office. The police cordoning off the area would throw a real wrench in my plan.
What if somebody sees me? Maybe recognizes me?
We dont have much choice now, Rufus.
Im trusting you. Please help my brother. Please dont let me down.
Rufus, Im trusting you too. Dont let me down.
When Rufus hung up, he looked at Josh. He slipped a gun under his shirt and reached out to touch his brother. He thought Josh was completely unconscious now, but when Rufus brushed his shoulder gently with his finger, Josh opened his eyes.
Josh
I heard. The voice was weak; everything about him was now.
He wants me to take your wallet, so they wont know who you are just yet.
In my back pocket. Rufus slid it out. Now get going.
Rufus considered this for a moment. I can stay with you. We go together.
No good. Josh spit up some more blood. Docsll sew me up. I been hurt a lot worse than this. Josh moved a shaky hand out, touched his brothers face, brushed away the wetness from his eyes.
Im gonna stay with you, Josh.
You stay, all this is for nothing.
I cant leave you alone. Not like this. Not after all these years away.
With a painful grimace, Josh sat up. You aint leaving me alone. Give it to me.
Give you what?
Josh said, The Bible.
Without taking his eyes off his brother, Rufus slowly reached behind the seat and handed him the book. In return, Josh held out the pistol that had been wedged against his ribs for all these hours. Rufus looked at him questioningly. Fair swap, Josh said hoarsely. Rufus thought he saw a smile flicker across his brothers lips before Josh closed his eyes, his breathing shallow but steady. One large hand gripped the Bible so tightly the spine of the book twisted. As Rufus climbed out of the Jeep, he looked back once more, and then left his brother behind. *����*����* Fiske finally reached Hawkins at home. Dont ask me why or how, Billy. I cant tell you who it is. For now hes a John Doe. Stall the paperwork and drive the Jeep to the hospital. Fiske hung up.
John, how are we going to meet Rufus with the FBI right behind us? Sara said.
Im meeting Rufus, youre not.
Wait a minute
Sara
I want to see this through.
Believe me, you will. You have to make a phone call for me, to my friend at the JAG.
What about? And you still havent told me what you think happened in that stockade twenty-five years ago.
He put one hand on top of hers. U.S. v. Stanley. An innocent soldier and LSD, Fiske said, watching her eyes go wide. Only worse, he added. *����*����* After making a quick stop at Saras home, they drove to National Airport and parked. Fiske tugged the trench coat around him and pulled his hat down tightly over his head as the rain began to fall harder. He opened a big umbrella and covered Sara with it. They went to the general aviation terminal, and then out the other side to the boarding area, where they climbed in a sedan with tinted windows. A couple minutes later the car pulled away from the curb. Behind them were two FBI agents, one of whom was already communicating this development to his superiors. Then he went over to the service counter to determine the destination of the flight Fiske and Sara were about to get on. The other agent went out and watched as the sedan pulled up to the private jet. Inside the sedan, Fiske and the driver, Chuck Hermans copilot, were busy switching places. The driver put on the trench coat and hat. From a distance he would look like Fiske. Their plan was to have Sara stay on the plane for an hour, during which time she would attempt to contact Fiskes JAG friend, Phil Jansen. Then she would leave. They knew the FBI would question her about Fiskes disappearance, but they would have no grounds to detain her. The FBI agent watched as a thin, white-haired man came down the steps from the plane and greeted Sara and the man whom he assumed was Fiske as they climbed out of the car. The group went up the steps and into the plane. The sedan pulled away. The FBI agent kept his eyes on the plane as the sedan passed by him and continued on to the main road leading out of the terminal. Driving the sedan, Fiske let out a deep breath as he pulled onto the George Washington Parkway. Within ten minutes he was headed south on Interstate 95 toward Richmond. Traffic was heavy; it was almost three hours before he pulled the car up to his office building. He had already checked in with Billy Hawkins. Josh Harms was in surgery at MCV. It didnt look good, Hawkins had told him. Fiske parked the car and went around to the offices rear entrance, just in case. He made his way to the lower level and approached the supply room. Please be there, he urged Rufus. He tapped on the door. Rufus? he said quietly. Its John Fiske.
Rufus cautiously opened the door.
Lets get out of here.
Rufus gripped his arm. Hows Josh?
Hes in surgery. All you can do is pray.
Thats all I been doing.
They went out the rear entrance, walked quickly to Fiskes car and climbed in.
Where we going? Rufus said.
You want to tell me about the letter from the Army?
What about it?
They wanted to follow up on the phencyclidine testing, right?
Harms stiffened. Phen-what?
You know, PCP.
How did you know about that?
Same thing happened to another guy in the Army named Stanley, who was in a bogus program. They used LSD on him.
I wasnt in no damn PCP program, even if they said I was. He pulled out the letter and gave it to Fiske. Fiske took a moment to read it and then looked at him. Tell me about it, Rufus.
Harms sat back as much as he could. He was so large that his knees touched the dash and his head brushed the cars ceiling. Theyd been out to get me for a while. Tremaine and Rayfield.
And Dellasandro? Corporal Leo Dellasandro?
Yeah, him too. I guess they didnt take too kindly to me sitting nice and snug in the States, even if it was in the stockade.
They didnt know about your dyslexia?
You seem to know a damn lot.
Go on.
Id had plenty of run-ins with that group before. Tremaine got thrown in the stockade with me one night for drinking. He told me real directly what he thought about me. I guess they planned this thing out. They came in the stockade one night. Leo had a gun. They made me close my eyes, get on the floor. The next thing I knew, they stuck something in me. I opened my eyes and saw the needle coming out of my arm. They all stood there laughing, waiting for me to die. I could tell from what they said, that was their plan. OD me on the stuff.
How the hell did you go from getting shot up with PCP to escaping from the stockade?
My whole body seemed to swell up like somebody was pumping air in me. I remember getting up and it felt like the room wasnt big enough to hold me. I tossed em all aside like they were made of straw. They had left the door unlocked. The guard on duty came running up, but I hit him like a truck and then I was running free. His breathing had accelerated, his huge hands clasping and unclasping, as though reliving what he had done with them so long ago.
And you ran into Ruth Ann Mosley?
She was there visiting her brother. Rufus slammed his fist down onto the dash. If only God had struck me down before I got to that little girl. Whyd it have to be a child? Why? Tears streamed down the mans face.
It wasnt your fault, Rufus. PCP can make you do anything, anything. It wasnt your fault.
In answer Rufus held up his hands and bellowed, These did it. No matter what shit they put in me, aint nothing gonna change the fact that I killed that beautiful little girl. Aint nothing on this earth gonna make that go away. Is it? Is it? Rufuss eyes blazed at Fiske, but then he closed them and slumped back, as though lifeless. Fiske tried to keep calm. And you remembered nothing, until you got the letter?
Finally Rufus came around. Hell, all those years the only thing I remembered from that night was sitting in the stockade reading the Bible my momma give me. The next thing I knew Im next to this dead little girl. Thats all. He wiped the tears away with his sleeve.
PCP can do that too. Screw with your memory. Probably the shock of it all too.
Rufus took a heavy breath. Sometimes I think that craps still in me.
But you pleaded guilty to the murder anyway?
There was a bunch of witnesses. Samuel Rider said if I didnt take the deal, theyd convict me and then theyd execute me. What the hell else was I supposed to do?
Fiske thought about that for a moment and then said quietly, I guess I wouldve done the same thing.
But when I got that letter, it was like somebody turned this big light on inside my head, and some part of my brain that had been all dark got real bright and everything came back to me. Every damn little bit.
And so you wrote the letter to the Court and asked Rider to file it for you?
Rufus nodded. And then your brother came to see me. Said he believed in justice, wanted to help me if I was telling the truth. He was a good man.
Yes, he was, Fiske said hoarsely.
The thing was, he had brought my letter with him. Rayfield and old Vic werent going to let him go. No way. I went crazy when I found out. They took me to the infirmary, tried to kill me there. I got to the hospital and Josh busted me out.
You said Tremaine and Rayfield are dead.
Rufus nodded. He took another deep breath, watched the rain falling over the darkened Richmond skyline and then looked over at Fiske. Now you know everything I know. So what are we going to do?
Im not sure, was all Fiske could manage to say. ["C57"]CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
An hour after Fiske had driven off, Chuck Herman smiled as he passed Sara in the plane aisle. This is the only time Ive ever been paidnotto fly.
This is Washington, Chuck. They pay farmers not to grow crops too, Sara said dryly. She picked up the cell phone for the tenth time and dialed Phil Jansens home number. His office had already told Sara that Jansen had left for the day. Luckily, Fiske had given her Jansens home number too. She was relieved when Jansen finally answered. She quickly introduced herself and explained her connection to Fiske.
I dont have much time, Mr. Jansen, so I might as well get to the point. In the past has the Army been involved in PCP testing programs?
Jansens voice tensed. Why exactly are you asking that, Ms. Evans?
John thinks that Rufus Harms was involuntarily given PCP when he was in an Army stockade at Fort Plessy twenty-five years ago. He thinks the exposure to PCP caused Harms to go berserk and kill a little girl. Hes been in prison for the crime ever since.
Sara recounted all that she and Fiske had deduced, along with what they had learned from Rufus at Riders office. Sara continued, Rufus Harms recently received a letter from the Army asking him to participate in a follow-up test to determine the long-term effects of PCP. Thats what happened to Sergeant James Stanley, right? The Army sent him a letter. That was the only reason he knew the Army had given him LSD. Well, we think a group of Army personnel forcefully administered PCP to Harms in the stockade, but not as part of any program. We think they intended to use the drug to kill him. Instead he broke free and committed the murder.
Jansen said, Wait a minute. Why did the Army send him a letter saying Harms was in the program, if he wasnt?
We think whoever gave Harms the PCP enrolled him in the program.
And why would they do that?
If they killed him with the PCP and there was an autopsy, presumably the substance would have been found in his bloodstream.
Yes, it would, Jansen said slowly. So they enrolled him in the program to cover that up. The coroner would chalk it up to an unfortunate reaction to the drug. I cant believe this.
Right. So such a program existed?
Yes, Jansen conceded. Its public information now. All declassified. It was run jointly by the Army and CIA in the seventies. They wanted to determine if PCP could be used to build super soldiers. If Harms was listed in the programs records, he would have recently received a follow-up letter. Jansen paused for a moment. What are you and John going to do now?
I wish we knew. Sara thanked Jansen and hung up. She waited awhile longer and then left the plane and walked across the tarmac to the terminal. She was immediately stopped by the two FBI agents.
Wheres Fiske? one of them demanded.
John Fiske? she asked innocently.
Come on, Ms. Evans.
He left a while back.
The agents looked startled. Left. How?
I assume he drove. Now, if youll excuse me.
She smiled as the stunned men took off at a dead run toward the plane. They had no grounds to detain her. She took the opportunity to hop on the shuttle bus to the garage and got her car. She drove out of the airport and headed south. A sudden thought hit her and she pulled off the road and into a gas station. Keeping the motor running, she opened Fiskes briefcase and took out the packet of documents they had received from St. Louis. She wasnt sure how closely Fiske had examined them, but it had occurred to her that it was possible the Army might have put a copy of the letter they had sent to Rufus Harms in his official file although technically it had been closed upon the occasion of his court-martial. It was worth a look. A half hour later she sat back, disappointed. She started returning the papers to the briefcase when her hand closed around the personnel list from Fort Plessy. She leafed through the pages, noting the names of Victor Tremaine and Frank Rayfield. Then her eye sadly passed over the name of Rufus Harms. So many years of his life gone. As she was thinking this, she was continuing to turn pages, running her eye down the personnel list; as soon as she saw the name, she froze. When she finally broke out of her trance, she did so with such force that she bumped her head against the window. She threw the file down and slammed the car into gear, burning rubber on the slick pavement as she sped out of the gas station. She glanced down at the floorboard where the personnel list had landed, where the name Warren McKenna seemed to stare back at her, taunting her. She never looked back, so she didnt notice the car that had followed her from the airport. ["C58"]CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Harold Ramsey leaned back in his chair, a grave look on his face. I never imagined that anything like this could have happened here.
McKenna and Chandler sat in Ramseys chambers. McKenna watched the chief justice closely. They seemed to make eye contact for a moment, and then McKenna looked away and glanced over at Chandler.
Well, we dont have any solid proof one way or another about whether Michael Fiske actually stole an appeal, or if there even was an appeal, Chandler said. Ramsey shook his head in disagreement. After the discussion with Sara Evans, can there be any doubt?
Discussion? Inquisition was more like it, Chandler thought. Its still speculation. And I would advise against going public with this information.
I agree, McKenna said. It could complicate the investigation.
I thought you were convinced that John Fiske was behind it all, Ramsey said. If youre changing your position now, I dont see how were any farther ahead than we were two days ago.
Murders dont just solve themselves. And this one is a little more complex than usual. And I never said I had changed my position, McKenna said. Fiskes gun was missing from his office. No big surprise there. Dont worry, things are falling into place.
Ramsey looked unconvinced.
I really dont see why waiting a bit will hurt, Chandler said. And if things turn out the way we hope, maybe the public never has to know.
I dont see how that is possible, Ramsey said angrily. But I suppose it wont make this disaster any more horrible by taking your advice. For now. What about Fiske and Evans? Where are they?
We have them under surveillance, McKenna answered.
So you know where they are right now? Ramsey asked. McKenna maintained his stone face. He wasnt about to admit that in fact both Sara and Fiske had managed to elude his FBI surveillance team. McKenna had just gotten that message a minute before he had stepped into this meeting.
Yes, McKenna answered.
Where are they? Ramsey asked.
Im afraid I cant give out that information, Mr. Chief Justice. He added quickly, As much as Id like to accommodate you. We really need to keep that confidential.
Ramsey looked sternly at him. Agent McKenna, you promised to keep the Court informed about the progress of this case.
I did. Thats why Im here right now.
The Court has its own police force. Chief Dellasandro and Ron Klaus are out right this very minute trying to solve this thing. We have our own investigation ongoing and its in the best interests of everybody that we have full disclosure. Now please answer my question. Where are they?
What you say makes a lot of sense, but Im afraid I still cant divulge that information, he said. FBI policy, you understand.
Ramsey arched his eyebrows. I think I should speak to someone else at the Bureau, then, he said. I dont like going over peoples heads, Agent McKenna, but this is a unique situation.
Id be glad to give you some names to call at the Bureau, starting with the director himself, McKenna offered pleasantly.
Do you have anything of actual importance to report, Ramsey said dryly, or is that it?
McKenna stood up. Were trying as hard as we can to get to the bottom of this. And Im convinced that, with a little luck, we will.
Ramsey stood up too, towering over them. A word of advice, Agent McKenna. Never leave anything to chance. Anyone who does that usually lives to regret it. *����*����* Sara unlocked the door to her cottage and hurried inside. From her car she had tried phoning Fiskes home and office; then had tried Ed Fiske too, but he had heard nothing from his son. She threw her purse down on the kitchen table, went upstairs and changed out of her wet clothes and into jeans and a T-shirt. She was nearing panic and she wasnt sure what to do. If Dellasandro was in on this, that was bad enough. He was privy to what was happening with the investigation. The fact that FBI Agent Warren McKenna was also involved was potentially catastrophic. He was practically running the damn investigation. She could now see the subtle manipulations of the FBI agent at every juncture in the case. Fiske implicated, herself forced to quit the Court; all of it building motive for Johns killing his brother. It was all untrue, and yet, for someone just looking at the bare facts, it would make sense. She tried Chandlers office. She wanted to know definitively if Agent McKenna had been stationed at Fort Plessy, or if it had been simply someone else with the same name. She couldnt believe two McKennas would be involved here, but she needed to be sure. Unfortunately, Chandler wasnt in. Who else could she call who would have that information? Jansen might be able to find out, but it would probably take him a while. She tried his number anyway, but there was no answer. Who else? It suddenly hit her. She dialed the number. After three rings a woman answered. It was the housekeeper.
Is he in? Its Sara Evans.
A minute later Jordan Knights voice came on the line.
Sara?
I know this is terrible timing, Senator.
I heard what happened today. His tone was cold.
I know what you must think, and Im sure nothing I could say would change your mind.
Youre probably right about that. However, for what its worth Beth feels terrible about what happened. She was one of your strongest supporters.
I appreciate that. Sara held the phone away from her ear as she struggled to hold her nerves in check. Every second counted now. I need a favor.
A favor? Jordan sounded perplexed.
Some information on someone.
Sara, I hardly think this is appropriate.
Senator, I will never, ever call you again, but I really need to know the answer to my question, and with all your information resources, and your personal clout, youre the only person I can think of to ask. Please? For old times sake.
Jordan pondered this for a moment. Well, Im not at my office right now. I was just settling down to a late dinner with Beth, in fact.
But you could call your office, or maybe the FBI.
The FBI? he said loudly. She hurried on. A phone call would be all that it would take. Im at home. You can even have the person call me back directly. You and I wont even have to speak again.
Finally, Jordan relented. All right, whats your question?
Its about Agent McKenna.
What about him?
I need to know if he ever served in the Army. Specifically at Fort Plessy during the seventies.
Why in the world do you need to know that?
Senator, it would take me far too long to explain.
He sighed. All right. Ill see what I can do. Ill have someone from my office check and then call you. Youll be at home?
Yes.
Sara, I hope you know what youre doing.
If you can believe it, Senator, I really do.
If you say so, he replied, not sounding convinced. When he went back into the dining room about fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth looked up at him. What in the world did Sara want?
The strangest thing. You know that FBI agent fellow? The one you were complaining about?
She tensed. Warren McKenna? What about him?
She wanted to know if he had ever served in the Army.
Elizabeth Knight dropped her fork. Why would she want to know that?
I dont know. She wouldnt tell me. Jordan looked over at her curiously, noting her tension. Are you all right?
Im fine. This has just been the day from hell.
I know, honey, I know, he said soothingly. He looked down at his cold meal. I guess our relaxing evening just went out the window.
What did you tell her?
Tell her? I told her Id check. And that Id have somebody get back to her. Thats what I was doing, calling my office. I guess they can check on the computer or something.
Where is Sara?
At home, waiting for the answer to her question. Elizabeth got up, her face pale.
Beth, are you all right?
A headache just hit me. I need some aspirin.
I can get it for you.
No, thats all right. Finish your dinner. Then maybe we can finally relax.
A worried-looking Jordan Knight watched his wife go down the hallway. Elizabeth Knight did indeed get some aspirin, since she did have a very real headache. Then she slipped down the hallway to her bedroom, picked up the phone and dialed a number.
Hello, the voice said.
Sara Evans just called. She asked Jordan a question.
What was the question?
She wanted to know if you had ever been in the Army.
Warren McKenna loosened his tie and took a sip of water from the glass on his desk. He had just returned from the meeting at the Court. And what did he tell her?
That hed check and get back to her. Elizabeth did her best to fight back the tears. McKenna nodded to himself. Where is she?
She told Jordan she was at home.
And John Fiske?
I dont know. Apparently she didnt say.
McKenna grabbed his coat. Thanks for the information, Justice Knight. It might prove to be even more valuable than one of your opinions.
Elizabeth Knight slowly hung up the receiver and then picked it up again. She couldnt leave it like this. She dialed Information and got the number. The call was answered. Detective Chandler, please. Tell him its Elizabeth Knight and its urgent.
Chandler came on the line. What can I do for you, Justice Knight?
Detective Chandler, please dont ask me how I know, but you have to get to Sara Evanss house. I think shes in grave danger. Please hurry.
Chandler didnt waste time asking questions. He raced out of his office without even hanging up the phone. Elizabeth Knight slowly put down the receiver. She had thought her work at the Court was pressure-filled, but this . . . She knew that no matter how this turned out, her life was going to be devastated. For her, there was no way out. How ironic, she thought, that justice would end up destroying her. *����*����* The figure was outfitted in dark clothing, a ski mask pulled over his face. He had followed Sara down to Richmond and then trailed her and Fiske and the FBI agents back to Washington. He was very grateful that she had lost the FBI agents; it would make his job much easier. Crouching down, he made his way over to the car and opened the drivers-side door. The dome light came on when he did so, and he quickly twisted the control to dim it. He looked at the windows of the house. He saw Sara pass by once, but she didnt look outside. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and swept the beam around the cars interior. He saw the papers on the floorboard, glanced at them and noted the encircled name. He gathered up the files and put them in a knapsack he was carrying. He pulled a pistol from his holster and attached a silencer to the muzzle. Looking up at the house again, he saw no sign of Sara this time. But she was in there. Alone. He put out the light and headed toward the house. *����*����* Sara had been nervously pacing the kitchen, constantly checking her watch and waiting for a phone call from Jordan Knights office. She stepped out onto the rear deck and watched as a jet slid past under the canopy of dark clouds. Then she looked down at her sailboat as it nudged against the rubber tires that were affixed to the dock to act as buffers between the smooth fiberglass and the rough wood. She had to smile as she thought back to the events of last night. The smile disappeared as she recalled what she and Fiske had discussed after their encounter at the nursing home. She pressed her bare toes against the damp wood, and took a moment to breathe in the soothing smells of the wet, rustic surroundings. She went inside and up the stairs, stopping at the doorway of her bedroom and looking inside. The bed was still unmade. She sat down on the mattress and picked up one edge of the sheet as she recalled their lovemaking. She thought of how Fiske had pulled his T-shirt back down. The scar went from navel to neck, Ed had told her. As if it could ever actually make a difference to her. And yet Fiske obviously believed it could. She listened as another jet passed overhead and then the complete silence returned in its wake, as though all sound had disappeared into a Pratt & Whitney-made vacuum. The silence so profound she could clearly hear the side door of the cottage open. She jumped up and raced to the stairs. John? There was no answer, and when the downstairs light went out, a shiver of fear hit her spine. She ran into her bedroom, shut and locked the door. Her chest heaving, her own pulse bursting in her eardrums, she looked around desperately for a weapon, because there was no way to escape. The window was small and even if she could manage to wriggle through, the grade of the land was such that the room was two stories off the ground, with a concrete sidewalk down below and breaking both her legs didnt seem like a good idea. Her sense of desperation turned to panic when the sounds of the footsteps reached her. She now cursed herself for not having a phone in the bedroom. She held her breath as she saw the doorknob slowly turn until the lock halted the movement, but both the lock and the door were very old. As something hit the door with a solid blow, she instinctively jumped back, a small scream escaping her lips. She scanned the room before her gaze settled on the four-poster bed. She raced over and grabbed one of the pineapple-shaped finials off one of the bedposts. Thank God she had never gotten around to having the bed actually canopied. The finial was solid wood and weighed at least a pound. She held it in one upraised hand and stepped quickly over to the door. It shook as another blow landed, the lock bending under the force of it; the doorframe started to splinter. After that impact she reached over, quietly unlocked the door and then stood back. With the door unbolted, the next blow sent it and the man flying into the room. Saras arm came down swiftly and the finial hit flesh. She raced through the doorway and down the hallway. The man she had struck lay on the floor holding his shoulder and moaning. Sara knew that Rayfield and Tremaine were dead. Then the man she had just hit was either Dellasandro or she shuddered at the thought of the man being in her home Warren McKenna. She navigated the stairs in two jumps, grabbed her car keys off the table and threw open the door on her way to the car. She let out a shriek of terror. The second man stared back at her, calmly, coolly. As he stepped forward, Leo Dellasandro pointed a pistol directly at her. The man in black came racing down the stairs holding his shoulder, his gun trained on her as well. Dellasandro closed the door. Sara looked at the man behind her. It must be McKenna. But then her expression changed. This man wasnt nearly big enough to be the FBI agent. The ski mask came off and Richard Perkins glared at her. Then he smiled at her obvious astonishment and pulled some papers from his knapsack. You must have overlooked my name on the Fort Plessy service roster, Sara. How sloppy of you.
