The Blade Itself

46

“Get in here, kitten.” Evan swiveled the gun to Karen. She hesitated, her face a mask of hatred and fear, and then she walked over to stand beside Richard and Tommy.

From the ground, Danny saw Evan smile, and felt a quick push to his throat. His head burst in a kaleidoscope of colors, and then the boot was gone. He heard Evan retreating. Danny rolled on his side, coughing. Through tear-bleary eyes, he could see Karen take a half step toward him, and he quickly shook his head at her. She froze.

“Deborah, that was a really excellent job of keeping watch.” Evan glared over his shoulder at her. “You doze off, or were you just hoping he’d take you away from all this?”

“I was looking outside.” Her voice sounded stronger than Danny expected, like she’d been preparing herself. “Watching for cars.”

Evan grunted. “Come on, Danny. Get up.” His old partner had moved back a dozen feet to stand next to Debbie, at the entrance of a half-built room. The gun held the four of them in a narrow killing arc.

Danny struggled to his feet, every part of his body screaming. His eyes darted for some advantage, a play that could save them. The third floor was half constructed, the exterior walls not enclosed, but open stud walls divided the interior. A few sections, like the one Evan and Debbie stood near, had even been Sheetrocked. To the left, toward the exterior, were four-foot bundles of bricks meant for the “exposed” walls of future apartments. Behind them and to the right was all open space.

“Do me a favor, would you, buddy?” Evan gestured to the duffel bag with the barrel of the gun. “Bring that bad boy over here.”

There was no reason for Evan to keep them alive once he had the money. But it wasn’t like he couldn’t just shoot them and pick it up himself. Better to spin it out a little longer, give the guy time to gloat, while Danny stayed ready. He took a slow step toward the bag, playing up a limp. Let Evan think he could barely stand.

His senses hummed with hyper-real perception. He could make out the leathery texture of his shoes, could smell the piney sawdust of the lumber, and above it, the sweet drugstore perfume Debbie wore. The weight of the duffel bag pulled him to one side as he walked toward Evan, hoping for a tiny lapse of attention. At this point, any chance was worth taking.

“Slowly now.” Evan kept the black eye of the pistol fixed on Danny as he moved, the barrel unwavering. Debbie stood beside him, her lower lip caught in her teeth. “Set it down.”

He did, wondering if he could make the few feet between them, knowing he couldn’t.

“Good boy.” Evan gestured toward the others, and Danny backpedaled slowly to join them. A building under construction would normally offer any variety of makeshift weapons, hammers and saws and nail guns, but here everything had been neatly tucked away for the winter. The bricks were bound with steel bands. The two-by-four he’d dropped lay at Evan’s feet. He stepped beside Karen, laying one hand in the small of her back. He wanted to take her in his arms, but knew that if a chance came he couldn’t risk being tangled up.

Evan stepped forward, bent down, and hoisted the thirty-pound bag like it was tissue. The gun never moved.

“Right.” He smiled, only half his face visible in the gloom. “I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say something cold, but words were always more your side of the action, Danny. So let’s just leave it at good-bye, huh?”

His thumb rocked up to cock the pistol.

Danny could feel the ragged working of his lungs, the twinges of pain in his chest. Stared at the gun. Wondered if this was it, the end of everything he cared about. Failure in a flash of light. He watched Evan’s finger move on the trigger, gentle and firm, his hand strong.

And then he saw another hand.

Debbie threw herself at Evan, scrabbling at his right arm, shoving it upward, the two of them locked like statues in the liquid play of shadows, a frozen image burned in Danny’s brain, and then orange fire spat at the ceiling and the world accelerated, too many things happening at once.

Danny used the hand on Karen’s waist to shove her into Richard and Tommy, their arms and legs tangling in a clumsy fall behind the bundle of bricks.

Evan’s left hand shot up to Debbie’s throat.

And from the stairwell, someone yelled, “Freeze!”

Whirling, Danny saw Sean Nolan charging out of the darkness of the stairway, his gun up and leveled at Evan.

For the first time in his life, Danny could have wept for joy at the sight of a cop. Then he turned back to Evan and saw him already moving. His pistol swinging over with that gunfighter speed as he flung Debbie toward the detective and sprang back. Debbie flying forward, her legs scrambling to keep up, her body between Evan and Nolan.

Two gun blasts split the world. And in the burned-out light of the muzzle flashes, Debbie’s chest exploded.

Her arms spread like an angel beseeching grace.

Her lips framed a moan.

And then she fell.

Danny wasn’t sure if he yelled or not. He stood in place, watching as her body hit the ground. As the blood began to darken the floor. Remembering another body on another floor. Another shooting he hadn’t been able to prevent. Another victim he hadn’t been able to protect.

So many years, and yet here he was again.

And then, from a position behind the lumber pile, Nolan was firing. The blasts broke Danny’s reverie. He whirled to see Evan lunge into the next room, bag in one hand and pistol in the other. Chunks of Sheetrock blew out where the cop’s bullets followed him. Danny took a last look at Debbie, wanting to run to her, knowing it was too late, that it would be a pointless gesture. Maybe a suicidal one, with Evan somewhere in the darkness.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes away from her body.

The others crouched behind the bricks. Karen was frantically gesturing him over. Nolan had settled behind the lumber pile in a target shooter’s stance, his attention entirely on the room where Evan had disappeared.

Behind and to the near side of the detective, the stairwell was clear.

There might not be a better moment. Danny darted over to the bricks. Richard gripped Tommy in a bear hug, the boy’s arms wrapped around his waist. Karen crouched beside them, her pupils wide.

“Can you run?”

She nodded. He grabbed Richard’s shoulder.

“The stairwell. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a reply, he leapt to his feet, sprinting forward. If Evan fired, he wanted to be the target. His feet slapped the ground. A gun blast exploded from somewhere, shatteringly loud. Behind him, he could hear the fumbling sounds of the others. Nolan glanced at him and cursed, started to swing the gun over and thought better of it, turning back to cover them. He fired twice, the flashes painting his face in garish colors, and then Danny reached the open stairwell door and stopped to help the others through. Karen came first, light on her feet, dragging Tommy behind her. Richard took up the rear, vanishing into the darkness. As Danny spun to follow, another blast roared. A patch of cinder block exploded right where he’d been standing, chips and dust showering down, and then he was in the shaft, the others already running down the stairs. Karen turned to see that he had made it, and he gestured her on. “Go!”

The four of them hurtled down the dark steps, Karen and Tommy a flight ahead, holding hands. More gunfire exploded above. He and Richard ran together, taking stairs four at a time.

As they stepped on the landing just above the first floor, he heard three shots in rapid succession, followed by Nolan’s scream.

Danny froze. Richard stopped beside him, his look quizzical and eager. Only silence from above. His heart pumped panic, his lungs sucked fear.

Ahead of them, the stairs were clear. No way Evan could catch them. The Rover was unlocked and running. They could be out the door and safe in seconds.

Upstairs, Nolan was alone. Wounded. And facing the monster Danny had helped create.

“Come on.” Richard shook with impatience.

When Debbie had fallen, Danny had felt for a second like he was back in the pawnshop. Evan gone kill-crazy and a body on the floor. The last time he’d chosen to walk out. Now here he was again, faced with the same options.

Who said fate lacked a sense of poetry?

Danny grimaced. No more wrong choices. “Get them out of here.”

For an instant they locked eyes in the twilight gloom, two men pushed to the naked edge of reason. Something passed between them. Something like understanding. Then Richard nodded, turned, and dashed down the steps. The last Danny saw of him was his bright Nikes as he raced out of the stairwell.

Danny stood alone in the darkness, his body jittery with adrenaline. On the roof, he’d realized that he didn’t expect to make it out alive. He’d sworn a silent promise that if saving the others meant sacrificing himself, it was a deal he could accept.

Time to settle that marker. For Patrick. For Debbie.

For himself.

He took a breath and started back up the stairs.