The naked edge

32

"The middle of the block! The south side!"

Listening to the voice give instructions through his earbud, Cavanaugh veered through the crowd on Fulton Street. Reaching an archway, he heard the voice say, "That's where they went! Backup's on the way!"

"No time!"

Staying to the side, he drew his pistol and listened. With the noise of the departing protestors behind him, he thought he heard the echo of footsteps on a metal staircase.

Working to control his heartbeat, he took a breath, held it, counted one, two, three, exhaled through his mouth, one, two, three, and inhaled through his nose, one, two, three. Pivoting into view, he aimed along a brick passageway and saw the lower half of a man climbing the stairs. A blood-covered body lay at the bottom. A blood-soaked shirt was near a faucet.

Continuing to aim, Cavanaugh eased along the passageway, shifting his feet carefully, taking care to place them firmly and maintain his balance. Nearing the stairs, he heard pounding on a door above him. Ignoring the corpse at his feet, he aimed upward.

Carl.

Slowly, Carl's surprised look changed to a welcoming smile. "My, my." The smile widened. "How are you doing, Aaron?"

"I've been better." Cavanaugh tightened his finger on the trigger.

"Yeah, I'm not having a great day, either." Carl's lanky chest was bare, his ribs showing through his lean muscles. His narrow face dripped water. He held up his wet, powerful-looking arms in surrender. "It's been too long, Aaron. You must be taking a lot of vitamins. Either that, or marriage agrees with you. You don't look any older."

"For certain, you haven't changed. I see you're still having control problems."

"Well, he turned against me. I know disloyalty doesn't bother you, but it makes me furious."

"Apparently, a lot of things do."

"Only people who trick me into believing they're my friends when they're actually the opposite."

"Come down the stairs, Carl."

"I don't think so."

"Slowly. Carefully."

"What happens if I tell you to screw off? You'll shoot me?"

"Yes."

At the top of the stairs, voices behind a door made Cavanaugh frown.

"Not today, good buddy."

The door opened. Before Cavanaugh could fire, Carl vanished into the building.

Cavanaugh raced up the stairs, but not before the door slammed shut. He yanked at the knob. Locked. He pounded on the door. Beyond it, he heard shots. The door was metal. Carl knew that pistol bullets wouldn't go through it. That meant the bullets were intended for someone else: whoever had opened the door. Cavanaugh thought he heard footsteps running along a corridor.

"He's in a building on the second floor!" Cavanaugh said into his lapel mike.

"We'll seal off Fulton and the opposite street!" the voice promised.

Loud noises made Cavanaugh spin and look down the stairs. A half dozen agents rushed along the passageway. The person he focused on was Jamie.

"He went through here!" Cavanaugh yelled to them. Seeing flowerpots at the top of the stairs, Cavanaugh grabbed one and hurled it through the window next to the door. Convinced that Carl wouldn't have risked staying, he reached through, freed a lock, and raised the window. Air conditioning cooled his hand.

As Jamie and the agents ran up the stairs, Cavanaugh peered through the window, studied an office, decided that he had to take the chance, and crawled inside. Two women lay on the floor, streaming blood.

"We need an ambulance!" Cavanaugh shouted into his lapel mike. Rushing, he unlocked the door.

Jamie and the agents hurried in but stopped at the sight of the gunshot victims. One agent knelt, trying to help them while Cavanaugh and the others raced along a corridor.

In an office, a man peered up, hiding behind a desk. In another office, a man lay bleeding.

Reaching a lobby, Cavanaugh saw a receptionist trembling in a corner behind her desk. Glass doors led to an elevator and stairs.

"We've got operators waiting on the street outside! He can't get through!" an agent told him. Gun drawn, the agent ran past Cavanaugh and charged down the stairs, the others following.

But Cavanaugh and Jamie lingered.

"What's above us?" Cavanaugh asked the trembling receptionist.

She opened her mouth. No sound came out.

"You're safe now," Jamie said. "What's above us?"

"Other offices."

"And?"

"A roof garden."