Iron Orchid

FIFTY-SIX

HOLLY WAS RIDING DOWN Second Avenue in a car with Lance at the wheel, and traffic was very bad.

“There must be an accident or some construction a few blocks ahead,” she said.

“Well, we’re stuck with Second Avenue, so we’re just going to have to ride it out,” Lance replied. He held up his cell phone and used it in the walkie-talkie mode. “This is Cabot. Has anybody made it to U.N. Plaza yet?”

“It’s Martin,” a woman’s voice said. “Three of us have got it staked. I hope more are on the way.”

“Everybody is on the way,” Lance said. “Be as unobtrusive as possible; we don’t want him to know we’re there, if we can help it.”

“Roger.”

Lance closed the cell phone. They were inching past 48th Street, now.

“Maybe I should walk,” Holly said.

“No, I checked out the pedestrians; we’re doing better than they are.”

“God, I hate just sitting here.”

“So do I.”

Traffic suddenly sped up, for no apparent reason, and they were moving at thirty miles an hour, keeping up with the changing lights.

“Drop me here,” Holly said.

“Right. I’m going to cross to First Avenue at the next street. I’ll see you there.”

Holly hopped out of the car.

TEDDY SQUEEZED OFF a round, and ben Saud’s head erupted, spraying everyone around him with blood and gore. Security men were throwing themselves across his body, too late. There would not be an opportunity for a second shot, but one was not needed. He dropped his beautiful little rifle onto the floor; he wanted them to find it.

Teddy walked quickly to a red metal box fixed to a beam and broke the glass with his elbow. An alarm began to sound and a mechanical voice began to repeat. “Structural failure; abandon the structure, abandon the structure.” He could hear people shouting on the higher floors.

Teddy quickly headed for his escape route. He had spotted this on his earlier visit to the building: it was an aluminum tube about three feet in diameter that was fixed to the side of the building, so that construction debris could be tossed into it. Teddy looked up the tube to be sure nothing was coming, then he jumped into it and began to slide down.

The tube made two 360-degree turns, then spat Teddy out into the Dumpster at curbside, creating a cloud of dust. He beat at his clothes for a moment, then collected the crutches he had placed in the corner of the Dumpster, and looked up and down the street. On First Avenue, all hell had broken loose, but the block he was in was oddly quiet.

Teddy jumped out of the Dumpster, and, keeping it between himself and First Avenue, he reached down, grabbed his left foot and pulled it up behind him, sticking his toe through the loop of shock cord hanging there. He dusted himself off again, squared away his hat, picked up the crutches and began swinging slowly toward Second Avenue, picking up a rhythm and making good progress. Then, at the end of the block, on Second Avenue, a woman got out of a car and began walking quickly toward him. She looked oddly familiar.

HOLLY WAS ALREADY out of the car when she saw the commotion at the other end of the block, on Second Avenue. This was not good, she thought; she began walking quickly up the block. The only person between her and First Avenue was an elderly, one-legged man on crutches, making his way toward her.

TEDDY RECOGNIZED HOLLY BARKER, and he was relieved to see that she was looking not at him but past him, toward the action on First Avenue. She had begun to run, and he continued toward her. It occurred to him that she would run past the building, so he had no more time. He stopped, reached into his left coat pocket and pressed the button on the garage-door opener. The two explosions went off simultaneously.

HOLLY STOPPED IN HER TRACKS and gaped at the sight of the steel skeleton ahead of her collapsing slowly and noisily into the vacant lot next door. The old man on crutches stopped, looked over his shoulder at the noise, then continued more quickly. Good idea, she thought; get the hell out of here. She stood and watched the building, waiting for the danger to be over so she could proceed. The old man continued past her, and she looked into his face for a moment.

Sweat was streaming down it; he must have been frightened by the collapse of the building. “Are you all right, sir?” she asked.

“YES, TANK YOU,” Teddy replied, using a vague mittel European accent. “Vot hoppen?”

“I don’t know,” she said, truthfully.

“I get out of here,” he said, starting to move again.

“Good idea.”

AS HOLLY WATCHED the dust settle, men in hard hats were running out of the cloud of dust ahead of her. There was much shouting. Then she froze as a horrible idea came to her. She turned and saw the old man on crutches nearing Second Avenue. “Teddy,” she said aloud. Then she shouted, “TEDDY!!!” He seemed to pause for a moment, then continued on his way, not looking back.

“Look out!” someone shouted from behind her. She turned and just managed to avoid a group of men who were running past her, apparently escapees from the building. One of them stopped and stood beside her.

“What happened?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” the man said. “The structure alarm went off, and everybody abandoned ship. Then there was a loud noise, and the building started to go. I think everybody got out.”

Holly turned and looked back toward Second Avenue. The man on crutches was gone. She made her decision; she started to run toward Second Avenue.

TEDDY REACHED THE GARAGE, unhooked his left toe from the shock cord and tossed the crutches ahead of him into the RV. He didn’t bother with his coat, just jumped in and closed the door. He was about to start the engine when Holly Barker ran past the garage entrance, headed downtown, never looking into the garage. He turned the key and pulled across the sidewalk and into traffic.

Holly was running down the east side of the street, looking around her for something, looking for him, he was sure. He rolled up his side window, which was tinted dark and, slowly, overtook her. She was, perhaps, ten yards away, jogging down the sidewalk, looking up and down the street, and there was a gun in her hand. Traffic stopped for a light.

HOLLY SEARCHED DESPERATELY through the crowd on the street for the old man on crutches, but he had vanished, as if into thin air. She grabbed for her cell phone and pressed the walkie-talkie button. “Lance. Holly. Do you read?”

“I read you, Holly.”

“What happened over there?”

“Ben Saud is down, single shot to the head.”

“I think I made Teddy.”

“Where? Where are you?”

“An old man on crutches passed me going toward Second, just as the building under construction collapsed.”

“Teddy probably fired from that building,” Lance said.

“I can’t see the old man,” Holly said. “I saw him headed toward Second, and I yelled his name, and he paused, but he kept going. Then I got distracted for a second, and when I turned around he had apparently turned the corner. I’m searching on Second, now, but I can’t see him anywhere. It’s like he just went poof and vanished into thin air. I mean, how far could he get on crutches?”

“Well, if it’s Teddy, he’s not on crutches anymore. Maybe he had a car waiting. I’ll send help. Start looking in vehicles.”

“Roger.”

THE LIGHT CHANGED, and Teddy drove on, watching Holly running along the curb, looking into parked cars. He made his way across traffic and managed to turn right onto 42nd Street. His last glimpse of Holly was in his offside rearview mirror. She was standing stock still, looking in his direction, the gun still in her hand.

Teddy continued on, toward the Lincoln Tunnel, New Jersey and 1-95 South to Florida.