The naked edge

5

The man who emerged from the elevator wore black pants and a black leather jacket. He stared at the weapons, stopped chewing gum, and raised his hands. "Whoa," he said.

Slowly, the pistols were lowered.

The man was Eddie Macintosh, one of the protectors Cavanaugh had sent for. He studied the blood trickling from Cavanaugh's nose. "Tell me what to do."

"Have you got a car?"

"In the parking garage downstairs."

From the gaping window down the hall, they heard the wail of approaching sirens.

Jamie sat up. "Get us out of here."

"To the hospital?"

"No. We'd be targets there."

"And we'd be defenseless at a police precinct." Cavanaugh forced himself to stand. "We can't assume every police officer and fireman who arrives is genuine."

Through the shattered window, the sirens sounded closer.

Cavanaugh wavered, then helped Jamie up. "How did they know to hit our bedroom?"

"Maybe they saw its light go on," Brockman said.

"No. That light was off," Jamie insisted. "What was that phone call about?"

Brockman's tone was stark. "Another agent's been killed."

"What?"

"Jack Gantry. He was in Vancouver, protecting a TV anchorwoman from a stalker. He escorted her home. When he walked back to his car, he got hit. A crossbow. Those things are almost as powerful as some pistols. No sound."

"A crossbow?" Cavanaugh's confusion made him feel as if the floor shifted. "Kim, do you have a backup for the printout you gave me?"

She fumbled in her suit coat and gave him a memory stick.

"Tell the police we'll contact them when we're safe." Unwilling to trust the elevator, Cavanaugh motioned for Jamie and Eddie to follow him toward the fire door.