The Protector

15

The guard looked up from the counter as Jamie held the door open and Cavanaugh carried the pizza boxes into the lobby. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare of the lights.

"Hi. We're with the surprise party for Ted up in nineteen eleven," Cavanaugh said.

The guard's face was stern. "A bunch of pizzas went up about twenty minutes ago."

"I knew we should have brought ribs, french fries, and coleslaw," Jamie said.

"You really do think a lot about food," Cavanaugh said, trying to sound humorous in spite of the tightness in his chest.

"Tell them to make sure to keep the noise down," the guard said. "We don't want complaints from the neighbors."

"Mum's the word," Cavanaugh said.

The guard pressed a button that caused a waist-high gate on the right to buzz and unlock.

"Thanks." They went through and reached the elevators, where Jamie pressed the up button. After a short wait that felt interminable, one set of doors made a ding and opened.

Hating elevators, Cavanaugh entered. As Jamie reached to push the button for the sixth floor, he murmured, "Stop."

"What's the matter?"

"The guard will watch the numbers above the elevator to make sure we go to the floor we said we wanted."

"Ooops." Jamie pushed the button for the nineteenth floor.

The doors closed.

Cavanaugh's legs felt heavy as the elevator rose. He watched orange numbers on a console go from one to two to three. It seemed to take a long time to reach nineteen, enough for him to repeat instructions he'd given to Jamie before they'd entered the building.

"You're sure they'll open the door?" Jamie asked.

"For a pimply delivery kid, they'd keep a chain on the door, hand money through the crack, and tell the kid to hand in the pizzas sideways. But after they get a look at you through the peephole, believe me, they'll open the door. Undo your blouse."

"Excuse me?"

"The top three buttons."

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" Jamie undid them.

Good, Cavanaugh silently told her. Keep making jokes. It tells me you're in control.

And what about me? Cavanaugh wondered. Am I in control?

Ding. The doors opened. His breath rate increasing, he stepped out onto a new-looking beige carpet in what smelled like a freshly painted white corridor that had bright overhead lights and no one in view.

A quick look each way showed them a door marked stairs on their right. They pushed through and found themselves in a dank concrete stairwell even more brightly lit than the corridor. As Jamie shut the door, Cavanaugh checked for security cameras but saw none. They listened for noises and heard none. Their footsteps echoed as they descended in a cautious hurry to the sixth floor.

Outside the door, they paused.

"Can you manage this?" Cavanaugh kept his voice low. "I'll be right there next to you. Just do everything exactly as I explained."

Jamie hesitated.

"It's not too late to back out," he said.

"Sure it is," she said. "I'll never be able to force myself to go this far again."

"Maybe you shouldn't go this far at all." "Can you save John without me?" Cavanaugh didn't answer.

"Then give me the boxes." Jamie's pupils were large. Cavanaugh watched her react to the weight of the Kevlar vest in them. She arranged the boxes so they pushed up slightly under her breasts, widening the gap where she'd opened the buttons.

"They'll think they'd died and gone to heaven," Cavanaugh said. "Before you knock on their door, close your eyes for a few seconds. That'll make your pupils smaller, so you won't seem on edge. Remember, if you hear a TV, it means they're careless. Good watchdogs keep the room quiet so they can hear noises outside." Jamie took a deep breath and nodded toward the door. "Open it."