The Payback Assignment (43 page)

           
“That would take a bit of explaining,” Felicity said, brushing some long red strands from her face.
 
“It’s a little complex.”

“I think we have time,” Marlene replied, out of breath but still able to manage a small smile.

“Well, alright then.
 
You see, I was in your room earlier and I drugged you.
 
If we left you there, in a fire like that, well, that’d be murder, wouldn’t it?”

           
Marlene seemed to consider her words carefully, or maybe she was just having trouble catching her breath.
 
“But you, well, this might seem a bit wrong to say under the circumstances, but you were there to hurt my husband, weren’t you?
 
”

           
Felicity rushed to say, “I was there to rob him.”

Morgan appreciated Felicity’s response.
 
She must have liked Marlene Seagrave just for her straightforward attitude.
 
She was trying not to hurt Marlene’s feelings, but the woman persisted.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Marlene said, “but there are surely easier targets for a robbery.
 
Why Adrian?”

Felicity kept pushing forward, not looking back at Marlene.
 
“Sorry to tell you this, but he cheated me in a business deal.
 
I wanted back what he took.
 
We, eh, had a bit of a conflict with your security guards.
 
Things got a little out of hand is all.”

“The fire?”

“That was an accident,” Felicity said with a raised index finger.
 
After that remark, Morgan could not resist breaking into a grin.
 
If he turned he imagined that he would see Felicity blushing.
 

           
Ten steps later, Marlene said, “I know the man your friend is carrying.
 
He’s one of my husband’s business associates.
 
A security specialist I think he said.
 
He’s probably one of the men you had your conflict with.”

           
“So what?” Morgan asked over his shoulder.
 
“Should we have left him to die?”

           
“Would he have saved you?”
 
Marlene returned.

           
“Of course,” Morgan said, but without much conviction.
 
He wanted to end the conversation, because he found life easier when he did not examine his own reasons too closely.
 
He got along just fine as long as he did what felt right at the time.

           
Morgan was moving forward on automatic pilot.
 
Time lost meaning as he moved past identical flights of stairs.
 
His back was screaming at him, but he shut it out.
 
All his energy focused on simple tasks.
 
Breathe.
 
Step down.
 
Maintain balance.
 
Do you hear two sets of footsteps behind you?
 
Good.
 
Breathe.
 
Step down.
 
Maintain balance.
   

           
Walking in a daze Morgan felt his right foot thump to a halt inches before he expected it to, and he stumbled forward, nearly falling.
 
With a shock, he realized there were no more steps to descend.
 
They had reached the ground floor landing and he could hear sirens.
 
No smoke wafted into the stairwell, but he would not expect any to pass under a fire door, even if noises did.
 
Regaining his balance, he pressed his hand against the steel door.
 
It was slightly warm.
 
Morgan felt like a wrung out dishrag, despite the fact that his clothes were soaked through with his sweat, and the sweat of those he had carried.
 
His lungs burned from dragging in all the air they could hold on his long overburdened descent.
 
Fighting to keep his balance, he turned to face the girls and shifted Paul off his shoulder into his arms like a baby.
 

           
Marlene was breathing hard, wheezing like an old window-mounted air conditioner.
 
Felicity held her arm to steady her.
 
Felicity’s eyes seemed a little out of focus, but her mouth was drawn into a hard line of determination he had only seen before on Rangers near the end of an all day road march.
 
She was mad.
 
Not mad at him or anybody in particular, but at the situation, and her anger was carrying her.
 
His mind started playing an old Army cadence call.
 

Had a dog, his name was Blue.

Blue wanted to be a Ranger too.

They made him march for 28 days.
 

Now old Blue’s in a zombie haze

He smiled.
 
Felicity wanted to be a Ranger too.
 
Morgan had been there and done that.
 
When people got that tired they didn’t think too well.
 
His new partner was there now, and he had to fill in the thinking for her.

           
“Now listen,” Morgan said.
 
His words were clipped, his voice terse.
 
“It’s probably all smoke out there.
 
You won’t want your eyes open, but you’ve got to get out.
 
If you get lost in the lobby, you’re dead.
 
Understand?
 
The lobby door is about six paces to the right, then left about twenty.
 
Got it?”

“Right six, left twenty,” Felicity said in a robotic voice.
 
“Right.”

“When I push this door open, take a deep breath and crouch down as low as you can.
 
Hold your breath, clamp your eyes shut and run.
 
Hang on to Mrs. Seagrave and drag her if you have to.
 
There’s nothing in your way.
 
When you hit the door to the outside, you’ll know it.
 
Ready?
 
Go!”

           
Morgan slammed his back against the door’s lever, swinging it open.
 
Smoke curled in on him.
 
The women slipped past, arms linked.
 
He followed, hefting Paul in his arms.
 
It was a long twenty seconds of darkness, following the sound of Marlene’s feet on the marble floor.
 
He was grateful that she was barefoot because despite her exhaustion, Felicity’s boots were silent.
 
Paul choked and gagged in his arms.
 
Morgan’s eyes smarted from the thick smoke, even with his lids clamped shut.
 
Even his own saliva tasted of smoke while he held his breath.
 

           
Strong hands clamped onto his left leg, pulling him off balance.
 
Someone must have gotten trapped in the lobby.
 
It could be an innocent employee, or it might be one of the guards who ran from Seagrave’s meeting room.
 
Morgan didn’t have the luxury of distinguishing.
 
He managed to right himself on his left foot just long enough to manage a single stamp kick.
 
It was enough to free him.
 
He staggered forward, out of breath and out of time.
 
He stumbled, almost dropping Paul.
 
His shoulder hit something hard, but whatever it was, it moved.
 

The barrier slid aside and a blast of cool air froze the dampness on his face.
 
Two sets of arms stopped him.
 
He gulped fresh air and collapsed.
 
He cracked his eyes open to see that a pair of firemen was helping him walk.
 
Someone clamped an oxygen mask over Paul’s face and lifted him away.
 
The firemen holding Morgan’s arms lowered him to a seated position, leaning against the giant tire of a hook and ladder truck, and went back to work.
 
His head hung between his legs, his eyes burning.
 
Bull horns nearby blasted instructions to bystanders and emergency personnel.
 

Morgan’s head spun, and the air tasted like water that had been in the refrigerator too long.
 
It was all catching up to him now.
 
His showdown with Paul.
 
The shoot-out in the conference room, so much like a mad minute back in Vietnam.
 
His brief, terrible battle with Monk.
 
The fire.
 
Forty-one flights of stairs, carrying a body all the way, racing against the blaze.
 
And now, after all that, would come the moment of greatest danger.

           
There he sat, surrounded by police.
 
His windbreaker was wrapped around Marlene Seagrave now, so there was no concealing the loaded gun he was carrying, not to mention three knives.
 
Felicity was still laden with burglar tools and a live hand grenade.
 
The building they just left was ablaze and two charred bodies were stretched out on the pavement around there somewhere.
 
Any minute now, a nurse medical tech would be asking him how he was and what happened upstairs.
 
He and Felicity were left with way too much to explain.
 
What, he wondered, would they be charged with?
 
Breaking and entering?
 
Burglary?
 
Arson?
 
Murder?
 
These days, maybe even terrorism.
 
They were alone, with no witnesses and no defense.

           
Gathering his remaining strength, Morgan forced himself to his feet and trudged heavily over toward Felicity.
 
She and Marlene Seagrave were talking to a police captain.
 
Morgan had to step over hoses and avoid rushing fire fighters on the way.
 
This scene of confusion, he realized, was all taking place inside a police barricade.
 
Several trucks and emergency vehicles were parked too closely together in an overlapping pattern, like so many red and yellow pick-up sticks.
 
What looked like an army of men was fighting what he could now see was a major fire.
 
He looked around for Monk and Seagrave, but someone must have already cleared that mess away.

           
When he reached Felicity, he was surprised to find her looking solemn, but not worried or frightened.
 
She raised a palm to Morgan, cautioning him to stay silent.
 
Marlene, still in her nightgown and Morgan’s windbreaker, was speaking to a detective now.
 
Morgan could barely hear her words over the fire fighters’ clopping boots and shouted commands.

           
“That’s right, Marlene Seagrave,” she said, as a fireman wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
 
She was biting her lip and looking every bit the grieving widow.
 
“My husband is, or was, Adrian Seagrave, the importer.
 
We live, lived, in an apartment in this building.
 
Our offices were here and he insisted on living where he worked.”

“And these people?” the policeman asked.

“These people?
 
Oh, they’re in my husband’s employ as, eh...”

           
“We’re security personnel, sir,” Felicity said, somehow looking helpful and supportive.

           
“Yes, that’s right, security,” Marlene said, nodding.
 
“There were others, but they all ran off.
 
This man and this woman risked their lives to save me and that other fellow, and I don’t even know their names.”
 
She gulped back a very sincere and convincing sob.
 
“I’ll be happy to make a more extensive statement to you and the press after my new friends and I get a shower.
 
Can I please go get some clothes on?”

           
As the police moved away, Felicity turned toward Morgan.
 
Her confident expression melted like a wax mask.
 
Exhaustion washed over her face and she fell into Morgan’s arms.
 
A man standing nearby turned from the police to point a camera at them.
 
His automatic flash stabbed Morgan’s eyes.
 
Morgan twisted away, reflexively trying to avoid being identified.