Ричард Старк - Flashfire [= Parker]

But Parker didn’t expect the conclusion that Melander leaped to, as easily as he’d leaped over the wall. While Leslie continued to struggle and to argue, Melander shook her with the one hand holding her arm and said, “Don’t make me punch you, okay? You gotta shut up now so we can talk.”

She did shut up then, shrinking into herself as she looked at the three of them, looming over her, encased in black, with the headlamps shining in her eyes. Parker saw her face unnaturally white against the darkness all around as she forced herself to be silent.

And Melander had a touch of gloating humor in his voice when he said, “Claire Willis, am I right? We visited your house, up north, sorry you weren’t there.”

She blinked at them, baffled. “What?”

Melander said, “So that means our friend Parker’s around someplace, too. He’d probably like us to take good care of you, right? Let’s go inside. You could be valuable to us.”

Damn. Almost as irritated with Leslie as with the other three, Parker faded into the house and up the attic stairs. Leslie didn’t have a purse with her, and probably didn’t have ID, and wouldn’t be able to prove who she was. So let them thrash it out together all they wanted. Sooner or later, they’d go to sleep.

But he went to sleep first, not intending to, and woke when the wall sconce lights came on, then heard them coming up the stairs. Why? To have a place to keep their prisoner.

When he’d first come up, in the darkness, he’d sat on one of the swivel chairs with his feet on another, but the curved position was bad for his ribs, bad all around, and he gave up and lay on his back on the black-carpeted floor. He didn’t think he’d sleep, it wasn’t that late. Melander and Carlson and Ross had done the robbery a little after eight, just barely night, then full night by the time they got back to this house, after eight-thirty. They’d be keyed up, and now they’d have Leslie to distract them, so they wouldn’t go to sleep until late. Parker figured he shouldn’t go downstairs until at least three in the morning, so he had six hours up here to rest.

But he hadn’t expected to sleep. Normally, he could hold sleep off until the work at hand was done, but this was some other part of the weakness. He’d been awake, lying on his back in the darkness among all the swivel chairs, planning how he would take them out, and now he was awake again, the red-tinged lights clicking on, the swivel chairs like flying saucers above him.

He heard them coming up the stairs, Melander saying, “This is a nice quiet place for you till the morning, keep you out of trouble.”

Parker rolled against the wall farthest from the stairs, black clothing against black carpet, turned away so the paleness of his face and hands wouldn’t show.

“What is this?” That was Leslie, still trying to catch up.

Melander, the grin in his voice, said, “The previous owners used to watch their own movies in here. Think how much fun people used to have in this room. Maybe if you’re real quiet, you can hear the singing and the dancing and the laughing.”

“And if you’re not real quiet,” Carlson said, “you’ll hear from us.”

“Oh, come on, Hal,” Melander said. “Claire’s gonna cooperate, aren’t you, Claire?”

“I’ve told you I’m not—”

Slap. Melander’s voice, no longer humorous: “And I’ve told you , quit insulting my intelligence. I’m losing my good disposition, Claire, you follow me?”

Silence from Leslie. Ross said, “She’ll be all right now, Boyd. Won’t you?”

“Please...”

“See?” Now Ross was being the good cop, saying, “Here’s the light switch here, you can turn it on or off, whatever you want. The door’s gonna be locked down there, but we’ll let you out in the morning, we’ll have a good breakfast, talk it over.”

“That’s right,” Melander said, in a good mood again. “No more excitement for tonight. You go on over there and sit down. Go on, now, just go right over by those chairs and—”

Her shriek at that second was not because they’d hit her again or anything like that. Parker knew exactly what it was. Coming deeper into the room, she’d piped him, and immediately tipped him to the others, like a bird dog.

She’d been better than the normal amateur, until it mattered.

Yes. Here came the footsteps and Melander’s humorous surprise, saying, “And what have we here?”

Parker rolled over onto his back to look up at them. Carlson and Ross carried the automatics he’d ruined. He said, “You boys pulled a nice one today,” hating the reediness of his voice.

Carlson said, “And you thought you’d wait till we were asleep and take it away from us.”

“Just keeping an eye on my share,” Parker said.

Melander said, “On your feet.”

“He’s been shot !” Leslie blurted. “He isn’t even supposed to be out of the hospital!”

They frowned at her, and then down at Parker. Melander said, “Is that right?”

“Shot in the chest,” Parker said. “Some broken ribs. I’ll live.”

“Maybe,” Carlson said.

Melander backed away a pace. “Okay, Parker,” he said. “You can stay up here with—”

Leslie said, “That’s Parker?”

Before Melander could smack her again, Parker said, “Give it up, Claire, we folded that hand.”

She blinked at him, but at last she was beginning to get her wits about her, and she didn’t argue the point.

Ross came forward, saying, “You bandaged and stuff?”

“Around the chest.”

“Where you carrying? I’ll just ease it out without making trouble for you.”

Parker shook his head. “Not carrying. I don’t want you to think I’m still sore.”

They didn’t believe him. Melander, laughing, said, “We come in peace? Check him out, Jerry.”

Ross handed his automatic to Carlson and went to one knee beside Parker. “Sorry about this,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

Ross patted him down without unnecessary pain, then shrugged and looked up at the other two. “He’s clean.”

“Will wonders never cease,” Melander said. “Okay, Parker, we’ll talk in the morning. Your investment came through, right?”

“Right,” Parker said.

Ross took his dead automatic back from Carlson, and the three of them went downstairs, murmuring together, a little confused. Parker was here, but hurt, and unarmed. What did it mean?

The lock clicked on the door downstairs. Leslie said, “I’m sorry, Daniel. It’s all my fault.”

“Yes,” he said.

He sat on the floor, back against the wall. The hard surfaces were best, when he was awake. She sat in one of the swivel chairs. She said, “You were going to hide up here until they were asleep and then go down and kill them, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Pillow for Carlson and Ross. Melander last, the big one, with a bullet. They’re in separate rooms.”

“Are you strong enough to do that? With the pillow?”

“I’m not going to find out,” he said.

“Because of me.”

“Yes.”

“If you weren’t strong enough, you’d use a knife?”

“No. You can’t do a real job with a knife and stay clean. There’s tools in the kitchen. Hammers.”

“Oh.” She blinked, and licked her lips, and moved on away from that, saying, “If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t have had any reason to come up here, and they wouldn’t have found you.”

“That’s right.”

“But why tell them I’m Claire? Is Claire your girlfriend?”

“If they think you’re Claire,” Parker said, “they’ll think I want to keep you alive, so you’re a bargaining chip in their favor. Keeps them calm.”