Michael Palmer - Extreme Measures

"The mouse that roared," Nelson mused.

"This place is truly creepy," Laura said. "How about I do the bedroom and you do Camelot?"

"Just be sure there are no unshuttered windows before you Turn on any lights," Nelson cautioned.

"Check behind the drapes and pictures, and under any throw rugs.

Mark my words. This guy — kept detailed records of whatever he was into, and he kept them in a safe. Say, you wouldn't have an extra cigar on you by any chance?"

"Sorry. But listen, if we find the safe you predict, I'll buy you one-whatever kind you want."

"What a sport."

"Only one, though, and only if we find that safe."

Just ten minutes later, they did. Laura was trying to move a large oil painting-some sort of rural scene-when she backed against a black spokebacked chair, set on a small Oriental rug. The chair did not budge. Laura dropped to her knees and lifted the edge of the rug. The legs of the chair were bolted through it to the floor. Between the bolts she felt a small recessed latch. Releasing the latch, she tipped the chair backward. The rug and a hinged portion of the oak flooring tilted upward with it. The strongbox, a foot or so square with a dial lock and heavy metal handle, was concealed in the space below.

"Bingo!" she cried. "Mr. Nelson, you are truly a prince of your profession."

"I hope you're still considering that apprenticeship offer of mine," he said, first examining the lock, then rummaging through his medical bag for his stethoscope.

He spent the next fifteen minutes pressed against the floor, listening to the tumblers of Donald Devine's safe.

"There's a gizmo that does this electronically," he muttered, "but I'm just too damn cheap to invest in it.

Besides, half this business is the challenge, right?"

Laura sat on the dead man's bed, trying to draw some sort of connection between Devine and the drug dealers who had killed not only her brother, but almost certainly Roger Anseu as well. Ansell and Devine two men violently dead on the same day, and both of them connected in some way to her. She shuddered at the thought.

"Easy," Nelson was urging. "Easy… easy… and… Voila!"

He grasped the handle and slowly swung it down ninety degrees. At the moment he pulled the small door open, they heard the sound of voices beneath the window.

"Quick, the lights!"

Bernard gathered up what he could from the safe as Laura shut off first the bedroom light, and then the others upstairs. Stygian darkness returned to the apartment as the front door was unlocked and opened.

"To the stairs," Nelson whispered. "Up here we're trapped."

They felt their way to the stairs and tiptoed down, reaching the first-floor rear hallway just as the light snapped on in the front parlor. Reflexively, Nelson opened what appeared to be the basement door. The two of them stepped onto the staircase beyond it and pulled the door closed. Save for a sliver of light beneath the base of the door, they were once again enveloped in blackness. They huddled on the staircase, Laura midway down and Bernard near the door, listening as what sounded like two men moved toward them.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" she whispered.

"One of them's furious because the other didn't get Devine's records before he killed him. The other wants some sort of apology."

"Do you have your gun'?"

"What do you think?"

"what are they saying now?"

"I think one of them's headed upstairs. The other one may be coming here. You'd better move down a few more stairs; in fact, go all the way to the bottom.

If he opens this door, I'm going to need some room to help him make a rapid descent."

"Just be careful. It's pitch-black down here. I can't see a thing."

"Shhhh."

From upstairs they heard one of the men shout something.

"I'll be right up," the second voice called back from just outside the basement door. "I'm sorry, boss," they heard him say. "I didn't understand what you wanted me to do. Honest I didn't."

Several minutes passed. Laura remained motionless in the darkness on the bottom basement step Above her, she could faintly discern the bulky silhouette of Bernard Nelson, pressed against the door.

"What's happening?" she whispered.

"They may be leaving or looking for us. I can't tell. Not another sound until I'm certain they're gone-" His voice dropped off suddenly.

Laura could hear muffled footsteps and voices. Then she saw shadows moving in the thin slit of light beneath the door. Her heart skipped as a shoe scuffed against the wood.

Bernard Nelson remained still. Finally, after what seemed an eterrity, the footsteps began to recede to another part of the house.

Fifteen silent minutes went by. The light beyond the door was turned off. Another fifteen minutes passed, then still another. Finally, Laura could stand the tension no longer.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Beats me. I think they're gone."

She worked her way up several steps.

"Do you want to risk opening the door?"

"I think so. First see if you can find a light down there. Maybe there's a way we can get out of here without going through the house."

Laura backed down the stairs and felt along the wall until she found a switch. After an hour of near total darkness, the bright overhead fluorescent lights were blinding. Bernard Nelson made his way down to her as Laura blinked and rubbed her eyes into focus.

Then the two of them stood side by side, staring incredulously at the space in which they had been hiding. The room was perhaps fifteen feet square, painted gleaming white, and equipped with a stretcher, a cardiac monitor, and other sophisticated-looking medical equipment. One wall was filled with shelves of linens, bandages, medications, and solutions.

Against the wall opposite the stretcher were a small desk and chair, and hanging just over the desk, a set of metal and leather limb restraints.

"Well, I'll be damned," Nelson muttered.

"It's like an intensive care unit."

"Not like one, child. It is one."

They walked about the room, looking over the equipment and checking in the wastebasket and desk drawer.

"I'm no doctor," Nelson said, "but this stuff looks like state.-of-the-art to me."

"I agree. Look at this medication. There must be fifty different drugs here. This place frightens me."

"I'd be worried if it didn't." Nelson held up the folders and ledger he had taken from Devine's safe.

"Maybe these will give us a clue. From what I could tell, our friendly visitors found the safe, so there's no sense going back up there.

Whether they're upstairs or outside watching the house, I don't know, but I vote we try to get these out of here. Are you game?"

"The sooner we get out of here, the better."

They turned out the lights, tiptoed back up the stairs, and then, ever so slowly, opened the door. you sure there're no messages for me? Najarian, Eric Najarian… No, yOu don't understand. I'm not registered at the hotel; Laura Enders is.

But she might have left a- Look, forget it. When she does get in, just leave her a message that Eric called, and that I'll call back later. … What's Eric Na-"

The desk clerk had hung up.

Ird eive-r back in place and wan Eric sn P the recap dered across the virtually deserted street. He was in one of the seedier areas of Aflston, ' just half a block from the Sproul Court address that'Anna Delacroix had written down for him.

For nearly two hours he had been calling Laura, both at her hotel and at his apartment. From what he could determine, she had phoned him at the hospital at least twice during the day, but had left no message other than that she had called. He was beginning to worry, but not unduly so.

It was only a quarter of ten.

He would finish his business with Anna elacroix and then go straight to the Carlisle.