Brad Meltzer - The Millionaires

“How do you know my name?” Joey asks.

“I told you – I’ve been investigating this from the start. Call Henry Lapidus – he’ll explain everything.” As he says Lapidus’s name, there’s a new calmness in his voice. He reaches into his jacket…

“Don’t even think it!” Joey says.

“It’s not a gun, Ms. Lemont.” From his chest pocket, he pulls out a black leather wallet. “Here’s my ID,” he says, tossing it at Joey’s feet. She reaches down to pick it up, but never lets us out of her sight.

“I swear to you, Joey – his name is Shep Graves…”

“Ms. Lemont, don’t listen to him…”

“… he faked his death so they’d put the blame on us!”

She glances down at the ID, then slaps it shut.

“So you’re working with Lapidus?” Joey asks skeptically.

Shep nods.

“And he’ll back up your story?”

“Absolutely,” he croons.

I’m not sure if Shep’s bluffing, or if he’s got a whole new card trick up his sleeve. Either way, Joey’s come too far to leave without the truth.

“Noreen, are you there?” she says, speaking into the microphone that’s clipped to her shirt. Nodding to herself, she adds, “Get me Henry Lapidus.”

“Charlie…? Charlie, where are you?” Gillian whispered as she cut through the utility closet and stepped into the perpendicular hallway that connected to it. Kicking aside the Goofy head, she surveyed the hall and shoved her way past the knocked-over folding table. On her far left was the door that led outside. Not a chance, she thought. DeSanctis wouldn’t leave without telling them. A sharp scratching sound confirmed the rest. She spun around and followed the noise. Toward the back – beyond the laundry cart and the folding screen. She knew that one. Like someone running. Or hiding.

Scrambling up the hall, she kept an eye out for DeSanctis. He was still pissed about the blender to the head – but not enough to ruin it all, she decided as she slid past the folding screen. Still, better to stay quiet and figure out the lay of the-

Gillian stopped right there. From the floor to the tops of the costume racks, Minnie, Donald, Pluto, and dozens of other character heads stared back at her, each one with its own empty, frozen smile. Purposefully avoiding their glare, she cautiously stepped deeper into the room. “Hello…” she whispered again. “Anyone there?”

Again, no one answered. And then she realized why.

Straight ahead, at the end of the first aisle of costume racks, DeSanctis was facedown on the floor, his arms tied behind his back with what looked like a jump rope. Gillian couldn’t believe it. His nose was covered in blood; his left eye was swollen shut. He wasn’t moving. She nudged his shoulder with her foot, but it was like kicking a brick. Surprised, she squatted down for a better look. Was he -? No, she realized as she saw his chest rise and fall. Just unconscious.

There was another noise, this one from a few aisles over. Jarred by the sound, Gillian shot straight to her feet. But as she heard it again, she cracked a small grin. This sound was different than the first. Deeper. More guttural. Like someone breathing… or panting. Someone out of breath.

She glanced around and made her way across the back of the aisle. “Charlie!” she called out. “It’s me – it’s Gillian!”

The breathing stopped.

“Charlie – are you there!?”

Still no response.

She crossed over to the next aisle of costumes, then the next. Except for the colorful sequined outfits and a set of Chip ’n Dale costume heads, both aisles were empty.

“Charlie, I know you heard the gunshots – Oliver’s been hit!”

Again, nothing.

“He’s been shot, Charlie! He hit Gallo, and Gallo shot him in the thigh – if we don’t get him to a doctor -!”

“Gillian, this better not be bullshit,” a voice warned behind her.

She wheeled around as Charlie stepped out from the aisle she just passed. He held the broom in his right hand, and while he tried to put on a strong face, he was clearly wheezing with each breath. Between the running and the fighting, it was all too much. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He studied her carefully. Her hands were empty. Nothing out of place. “Just show me where Ollie is,” Charlie demanded. Turning his back to Gillian, he headed for the door – but before he could take a single step – there was a muffled click behind him.

Charlie froze mid-step.

“Sorry,” Gillian said as she aimed her gun behind him. “That’s what you get for trusting strangers.”

Refusing to face her, Charlie closed his eyes. He wasn’t going down without a fight. His fingers tightened around the broom – and Gillian’s tightened around the trigger. Charlie spun around as fast as he could. He wasn’t nearly fast enough.

Joey’s got her finger on the trigger, and her eyes on me and Shep, but she’s clearly focused on whatever’s coming out of her earpiece. My arms are up above my head, but I can still see my watch. It’s already past seven. Lapidus is in his car, on his way to Connecticut. There’s no way she’ll be able to-

“Hello, Mr. Lapidus?” she says into the microphone. “This is Joey calling… right, the private investi – No, we haven’t found the money yet… No, I understand, sir, but I have a quick question I was hoping you could help me with. Do you know anyone named…” She looks down at Shep’s ID. “… Kenneth Kerr?”

There’s a long pause as Joey listens. The longer it goes, the more she watches Shep. He doesn’t flinch. He thinks she’s bluffing. So as long as he stays calm, she can’t prove him wrong.

“No… I understand,” Joey says. “Of course, sir. No, I just wanted to be sure.”

She unhooks the cell phone from her belt and pulls out the earpiece. She’s got her gun in her right hand and the phone in her left. Holding the receiver out for Shep, she adds, “Lapidus wants to speak to you…”

Shep glances at me, then back to Joey. Without the slightest of pauses, he steps forward, studying Joey’s reaction. Joey smiles playfully, studying his. I stand there motionless and realize these two are playing in a different league. I have no idea who’s got the advantage.

As Shep approaches her, Joey watches for the tell. A twitch in his eye… a shift in his shoulder… anything she can latch on to. But Shep’s too good to give it.

The closer Shep gets, the more he towers over her. I expect Joey to step back. She doesn’t. “Here you go,” she says, reaching out to hand him the phone. Her gun is cocked as he steps close to her.

“Thanks,” Shep says as he goes to take it. There’s no fear in his voice. He’s perfectly calm. They’re close enough to touch. Neither one backs off. I can see it on Joey’s face – he’s passed her test. But just as he reaches for the phone – as their palms brush against each other – Shep widens his grip, seizes the phone and Joey’s whole hand, and thrusts both their fists and the phone against Joey’s face. It’s all so fast, I barely realize what’s happening. Joey staggers backwards as the phone cracks against the floor. Joey tries to lift her gun, but Shep never gives her a chance.

Lashing out with another punch, he buries his fist in her face and she reflexively pulls the trigger. There’s a loud bang as the stray shot ricochets off the concrete, making a pinhole in the metal wall. Joey crumbles to the floor, unconscious. Her head hits the pavement with a hollow thunk. Standing over her, Shep reaches for his own gun to finish the job.

“Get away from her!” I shout, tackling Shep from behind. It’s like tackling a motor-home. I plow into him, but he barely budges. I don’t have a prayer. He whips around, backhanding me so hard across the face I almost black out.