“Civility is always important,” Christina replied airily.
They entered the elevator and rode up to the floor where they were borrowing space from Mahoney. When they entered the office, they found it deserted.
“I expected all of Kevin’s people to be gone this late in the day. But where’s Jones?” Christina asked.
“Or Loving? Dunno.” Ben scratched his head. “Jones is usually right at the door waiting for us, so he can give me his complaints of the day.”
Christina smiled. “He gives me doughnuts.”
“I guess we know where his heart lies.” Ben left his materials by the door-so they could be more easily carted back to court again tomorrow morning-then headed back to his office. He’d been there maybe ten minutes when he heard the front door chime.
Who would be coming in at this time of night? he wondered. It was way too late for business visitors. Probably just Jones returning from whatever errand he was on. Maybe a reporter. Or Ellen. Or… there was one other possibility. He clapped his side coat pocket. He was ready, in any case.
He pushed out of his chair and approached the door. He was almost through it when a man entered-wearing a Hallo-ween mask.
Ben drew back. “Excuse me. What are you-”
The man did not wait for him to finish. He shoved Ben back, hard. Ben fell against his desk, the edge slamming into him.
Ben didn’t waste a second. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small handheld radio. “Boxer? Now! Call the police and come!”
The man in the mask knocked the radio out of his hand. “Would you by chance be calling Boxer Johnson?”
Ben felt his mouth go dry.
The man reached into his coat and removed another radio, just like the one Ben had, then a black leather wallet. “Boxer Johnson, age fifty-five, blue eyes, one hundred and seventy-five pounds, eyesight restriction.” He threw the wallet into Ben’s face. “Bad news, Kincaid. He won’t be coming.”
Ben pressed back against the desk, trying to get as far as possible from the man. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Oh, but you already know that, don’t you? This is your party, after all.”
“I don’t know what-”
“Don’t treat me like a jerk.” He drew his hand back and slapped Ben hard across the face. “You set this up, with your little press conference. You knew I’d have no choice but to come after you. I wasn’t going to let you screw everything up. Not after all the work, all the… killing. Maybe you thought I’d wait till you left the office, but I figured I better move quick, before it’s too late. Before you were ready. First, I took out your two little friends. But I kept telling myself, this kid Kincaid can’t be this stupid. He’s practically inviting me to come after him. He must have backup. So after you went into the office, I sat back and waited. And sure enough, as predictable as clockwork, your rear guard showed up, chatting into his little radio, making his rounds.”
“If you’ve hurt him-”
“Oh, I’ve hurt him all right. I hurt him good, like he won’t forget for a long time. If he can remember anything.”
“Ben, have you got the ex-” Christina stepped through the doorway, then froze. A millisecond later, she turned to run. The man in the mask whirled around, grabbed her arm. As she tried to pull away, he jerked her backwards. Ben knew that it hurt; he could see it in her eyes. She flew backward and careered into the desk beside him.
“And here’s the pretty one,” he said, contempt dripping from his voice. “I might have a little fun with you, before it’s over. Or after.”
“I don’t know who you are or what-”
He slapped her, silencing her. “You may be an innocent victim of your boss’s little prank. But you’re going to suffer just as bad.” He grabbed Ben by the collar, shaking him. “Did you think you could fuck with me? With me ? You little punk.” He threw Ben back with disgust. “This is going to be a pleasure.” He pulled a revolver out of his coat pocket and pressed it against the side of Ben’s skull. “Gonna take away all your troubles, lawyer-boy. You should thank me.”
“No!” Christina screamed. “Please don’t hurt him!”
“Don’t waste your breath crying for this asswipe,” the man said, pulling Ben up by the collar and pressing his head down with the gun. “Save it for yourself. You’re next.”
Mike found Sergeant Baxter in the kitchen of the Chicago FBI office. She had a coffee cup in one hand and a half-eaten yogurt in the other.
“Care to join me for a little slash-and-burn operation?” he asked.
“Why would I?”
“Because you’re my partner.”
She pressed a hand against her chest. “He remembers!”
“Don’t be so-”
“I thought you had totally forgotten. Or that Special Agent Swift had worked some kind of Deep South mojo on your brain.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask to have a Feeb baby-sitting me on this case.”
“No, but you haven’t exactly resisted, either. So what’s a slash-and-burn, anyway?”
“Means I don’t really have a clue. I’m going to thrust myself into the lion’s den and see if I can stir something up. Hassle, threaten, intimidate. Take no prisoners.”
“Sounds very sophisticated. Count me in. What is it we’re trying to learn?”
“What else? The identity of the fourth kidnapper.”
Baxter stared at him strangely. “But-I thought you already knew.”
Mike returned an equally mystified expression. “Why in God’s name would you think that?”
“Because I watched your pal Kincaid on television telling everyone he knew who the fourth man was.”
“What?”
“And I figured he could only have gotten the scoop from you. Wrong?”
“Very.” Mike thrust his hands into his pockets. “What the hell is he playing at?”
“Hard to tell with those defense shysters. Must be some kind of trick.”
“Yeah. Must be. Maybe he-” All at once, Mike’s face went white. “Oh, my God. That stupid idiot.”
“What? What is it?”
“Change of plan.” Mike began racing down the corridor. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and started dialing. “We’ve got to find him.” He put the phone to his ear, got no answer, swore. “That incredible moron!” He punched the elevator button, then didn’t have the patience to wait. He lurched toward the stairs. “Ben has pulled some stupid stunts in his time, take my word for it. But this one’s going to get him killed.”
Christina looked on in horror as the brutal man in the Halloween mask pressed a gun to Ben’s temple. How had this plan gone so wrong so fast? Images flashed unbidden in her brain-Manny Nowosky with the drill bit through his skull; Charlie the Chicken with the gun in his mouth. And now Ben was poised to be the next victim.
“You brought this on yourself,” the man growled. “You could’ve just let that son-of-a-bitch kid take the rap. But no, you had to go messin’ around in my business. And now you’re going to pay the price.”
Christina’s mind was racing. That voice, even hoarse and broken, sounded familiar, but with the mask concealing his face she couldn’t be sure. She watched helplessly as his thumb pulled back the hammer of the pistol. He was really going to do it! She couldn’t wait another second. Without warning, she lurched forward, head-butting the gun away from Ben.
The gun fired, but the bullet went off somewhere into the far wall. The man in the mask fell backward. Christina scrambled to her feet, but he was too quick for her. He caught her with the back of his gun hand and whipped her hard across the face. She felt her head explode, her neck bent by the force of the blow. Blood trickled down her cheek.
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