William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

She began to topple, but the man in the mask grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head up. Ben scrambled to his feet and tried to rush him, but he shoved Ben back with ease.

“One more move like that and the girl dies!” he barked.

Ben froze in his tracks.

Christina tried to pull her head out of the daze and figure out what to do next. The man was still holding the gun in his spare hand, but it was pointing off to the side; during the struggle, it had pivoted around on his trigger finger. This would be a good time to do something. If she could only figure out what.

“You thought you could hurt me?” The man’s former cool had evaporated. “I’ve been fighting all my life! I’ve taken out the biggest and the strongest. Never let anyone get in my way. And that includes you!”

He outweighed Christina by more than two-to-one, but she had been taking those self-defense classes at the Y for a reason, and no matter how tough the guy was, he had the same vulnerable points as everyone else. The eyes, which she couldn’t get to. The temples, the ears, which she also couldn’t get to. And the knees.

Now that was a different story.

She reared back with the heel of her shoe and smashed it into the small of his kneecap. He tumbled. Just like her instructor told her-no matter how big the man, a good swift kick to the knee will bring him down.

But he was still holding the gun. She brought her foot around, this time kicking his gun hand. He released it, then she kicked it to the other side of the room.

“Ben! Get it!”

Ben dove for that corner of the office, but the man grabbed his foot and fell right on top of him. They began to struggle. Christina tried to get around him, but he threw up his arm and tripped her. He pulled himself onto his knees, holding back Ben with one hand and Christina with the other.

The gun lay on the floor in the opposite corner.

Ben rammed his elbow into the man’s nose. Christina came at his neck with her fingernails. He still did not release them. Christina could feel great power surging through his arms. He was stronger than Samson, and determined not to let them go.

With a mighty effort, he tossed the both of them back a few feet, then flung himself toward the gun. He grabbed the revolver, then rolled around on his shoulder. Christina raced forward-just in time to see a poised gun staring her down the throat.

“You goddamn punks!” the man shouted, almost hysterical. The gun was wavering, trembling, but not so much that there was any chance he would miss her if he pulled the trigger. “You goddamn smart-ass punks!”

“I thought so,” Christina said quietly. “I know who you are.”

In the midst of the struggle, the man’s mask had been knocked to the side.

“You’re Mario Roma,” Christina continued. “You own Remote Control.”

“Yeah,” Roma said, his teeth clenched, both hands squeezing the shaking revolver. “And you’re a corpse.”

“He’s not in the courthouse!” Mike shouted back to Baxter, who was waiting in the unmarked Bureau car.

“I’ve been calling their office. No answer.”

“Damn.” He dove into the passenger seat. “You drive.”

Given the urgency, she did as he instructed, but she was incredulous even as she slid across the seat.

“I want to keep working the phone,” Mike explained. “And I need someone giving the road their full attention-and driving just as fast as possible.”

Baxter pulled the car away from the curb, with a peel of rubber. “You must really be tight with this shyster.”

Mike shrugged. “We go way back.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Besides, it’s kind of like being a Good Samaritan. How many friends can a defense lawyer have?”

“Right.”

“Just get to their office, Baxter,” he said, punching the tiny buttons on the phone. “I’m calling Swift. Maybe she can call in backup.”

“But why?” Ben asked, genuinely curious and stalling for time. “Why would you go in for kidnapping? You have a successful restaurant.”

“Are you kidding? No one makes money from restaurants. It’s a money pit. And campus clubs are the worst. The kids are so damn fickle.”

“But kidnapping?”

“Look, I grew up in Chicago. The mob rules, right? Everyone I ever knew was crooked. That was how we made money. It was expected.”

“Mike told me he thought you were protesting too much when you said you had no mob connections.”

“This job had nothing to do with the mob. Those jerks coulda never come up with something this smart.” He wiped his brow with his free hand. “I left all that behind. Tried to start fresh. Clean. But I wasn’t making money and the debts were piling up. If I didn’t come up with some money-major money-I’d lose everything.”

“So you went in for kidnapping. Then murder.”

“I never wanted the murders. But Manny was making threats, saying he’d talk, and then Charlie-” He tightened his grip on Christina’s hair. “Aw, what’s the use? You wouldn’t believe me. And you’re both dead anyway.” His lip curled as he pointed the gun at Christina’s skull.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ben said, trying to keep his voice calm even though he was more terrified than he had ever been in his life. Not Christina. Please, God, not Christina. “You can stop the killing now.”

“Too late,” Roma said, sweat dripping from his chin. “Too goddamn late.”

Outside Ben’s office, in the front lobby, they all heard the sound of a door slamming shut.

“Who’s that?” Roma hissed, lips tight.

“Probably Jones, my office manager,” Ben answered. “Or my investigator, Loving.”

“Like hell. I already took care of both of them.”

“Ben? Christina? Where are you? I’ve got the stuff from the courthouse.”

It was their new intern. Vicki.

“Any luck?” Baxter asked.

Mike shook his head. “No one’s answering. Not in the office Ben’s been using, not in any office in the building that I can find a number for.”

“It’s late,” Baxter said, as she wove in and out of traffic, hitting speeds well beyond the limit. “Probably all gone home or not answering.”

“That doesn’t help me. I found a doorman at the Marriott across the street who thinks he saw Ben and Christina go in half an hour ago. Half an hour!” He wiped his brow. “And you know what that means.”

“If they’ve been back that long, and they’re not answering the phone…”

“Yeah.” Mike bit his lower lip, trying to fight back the emotions that were flooding to the surface. “If that killer has been there for half an hour-”

Baxter swerved into the next lane, leaving a semi eating her dust. “I’m driving as fast as I can.”

“It won’t matter. We can’t possibly get there in time. Neither will backup.” He sat silent for a moment, hands gripping the console. “They’re on their own.”

“Goddamn it,” Roma muttered under his breath, still gripping Christina by the hair. “Goddamn it to hell.”

“Don’t drag Vicki into this,” Ben whispered. “She’s just a kid. She knows nothing.”

“Goddamn it to hell!” He released Christina, then waved them both away from the door. “Get back! In the corner.”

Ben did as he was told, but he kept talking. “I haven’t told her anything about the case. All she does is fetch coffee and hold paper clips. There’s no need to hurt her.”

“Shut up!” Roma hissed.

A moment later, Vicki’s petite frame appeared in the doorway. She was carrying a large banker’s box. “Ben?”

A second later, she saw the man, and a second after that, the gun. A small cry escaped from her.

“Get up aganst the wall,” the man barked.

“What’s happening?” she said, in a tiny trembling voice.