Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

It’s true what they say: The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I would’ve liked to enjoy the moment more, except from up ahead, my daughter started to scream.

Z had materialized in the corridor. Big Brother always watching.

He had a Taser, too, except his was pointed at Justin, who was now on the ground, entire body jerking crazily. Ashlyn stood beside her father, her face clearly beseeching.

“Whatever you can do,” Z stated clearly from the other end of the hallway, “I can do better.”

At which point, he popped a cartridge out of the end of the Taser, turned deftly and dry fired into my daughter’s exposed forearm.

Ashlyn no longer screamed. Now she more like shrieked.

Her skin, blistering. I knew, because I bore the same burn mark on my upper thigh.

I released my Taser. It dropped to the ground. I stepped away from Mick’s convulsing form, putting space between myself and Z’s fallen comrade.

Much more slowly, Z lifted the Taser from my daughter’s pale skin. He stood, twenty feet away from me, holding up the Taser like a gunslinger, and I half expected him to purse his lips and blow the smoke from the end of the barrel.

Ashlyn was crying. She danced on her toes, bound hands dangling before her, as if that would help ease the pain. Justin had stopped twitching on the floor, but he didn’t immediately rise to his feet. My husband had been hit how many times in the past twenty-four hours? How many unfried brain cells could he have left?

“The background report did not indicate you would be a problem,” Z said, still looking at me. “Interesting.”

I wanted to jut out my chin at him. Yell at him for harming my child, torturing my husband. But the heaviness was back, an internal lethargy that would sink me yet. I tried to plant my feet, found myself swaying instead.

“Ashlyn…,” I might have whispered.

Except, suddenly, with an ear-splitting roar, Mick leapt to his feet, fists clenched, face enraged. In exactly half a second, his gaze found me, locked on target, and he charged.

I collapsed, trampled like a dandelion before a rampaging bull. He was bellowing, Ashlyn was screaming, and I could hear another voice, maybe Z, calling out something, but mostly I was trying to curl up, to tuck my head into my bound arms as Mick grabbed my hair, lifted my head and shoulders half off the floor, then slammed me back down onto the concrete.

Cracking. Maybe a rib. More likely my skull.

More screaming. More yelling, and then a strange sizzle and burn until I realized that Mick was off me, once more on the floor, once more convulsing wildly, except this time it was his own guy who stood above him, Z and his creepy cobra-tattooed head, pulling the trigger.

“Get. Yourself. Fucking. Under. Control.” Z released the trigger. Mick groaned audibly. “Do you hear me?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir! Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir!”

“Fucking right. Up. Get your sorry ass to the control room. I’ll take things from here.”

Mick got up, staggered for a second, then marched down the corridor.

The moment he was halfway down the hall, Ashlyn rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside me.

“Mom, are you all right? Mom? Please?”

I felt her long hair against my cheek. Her own fingers, trying to push my lighter strands back so she could better see me.

“I just…need a minute.”

Z didn’t talk. He stood. After a few minutes, I was able to sit up, Ashlyn helping support me. Somewhere along the way, Justin had managed the same, his back propped against a wall, his legs splayed in front of him.

Our first attempt at rebellion. My ribs ached, my head ached, my leg burned. Ashlyn’s forearm sported a square of blistered flesh. Justin had yet to make it to his feet. The Denbe family had tried to take on the evil commandos, and the evil commandos had won.

As if reading my mind, Z looked down at me. “If you ever try that again,” he said firmly, “your daughter will pay the consequences. Whatever pain and damage you inflict, she will bear the cost twice over. Do you understand me?”

Slowly, aware of my pounding skull, I nodded.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Ashlyn said, and once again I was startled by the vehemence in her tone. “I don’t care. I hate you,” she spit out at Z, as if that should bother him. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

“Forget the money,” Justin spoke up behind us. “I will see you fucking killed for this. One day, sooner or later, you’re gonna take a bullet to the brain, and I’ll be the son of a bitch who put it there.”

Z merely snorted.

“Please,” he said, indicating for us to rise. “Mick has already picked out your graves, and Radar would kill his own mother if the price was right. Around here, I’m the best friend you got. On your feet. You still got chores to do.”

Chapter 17

TESSA CALLED ANITA BENNETT to arrange a meeting with the chief of operations at Denbe Construction. At this stage of the game, Tessa figured it was time to get a better sense of the core group of company officers who’d be called upon to handle the ransom demand, if/when it should occur.

As long as she was visiting Denbe’s worldwide headquarters, Tessa also decided to make a quick detour to the travel agency, located in the main lobby of the steel-and-chrome high-rise office building. Kate, Christy, Katie, the hairdresser had thought.

Sure enough, front desk, facing the double-wide glass doors, sat a fresh-faced brunette whose brass desk plate identified her as Kathryn Chapman. A younger Katie Holmes, Tessa thought, which was scary, as Katie Holmes was young enough.

Tessa would estimate the girl’s age at twenty, twenty-one. With perfect skin, warm brown eyes, and a positively beaming smile.

Tessa glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes before she was due at Anita Bennett’s twelfth-floor office. She approached.

“Can I help you?” Kathryn Chapman greeted her.

“I hope so. I’m here on behalf of Denbe Construction. I understand your firm handles their travel plans.”

“Absolutely. Are you a new employee?”

“You could say that. My first assignment is to track down the big boss, Justin Denbe. Do you happen to know where he’s traveling? Because he doesn’t seem to be at home this weekend.”

At the mention of Justin’s name, the girl’s smile didn’t falter. Some of the luster left her, though. She turned to the monitor on her desk, tapped her keyboard. “Let me see. And your name?”

“Tessa Leoni.”

“My name is Kate. Pleased to meet you, Tessa. When you have a moment, we have a basic travel worksheet for you to fill out. Covers your legal name, date of birth, frequent flier numbers, seating preferences, that sort of thing. Once we have all that info on file, we can better assist you with your travel arrangements.”

“Good to know.”

Kate turned back, frowning slightly. “I don’t show Mr. Denbe traveling this weekend. Perhaps he’s on a personal trip.”

“You only assist with his business travel?”

“We’re a corporate agency.”

“Huh. And you assist everyone at Denbe? I mean, I should just call you, instead of, say, Expedia.com?”

“I don’t know if Denbe has a specific policy, but, yes, we handle the majority of the travel arrangements. With no disrespect to Expedia, it’s nice to have a number to call should something go wrong, and we’re happy to be that number.”

“Can I use you for personal travel, too, or only business?”

“Many of Denbe’s employees use us for both.”

“But not Justin? You think maybe he made his own plans this weekend?”

“I… I don’t know.”