The Altar Of Bones - Part 19
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Part 19

She went to the bed, picked up the film, and put it into her satchel. "You're a bully, and you're probably a liar, and I'm outta here."

"Don't be stupid." He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "You try to handle this on your own, and the wolves out there are gonna eat you alive."

"And what are you? You claim to be one of the good guys, and maybe you are and maybe you aren't. So far you haven't shown me much reason to trust you."

"Maybe because I'm still trying to figure out if I can trust you. I-" He cut himself off and turned toward the door. Then Zoe heard it, too-the creak of a board outside on the stair landing.

Ry yelled, "Get down!" and knocked her to the floor just as the door burst open.

25.

A SEMIAUTOMATIC WEAPON SEMIAUTOMATIC WEAPON spat bullets, st.i.tching the wall high above Zoe's head as she rolled and kept rolling, all the way into the tiny bathroom. spat bullets, st.i.tching the wall high above Zoe's head as she rolled and kept rolling, all the way into the tiny bathroom.

She came up onto her feet in a half-crouch and whirled in time to catch the big black pistol that came sliding across the floor at her from Ry's outstretched hand. The studio apartment was too small, and there'd been no time for him to make it to cover. So he lay flat with his arms above his head, and Zoe waited with horror for bullets from the gunmen in the doorway to riddle his body.

But the shooting stopped abruptly, and then it was eerily quiet except for the soft tinkle of gla.s.s falling from a busted picture on the wall and the pounding of her heart.

Zoe's hands shook a little as she checked the ammunition clip of the pistol Ry had tossed her, a Walther P99. She pressed her back to the wall between the toilet and door, held the Walther two-fisted out in front of her, and waited.

From where she was, she could see Ry lying in frozen stillness on the floor, but the half-closed bathroom door blocked her view of the shooters. She thought there were two of them, though, men with hooded sweatshirts, one in black and one in blue. They'd looked familiar. The lovers from the cafe, maybe? And they'd fired high, which meant they hadn't been aiming to kill. Yet.

The floorboard out in the hallway creaked again.

"Well, well," said Yasmine Poole, in that soft, smirking voice. "Why, if it isn't Agent Ryland O'Malley. What a hard man you are to kill. I was certain, back there in Galveston, that I was staring down at your watery grave and yet here you are again, the proverbial bad penny.

"And Ms. Dmitroff, I know you're back there in the powder room. Give me the film, and I'll let you walk out of here alive."

Ry met Zoe's eyes and he shook his head a fraction of an inch, but she didn't need the warning. They lived only so long as they had the film.

"Do you hear those sirens, Zoe? Your name has been put on the terrorist watch list with both the FBI and Interpol. So you see, there's nowhere for you to run to now, nowhere to hide. But if you give me the film, I can make it go away. Bygones and all that."

The whoop-whoops were growing steadily louder, coming closer. Zoe thought the imminent arrival of the French cops was probably the only thing keeping Ry O'Malley alive. He still lay on the floor, unmoving, completely vulnerable to a single bullet from Yasmine Poole or her two hooded thugs.

Think.

She noticed a bucket full of cleaning supplies under the sink. One was an American brand she recognized-a spray cleanser with bleach. She started talking, to cover any sound she made as she shifted her weight so she could reach it.

"It seems to me we've all landed in a bit of a pickle here, Yasmine. I could wait until the French cops arrive and turn myself and the film over to them, which would leave you with a lot of explaining to do, starting with what the CIA thinks it's doing carrying out covert operations on French soil."

"You win some," said Yasmine Poole, "you lose some. I'm willing to take my chances."

"Yeah?" The bottle of cleanser was full. Zoe checked to be sure the nozzle was in the "on" position. "But imagine what the reaction will be when they actually take a look at the film. Quelle horreur. Quelle suprise Quelle horreur. Quelle suprise. The images of the second gunman on the gra.s.sy knoll would be all over the evening news. Would the guys you work for call that a win, Yasmine?"

Zoe set the cleaner on the floor between her feet and took the film back out of her satchel. It was hard to open the tin can one-handed, but she didn't dare set down the gun.

"By the way, just who do do you really work for? The CIA, or the people who killed Kennedy? Or are we talking about the same thing?" you really work for? The CIA, or the people who killed Kennedy? Or are we talking about the same thing?"

At last, at last, the can popped open. Zoe quickly dumped the film back into her satchel and pressed closed the now empty can. She shifted her weight again and craned her head so she could look through the crack between the jamb and the half-open door. She could see Yasmine Poole now, and the two hooded guys who flanked her on either side, their semiautomatics still pointed at Ry. Yasmine herself was unarmed, but Zoe remembered the gun she carried in her purse.

"Agent Blackthorn," said Yasmine Poole, "shoot Agent O'Malley in the kneecap."

"No, wait!" Zoe cried out, and she didn't have to fake the panic in her voice. She was running out of time-both with Yasmine and the French police. The sirens blared so loudly now, they had to be on the next street over and rounding the corner. "I'll give you the film. Don't hurt him."

She caught Ry's eye one last time, and she thought he might have winked at her, even though the blue-hooded guy was now standing over him, his weapon pointed down within inches of Ry's knee.

"It's just ... I'm scared, Yasmine. Do you promise to let us go?"

"Of course, Zoe. After all, you could blab to the press all you want about some nameless guy on the gra.s.sy knoll, but without the film itself, they'd just think you were another tinfoil-hatted whack job. So slide the film out the door now, please, and we won't hurt your boyfriend."

Outside tires screeched, the whooping sirens cut off abruptly.

"The film, Zoe. Now."

Zoe shot the film can like a hockey puck through the half-open door, toward the far corner of the room and under the purple cabbage-rose overstuffed chair.

Either she was too smart or she didn't want to risk ripping her gorgeous red suit, but Yasmine Poole didn't dive for the can as Zoe had hoped. The black-hooded guy did, though, and the distraction was enough.

Ry jackknifed his legs and kicked the gun out of blue-hooded guy's hand. He sprang to his feet just as Zoe flung open the bathroom door, firing with one hand and tossing the bottle of cleanser to Ry with the other. He caught it in midair and sprayed blue-hooded guy in the face with it. The man screamed and clawed at his eyes.

Zoe shot up the rose-cabbage chair, where the black-hooded guy was still frantically trying to fish out the empty film can. Blood sprayed the wall behind him, as he went down with a scream, clutching his thigh.

Zoe swung the barrel of the gun onto Yasmine.

The woman stood still in the midst of the carnage, with her hands held out to her side, her eyes wild and full of a sick excitement, as if daring Zoe to shoot her in cold blood.

Zoe smiled. "You lose."

Ry knocked her arm aside just as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the iron bedstead with a ping ping and ricocheted up into the ceiling. Yasmine Poole didn't even flinch. and ricocheted up into the ceiling. Yasmine Poole didn't even flinch.

Ry pushed Zoe toward the door. "Cops," he said. "Let's go."

ZOE COULD HEAR men shouting and the slap of leather soles on the flagstone courtyard below. She started down, but Ry grabbed her arm and pulled her up a narrower set of stairs, toward the roof. men shouting and the slap of leather soles on the flagstone courtyard below. She started down, but Ry grabbed her arm and pulled her up a narrower set of stairs, toward the roof.

"Always," he said, "have a plan B."

The stairs ended in a trapdoor that opened up into an attic with huge, exposed beams, sectioned off into storage units for the building's tenants. It smelled strongly of mothb.a.l.l.s. Zoe didn't see a window, which wouldn't have done them much good anyway, as high up as they were. Ry led the way to the back, deep beneath the sloping roof, where a midget-size door with a small white k.n.o.b was set low on the wall, almost at floor level.

He turned and grinned at her. "Laundry chute."

"Great," Zoe said. "Only the thing is ..."

But Ry had already turned back to open the little door.

It was a laundry chute all right. A dark and narrow laundry chute.

Ry took both the Walther and her satchel out of her suddenly laxhands. He stuffed the gun into an inside pocket of his jacket and zipped up. "You go first," he said.

"The thing is, I'm kind of claustrophobic."

She heard a door bang right below them, and someone shouting, "Arretez! Arretez!" "Arretez! Arretez!"

"Don't think about it," Ry said. "Just do it."

Zoe set her jaw. She swung feetfirst into the chute, shut her eyes, and held the doorframe with a white-knuckled grip. How hard could this be? You just let go and slide How hard could this be? You just let go and slide. But what if the chute got narrower as it went down? It was barely wider than a coffin as it was. A coffin ... Oh, Lord. What if she got stuck? Unable to go up or down, trapped with the walls squeezing her chest, tighter and tighter, and the air black as death, growing thinner and thinner, running out, until she ...

"Nope," she said. "Sorry, cowboy, but ain't no way-"

His hand smacked her hard in the back.

It was a long, long way down.

26.

SHE LANDED flat on her back on a cement floor, her blood hammering in her ears. flat on her back on a cement floor, her blood hammering in her ears.

She heard Ry coming down after her-it sounded as if someone were beating a tin can to death. She scrambled out of the way just before he exploded out of the chute. He landed and rolled up onto his feet in one smooth movement.

"You okay?" He helped her to her feet. He gave her back her satchel, then brushed her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "You did great."

Zoe was humming, her adrenaline shooting through the roof. "I did it, Ry. I was so scared coming down that thing, I thought was gonna pa.s.s out, but I made it. And we were like the A-Team, the way we took them down. I had that b.i.t.c.h Yasmine Poole nailed, too."

"Zoe, we need to-"

"And I've still got the film, Ry-the can was empty. I thought I could fool them and create a diversion at the same time."

"I figured as much. Now-"

"Not that I wouldn't have given it up if I had to, to save your life. But I don't get it, why didn't you let me shoot her? I wasn't going to kill her, just make her bleed a lot, so you should've let me do it, Ry."

"We'll get her, don't worry about it. But right now-"

"Because you know she's gonna come after us, and if I never see the woman again in this life and in every reincarnation thereafter, it'll still be too-"

He clapped his hand over her mouth. His palm was hard and dry. Her heart was still pumping madly, and she was bouncing up and down on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. She realized suddenly that she could hear boots pounding on the stairs, shouts and whistles, the crackle of radios. Blue and red lights strobed though a narrow window set high in the bas.e.m.e.nt's wall.

She breathed hard through her nose, then her eyes slowly focused on Ry's face. He lifted his hand.

She breathed, swallowed. "We're still in big trouble, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Take another breath. Good, you're coming down a bit."

Zoe took another breath and looked around. The bas.e.m.e.nt was small, barely room enough for a deep sink and a row of three chipped and dented coin-operated washing machines.

She saw that Ry had found the door that led out onto the street. It was up a narrow half-flight of stairs, made of a thick gray metal, and dead-bolted from the inside. Ry slid back the bolt and eased the door open a crack. He looked out for a moment, then quietly shut it.

"It opens into another stairwell, six steps, leading up to a dead-end alley," he said, heading back to her. "They're working on the gas main, or something, out in the street right in front of the building, and that's kept the squad cars from parking close. But we can't just stroll on out because there are two cops within sight of the door, armed with MAT-49 submachine guns."

"Wonderful. So how do we get out of here?"

"We need a diversion to distract the cops away from the alley. Something involving noise and smoke and flames would be nice."

Zoe looked around the bas.e.m.e.nt again, but besides the ancient washing machines and the sink, all she saw were enough cobwebs to weave a small tapestry. "Well, unless they're arachnophobics, I don't see anything down here that could create much of a distraction."

Ry was bent over, rummaging through the detergents and cleansers under the sink. "Hey, we just got lucky, Zoe. They got Drano. We can make us a bomb."

"You can make a bomb out of Drano?"

"Mixed with chlorine bleach and ammonia. It creates hydrogen gas. Nothing big or deadly-it's all smoke-but it'll get their attention." He set the bleach, ammonia, and can of crystal Drano on top one of the washers. "Look through that trash can over there for a liter-sized gla.s.s or plastic container. A c.o.ke bottle would be perfect, but make sure it has a cap."

Zoe could hear more sirens turn up the street outside as she pawed through empty detergent boxes, take-out containers, spray starch- "How about an Evian bottle?"

"That'll do."

A door slammed above their heads, so hard the whole building vibrated. Heavy boots pounded down the inner stairwell, only two or three flights above them now. "Ry, they're coming!"

"We'll make it. They'll want to search the main floor first." He went back under the sink again and came out with a rusty wrench.

"Okay," he said, handing her the wrench. "Here's how it's going to work. As soon as I add the Drano to the bottle and cap it, we'll have about fifteen seconds before it explodes. I want you to throw this wrench through the window and yell for help-'Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi.' Wait for me to throw the bomb before you go out the door, though, and let me go first in case there's shooting, okay?" Wait for me to throw the bomb before you go out the door, though, and let me go first in case there's shooting, okay?"

Zoe nodded, even though her knees had gone wobbly.

She watched Ry pour the bleach and ammonia into the Evian bottle, spilling some because he didn't have a funnel. Then he poured in the Drano crystals and capped the bottle fast.

"Hit the window now," he said to Zoe, just as a man out in the street yelled, "Arretez!" "Arretez!" and a woman screamed. and a woman screamed.

Zoe pulled her arm back and flung the wrench at the window, suddenly terrified that she would miss.

The wrench crashed through the gla.s.s. Zoe shrieked, "Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi!" "Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi!" at the top of her lungs, and ran for the door. Out the corner of her eye she saw Ry toss the Drano bomb out the shattered window, then he ran past her and up the steps. He slapped open the dead bolt and slammed through the door, Zoe on his heels. at the top of her lungs, and ran for the door. Out the corner of her eye she saw Ry toss the Drano bomb out the shattered window, then he ran past her and up the steps. He slapped open the dead bolt and slammed through the door, Zoe on his heels.

They were up the outer stairwell and into the alley when a terrible explosion ripped the air.

ZOE FELT THE building's stone walls shudder on their foundations. Windows rattled and shattered, shouts and screams rent the air. building's stone walls shudder on their foundations. Windows rattled and shattered, shouts and screams rent the air.

The street was chaos. A water main had broken, blowing off a manhole cover, and water geysered into the air. Bricks and cobblestones littered the sidewalks, and where they'd been working on the gas main there was now a giant hole in the street.

They started to go right, saw a squad of riot police and their parked cruisers at the corner, so they veered left. They ran by a cop who was barking into his radio, but by now everybody was running so they didn't stand out.