The man in the chair crossed his arms and smiled. Under different circumstances, she might have considered that smile a charming one. Now it struck her as frighteningly inhuman. She seems awake enough, he said. Why dont you proceed, Mr. Savitch?
The man called Savitch loomed over her. Where is he?
Who? she said.
Her answer was met by a ringing slap to her cheek. She sprawled backwards on the cot.
Try again, he said, dragging her back up to a sitting position. Where is Victor Holland?
I dont know.
You were with him.
We-we split up.
Why?
She touched her mouth. The sight of blood on her fingers shocked her temporarily into silence.
Why?
He- She bowed her head. Softly she said, He didnt want me around.
Savitch let out a snort. Got tired of you pretty quick, did he?
Yes, she whispered. I guess he did.
I dont know why.
She shuddered as the man ran his finger down her cheek, her throat. He stopped at the top button of her blouse. No, she thought. Not that.
To her relief, the man in the chair suddenly cut in. This is getting us nowhere.
To her relief, the man in the chair suddenly cut in. This is getting us nowhere.
Savitch turned to the other man. You have another suggestion, Mr. Tyrone?
Yes. Lets try using her in a different way. Fearfully Cathy watched as Tyrone moved to the card table and opened a satchel. Since we cant go to him, he said, well have Holland come to us. He turned and smiled at her. With your help, of course.
She stared at the cellular telephone he was holding. I told you. I dont know where he is.
Im sure one of his friends will track him down.
Hes not stupid. He wouldnt come for me-
Youre right. Hes not stupid. Tyrone began to punch in a phone number. But hes a man of conscience. And thats a flaw thats every bit as fatal. He paused, then said into the telephone, Hello? Mr. Milo Lum? I want you to pass this message to Victor Holland for me. Tell him I have something of his. Something that wont be around much longer
Its him! hissed Milo. He wants to make a deal.
Victor shot to his feet. Let me talk to him-
Wait! Polowski grabbed his arm. We have to take this slow. Think about what were-
Victor pulled his arm free and snatched the receiver from Milo. This is Holland, he barked into the phone. Where is she?
The voice on the other end paused, a silence designed to emphasize just who held the upper hand. Shes with me. Shes alive.
How do I know that?
Youll have to take my word for it.
Word, hell! I want proof!
Again there was a silence. Then, through the crackle of the line, came another voice, so tremulous, so afraid, it almost broke his heart. Victor, its me.
Cathy? He almost shouted with relief. Cathy, are you all right?
Imfine.
Where are you?
I dont know-I think- She stopped. The silence was agonizing. I cant be sure.
He hasnt hurt you?
A pause. No.
Shes not telling me the truth, he thought. Hes done something to her
Cathy, I promise. Youll be all right. I swear to you Ill-
Lets talk business. The man was back on the line.
Victor gripped the receiver in fury. If you hurt her, if you just touch her, I swear Ill-
Youre hardly in a position to bargain.
Victor felt a hand grasp his arm. He turned and met Polowskis gaze. Keep your head was the message he saw. Go along with him. Make a bargain. Its the only way to buy time.
Nodding, Victor fought to regain control. When he spoke again, his voice was calm. Okay. You want the vials, theyre yours.
Not good enough.
Then Ill throw myself into the bargain. A trade. Is that acceptable?
Acceptable. You and the vials in exchange for her life.
An anguished cry of No! pierced the dialogue. It was Cathy, somewhere in the background, shouting, Dont, Victor! Theyre going to-
Through the receiver, Victor heard the thud of a blow, followed by soft moans of pain. All his control shattered. He was screaming now, cursing, begging, anything to make the man stop hurting her. The words ran together, making no sense. He couldnt see straight, couldnt think straight.
Again, Polowski took his arm, gave it a shake. Victor, breathing hard, stared at him through a gaze blurred by tears. Polowskis eyes advised: Make the deal. Go on.
Victor swallowed and closed his eyes. Give me strength, he thought. He managed to ask, When do we make the exchange?
Tonight. At 2:00 a.m.
Where?
East Palo Alto. The old Saracen Theater.
But its closed. Its been closed for-
Itll be open. Just you, Holland. I spot anyone else and the first bullet has her name on it. Clear?
I want a guarantee! I want to know shell be-
He was answered by silence. And then, seconds later, he heard a dial tone.
Slowly he hung up.
Well? Whats the deal? demanded Polowski.
At 2:00 a.m. Saracen Theater.
Half an hour. That barely gives us time to set up a-
Im going alone.
Milo and Polowski stared at him. Like hell, said Polowski.
Victor grabbed his jacket from out of the closet. He gave the pocket a quick pat; the cigarette case was right where hed left it. He turned and reached for the door.
But Gersh! said Milo. Hes gonna kill you!
Victor paused in the doorway. Probably, he said softly. But its Cathys only chance. And its a chance I have to take.
He wont come, said Cathy.
Shut up, Matt Tyrone snapped and shoved her forward.
As they moved down the glass-strewn alley behind the Saracen Theater, Cathy frantically searched her mind for some way to sabotage this fatal meeting. It would be fatal, not just for Victor, but for her, as well. The two men now escorting her through the darkness had no intention of letting her live. The best she could hope for was that Victor would survive. She had to do what she could to better his chances.
Hes already got his evidence, she said. You think hed give that up just for me?
Tyrone glanced at Savitch. What if shes right?
Hollands coming, said Savitch. I know how he thinks. Hes not going to leave the little woman behind. Savitch gave Cathys cheek a deceptively gentle caress. Not when he knows exactly what well do to her.
Cathy flinched away, repelled by his touch. What if he really doesnt come? she thought. What if he does the sensible thing and leaves me to die?
She wouldnt blame him.
Tyrone gave her a push up the steps and into the building. Inside. Move.
I cant see, she protested, feeling her way along a pitch-black passage. She stumbled over boxes, brushed past what felt like heavy drapes. Its too dark-
Then let there be light, said a new voice.
The lights suddenly sprang on, so bright she was temporarily blinded. She raised her hand to shield her eyes. Through the glare she could make out a third man, looming before her. Beyond him, the floor seemed to drop away into a vast blackness.
They were standing on a theater stage. It was obvious no performer had trod these boards in years. Ragged curtains hung like cobwebs from the rafters. Panels of an old set, the ivy-hung battlements of a medieval castle, still leaned at a crazy tilt against the back wall, framed by a pair of mops.
Tyrone said, Any problems, Dafoe?
None, said the new man. Ive reconned the building. One door at the front, one backstage. The emergency side doors are padlocked. If we block both exits, hes trapped.
I see the FBI deserves its fine reputation.
Dafoe grinned and dipped his head. I knew the Cowboy would want the very best.
Okay, Ms. Weaver. Tyrone shoved Cathy forward, toward a chair placed directly under the spotlight. Lets put you right where he can see you. Center stage.
It was Savitch who tied her to the chair. He knew exactly what he was doing. She had no hope of working her hands free from such tight, professional knots.
He stepped back, satisfied with his job. Shes not going anywhere, he said. Then, as an afterthought, he ripped off a strip of cloth tape and slapped it over her mouth. So we dont have any surprises, he said.
He stepped back, satisfied with his job. Shes not going anywhere, he said. Then, as an afterthought, he ripped off a strip of cloth tape and slapped it over her mouth. So we dont have any surprises, he said.
Tyrone glanced at his watch. Zero minus fifteen. Positions, gentlemen.
The three men slipped away into the shadows, leaving Cathy alone on the empty stage. The spotlight beating down on her face was hot as the midday sun. Already she could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Though she couldnt see them, by their voices she could guess the positions of the three men. Tyrone was close by. Savitch was at the back of the theater, near the buildings front entrance. And the man named Dafoe had stationed himself somewhere above, in one of the box seats. Three different lines of fire. No route of escape.
Victor, dont be a fool, she thought. Stay away
And if he doesnt come? She couldnt bear to consider that possibility, either, for it meant he was abandoning her. It meant he didnt care enough even to make the effort to save her.
She closed her eyes against the spotlight, against the tears. I love you. I could take anything, even this, if I only knew you loved me.
Her hands were numb from the ropes. She tried to wriggle the bonds looser, but only succeeded in rubbing her wrists raw. She fought to remain calm, but with every minute that passed, her heart seemed to pound harder. A drop of sweat trickled down her temple.
Somewhere in the shadows ahead, a door squealed open and closed. Footsteps approached, their pace slow and deliberate. She strained to see against the spotlights glare, but could make out only the hint of shadow moving through shadow.
The stage floorboards creaked behind her as Tyrone strolled out from the wings. Stop right where you are, Mr. Holland, he said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Another spotlight suddenly sprang on, catching Victor in its glare. He stood halfway up the aisle, a lone figure trapped in a circle of brilliance.
You came for me! she thought. I knew, somehow I knew, that you would
If only she could shout to him, warn him about the other two men. But the tape had been applied so tightly that the only sound she could produce was a whimper.
Let her go, said Victor.
You have something we want first.
I said, let her go!
Youre hardly in a position to bargain. Tyrone strolled out of the wings, onto the stage. Cathy flinched as the icy barrel of a gun pressed against her temple. Lets see it, Holland, said Tyrone.