Irreparable Harm (20 page)

She wasted a precious second berating herself. The fundamental rule of Krav Maga was to be ready, be aware of your surroundings. Walking around lost in thought invited an attack.

Then she began the calculations that were second nature. At least two of them. Not complete amateurs, because they had spread out to trap her between them. Not total pros, because the downstairs guy should have waited until she rounded the corner going down and ambushed her then.

Multiple attackers meant she was going to have to hurt the first guy badly enough to incapacitate him for a while. Unless she could get back to the door and the fourth floor hallway before they reached her.

She wheeled around and headed back to the door. The guy coming up from below made it to the landing before she got there.

He grabbed her from behind by her hair, pulling her back and down.

She let her briefcase drop from her right hand to the floor.

He’d be expecting her to pull forward, away from him. So, she arched her back, leaning into the backward momentum.

She turned and planted her left foot
as a base, stopping the fall. As she swung around, she drove her right hand into his groin.

He doubled over and she grabbed his shoulder with both hands, pulling him forward and into two fast groin kicks.

His friend appeared in the stairs above. Another big guy, older. She searched his face. Didn’t recognize him.

No, her brain screamed at her. She’d seen them before. They were the guys from the lobby of her office building who’d been talking to the security guard when she’d walked by.

The young guy straighten up, panting, “Lady, just give me the fucking files. I won’t hurt you. Irwin just wants his files back.”

Tim Warner’s bloodied, smashed-in face flashed in her mind.

“Go to hell.”

His fist shot out. She bobbed left, and he caught her off-center with a glancing blow to the right corner of her mouth. She felt her lip burst and tasted warm, metallic blood.

Sasha rolled with the momentum pushing her to the left and dropped her left elbow. She pulled back and drove the elbow into his
chin.

His head bobbled back from the force and his mouth fell open. She thought she might have cracked his jaw from the way his mouth was hanging.

She smacked her left elbow into his chin again. Followed it with her strong side, her right elbow. Smashed it into his cheekbone. He howled.

Once more, she brought her elbow up, crashing into his shattered cheek. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him hard in his groin, stomach, groin again.

He was bent forward, panting and cursing now. She dropped him and he crumpled to the floor. Didn’t move again.

His friend had reached the landing now and was lunging toward her, his eyes darting from her to the heap at her feet.

He grabbed her by the throat. She plucked at his wrists and pulled his hands loose.

Once she was free, she bent to pick up her briefcase. As she stood, the guy brought his hand up, swung from the side, and smacked her cheek hard, open handed. Her eyes watered from the sting.

He shuffled back a step, raising his arm to hit her again. She ducked the wild swing and ran.

She skittered down the stairs, heels flying across the slick marble and her hand sliding down the brass railing. She covered the four floors to the lobby in under thirty seconds.

The old guy had grabbed for her as she went, but missed and tripped over his friend. He toppled hard down the stairs and landed with a thud on the third floor landing, bounced off the marble and then fell still.

She listened for sounds from above, but the men were not moving.

When she hit the ground floor, she turned into a back hallway and left the building through the connected post office. She wanted to avoid the guards and any colleagues who might be in the lobby.

She could feel her cheek swelling. Bruises had probably already bloomed on her face and her throat. Blood from her split lip was dripping down her chin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and ran a shaking finger across her teeth. They all seemed to be intact.

She wished she could just sit down on the wide stairs outside the post office and cry. Let great heaving sobs shake her body until they ran out. But, she didn’t have that kind of time. The guys in the stairwell weren’t down for good. She needed to get back to the office, call Connelly, and figure out what to do next.

She ran the length of Grant Street at full speed, dodging between office workers and crossing against the lights.

Chapter 24

Bethesda, Maryland

Jerry Irwin shut his office door in an effort to drown out his receptionist’s hysterical wailing.

He had done the decent thing and broken the news of Warner’s death to his employees in person. It had made the papers, so he’d figured he might as well. He took the opportunity to suggest that he’d been in contact with the police and they’d hinted that Warner’s murder may have been a gay lovers’ quarrel gone bad.

That was partly true. The D.C. police had called him, but he was the one who’d implied that Warner had a boyfriend with a violent streak. He imagined chasing down that false lead would keep them busy for awhile.

Now, his employees, who hadn’t seemed particularly attached to Warner when he was alive, were wandering around his office, keening like they were bereft.

He squeezed his fingers against his temples to stave off a growing headache.

One of the cell phones was ringing, cutting through the high-pitched sobs still emanating from Lilliana.

He dug it out of his pocket. Pittsburgh was calling.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Do you have your files back?” No niceties this morning.

“I should have them soon. My guys in Pittsburgh haven’t checked in yet.”

“For the sake of argument, what’s in them?”

“The files?”

“Yes, Jerry. The files.”  His partner was irritated.

“The name of Calvaruso’s replacement and his travel arrangements for Friday.” Irwin saw no reason to sugarcoat it.

“So, if the lawyer gets those files, she’ll know which plane is in play?”

“If she gets the files. Which she won’t. At least not long enough to do anything with them. Don’t worry.”

“
I’m
not worried. But you better be.”

Chapter 25

The offices of Prescott & Talbott

At last! Flora smiled in triumph at the mermaid on Lettie’s monitor. It was perfect. Long, dark curly hair like her own. And a gorgeous shimmery pink tail.

It had taken her forever to find the right picture. It hadn’t helped that Sasha’s phone had rung off the hook all morning. Clients who had heard about Mr. Peterson’s death and wanted to know what it meant for their cases, attorneys calling to gossip about it, and a totally rude federal agent dude who called like a zillion times and acted like he didn’t believe her when she told him Sasha was in court.

Well, she finally had it. This was definitely what she wanted for her tattoo. Now, to print it out in color. Only problem was, they weren’t supposed to tie up the good color printers with personal jobs. Those printers were for trial exhibits and stuff.

But her printer at home was kind of crappy. And a crappy picture would mean a crappy tattoo. She looked again at the image on the screen. It was so sharp. And detailed. 

Screw it, it was only one page. Who would even know? She opened the print menu and selected the high-speed color printer on the third floor as the destination.

She snuck a look at Janet, the secretary at the next work station over. “Hey, Janet, I’m gonna run down to the supply room and get some, uh, pens. Do you need anything?”

“There’s pens in those cabinets behind you. Lettie keeps her supplies stocked pretty good.”

“Yeah, but I like those micro point ones. Anyway, I won’t be long. Can you cover Sasha’s phone for me?”

Janet put down the time entries she was trying to decipher. “Look, Flora, I couldn’t care less if you want to use the color printer. Just come straight back. Lettie and I have a deal. I eat lunch first and it’s almost time. You need to cover my desk. So make it fast.”

Flora didn’t want to admit she’d been caught in a lie. She said nothing. Just closed her browser, hung her purse over her wrist, and walked out to the elevator lobby.

She pressed the down call button. As she waited for the elevator, she remembered Sasha was expecting an important package. She considered going back to ask Janet to look out for it then thought the better of it. She wouldn’t be away from Lettie’s desk that long. And Janet was kind of bitchy.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped in for the short ride down to the third floor to get her printout.

She grabbed the mermaid from the printer and hurried back so she wouldn’t keep Janet waiting. But Janet was ready to go when she got there. She had touched up her lipstick, and her chenille scarf was already knotted around her throat. As soon as she saw Flora, she put her coat on and sailed past her.

“See you in an hour.”

Flora was busy in Janet’s absence. Sasha’s phone continued to ring like crazy, and one of Janet’s attorneys needed help with edits to some kind of pleading. All that typing made her break a nail, so she needed to do a quick repair job right there at the desk. She was glad Janet wasn’t around to complain about the acrylic glue smell.

Whenever she got a free second, she snuck a peek at her mermaid, just for the little thrill she got each time. It was going to be such a cool tattoo.

She didn’t notice the thin UPS envelope the mailroom staff had delivered while she was gone. It was under a thick stack of periodicals the library staff had also delivered in the short time she was away from the desk.

Flora finished the edits for Janet and starting thinking about her own lunch.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sasha hurried through the lobby and shot up the stairs to her office. Her goal was to make it to her desk chair without being seen and assess the damage to her face in private.

She charged past Lettie’s desk at a near-run and didn’t stop when Flora called her name. Once inside her office, she slammed the door shut and pulled out her makeup mirror for a look. It was about as bad as she had imagined.

Her split and swollen lip would be back to its normal size within a day or two, and she could cover the break with lipstick. But the bruises on her check would last longer on her pale skin. Much longer, probably. They would fade to green, then linger for a while as pale yellow smudges. Finally, they would turn brown and then disappear. She’d have to put her makeup on with a trowel if she wanted to cover those.

She worked her way down. There were distinct finger-shaped marks, already black, on her throat near her collarbone.

The intercom on the desk phone beeped, interrupting her survey of her injuries.

She jabbed the speaker button with a finger. “Yes?”

“Uh, Sasha? An Agent Connelly called four times for you while you were gone. He said to call him as soon as you got in. He sounded kinda mad.”

“Anything else?”

“Um, Naya Andrews called and said to please let her know when you were back. So I just did that, okay?”