Phoenix Heart (29 page)

The light switched off and I lifted the shade, checked the
outer room, then eased out the door without looking back.

Walking down those hallways with Andrew had been bad enough;
alone it was truly unnerving. The shadows cast by the shifting ivy became more
sinister, my footsteps much louder. The darkness at the end of the hall was not
merely the absence of light; it was a substance, suspended in the air, waiting
to engulf me. And, within that darkness waited the two men. The darkness had
already swallowed them. They had become a part of it, and now they lurked
within, waiting for me, reaching for me...

If I got out of this, I was going to have to seriously
consider cutting back on my Stephen King intake.

Midway down the hall was an elevator matching the one we had
come up in on the other side of the floor. At the end of the hall I found the
door to the stairwell easily enough; a green exit sign lit the way. I slipped
through and ran lightly down the steps. Dim security lights lit each landing. I
slid through the door on the next floor and saw the Biology Department office
immediately; a night light had been left on inside which silhouetted the
lettering on the door and lit my way. Just past the department door was a large
bulletin board covered with notices, and just beyond it was the alcove with the
copy machine. I felt down the side and found the on-off switch and flipped it. With
a hum, the indicator lights came on. There was a small LCD display on the
panel. It flashed, SYSTEMS CHECK, then, to my dismay, STAND BY.

“For how long?” I whispered. I stood in that dimly lit
hallway, surrounded by the shadows, listening to the sounds of the building
settling, knowing those sounds weren’t shifting beams, or cooling bricks, but a
pack of thugs led by Short Blond and Beer Belly, who were even now prowling the
halls looking for me.

I backed up against the wall opposite the copy machine. “Okay,”
I whispered. “Get a grip.” I was wrong; it was forever. When the STAND BY
started flashing, I placed the book inside, closed the lid, and then stared at
the display, too anxious to think to do anything else. Sometime in the middle
of November the STAND BY disappeared and READY flashed in green. I hit the copy
button, grabbed the copy and the book and raced for the stairwell door.

Just as I reached for the handle I heard a sound. A
non-building-settling sound. A completely alien sound for a university
stairwell in the dead of night. It was the clink of metal on metal, the sound
of change in a pants pocket when the owner of those pants is climbing a step. My
hand froze a half-inch above the handle. I held my breath, trying desperately
to hear that sound again, or any other sound to let me know that it had only
been my imagination, my poor, frazzled, overworked imagination.

Another sound came, and when it did, it sent my heart to
pumping wildly. It was the rumble of a man’s voice, followed by a hushing noise
from another voice. These were no grad students with an experiment to check;
these were men with reason to move silently.

I stood, breathing through my mouth, unable to move, my mind
blank from panic.

I can’t stop them. I can’t
warn Andrew.

I’ve got to warn Andrew.

I can’t warn him.

I’ve got to stop them.

There’s no way to stop them.

Stop it! Stop it! Think!

I closed my eyes, concentrating furiously. My fingers closed
around the hard form of the notebook.

The evidence. We’ve got
evidence now. The police! I can call the police!

I pressed my ear gingerly to the stairwell door. I heard no
sound but the roar of the blood pounding in my ears. I began to back away on my
toes. A few feet from the door, I spun and ran down the hall then groped for
the throwaway phone in my pocket.

I dialed 911. Nothing happened. Of course. Naturally. Phones
don’t work in nightmares. I almost laughed at my own stupidity. I looked at the
phone’s screen. Not a single bar. I ran further down the hall, holding the
phone up in the air, to the side, down toward the floor. Nothing, then as I
neared the windows at the end, a bar flickered. I punched in 911 and hit send. It
was answered immediately.

“Police emergency.”

The words came out in a rush. “My name is Melanie Brenner. I’m
calling from the biology building at the University. There are some men in a
lab at the front of the building on the fourth floor threatening another man. I
heard them say they were going to kill him. I couldn’t see much but I’m sure at
least one of them had a gun. Please, please send someone now.”

“Miss, your name again.”

“Melanie Brenner. Please, there’s no time!”

“And where are you?”

I told her in detail, stumbling over the words. “Please,
please, this isn’t a game!”

“Melanie Brenner from Los Angeles?”

“Yes! Yes! They’re going to kill him. Send help now!”

“Stay on the line. Help is on the way.”

“I can’t,” I said and hung up the phone.

I looked down at the piece of paper clutched in my hand. Just
in case, I thought. Just in case. I grabbed a pen, scribbled a quick note on
the page, then turned and ran back to the copy machine. The cell phone rang in
my pocket so I reached in and turned it off. Just before I reached the copy machine
the name on the door nearby registered and I skidded to a stop. Computer and
Equipment Room. I took down a fire extinguisher, swung it at the glass, and
reached inside.

* * * *

The door to J.P.’s lab was open, only a couple of inches,
but enough so that a shaft of light shone through. Even with it open, as I
crept up to the door, hugging the wall, I could hear no sound except the
whistling of my own breath going rapidly in and out.

Please, please let him be all
right. It’s all I ask.

“Ah, Andy, my lad.”

I jerked and my heart went to tumbling again. The voice
sounded from just beyond the door. My hands were trembling but I managed to
punch the record button on the small digital recorder I’d picked up in the equipment
room. I held it out toward the door. “You should have considered the fact that
I might have had an alarm installed.”

“The rest of us have no need for alarms. But you’re right; I
should have considered it with you.”

He’s alive! Thank god, he’s
alive.

“Andy, you always were a little too holier-than-thou for my
taste. I see you haven’t changed.”

His name’s Andrew, you
bastard.

“J.P., a leech is holier than thou. Come to think of it,
leech fits you. Only difference is that you don’t suck blood; you suck the life
out of your student’s creativity, their lives, their work.” Though the anger
and disgust were clear, his voice was too weak, his breathing too ragged.

I stood, flat up against the wall, my head up, my eyes
closed, holding the recorder out at arm’s length.

Oh, please! Please, where are
the police?

“Look, Andy. I don’t want to stand here all night and listen
to you rave. Just tell me where the notebook is, tell me what you found in it,
and we’ll get this over with.”

“Notebook?”

“Oh come on. No matter what you think of me, you know I’m not
that stupid.”

A different voice answered. “His little girlfriend must have
it.”

That voice crawled up the skin of my back. Beer Belly’s
voice.

“Where is she?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what” His words were cut off as
there was a sickening thud of flesh against flesh. I flinched so badly I almost
dropped the recorder. There was dead quiet for several seconds.

“Now, you know I don’t like having to do this. Tell me where
the girl is, tell me where the notebook is and we’ll put an end to this.” J.P.’s
voice was light, reasonable. “I know money means nothing to you. What you’ve
always had, you don’t value. I, on the other hand, have only just become
accustomed to this lifestyle. I don’t wish to give it up. I’m not going to let
you ruin my plans.”

“I told you.” Andrew stopped and I felt an ache in my chest
at the effort it took for him to speak. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

The sickening thud came again followed by a crash as
something heavy fell against the cabinets and slid to the floor. Within that
louder sound, came a smaller sound that could only have been from Andrew. I
pushed away from the wall and stood facing the door, holding the tape machine
out in front of me like a weapon, watching the little indicator needle
flickering with the sounds coming from the room. I noticed that the machine was
vibrating, and then that I was trembling all over. And suddenly, incredibly, I
realized that it wasn’t fear making me tremble; it was a raging, roaring anger.
I wanted to lay hands on J.P. Harrison. I wanted to hurt him. And I wanted to
hurt him before he could hurt Andrew again.  

I looked down at the recorder, then around me. The hall was
empty, there was nothing to use as a weapon, there was nowhere to secret the
recorder should something happen. I looked toward the window, and then down at
the recorder in my hand.

J.P. spoke again. “Andy, Andy, Andy. Come on, boy. Sit up
now. Pay attention. You know, I really am sorry about this. Well, no, actually…”
He chuckled. “To tell you the god’s honest truth, I’m not.”

I slowly moved toward the door and that wedge of light
coming out of the lab. The light lit a patch of floor and the central windows
in the front hall, but left the window in the corner, at the juncture of the
walls, in darkness.

“I’ve got your research; I’ve got a big chunk of change in
my little old numbered Swiss account.”

I eased just to the edge of the door, paused to listen for a
moment, then jumped lightly through the wedge of light into the shadow in the
corner and hugged the wall for a count of three. No one cried a warning; no one
came thundering through the door.

“Hell, come to think of it. Who cares about that little old
notebook or whether or not your little friend has it? We’ll find it. We’ll find
her.”

I forced myself to ignore those words as I reached up,
twisted the old-fashioned lever that kept the window in place and eased it
open. The window was hinged in the middle and swung outward. I pushed the tape
player out on the ledge and into the shadows of the ivy.

“J.P., if you harm her.”

“Harm isn’t the word, Andy old man.”

As I arranged the leaves over the recorder, I heard a faint
siren in the distance. The sound grew louder. “Thank you God,” I breathed. I
left the window open a crack and turned the gain up on the recorder far as it
would go and made sure that the little needle flickered as it recorded
everything said.

“She has no part in any of this. There’s no reason to hurt
her.”

I listened to the sirens, willing them closer.

“Oh, yes there is. You don’t want her hurt. By the time we
find her you’ll be dead, which is most unfortunate. I’d like you to have to see
what you did to her. But, I think it’s much safer in the long run just to
dispose of you now. That way I’m safe.” There was a clear, light happiness in
his voice.

I looked out the window again. The sirens had died, but
through a gap in the trees I saw two police cars, their lights off, round the
corner of one of the quad buildings. They drove along the paved walkways to the
front of the building next door. The cars stopped and the doors came open. Four
figures jumped from the cars and raced down under the trees toward the
building, two toward the front door, two turning down between the buildings
heading toward the rear.

“Mr. Sheldon? I weary of this. I believe we really don’t
need Dr. Richards anymore. He has become a distinct annoyance and a liability. Would
you please dispose of him?”

“Here?”

“Why not? It seems fitting. He spent a great deal of his
life here. He might as well die here. Sort of like dying with your boots on, so
to speak. Eh, Andy?”

And then I heard a metallic sound. There was no mistaking it;
I’d heard it in countless movies: the sound of the slide being worked on an
automatic handgun to cock a bullet into place. I pushed away from the window,
whirled to face the door. I stopped, arms wide, fists clenched, feet spread
wide apart.

“Harrison,” I yelled, letting all the fury and pain and fear
come out in the scream of my voice. “You want your book, you son of a bitch? Come
and get it!” Even as I flung that last word at the door, I spun, turned to race
down the hall toward the stairs. I ran, faster than I would have believed I
could run. I dimly heard Andrew’s voice shouting my name, shouting for me to
run, a clattering crash from the lab, and I was nearly to the stairs by the
time the sound of the door of the lab slamming open reached me. I skidded to a
stop under the exit sign and heard a szthwiz-THWACK as something went by me and
slammed into the wall. I wrenched the door open and dived through and jumped
down the stairs, thinking, there was no BLAM. It must have a silencer, just
like in the movies. I skidded down the steps, my feet barely touching them,
sliding down, yanking around the turn, leaping faster before I could think how
bad it would be if I slipped and fell down those concrete steps. I’d reached
the third floor landing and was spinning through the circle of light cast by
the security light when I heard the door above me slam open. I didn’t hesitate,
didn’t think, didn’t breathe, just ran, skimming down the steps, thinking only
of hitting the next riser, balancing, shifting my weight, grabbing the handrail
to counterbalance the turn at the landing between the third and second floor.

There was another szthwiz this time followed by a loud CRACK
as the bullet hit the old wood banister near my hand and shattered it. Wood
fragments flew, but I didn’t feel anything, then I noticed I didn’t feel
anything at all in that hand, couldn’t make it work, so I hooked my wrist
instead in the loop in the banister at the landing, spun around the turn
cringing slightly as I passed through the pool of light on the landing and
skidded down the steps toward the first floor. I could hear the pounding of the
footsteps of at least two men above me, but I merely noted it, didn’t let myself
think about who they were or what they would do to me if they caught me. I
rounded the last turn, drummed down the last flight and hit the cross-bar on
the door of the first floor and sailed through. I heard it crash back against
the wall as I skidded on the linoleum floor, turned, and headed up the hall to
the front of the building.