Run With Me (25 page)

I smell the scent of smoke
before I even hear the tap on the door. There's an electronic click
and it swings open, a shadow standing in the doorway. The stench of
cigarettes grows stronger as he steps forward into the sickly yellow
light of the room. The man who's been hunting me stands tall, his
craggy face etched with a permanent grimace. His cheeks are peppered
with several days worth of gray stubble, and there are clear cuts and
bruises on his face and forearms.

He moves forward as my eyes
sweep quickly over him, searching for the weapon that will end by
life. I see nothing in his hands. No gun, no knife, no length of rope
or any other device of torture. Then he steps to one side of the room
and I see another figure move through the doorway. He's shaking his
head, his body adorned with a sharp suit and tie. Michael Carmine.
Finally we're face to face.

“
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty,” he
says with feigned exasperation. “You've led us on quite a hunt
haven't you?”

I don't know if his question
requires an answer, but I don't consider giving one anyway.

He continues forward into the
room and glances over to Rugger. “Give it to her.”

I instinctively scuttle to the
back of the bed as Rugger moves towards me, reaching behind his back.
I expect a gun to appear in his hand, but it's nothing so deadly.
Quite the opposite, in fact, as he passes me a bottle of water.

“
Drink up,” says Carmine.
“You must be thirsty.”

I eye them both suspiciously
before slowly twisting off the cap and inspecting the water. Carmine
laughs. “It's not poison. You're a smart girl Kitty. If I wanted
you dead, you never would have woken up.”

I take a few gulps before
spurting out a few words. “But you do want me dead. You've been
trying to kill me for days!”

“
OK, he says, you've got me
there. I
did
want you dead, but not now.”

Now I'm incredibly confused. He
tracks me for over a week, tries to kill me over and over again,
finally catches up with me and, what, suddenly has a change of heart?
Is he kidding. Is this some sort of sick joke! Whatever it is, I
don't trust him. The man's too ruthless to give me a second chance.
He's playing me for some reason, I know it.

“
So what am I doing here?” I
ask. I try to sound tentative and innocent, as if I really believe
his lies.

“
You're here to talk to me,
Kitty. You should never have run away. You forced my hand, but
now...now maybe we can sort this out without any further violence.”

His words make me boil inside,
but I keep my composure.
I should never have run away?!
I only
ran because that maniac in the corner killed my best friend, thinking
it was me, in cold blood. What was I going to do, hop on down to the
bar and talk it all out. Surely he can't believe what he's saying.
Now I'm even more convinced that he's using me in some way, biding
his time. Probably to snare Colt, lure him in. There's no other
reason to keep me alive, none at all.

I just nod my head, though, as
if agreeing with him. It's not like I have any power here anyway.
I've just become a pawn in this game, and I have no idea what the
rules are. So, there's no point in trying to fight my corner, trying
to argue. I'm not a defeatist person, but I know a hopeless situation
when I see one.

Carmine moves in closer, until
his legs are almost touching the end of the bed. “This whole
situation has upset me,” he says. “You running away and Mr Tanner
stopping me from finding you. That's all I wanted, Kitty. To find you
and bring you back so all this can be resolved. All of this violence
that's happened was never my intention.” He arches his head in
Rugger's direction. “He's like a crazed dog sometimes, has a one
track mind. I never authorized him to use deadly force Kitty. I
didn't want that.”

I look at Rugger, who continues
to stare at me, his expression never changing from that cold grimace.
There's something in Carmine's voice, though, that is so insincere,
so contrived. I can't tell whether he's trying to convince himself of
all this, maybe to help ease his conscience or something. But it all
just comes out so rehearsed, like he's thinking out every word, every
slight change in his facial expression. I'd prefer it if he just came
out and told me the God's honest truth – that I witnessed him
killing someone, and so I needed to be silenced. Why try to hide
behind this facade and lie to me like I'm blind to everything that's
happened?

I find it hard to stomach it,
but all I do is nod again in agreement. He smiles faintly, but he's
got to know I don't believe him. He's purely doing this to keep me
placated while he draws Colt in. That's all I can think of. That's
all this charade can be. And when he's used me as bait, when he's
caught Colt on the line, it's curtains for the both of us. And
Michael Carmine wins again.

“
So, Kitty, let's talk, shall
we? Tell me, what exactly did you see that night outside the bar?”

I'd rather not answer, not talk
at all. But I suppose I might as well be honest. Whatever I say won't
change anything. Like lying about seeing him shoot that man. Is he
going to let me go if I tell him that I saw nothing? He'd like me to
believe that he will, but I know he won't. He just wants to know
exactly what I saw. He's meticulous like that.

“
I saw you shoot a man dead,”
I say, more coldly than I mean to.

Carmine's face remains neutral.
This is no news to him. “And do you know who that man was?” He
arches his eyebrows up as he speaks, peering at me questioningly,
almost condescendingly. As if I'm stupid to think that shooting a man
is always a bad thing. That the world is that black and white.

I shake my head. “Does it
matter?” I ask.

“
Does it matter?” he
repeats. “Of course it matters. Some people deserve death Miss
Munroe. You must know that yourself?”

Hell yes some people deserve
death. I'm in a room with two of them right now. Maybe that's what he
means.

“
And am I one of them?” I
ask quickly, before I can bite my tongue. “Did I deserve to die
just for witnessing a murder?”

Carmine's voice hardens slightly
when he next speaks, a scowl appearing briefly on his face before
melting back into a forced smile. “I already told you, this entire
situation is a mess. But sometimes even innocent people, such as
yourself, get caught in the crossfire.”

I can see the facade slipping
now. That was pretty much an admission that he'd targeted me to be
killed from the start.

He checks himself, though,
before speaking again. “The man wasn't a good man, Kitty. He'd
evaded me for years until I caught up with him. What you saw was
retribution. It was karma.”

Yeah, retribution and karma I
get. There's a lot of that going around.

“
OK,” I say bluntly.

Frankly, I could care less who
the man was and why Carmine killed him. I doubt there are too many
innocent people in his world. So why should I care that he killed
some guy who deserved it. It's got nothing to do with me and,
frankly, hearing about it doesn't change the fact that I witnessed a
murder and, therefore, am collateral damage. One of those 'caught in
the crossfire' as he put it. I wish he'd just do it already and stop
toying with me. I'll turn round and face the wall, Rugger can pull
the trigger and finish me off quick. The look on his face suggests
he'd like nothing more. Quick, easy, and we can all go home.

Carmine continues to stare at me
for a few moments, as if thinking of letting loose some more home
truths. He might, but is distracted by a ringing in his jacket
pocket. He reaches in casually and pulls the phone to his eye line, a
slight frown appearing on his face as he looks at the caller.

“
Michael Carmine,” he says,
answering. Now his eyes change quickly to one of pleasure, of
victory. He glances at Rugger, who gives a knowing nod, and then
steps from the room. Rugger moves after him and shuts the door,
leaving me alone once again.

The room is pretty well
sound-proofed, but I can hear the muffled voice of Carmine beyond the
door. I rise from the bed and move forward, a curiosity building
within me. When I reach the door I gently press my ear against it and
Carmine's voice grows louder. Still muffled, but louder.

It's hard to decipher his words,
but his tone remains calm. It always is. I hear him speak and go
silent for a minute or two, then Rugger's voice joins his. I press
harder against the door, trying to interpret the clouded sounds on
the other side of the wood.

But nothing is forthcoming.
Nothing but a single word. A single name.

Colt.

Colt

I spend the first hour after
sunrise scoping out my meeting point with Carmine. The bridge where
we're planning to meet is surrounded by a smattering of park grounds,
but beyond are buildings, some tall, some short. Any one would make a
good location for a sniper.

I walk around the area, making
mental notes of where he might position his men. He said he'd come
alone, but I know that's not true. Whether he has guns on me or not,
he'll certainly have a few heavies prowling the area and keeping an
eye on us. So this is where I draw an advantage. I've been here since
before the sun came up and am privy to the movement of every person
in the area. It's still only 7AM and the morning rush for work is yet
to begin. So no relentless troupes of suits marching across the
bridge and down the street. No teeming roads filled with honking
taxis and impatient buses. No. It's quiet still, and no movement
escapes my eyes as I lie in wait on the roof of a building a few
hundred feet from the bridge.

It was only a few hours ago that
I made the call to Carmine. He told me he had Kitty and that he
wanted to talk. It was exactly what I expected because, well, what
else would he say? Even if Kitty was already dead he'd have told me
he had her to lure me in. To get me out into the open so that he
could finish the job once and for all.

There are a couple of men I see
who look suspicious. They pull up together in a car down the street
on the far side of the bridge and step out. It's the way they walk.
As if they're attempting to be casual. I can spot a fake like that a
mile off.

I pull out a pair of binoculars
and notice the distinct shape of a gun holster beneath each of their
jackets. Not particularly well concealed. They walk in opposite
directions, one towards a bench in the park, and the other towards a
smaller bridge further down the road. A few minutes later, he's
crossed over and is coming back towards my arranged meeting point. To
anyone else, perhaps they'd seem normal. To me, they stick out like a
sore thumb.

So that's two
, I think to
myself.

I continue to search the
surrounding buildings, checking for the glint of a sniper's sight in
the early morning sunlight. But there's nothing. The rooftops look
clear as the time ticks towards 7.30AM and, just at the prescribed
moment, Carmine turns up.

A black sedan pulls up and he
steps out, garbed in black from head to toe. He glances from left to
right as he steps towards the bridge, his movements as cool and
casual and precise as ever. I keep one eye on him and another on the
car, which remains parked in place, the driver waiting behind the
wheel. In the park, the two men who arrived before continue to loiter
and look incredibly unnatural.

The phone in my pocket vibrates
and I lift it to my ear. My eyes turn back to Carmine and I watch as
he speaks to me from down on the bridge.

“
Colt, I can't see you. Tell
me you're near.”

“
I thought you were coming
alone,” I say.

I see him shuffle slightly and
do a full 360. “Well, all except my driver, yes. Where are you?”

“
I'm close. Lose the two men
in the park first.”

I shut the phone off before he
can deny it or think up an excuse. Then he makes another call from a
separate phone and, within a few moments, I see the two men hastily
withdraw from the park and drive back off up the road. Then he lifts
his shoulders and raises his arms up to the heavens, twisting on the
spot as if to say, 'are you happy now?' I do one further check of the
buildings around me and the park below before making my way down from
the roof and towards the bridge.

I see him smile as I arrive.
It's not genuine, but nothing with him is. I maintain a neutral
expression and continue towards him. When I get within a few feet, I
continue, walking past him and then turning back around. He looks
confused but my intentions don't require an explanation. I simply did
it to ensure that I could keep his car in my eye line over his
shoulder as we speak. Whoever it is behind the wheel, I don't want my
back to them.

I let him speak first, and he
does as soon as I've turned back to look at him. “You look tired,”
is the first thing he says. I don't respond. I'm not here for small
talk.

“
I guess it's been a long week
for you Colt, and for that I'm sorry. None of this played out like it
was supposed to...”