Split Second (40 page)

K
ING CROUCHED IN
the dark, frantically searching for something. Then the lights came back on, although at a lower level of brightness. He sensed something behind him and whirled. Sidney Morse was standing there pointing his gun.

“I knew she didn’t have the guts for it,” said Morse, flicking his pistol in Kate’s direction where the young woman still lay on the floor. “Not like your
father
!” He swept his hand around the room. “I gave you a grand stage on which to perform, Kate. I scripted you perfectly; this was the great finale. Your mother would have given a dazzling performance. You failed miserably.”

King helped Kate up and then stood between her and Morse.

“A human shield again, Sean, eh,” said Morse, smiling. “It seems to be your miserable lot in life.”

“Bruno got away, and so help me I’ll kill you for shooting Michelle.”

Morse eyed him confidently. “Bruno will never leave the Fairmount alive. As for Maxwell, her luck ran out. At least she went down in the line of fire. What more could a Secret Service agent ask for?”

He turned his attention to Kate. “Now, you asked a question. Why all this now? I’ll tell you. This is no more about John Bruno than it was about Clyde Ritter.” He pointed his gun at Kate. “Eight years ago it was about your father. Today it’s all about you, dear, sweet Kate.”

Her chest heaving and tears streaming down her face, she said, “Me?”

Morse laughed. “You really are a fool, just like your father.” He eyed King. “You said that Regina rejected me because she didn’t love me, she didn’t want the magic. That was only partially true. I believe that she did love me, but she couldn’t go back onstage after Arnold died, she couldn’t become my star once more, because someone else needed her more.” He looked back at Kate. “You. Your mother couldn’t leave
you
. You needed her, she told me. You were her life. How incredibly wrong she was. What was a single, pathetic teenager to a legendary career on Broadway, a life with
me
?”

“That’s because a man like you can’t understand real love,” said King. “And how can you blame Kate for that? She knew nothing about it.”

“I can blame her for any reason I want!” Morse screamed. “And on top of that, when Regina wanted to marry this Jorst idiot, Kate was all for it. Oh, yes, I had my spies. She wanted a man just like her father. That alone is enough to justify her death. But there’s more. I’ve followed your career, Kate. And you grew up just like your miserable father with all your pathetic protesting, marching and being such a noble do-gooder. It was déjà vu. I had killed Arnold, but there he was again: come back to life like the Hydra.” Morse’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the young woman. He said more calmly, “Your father ruined my life by keeping the woman I needed, the woman I
deserved,
away from me. And then you took up the banner after he died. But for you, Regina would have been mine.”

“I can’t believe my mother ever would have loved someone like you,” Kate said defiantly. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”

“Well, I’m quite an actor myself, dear Kate. And you were so gullible. When Bruno announced his candidacy, I immediately thought of you. What a stroke of good fortune. Here was the very man who’d prosecuted your father for a crime I’d set him up for, running for the same office as the man your father had
gunned down. It was perfect. The idea for the entire reenactment came to me instantly. And so I came to you, gave you the whole sad story about your poor father, and you bought every syllable of it.”

Kate started toward him but King held her back.

She cried out, “You told me you were their friend. That you helped my father when he was arrested for murder and that John Bruno had destroyed his career.” She looked at King. “He brought me all these news clippings. He said he knew my parents and helped them, long before I was born. They never mentioned him to me, though. But he said he was at the Fairmount that day and that you didn’t have to shoot my father; that he was putting his gun down when you fired. He said you were really a murderer.” She looked back at Morse. “It was all lies.”

Morse shook his head. “Of course, it was. It was part of the play.”

“It’s a dangerous thing to believe a madman, Kate,” said King.

“Not a madman, Agent King. A visionary. But I’ll grant you, there’s a fine line between the two. And now,” said Morse with a dramatic sweep of his hand, “comes the third and final act. The tragic death of Kate Ramsey as, aided and abetted by the poor, demented former Secret Service agent Bob Scott, she avenges her beloved father, taking with her John Bruno and Sean King—with, of course, all supporting evidence being found later courtesy of me. When you think about it, the symmetry really is breathtaking: father and daughter, the assassins of two presidential candidates perishing on the exact same spot. It’s really one of the best pieces I’ve ever written.”

“And you really are insane,” said King.

“The mediocre always throw stones at the brilliant,” Morse said smugly. “And now the last member of the Ramsey family—the sweet, loving Ramsey family—will finally disappear from this earth. I’m sure you’ll die beautifully, Kate. And then I can go on with my life. My artistic power has been completely restored now. Another new identity and Europe beckons.
The possibilities are limitless, even without your
mother
.” He pointed his pistol at Kate.

King raised his gun too. “Actually, Sid, I’ve pared down your options to one.”

“It only fires blanks,” said Morse. “You found that out a few minutes ago.”

“Which is why I knocked Kate’s gun out of her hand and picked it up when the lights went out.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I? My gun’s on the floor. But if you try and check, I’ll shoot you. Sort of like the trick you used with the elevator. And the two guns look exactly the same anyway. It’ll be impossible to tell. But go on and take a peek. Then when my bullet slams into your head, you’ll know you were wrong. You screwed up, Sid. On a set you never lose track of the gun props. A
brilliant
director like you should know that.”

Morse suddenly didn’t look as confident.

King pressed his advantage. “What’s the matter, Sid? A little nervous? It doesn’t take courage to shoot an unarmed man or drown old ladies in bathtubs. But now we can see how brave you really are because you’re not safely behind the scenes anymore. You’re the star of the show, front and center, and your audience is waiting.”

“You’re a lousy actor. Your bravado is hardly convincing,” replied Morse, but there was tension in his voice.

“You’re right, I’m no actor, but I don’t have to be, because this isn’t make-believe. The bullets are real, and at least one of us is going to die, and we won’t be getting back up for an encore. I tell you what, duels make for great theater, so let’s have one, Sid. Just you and me.” King put his finger on the trigger. “On the count of three.”

His gaze bored into Morse, who was now pale, his breathing accelerated.

“Come on now, don’t freak out on me. I’m just an ex–Secret Service agent. Sure, I’ve gunned down guys who were shooting
at me, but how good can I really be? Like you said, I can’t possibly be in your league.” King paused and then started to count. “One…”

Morse’s hand started to tremble and he took a step back.

King squeezed the pistol grip tightly. “I haven’t fired a gun in eight years. You remember the last time I did, right? I’m so rusty. In this light even at this close range, I can probably only hit your torso. But it’ll still kill you.”

Morse’s breathing accelerated even more and he took another step back.

“Two.” King’s gaze never left Morse’s face. “Make sure you hit your marks, Sid, and don’t forget to take a bow as you’re falling to the floor with a big hole in your chest. Don’t worry, though, death will be instantaneous.”

As King started to count “Three,” Morse screamed. The lights went out, and King ducked down as the shot sailed over his head. He breathed a sigh of relief. His ruse had worked.

A minute later the woman who’d shot Michelle moved through the darkness past mounted figures on her way toward King. As soon as the lights had gone out, Tasha slipped on a pair of night-vision goggles and could see things clearly, whereas King could see nothing. She passed the fallen Michelle, then ducked in between two of the wooden frames. King had retreated with Kate to a corner, but from here Tasha had a clean shot. The orders she had just been given were clear. Regardless of what else happened, Sean King and Kate Ramsey had to die.

Tasha took aim, smiling as she did so. Killing people, that’s what she did. And now she was about to add two more to her hit list.

The slight noise behind her caused her to whirl around. The beam of light from the flashlight hit her right in the eyes, blinding her, and a far harder object followed. As the bullet slammed into Tasha’s head, her homicidal career came to an abrupt end.

Michelle rose on shaky legs. She rubbed her chest where the
bullet had ripped into the body armor she’d taken off Simmons. The impact had actually knocked her out. It stung like hell but she was alive. Luckily she’d come to just in time.

Using her flashlight, she found King and Kate. “Sorry, I had a little problem, or I would’ve been backing you up sooner. Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Did you see Sidney Morse?”

“Sidney, he’s behind this?” King nodded. She looked puzzled. “I thought it was Peter Morse.”

“I just recently figured it all out myself. Do you have a knife?”

She handed him one. “I pulled it off Simmons along with this flashlight. What are you going to do?”

“Just wait for me outside the room. And take Kate with you.”

Michelle and Kate headed to the door. King made his way over to the elevator where Joan was still strung up. He checked her pulse. She was alive. He cut her down, lifted her over his shoulder and met Michelle and Kate outside.

Suddenly he put Joan down, leaned over and sucked in long breaths. The effect of his risky face-off with Morse was now hitting him.

“What’s the matter?” said Michelle.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he snapped. “That’s what.”

Kate spoke up. “You were bluffing about the gun, weren’t you? It wasn’t mine. You just had blanks.”

“I was bluffing about the gun, yes,” he said between gritted teeth.

Michelle put a hand on his back. “You’ll be okay.”

“I’m too old for this macho
crap
.” He took a few last deep breaths and straightened up. “Do you smell smoke?” he asked.

They ran toward the exit and were met by a horrified-looking Bruno. He pointed down the hall where the flames were already impenetrable. Another wall of flames blocked the passageway to the upper floors.

Michelle spotted a black cable on the floor. She pointed it out to King.

“Is that what I think it is?”

He examined it. When he looked up, his face was pale. “He’s wired the building with explosives.” He glanced around. “Okay, we can’t go out and we can’t go up.” He eyed the other way down the hall. “And if I remember correctly, that goes to the basement. And there’s no exit from there.”

“Wait a minute,” said Michelle. “We
can
get out through the basement.”

T
HEY REACHED THE LOWER LEVEL
as smoke from the growing inferno followed them. The lights were on down here, so they could see reasonably well.

“Okay, now what?” said King as he looked at the long hallway that was blocked by debris about midway down. “I told you there were no exits down here. We checked that out when Ritter was here.”

“No, over here,” said Michelle. She opened the door on the large dumbwaiter. “We’ll take this up to the third floor.”

“The third floor!” exclaimed Bruno angrily. “And then what, we jump? That’s brilliant, Agent Maxwell, just brilliant!”

Hands on hips, Michelle stood right in front of Bruno. “This time you’re going to do exactly what I tell you, so just shut up and get in…
sir
.” She pushed Bruno into the dumbwaiter and then turned to Kate.

King stepped forward. “You go up with Bruno, then send it back down. I’ll follow with Joan and Kate.”

Michelle nodded, then handed him her pistol. “Real bullets. Just watch yourself.”

She climbed into the dumbwaiter, and she and Bruno started pulling on the ropes, propelling themselves upward.

As King tried to revive Joan, Kate slumped to the floor.

“You can just leave me. I don’t want to live,” she said.

He knelt beside her. “Morse played with your head and your heart, and that’s a hard combo to beat. Still, with all that, you couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I feel like such a fool. I just want to die.”

“No, you don’t. You have a long life ahead of you.”

“Right. For what, prison?”

“What exactly have you done wrong? You haven’t killed anybody. As far as I know, Morse kidnapped you too and held you here.”

She looked at him. “Why are you doing this for me?”

He hesitated, then said, “Because I did take your father away from you. I was only doing my job, but when you take someone else’s life, doing your job doesn’t seem a good enough explanation.” He paused. “And you did try to help us. You knew the story you told us about the 1974 war protest wouldn’t wash, didn’t you? You knew you were way in over your head in something really bad. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

They heard the dumbwaiter coming back down.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” said King.

As he helped her up, Kate’s scream made him whip around.

Coming at them out of the smoke was Sidney Morse. He swung his metal pole at King; however, King threw himself to the floor, and Morse missed.

King pulled Michelle’s gun and pointed it at Morse.

“No more bluffs,” Morse said with a sneer.

“No more bluffs,” answered King.

The bullet hit Morse in the chest. Looking astonished, Morse dropped to his knees and let the pole fall from his hands. He glanced down, touched the blood streaming out of the wound, then stared dully back up at King.

King rose slowly, pointing his gun squarely at the man’s heart. “The first shot was for me. This one’s for Arnold Ramsey.” King fired and Morse fell backward, dead.

“And you really should have had more respect for the Secret Service,” said King quietly as he stood over the body.

When King saw the blood on the end of the metal pole, he froze for an instant, then turned and stared in disbelief. Kate lay against the wall, the side of her head crushed in. Morse had
missed him and hit her. The young woman’s lifeless eyes stared at him. Morse had killed both the mother and the daughter and orchestrated the death of the father. An entire family wiped out. King knelt down and gently closed her eyes.

He could hear Michelle screaming for him through the dumbwaiter shaft.

He looked at the dead woman for a long moment. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I’m so damn sorry.”

King picked up Joan and placed her in the dumbwaiter, then got inside and pulled the rope with all his strength.

Inside a room off the basement corridor, the detonation timer that Morse had engaged before his murderous attack clicked to thirty seconds and counting.

On the third floor King lifted Joan out of the dumbwaiter and explained to Michelle what had happened with Kate and Morse.

“We’re wasting time,” said Bruno, who obviously couldn’t have cared less about the young woman’s death. “How do we get out of here?”

“This way,” said Michelle as she ran down the hall. They reached the end, and she pointed to the garbage chute attached to the window opening. “There’s a Dumpster at the end of the chute.”

“I’m not jumping into a garbage bin,” said Bruno indignantly.

Michelle said, “Yes, you are.”

Bruno seemed about to explode in anger before he noted the deadly serious look in her eyes. He climbed into the chute and with a shove from Michelle rocketed down, screaming all the way.

“You’re next, Michelle,” said King.

She climbed into the chute and disappeared.

As King, carrying Joan, climbed into the chute, the detonation timer clicked to five seconds.

The Fairmount Hotel started to implode right as King and Joan landed in the Dumpster. The force of the hotel’s disintegration knocked the Dumpster over, which was probably a good
thing because the metal bottom shielded them from the brunt of the concussive force, smoke and debris. In fact, it pushed the heavy container a good ten feet across the pavement where it came to a stop a few feet from the electrified fence.

After the dust cleared, they climbed out and looked at the pile of rubble that used to be the Fairmount Hotel. Gone were the ghosts of Arnold Ramsey and Clyde Ritter, as well as the specter of guilt that had haunted King all these years.

King glanced over as Joan groaned, then slowly sat up and looked around, her eyes finally focusing. She saw John Bruno and snapped back. She swung around and spotted King, her expression one of complete astonishment.

He shrugged and said, “Better start taking catamaran lessons.”

He looked over at Michelle. She smiled weakly and said, “It’s over, Sean.”

He gazed at the rubble once more and said, “Yeah, maybe it finally is.”