The King's Deception (23 page)

He heard Malone’s voice, then Miss Mary’s, both discussing the drive in a metal box.

He smiled.

She was good.

He watched as the man with the gun told Malone to
toss it
, then used the moment when the man caught the drive to slip a book from the nearest shelf.

If he could catch the man off guard, Malone could act.

He gripped the book, cocked his arm, and said, “Hey, you bugger.”

M
ALONE HEARD
I
AN’S VOICE AND SAW A BOOK FLY THROUGH
the air. The man with the gun raised an arm to deflect it. Malone seized the moment to re-level his weapon, but before he could fire, his target lunged left.

“Get down,” he yelled.

Miss Mary dropped to the floor.

Malone fired into the books, toward where the man had fled, careful with his aim.

Where was Ian?

He found the end of the first row of shelves and tried to spot any movement through the books toward the store’s far side. He spotted a shadow two rows over. He darted down the aisle, between the rows and the front windows, using the solid wooden ends for cover.

“Stay down,” he yelled again to Miss Mary and Ian.

At least he had the front door covered.

Then he remembered.

The stairs.

He heard footfalls pounding upward and dashed down an aisle toward the doorway that led to the upper floors. He approached with caution, keeping to one side. A quick glance past the jamb and he saw the man on the landing.

Two rounds pinged off the concrete floor a foot away.

Behind him, Miss Mary had retreated to the counter, seeking cover with Ian. Knowing they were okay, he made his move, firing a shot to clear the way, then rushing up the stairs.

He found the landing and hugged the wall beside the doorway leading into the second floor. The room beyond was empty, but a window at the far side was open. He spotted a fire escape, rushed over and glanced down, spotting the man fleeing down an dark alley behind the building.

He heard shots.

From below.

In the bookstore.

And glass shattering.

Then more gunfire.

K
ATHLEEN STARED INTO
A
NY
O
LD
B
OOKS THROUGH ONE OF ITS
plate-glass windows, spotting an older woman and a young boy near the counter. To their right, amid the shelves, she saw a man coming to his feet. He bent down and lifted one pant leg to reveal a gun strapped to his leg. She reached beneath her coat for the weapon Mathews had given her and, at the same time, tried the knob to the front door.

Locked.

She kicked its wooden half, but the door held.

The man was now standing, gun in hand, advancing forward to the end of the shelves.

The woman and the boy were unaware.

She stepped back and braced her weapon.

The man saw her.

He hit the floor and she fired through the door’s glass half.

Shards crashed down.

People on the sidewalk scattered.

A woman screamed.

She searched for the man with the gun.

Gone.

Then he appeared, to her right, in another row of shelves, farther from the woman and the boy, but with a clear shot of her. She shifted left and fired again, through the opening her first round had made in the glass. The man was using the end of the shelving for cover, which seemed solid wood. His gun appeared and, as he fired, she dove to the sidewalk yelling, “Everyone get down.”

Most people had fled, some out into the street.

A few lay on the chilly pavement.

Three rounds came their way.

Others were approaching the store from behind her, seeing the commotion but unaware of what was happening.

A new surge of people crowded the sidewalk.

Somebody was going to get hurt.

Her attention returned to the store and she saw the man rushing out the door, into the crowd ahead of her.

She came to her feet and aimed.

But too many people were in the way.

M
ALONE DASHED BACK TO THE STAIRS AND RUSHED DOWN
, stopping at the bottom. “Ian. Miss Mary.”

He heard people outside and realized that the glass in the door was gone.

“We’re here,” Miss Mary called out.

He darted toward the counter and saw that both were okay.

A new face stood ten feet away. A woman. She was maybe mid-thirties, short auburn hair, thin, attractive, wearing a beige overcoat. Her right hand held a gun, its barrel pointed to the floor.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Kathleen Richards. SOCA agent. Here on official business.”

He’d worked with the Serious Organized Crime Agency while with Justice.

“Why are you here?”

“Actually, Mr. Malone, I was hoping you could answer that question.”

G
ARY WAS STILL STUNNED BY
B
LAKE
A
NTRIM’S REVELATIONS
. All of the doubt that had filled him ever since his mother told him the truth had been replaced with a strange anxiety. He hadn’t had a chance to prepare himself. Instead, reality just found him.

He and Antrim were back inside the office.

“Do you want to take the DNA test?” Antrim asked him.

“I think so.”

“It’ll tell us with certainty.”

Antrim produced a sealed plastic bag that contained two vials, a swab in each. He opened the bag and swirled one of the swabs inside his cheek, then sealed it into one of the vials.

“Open up.”

Gary stood while Antrim did the same to his mouth.

“We’ll have the results by tomorrow.”

“We may not be here then.”

Which brought to mind the next uncomfortable step. Telling his dad. Or Cotton Malone. Or whatever he should call him. He suddenly realized that finding his birth father called into question the man who’d raised him all of his life.

A man entered the office.

Antrim handed over the bag with the samples and provided an address where they were to be taken.

The man nodded and left.

“We haven’t heard from your dad yet,” Antrim said. “Hopefully, he’ll find Ian Dunne.”

“What is it Ian stole?”

“The guy who died in the Underground station, Farrow Curry, worked for me. He deciphered the coded book I showed you out there. Unfortunately, he took his work with him on a flash drive that we think Ian stole. We just want it back, that’s all.”

“What does the coded book say?”

Antrim shrugged. “I don’t know. On the day Curry died he called and said he made a breakthrough. He asked that one of my men meet him at Oxford Circus. My man arrived just as Curry fell onto the tracks. He spotted Ian Dunne, with the flash drive, but lost him in the crowd.”

“How did you meet my mom?”

He truly wanted to know.

“Like I said, she and your dad were living in Germany. So was I. She was unhappy. Your father had cheated on her. She was hurt. Angry. One day, there she was, in Wiesbaden, at the produce market. We started to talk. That led to more talking and then to other things.”

“Were you married?”

Antrim shook his head. “I’ve never been married.”

“But she was.”

“I know. It was wrong. But I was much younger then. So was she. We all do things when we’re young that we regret later. I’m sure she feels the same.”

“She said something close to that, too.”

“Gary, your mother was lonely and felt betrayed. I have no idea what happened between her and … your dad. All I did was make her feel better for a little while.”

“Doesn’t seem right.”

“I can see how you’d think that. But put yourself in your mother’s shoes. Our relationship was a way for her to deal with the hurt
she was feeling. Was it right? Of course not. But it happened and you’re the result. So how can it be all bad?”

“Why do you think she wouldn’t tell me about you?”

Antrim shrugged. “Probably because everything she’d say would only raise more questions. She surely doesn’t want you to think bad of her. Unfortunately, she didn’t take into account your—or my—feelings.”

No, she hadn’t.

“I don’t think she’d like it that you and I met.”

“Probably not. She made that clear to me when we spoke at her office. She never wanted us to meet. Told me to get out and not come back.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

“Neither do I.”

A
NTRIM TOLD HIMSELF TO CHOOSE EVERY WORD WITH CAUTION
. This was the moment when he would either win the boy over or scare him away. There was no doubt that Gary believed him to be his birth father. Having their DNA matched was a good thing for them both, but Pam had already made clear the results of that test. What he needed was for this fifteen-year-old to start questioning who
was
his father. The man who raised him? Or the man who provided his genes? It wasn’t Antrim’s fault that he hadn’t been a part of the boy’s life, and it seemed that Gary realized that, too.

His mother was to blame.

But he didn’t want him questioning her just yet.

That would come later.