Ice Run (24 page)

Handcuffs. I squinted at the bright light and looked up at my hands. I was cuffed to one of the iron railings at the head of the bed.

“What’s happening?” I said. “Natalie, where are you?”

There was movement beside the bed. I shook my head and blinked.

“Natalie!”

“I’m right here,” she said.

Everything came into focus. She was standing in the center of the room, putting her clothes on.

“What the hell’s going on?” I said. “Why did you handcuff me to the bed?”

“I’m sorry.”

I pulled at the cuffs. The iron rail was as strong as a prison gate.

“I broke my promise,” she said. “I told you I’d never lie to you.”

“Natalie, listen to me. Just let me go, okay? We can talk about this.”

“You know, it’s funny,” she said. “I think I understand my mother a little better now.”

“Please, Natalie. Let me go.”

“A lie really does have a lot of power, doesn’t it? It makes everything easy.”

“No. Come on.”

“I had to wait until she was dead to see that.”

“For God’s sake, Natalie …”

She pulled her sweater on over her head.

“He sent someone to kill her, Alex. He’ll kill you, too, in a second. You know that. We can’t run away. He’ll find us and kill both of us.”

I yanked hard on the cuffs. The metal bit into my skin.

“Natalie …”

“I’m sorry, Alex. I’m glad we were together. One last time. I wasn’t lying about that.”

She took her service automatic from her bag, checked it, then put it in her coat.

“Do not do this,” I said. “Please, for the love of God …”

“You’d do the same thing, Alex.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t.”

“If you were me,” she said, reaching into the bag again, “yes, you would. We’re the same, Alex. You understand me perfectly.”

“No. Natalie. Please.”

She brought out another gun. It was a revolver.

“Do you know what this is?”

“Natalie …”

“It’s my grandfather’s favorite gun. It’s an old Webley Bulldog, from World War I.”

“Please, you can’t do this.”

“My grandfather’s gun. It was locked away in the basement. But don’t worry. I know how to clean an old gun.”

She took one step closer to me. I tried to grab her.

“I have to go now,” she said.

She stood there for a moment, just out of reach. She looked at me one last time.

“I love you, Alex McKnight.”

Then she was gone.

I pulled at the cuffs until my wrists were bleeding. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bend the metal bed frame. There was only one thing left to do.

I started yelling.

“Help! Help! Vinnie! Can you hear me? Vinnie!”

I stopped to catch my breath, then started again.

“Anybody! Help! Get me out of here! Help!”

I yelled as loud as I could until my throat was raw. I kicked at the wall again and again, making as much noise as I could. There was no way anybody could sleep through it, and yet when I stopped, everything was silent again.

“Vinnie! Where the hell are you? Vinnie!”

I collapsed in the bed, breathing hard.

God damn it, I thought. I am such an idiot. She’s going to go out there and get herself killed because I’m the biggest idiot who ever lived. Just as I was about to start the noise again, I heard a knock on the door.

“Hello in there!” someone said.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Mrs. Larusso, from the front desk. Are you okay in there?”

“Mrs. Larusso, thank God. You’ve got to get me out of here!”

There was a pause.

“Are you locked in, sir?”

“I’m handcuffed to the bed! You have to help me!”

Another pause.

“You’re handcuffed to the bed, sir?”

“Please! Just come in!”

I heard her fumble through her keys for a moment. The door finally opened. She poked her head into the room. Then she screamed.

“You’re naked, sir!”

“Please, ma’am. Where’s Vinnie?”

She stayed just behind the door. “The gentleman who was with you?”

“Yes! Please go get him.”

“I put him in the room next to you, sir.”

“Where is he?” There was no way he wouldn’t have heard me, not if he was right next door.

“I don’t know, sir. Can you tell me why you’re handcuffed to the bed?”

“I don’t have time. Please. Do you have a hacksaw?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do here, sir. That woman you were staying with, Miss Reynaud, she’s with the police, isn’t she?”

“Ma’am, please!”

“I thought I saw a badge in her purse, when she paid me for the room.”

Oh God. Think, man. Think.

“Okay,” I said. “Look, I’m a little embarrassed. That badge wasn’t

real. We were playing a game here, and it got a little carried away. Can you please help me now?”

“Where is Ms. Reynaud?”

“She must be down at the bar, having a drink. Please, ma’am.”

“The bar is closed.”

“She’s with Vinnie,” I said. “They went out for a walk. It’s all part of the joke, see? But I really, really have to use the bathroom right now, ma’am. I don’t want to ruin your nice bed. Please, please, go get a hacksaw.”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” she said. “I don’t like any of this, I have to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Please, I can’t wait any longer.”

“I’ll go get the saw and let you out. But if you’ve done anything to that bed frame …”

“Hurry!”

I shifted around my legs to cover myself with the blanket as well as I could while I waited for Mrs. Larusso to find her hacksaw. Minutes passed. Hours. Days. At long last, I heard her coming down the hallway again.

“Are you covered up now, sir?”

“Yes! Please come in and cut this off.”

She peered around the door. “You know, I was sleeping,” she said. “I really don’t appreciate this.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, ma’am. Please hurry.”

“I’m not sure how to do this. Where do I cut?”

“Here,” I said. “Right on this chain, between the cuffs.” I pushed one hand through as far as I could, and pulled with the other.

“My husband is better at this kind of thing,” she said. “He’s on the mainland tonight. He missed the last plane.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” I said. “Just cut right there.” I had to try very hard not to yell at her. That wouldn’t help her move any faster.

“Okay, let me try,” she said. She took one slow drag of the hacksaw across the chain, making a microscopic notch in the metal.

“Give it a little speed,” I said. “It’s all in the motion.”

She tried to saw faster.

“That’s it,” I said. “Back and forth, back and forth.”

She got into the rhythm. Then she stopped.

“Look at this mess,” she said. “We’re getting metal dust all over the sheet.”

“I’ll clean it up, I swear. Please hurry.”

“I don’t know what kind of game you were playing,” she said as she started again. “Handcuffing somebody to a bed. That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“Never again,” I said. “I promise. That’s it. Keep going, just like that.”

“I think we’re almost there.”

“Ma’am, let me ask you again. This is very important. Did you see either of my friends leaving?”

“No,” she said. “I told you, I was in bed. I have a room right behind the front desk.”

“Okay, I understand.”

With one last stroke of the saw, the chain broke open. The handcuffs were still on my wrists, of course, but now my arms were free to move again. She screamed when I jumped out of the bed, scrambling for my clothes.

“Let me leave first, for Heaven’s sake!”

“Thanks for your help, ma’am.” I threw on my pants and my shirt, laced my boots on over my bare feet. I was just about to step into the big snowmobile suit, said the hell with that thing. Grabbing the gun out of the pocket, I ran out into the hallway and down the stairs.

When I got outside, the cold air filled my lungs. The snow had let up, lonely flakes drifting slowly from the sky. There was no wind. Everything was quiet. I ran down the street to the restaurant. It was dark. I had left my snowmobile in front. But now it was gone. Vinnie’s was gone, too.

Son of a bitch, I thought. They couldn’t have gone together. Maybe Natalie took one of the sleds, then Vinnie followed her? Why the hell didn’t he come get me? Was he afraid he’d lose her? At that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was down here at the bottom of the hill, and Natalie was up at the house.

I started running. I still had the gun in my hand, so I tucked it into my pants. The handcuffs were rubbing my wrists raw. Within a quarter mile, I was gasping for air. My boots started to slip. Another quarter mile and I was in real pain. I slid on a patch of ice and fell face-first into the snow.

Get up, I said to myself. You goddamned broken-down worthless piece of shit. Get up and help her. I pushed myself up, the snow hanging from my eyebrows. I wasn’t cold. I couldn’t even feel it.

I got back on my feet and ran. I was almost up the hill, the Grand Hotel looming above me. I knew that was the halfway point. The ground would be level once I got there. Everything would be easier. I pushed myself harder and harder. I couldn’t breathe anymore, but I kept running.

I got closer and closer to the hotel. Keep going, Alex. Keep going. Every second counts. I had two hundred yards to go now. Then a hundred. Then fifty.

When I got to the top of the hill, I had to stop for a moment. My lungs were on fire. I stood there with my hands on my knees, trying to breathe.

Almost there, I thought. Almost there.

I set off again, along the front of the hotel. It rose above me like a huge black cliff. All the happy summer people long gone. The men and women all dressed up, playing croquet on the big lawn. The children in the pool. The horses. There was nobody here on this dark road except me.

I tried to pick up the pace again. I ran up the street, past the million-dollar Victorians until I could finally see the woods ahead of me. I couldn’t see the Grants’ house yet.

Natalie’s there, I thought. She has to be. And Vinnie?

Damn, he doesn’t even know where the house is. He’s never been here before. Unless he followed her. I hope to God he followed her.

I made myself slow down as I came to the edge of the woods. I had to catch my breath. You can’t sneak up on somebody when you’re wheezing like a goddamned asthmatic.

I left the road before it went into the trees. I’ll take a shortcut, I thought. I’ll come at it from the back, in case somebody’s watching.

The snow was deep. It was hard work, making my way through it. By the time I got to the first house, my pants were soaked. I leaned against the house, catching my breath again. There’s this house, I thought, then two more. The Grants’ house is the fourth.

Another thought hit me with a sudden jolt. What if nobody’s there? What if everything’s going down somewhere else on the island? Somewhere I don’t even know about?

God damn it, no. It has to be here. This is the only place.

I left the first house, cutting my way through the snow, going from tree to tree. I still couldn’t see the Grants’ house yet.

Please be there, I thought. Please be there.

I stopped again at the second house. For a moment, I thought I heard something ahead. It was hard to tell with my own heart pounding in my ears.

I kept going. One tree to the next tree to the next. Finally, I saw a light.

It was coming from the house. Someone was there.

I stopped and listened.

Nothing.

I took the gun out of my pants. I moved slowly now, stopping behind each tree. I could see the house clearly now. There was at least one light on, in a room on the ground floor. But none of the outside lights were on.

I thought back to when I had been there before. We talked to Chris there, in the main room, on this side of the house. Did we leave a light on? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure.

One way to find out, I thought. I’ve got to get to the house so I can look inside.

I stayed down as low as I could. The snow helped hide me. It muffled any noise, too. For once in my life, I was thankful for two and a half feet of snow on the ground.

As I passed the second house, I thought I could make out a break in the snow. It looked like a long line, leading from the Grants’ house, right toward me. A trail maybe. Someone had come this way, not that long ago.

I stopped and listened. Then I moved around a great, fat tree and saw the path in the snow right there in front of me.

What the hell? It just stopped. Somebody had come through here, then what? Turned around?

Wait a minute, what was this? I thought I saw something in the snow. Something dark. As I moved toward it, I felt myself tripping. As I reached down to catch my balance, I put my hand on it.

Fabric. It was a coat.

Dear God, I thought. I felt the body. I moved up to the head and pushed the snow away. I couldn’t see who it was.

Please, no. Don’t let it be.

I touched the face. It was as cold and hard as stone. A man’s face. The head was tilted at an impossible angle, the neck cut wide open.

He’s been dead for a while, I thought. He’s frozen solid. I bent down to look closely at the man’s face.

It was Marty Grant.

You poor bastard, I thought. This is what happened to you. You called DeMarco and this is what happened.

I was about to get up when somebody spoke.

“Don’t move.”

I turned to see who it was.

“I said don’t move. If you move again, I’ll put a bullet right through your left eye.”

A man was standing there. He had a gun pointed right at my face. He was dressed in white winter camouflage.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s better. Now we’re going to go inside. I think there’s someone in there who’d like to meet you.”

The first thing I thought of was my gun. Then I noticed he was holding it. I must have dropped it when I went down on my hands and knees to look at the body.

“Right this way,” he said. “Please don’t try anything stupid.” He spoke with a French-Canadian accent. He was definitely not the man I saw getting off the plane with DeMarco.

He waved me in front of him. I started walking.

“What’s with the outfit?” I said. “You think you’re a commando or something?”

“Shut up and keep moving.”

“You specialize in Arctic warfare, right? What’s your unit called again? The JTF2?”

“I told you to shut up.”

“I think I’ve got it now,” I said. “You’re not a real soldier at all. You’re one of those losers who likes to dress up and pretend.”

He didn’t say anything. If I’d knocked him even slightly off balance, that was one small thing in my favor.

“You must have been the first man here,” I said. “DeMarco sent you to kill Marty Grant. He was a big man, wasn’t he? It’s a good thing you had a gun.”

As long as I had him out here alone, I had a chance. If he got me into that house, I was probably a goner.

“You should really shut up now,” he said. “Or I’ll show you exactly how I killed him.”

“I’m not nearly as big,” I said. “Put the guns down and we’ll see how tough you are.”

Come on, I thought. Try something right here. Take a swing at me.

He didn’t. He kept walking behind me. He led me to the front door of the house and told me to open it. I did. He stepped in behind me. The bright lights hit my eyes.

“Who do we have here?” a man said.

As my eyes focused, I saw Natalie sitting at a table. She still had her coat on. Across from her was the man who had spoken. It was Albert DeMarco. Now that I could see him up close, it was hard to believe he was in his seventies. A well-preserved sixty-year-old, maybe. Another man stood directly behind Natalie. This was the big man I had seen getting off the airplane.

There were two guns on the table in front of DeMarco, Natalie’s automatic and her grandfather’s Webley Bulldog.

“Have a seat,” he said. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

I looked at Natalie. When our eyes met, I could see her lips trembling. She was trying very hard to keep her composure. She opened her mouth to say something. She couldn’t do it. She shook her head.

As I sat down next to her, I gave the man behind her a better look. Six foot five, maybe 240 pounds. He looked strong. His high cheekbones and close-cropped hair made him look like a German boxer.

I turned and looked back at the man in the white camouflage. He was barely five foot six in his army boots. Not even 150 pounds. He had long black hair tied in a ponytail. Now that I could see his face, he looked at least half crazy.

“I was sure Natalie would bring along some help,” DeMarco said. “I did, too, of course. I’d like you to meet my troubleshooters.”

“Please tell me you really don’t call these guys your troubleshooters.”

He smiled at me. The skin around his eyes didn’t move. It was all plastic surgery, I thought. The hair is probably fake, too.

“I think you should know,” I said. “Speaking of men, I’ve got seven others with me. The whole place is surrounded.”

He laughed. “Natalie, is this the best man you could find? I hope you’re not paying him too much.”

The man in white wasn’t laughing at my little bluff. He looked back at the door. Then he went out.

One man out of the room, I thought. One less gun.

And somewhere out there, I hope to God, Vinnie is watching.

“I didn’t hire Alex,” Natalie said.

He smiled again and looked at me. “Now I understand,” he said. “You always did have a thing for older men.”

I wanted to hit him so badly. Just one shot. But no, that was the wrong thing to think about. I had to stay cool, no matter what.

“Let Alex go,” she said. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“Did he bring the videotape with him?”

“No,” she said.

“Where is it?”

“In a safe place. I’ll tell you if you let Alex go.”

“Stop it,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Come on, Vinnie. Where are you?

“Let me ask you something,” he said. He picked one of her guns off the table. “You see, this gun I understand. This is your regular police-issue Sig Sauer P229.”

He looked at it carefully, like a man at a gun shop. Then he put it down. It was twelve inches away from him. A good four feet away from me.

No, don’t let him see you looking at those guns, I thought. If he notices that, he might take them off the table.

“But this other gun …”

He picked up the old Bulldog and weighed it in his hand.

“This gun is interesting. Note the distinctive shape of the barrel. And only five rounds. Very unusual.”

He looked down the sight line. The gun was pointed at my chest.

“It does have a good feel to it,” he said. “I’ll say that much. But why two guns? It doesn’t make any sense to me. Do you have any theories, sir?”

“A little extra firepower,” I said. “She didn’t know how many men you’d have on your payroll.”

I sneaked a peek at the man standing behind Natalie. He looked down at me with cold eyes. No emotion at all. His huge hands were hanging at his sides, eighteen inches from Natalie’s neck.

“My guess,” DeMarco said, “is that this gun right here has some special significance.”

Natalie was watching him handle the gun.

Look at me, I thought. Please, Natalie.

“It’s an old gun,” DeMarco said.

Look at me, Natalie.

“A Webley Bulldog. It’s a classic.”

Finally, she did. I gave her a quick smile. I raised one eyebrow. He’s out there, I said in my mind. Read my thoughts, Natalie. He’s out there. We have to be ready.

“I’m thinking this gun has to be at least seventy years old,” De-Marco said. “Maybe more. Hell, this gun is probably older than I am.”

I tried to put myself in Vinnie’s place. I’m outside, I see one man coming out. He’s the perimeter. Take him out if I can? Look in the window? Which would I do first? What do I do if I see Alex and Natalie in the room with these two men?

“In fact,” DeMarco said, “I’ll bet you that this gun belonged to Luc Reynaud. Am I right?”

A better question, what would Vinnie do if he looked in the window and saw the two guns lying on the table? Would he figure those were our only chance?

“If I had to guess,” DeMarco said, “I’d say that this was Luc Reynaud’s favorite gun, the gun he took with him everywhere. You had to watch out for yourself back then. Life on the border could get pretty dangerous.”

I have to get light on my feet, I thought. I have to be ready to react in a split second.

“You know what else? I think there’s a very good chance that this gun right here is the very same gun Luc Reynaud used to kill my father. Wouldn’t that be something?”

He put the gun on the table and spun it.

“I wonder if my father even saw it coming,” he said. “I wonder if Luc Reynaud looked him in the eye before he killed him and took all the money. Or if he just shot him in the back.”

The gun kept spinning.

“My grandfather didn’t do that,” Natalie said.

“Your grandfather was the only man who came back alive,” De-Marco said. “Except for the gangsters, of course.”

“They must have killed him,” Natalie said. “They killed him because he tried to do something stupid. Or because he was an ugly, evil snake, just like you.”

DeMarco smiled again. The gun spun slower and slower.

“Whatever I am,” he said, “your grandfather made me.”

“That’s a lie,” she said.

“Oh yes, Natalie. You know it’s true. It all goes back to Luc Reynaud.”

Okay, I thought. This is good. Everybody is looking at the spinning gun. The other gun, Natalie’s automatic, that’s closer to me. That’s the gun I have to go for.

The Bulldog came to a slow stop. The barrel was pointing right at DeMarco’s stomach.

“Let’s try that again,” he said. “This time for real. Did you ever play Spin the Bottle when you were a kid? Now we’re going to play Spin the Gun That Killed My Father in Cold Blood. Unless you’d care to tell me where that videotape is…”

Come on, Vinnie. Now would be a perfect time.

“Natalie? Mr. McKnight? Do you have anything to say?”

Right now, Vinnie. You have to be out there. You have to help us.

“All right, then,” DeMarco said. “Let’s see who gets it first.”

He spun the Bulldog.

This is it, Vinnie. With or without you, I’ve got to make my move.

Spinning.

DeMarco is focused on it. When I make my move, he’ll reach for that gun first. He has to.

Spinning.

No external safety on the Sig Sauer. Double-action trigger. Just grab it and fire.

Spinning.

I can do this. I am fast. I am lightning.

Spinning. It’s starting to slow down.

You’re an old man, DeMarco. No matter how many times you’ve had your face lifted, you still have old-man reflexes.

Spinning slower. Slower.

Everyone watching it spin.

Then a sound. Outside. A muffled shout.

DeMarco looking to his right, toward the door.

I explode. Over the table. DeMarco’s face, showing surprise. His right hand reaching out, first for the Bulldog, then the automatic, his fingers touching it.

But it’s mine. I take it from him in that hundredth of a second. I roll onto my back. I fire the gun. Once. Twice. Right over Natalie’s head. I hit the big man in the chest. He has no idea what has just happened to him. He’s looking down at his chest like somebody has just played a cruel joke on him.

DeMarco’s hands on my face now, digging at my eyes. I bring my arms back, two fists, two handcuffs still on the wrists, one gun. I hit him in the nose and feel it give. As I sit up, he’s already going down. The blood is already coming out.

“Natalie, you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Go!”

“Here,” I said. I slid the Bulldog to her. The man behind her had a hand on her shoulder. He was bending over like he had just dropped something. As he pulled his hand off her body, he folded up and collapsed.

I rolled off the table and ran to the door. As I put my shoulder into it and pushed it open, I ran right into Vinnie. He had a gun in his hand.

“Alex,” he said. “Are you all right? Where’s Natalie?”

“Inside,” I said. “Where’s the other man?”

I saw him before Vinnie could answer. He was on his hands and knees in the snow, almost blending in with his white camouflage.

“How’d you get his gun?” I said.

“It wasn’t easy,” Vinnie said. “This guy got Natalie before I could do anything. I didn’t have a weapon, Alex. Then you came later, from the other side. I was starting to think we had no hope.”

“How’d you know to follow her in the first place?”

“Come on,” he said. “She’s the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

I was about to say something else. Then I saw the man in white going for his pant leg. I saw the ankle holster. I saw a flash of silver.

“Drop it!” I said.

But he was already swinging it. I shot him four times. I stayed there in my pose for a long time, the gun still pointed at the spot where he had been. Vinnie went over to him, leading with his gun. He took one look down at the man and relaxed.

“He’s done,” he said. “I wish he didn’t tie his hair back like that. It makes him look like an Indian.”

I let out a long breath. I had just killed two men. Six gunshots rang in my ears.

Then, from somewhere inside the house, we heard the seventh.

I rushed back inside, with Vinnie right behind me. Natalie stood with the Bulldog in her hands. DeMarco’s chair was tipped over. His body was still in it, as if he had sat back down before he died.

“Natalie.”

She didn’t look up.

“Natalie,” I said. “He went for your gun, right? You had to shoot him.”

She kept looking down at him. She didn’t move.

“Natalie, am I right?”

Nothing from her. Nothing.

I stepped up to her.

“Tell me,” I said. “He went for your gun. You had to shoot him.”

She finally moved. She looked at me.

“Yes,” she said. “He went for my gun. I had to shoot him.”

She looked back down at him. Natalie had shot her stepfather right between the eyes.