Standing in the Shadows (58 page)

Novak looked slightly startled, as if a doll had come to life and criticized him. He gestured politely for her to explain herself.

"You studied everyone's strengths and weaknesses, but you forgot one thing," she said. "Real people grow. They change. But for you, everything is already dead. Inanimate objects for you to move around. Because you're dead inside, Novak. You can't grow. That's why you hate us all so much. If I were a saint, maybe I would pity you, but I'm not. You miserable, twisted, dead thing."

Novak blinked. He looked at Georg. "Hit her again."

Georg lifted his arm. Erin cringed against the table and braced herself.

The lamps flicked off. The image of Connor on the video screen collapsed into a pinpoint of light and vanished into a flat gray void.

Someone was slapping him. Saying something urgent. Yelling. He wanted to tell them to stop, but his tongue and lips and teeth couldn't figure out the choreography of speech. A haze of black and red and white swam in his vision. It coalesced into a white oval. A face. Emerald eyes. Lips, teeth, moving soundlessly.

Slap, slap. The green-eyed bitch wouldn't leave him alone.

Icy water splashed his face. He gasped into wakefulness. "What?"

"Wake up, you idiot! We don't have much time. Once they get the power back on, they'll be on to me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them. "What the fuck—"

"It's Tamara. You're Connor McCloud. Novak's got you tied to a bed, and Erin at gunpoint. Does that ring a bell?"

"Erin? Novak?" He surged up, and was jerked back by the duct tape that held him to the bed. "Where is Erin?"

"Excellent. Much better," Tamara said. "Now listen carefully. We don't have much time. I'm going to untie you, and give you a weapon. Then you are going to help me kill Kurt Novak. Are you up for it?"

He nodded, bemused, as she pulled a knife out of a seam in her skirt and set to work on the tape that bound him. One arm came loose, then the other, numb from being pulled so tightly. Her full skirt rustled as she hurried around the bed and started on his feet.

He straggled into a sitting position. "Are you an undercover cop?"

She laughed abruptly. "Hah. Far from it. It's a personal thing."

"What did Novak do to you?" A foot sprang loose, swathed in gray tape. He still couldn't feel it.

"He murdered my favorite lover." Tamara's voice was matter-of-fact. She slashed his other foot free. "Nobody touches my stuff."

"Oh." His brain was so squishy and soft from the drug they'd pumped into him that the pattern just leaped out of the net and broadsided him. "Tamara… Mara! From Stone Island! You were Victor Lazar's mistress. I remember now. I saw you on the vid clips. But you were a brunette. You've changed your nose. And your eyes were…"

"Topaz, smart boy," she said. "Yellow cat eyes. Lucky for both of us you weren't smart enough to figure that out at Silver Fork. You would have gotten your throat slit. Maybe mine, too. Come on, now. On your feet. Move. Get that blood pumping."

He staggered around the bed, catching himself on the bedpost when his knees buckled. His head throbbed with every heartbeat. He fought back the humiliating urge to vomit It reminded him of his days in physical therapy. "Why are you helping me?"

"Actually, I'm not. It's you that's helping me," she said crisply. "Rescuing you wasn't part of my agenda. I've been trolling for a chance to kill that bastard all week, but he's too smart, and too suspicious, and I'm in over my head, and I think he's about to kill me."

"Oh," he said inanely. "Uh… why didn't you just turn him in?"

"Oh, yeah. Like that worked so well the last time," she mocked. "Besides, I have my own reasons to avoid the law. I wasn't expecting things to move so fast with you two, but it's just as well. I'm tired of being that monster's concubine. It's stressful. And the rape and murder plans for you and your girlfriend, well… yuck. I have a very strong stomach, but everybody's got to draw the line somewhere."

"Thanks," he said. "That's awfully nice of you."

"You're welcome." His irony was completely lost on her, "I'm glad for some backup. I would like to live through this. Can you walk? The drug should be wearing off by now. I loaded that dart myself."

He stumbled down onto his knees with a gasp. Tamara yanked him back up, her long, vicious nails digging into his arm. "I cut the power, so he won't see us on the surveillance screens for a few more minutes," she said. "He'll send Nigel to check on it any minute now. He'll be livid if he thinks he won't get to see the sex show."

"Sex show?" He gave her a wary glance. "What sex show?"

"Don't ask. Oh, but speaking of sex shows—goddamn it,
move
your ass, McCloud! The one bright spot in my week has been watching you and your girlfriend get it on. Very entertaining. And that's a high compliment, from me. I hate to be bored."

"Oh, Christ." He stumbled onto his knees again. "Don't tell me."

She yanked him back up. "You're good, big boy," she taunted. "Keep treating her right, or the next time we meet I won't be so friendly."

She was trying to piss him off, to help him throw off the effects of the drug. It was a nice effort, and he appreciated the thought, but it was all he could do not to pass out or barf. He didn't have the strength for anger. Tamara yanked the door open. He wiped cold sweat off his brow. His sleeve came away dark with dried blood. He swayed, and caught himself on the doorjamb. "In James Bond flicks, there are always at least two beautiful girls," he panted. "A good one and a bad one."

She gave him a catlike smile. "I'm the bad one."

"Don't confuse me. It's hard to take this in when I'm stoned."

"Flexibility is the true measure of intelligence. Novak told me you were relatively intelligent. Don't disappoint me now. OK, listen. This is the story. You got free somehow, clobbered me, took my gun, and forced me to show you where Erin is. We burst in, you using me as a shield—"

"Forget it." Connor splayed his hand against the corridor wall and stumbled doggedly after her. "He doesn't care if I kill you. We know it, he knows we know it. He might shoot you just to prove a point."

Tamara's perfect eyebrows snapped together. "Got a better idea?"

"How about you tell me where they are, and then run like hell and get help?" he suggested. "I'll just go in and do what I can."

She sniffed derisively. "Oh, please. You and Erin are dead meat if you go in alone, and so am I when he comes after me later. If I go in with you, it's two to three. Sort of. Tonia's stupid and slow, but Novak and Georg each count for two apiece."

"Three to three," he said.

"You're counting Erin?" She sounded amused.

"Hell, yes," he said. "Erin is an Amazon."

"An unarmed Amazon," Tamara said wryly.

"Three to three," he insisted.

"Whatever. We're getting close. Shut up, and think fast."

He struggled behind her for a second, and tapped her shoulder. "One thing," he asked. "Why are you avenging Lazar? He was a—"

"Criminal? Corrupt? Greedy? Ruthless? Sure. He was complicated. I like complicated men. I'm a greedy, ruthless criminal myself. And Victor was the only man who ever gave me what I needed."

He tried not to ask, with all his strength, but she'd set him up, and now he had to know. "Uh… so what do you need, anyway?"

She yanked up her skirt and pulled his SIG Sauer out of a pouch beneath it. She flung it at him, nodding her cool approval as he caught it one-handed.

"None of your fucking business, little boy," she said. "Let's move."

"Stop," Novak said.

Georg's raised arm froze in mid-air. He and Novak exchanged looks. Erin reached out behind herself. Her stiff, cold fingers slid along the surface of the table, groping. They brushed the sharp tip of an object that spun around at her touch.

The bronze dagger.

They were all still looking away from her. She slid the tip of the dagger into her sleeve, trembling at her own daring. She scooped it up and wrapped that arm across her chest. She pressed her other arm over it in a shrinking, defensive pose. It didn't take much acting.

Novak barked out something in a language she didn't recognize. Georg made a brief, sullen reply. Novak pressed a button on his watch and snarled into it in the same language. He held a conversation with the person who replied. A long, heavy silence followed.

Novak paced back and forth across the room. He scowled at Erin as if the power outage were her fault. "I do not like surprises at this stage of the game." He spoke into his watch. "Tamara?" He waited. No reply. He turned to Tonia. "Check on her. I will leave nothing to chance. If I cannot watch them on video, I will watch them in this room."

Georg leered at her. "We watch them, and then he watches us."

She recoiled. The dagger slid up into her sleeve, all the way to her elbow. It was very cold against the skin of her arm.

Tonia opened the door. She leaped back with a shriek and leveled her gun. Guns appeared in the hands of Novak and Georg.

"Relax, everyone," said Tamara's light, amused voice. "I have the situation under control."

She walked into the room. Connor staggered in beside her, his arms fastened behind his back, his head bent over at an awkward angle. Tamara clutched a handful of his hair. Her pistol was shoved under his chin. "When I saw the power outage, I assumed you'd want a change of plans, boss," she said. "I know how much this means to you."

Novak's eyes narrowed. "You should not take initiatives of this kind without consulting me. He might have overpowered you."

Tamara looked contrite. "I'm so sorry. I was overly eager to please you," she said. "Forgive me. As you can see, I managed him easily."

Connor's eyes sought hers across the room. He was so beautiful, and so pale. His chiseled face was bruised and streaked with blood. The blaze of love in his eyes was like a blow against her heart.

Tamara jerked her chin at Georg. "He has to be restrained for this. Help me cuff him to the radiator."

Georg shot Novak a questioning look.

"Get on with it," Novak said curtly. "It's getting late, and we're already behind schedule."

Tamara let go of Connor's hair and eased away from him, her gun still trained on his face. "Down on the floor," she said. "Sit. Right there."

Connor crouched down, and slowly did as she asked.

Georg advanced, flexing his plastic-covered hands. "I want to beat you with your cane," he hissed. "But it will be beautiful to have her"—he jerked his chin at Erin—"in front of you. And then you will die."

He leaped onto Connor with an animal snarl and bore him to the ground. Connor twisted under him. A gun went off. Georg arched back, gurgling. Tonia screamed. Tamara whirled, kicked her in the face.

The gun in Novak's arm rose, taking aim at Connor. Erin exploded out of her shocked paralysis. She flung herself against Novak and let the dagger slip from her sleeve into her hand. She jarred him, and stumbled back. His shot went wide. A window shattered.

Novak let out a shriek of inhuman fury and leaped at her.

Erin brought the bronze dagger up, clutched tight in both hands. It met his own furious momentum. The blade bit deep into his throat.