Devil's Run (39 page)

58.

I landed on the cables,
just behind the carriage and its rows of spinning wheels. The transport cable
dragged me along with it, pulling me across the guide cables, which bit into my
parka and sliced open the fabric of my pants. I grabbed the tow cable and began
pulling myself hand over hand towards the carriage, legs spread on the guide
cables for stability. When I reached the carriage, I realized I was on the
wrong end. The exposed wheels blocked me from reaching the safety cover. There
was nothing but blackness ahead, but I knew we were approaching the first
tower. If I wasn’t off the cables by then, the guide wheels would slice my
fingers off.

My only chance was to
jump for the ladder rungs welded to the hanger. I lowered myself from the tow
rope, swinging my legs back and forth to gain momentum. The first tower loomed
out of the darkness. I made a final swing and let go.

I hit the hanger and
caught a rung in one hand just as the carriage crossed the tower. The sudden
vibration caused me to lose my grip on the ice-covered metal. I fell several
feet before hooking my arm through another rung. I was hanging there, trying to
get my breath, when the coating of ice cracked and gave way. I fell to the roof
and slid down the sloping side of the cabin, stopping myself by grabbing one of
the encircling support pipes.

The glass around me
exploded and something burned along my right thigh. I used the vertical pole to
pull myself back up on the roof. Bullets continued to puncture the skin of the
cabin as I scrambled up towards the hanger. The shooting stopped just before I
reached the top. As I approached the access hatch, a thin crack of light
appeared. I stood up and stomped it closed, kneeling on it and throwing the
dogs to lock it down.

I stood up and there
were two more muffled shots. I felt the impact against my feet, but the hollow
point bullets weren’t penetrating the thick metal of the hatch.

Holding onto the hanger
to keep the howling wind from blowing me off, I checked my leg. There was a
deep graze, bleeding a little too freely. I didn’t need loss of blood making me
any more lightheaded. I sat down on the hatch and used my belt as a tourniquet,
wrapping it around my thigh just above the wound. When I cinched it down the
pain caused me to double over. That saved my life.

A bullet sang off the
metal right where my head had been. I threw myself down and behind the hanger
as three more rounds ripped the air near me. Sneaky bastard. He’d climbed out a
window or gotten one of the doors open. Now the question was: what was he going
to do next?

 I raised my head
quickly. Nothing. I chanced a longer look, a little higher. Nothing. Which
meant he was behind me.

I threw myself around
the hanger just as two shots rang out. One plucked at my jacket. I slipped and
fell on my back, sliding head first towards the edge. Once again, a support
pipe for the rotating platform stopped me. I jammed my right foot under it and
held on with both hands. As I did, something caught my eye far below; a caravan
of law enforcement vehicles tearing up the road towards the mouth of the
canyon.

They were too far away
to help me. I needed to take the high ground again, before Imperatrice got there.
I began pulling myself up, feet first, keeping one foot under the pipe and
pulling with my hands. I had just reached the access hatch and hooked my good
leg around it when Imperatrice appeared from behind the hanger. He braced
himself on the thick steel and looked down at me. The orange glow of the flames
behind us added a demonic dimension to that maddening smile.

“You always were more
lucky than smart, Nick,” he said, shouting over the scream of the wind.

He held up his pistol
and waggled it in the air. The slide was locked back on the empty magazine. The
smile changed to a snarl and he threw the gun down at me. I put my hand up and
the pistol bounced off my forearm, clattering down the roof and over the edge.

“Guess I’ll have to use
this,” he yelled, pulling the stiletto from his sleeve.

He fell on top of me,
steadying himself on the pipe with one hand and plunging the knife towards my
throat with the other. I grabbed his hand in both of mine, holding back the
knife, the same knife he’d use to kill my wife. The thought sent a surge of
strength through me. I began to move his arm back. His eyes showed surprise. He
let go of the pipe and used both hands. Now my foot hooked around the hatch was
the only thing keeping us from sliding over the edge as he pressed down with
all his strength. Imperatrice was a big man, and I’d had a rough day, so this
could only end one way. Imperatrice’s smile broadened as the point touched my
skin. I felt a needle prick of pain and the wetness of blood.

“Say hello to Mary for
me, Nick.”

“Let’s both.” I said.

I released my leg and
threw my body in a reverse somersault. Imperatrice fell forward and we tumbled
down the roof and over the edge.

That’s when my survival
instinct kicked in. I grabbed for anything. My flailing left arm struck and I
stopped abruptly. At the same instant I heard a sound like a stick breaking. An
electric jolt of pain shot through me. I looked over to see my upper arm jammed
in the junction of the vertical and horizontal support pipes, bent at an impossible
angle. A wave of nausea swept over me.

I also felt as if I
weighed a ton. I looked down to see Imperatrice staring back at me, his eyes
wide. Somehow he’d grabbed my left leg as we went over and was now climbing it,
taking fistfuls of my pants to pull himself up.

Something was partly
blocking my vision. It was the handle of the stiletto, stuck deep in the muscle
above my collarbone. I reached up with my right hand and ripped it out. Blood
gushed from the wound, splattering Imperatrice’s face. I slashed down at the
hands that had reached my waist, but he recoiled, sliding back down my leg,
jerking to a stop by wrapping his arms around my calf. I screamed, nearly
fainting from the pain.

The scream gave him an
idea. He began swinging back and forth, forcing the broken bones in my arm to
move. The wider he swung, the greater the agony, until I was close to passing
out from the pain. I couldn’t reach him with the knife. Once I was unconscious,
he could climb to safety and dump me into the canyon.

In the fog of dimming
consciousness, an idea came to me. I slid the knife inside the waist of the
borrowed pants, the pants that were a size too big, and sliced outward about
where the seam should be. I sliced down to the belt, feeling the point cut my
thigh as the blade slid under, but not caring. The razor sharp blade parted the
leather like butter and his weight did the rest. The seam opened all the way
down and the whole pair of pants just slid right off. He fell, the trousers
still tight in his grip, his shriek fading quickly in the howl of the wind.

Something landed on my
shoulder. Jesus, I thought, now what? Turning my head with great effort, I saw
that Cossack hat of his. I reached up with the knife and flicked it off.

“Don’t forget your hat,”
I yelled, laughing hysterically until everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital
bed. The first thing I saw was Catherine Masterson standing there in her police
uniform.

“I know,” I said,
although the voice sounded more like an octogenarian’s than mine. “I didn’t call.
Just between you and me, the guy rule is to wait three days, so you don’t seem
desperate.”

“Nice to know you’re
okay.”

That was one woman’s
opinion. I raised my head slightly and took careful inventory. My arm was all trussed
up, both legs heavily bandaged, and I felt like I’d drunk an entire bottle of
Jamesons.

“How long?” I said.

“You’ve been out since
last night. Some of that was due to medication. They’ve been giving you a
little morphine.”

“Well, keep it coming. I
could get used to it.”

She smiled again, but
her face was drawn.

“You look tired. You
must be pretty busy.”

“Not really. The feds
have taken charge, and the staties. I even had time to go to the rink.” She
smiled. “You’d be proud of me. I did the Three Turn by myself.”

“Didn’t seem so scary
anymore?”

She laughed. “No, not
after the past couple of days.”

“How do you raise this
thing?” I said.

“There’s a controller
somewhere. Hang on.” She searched the sheets near my right arm and found a
rectangular control box connected to the bed by a thick black wire. “This one
makes it go up and down. The others are for the TV.”

I pressed the
appropriate button. With a muted whirring the back half of the bed slowly
raised so I could look her in the eye.

“How’s Tim?” I said when
the bed stopped moving.

“Okay,” she said. She
gave me a lopsided grin. “Just a flesh wound, he says. How’s your whole body?”

“Thinking of trading it
in. How did I get here?”

“By a strange
coincidence the FBI was waiting down below.”

“That was no coincidence.”

“I was being sarcastic.
Roma wants to talk to you, by the way. When you’re up to it.”

“He’s the prick who got
me into this bed.”

“You’re right, which
saved your life. They got you off the cable car and managed to stop the
bleeding from several holes.” She pointed at the door. “He’s got one of his men
outside.”

“Why?”

She gave me a sober
look. “Looks like Imperatrice and the blonde got away.”

“I wouldn’t worry about
Imperatrice, he’ll turn up.”

Her eyes narrowed. “When
might that be?”

“The smart money is on
late Spring.”

“Good.”

“What about Ricasso?”

“There’s an
international manhunt for her. They think she got out by hiding in the water
tank of the cable car.”

“She killed Raviv.”

“And God knows how many others.
Roma says Interpol is very interested. Someone fitting her description is
wanted for contract murders in three European countries.” She patted my good
arm. “Don’t worry about it now, they’ll get her.” She smiled. “I understand
from the Feds you were quite the sight, cruising into port on that cable car,
pretty near bare assed.”

“Yeah. First time taking
my pants off ever got me out of trouble.”

She laughed, which made
me laugh. I winced at a sudden pain.

“My god,” she said, “are
you okay?”

“Hence the cliché,” I
said, through clenched teeth.

“I better let you rest.
The doctor said I should only take a few minutes.”

“Wait. There’s something
you’re not telling me.”

Her expression turned
serious. “The boy. Ken Boyd.”

“They found him?”

She nodded.

“Dead?”

She nodded again. “Yes.”

“Where? How?”

“The sinkhole. The one
that opened when the cavern collapsed. Some of the old mine shafts nearby
collapsed into it. His body was one of the first ones the recovery team found
when they went in.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“The ME gave him a
preliminary. Can’t be certain at this stage, but he thinks he’s been dead for a
couple of months. That takes us back to the night of the fire.”

“Cause of death?”

“Fractured skull and
severe internal injuries. It looks like he fell into the shaft. A lot of them
are overgrown and unmarked.”

“So,” I said, “he died
that night, while they were chasing him.” In my mind’s eye, I saw him running
through the dark woods, pursued by men with guns, desperate to get away. The
earth suddenly giving way, a terrifying fall into darkness. “Poor kid.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” she
said.

“What is?”

“They destroyed their
whole operation chasing a phantom.”

“I know the feeling,” I
said.

She nodded soberly.
“I’ll let you rest.” She smiled. “Get your strength up, so you can get back in
that Jacuzzi of mine.”

“Will there be company?”

“Jury’s still out.”

“Don’t go far,” I said.

“I won’t.”

She turned towards the
door.

“Hey, Cat.”

She turned back.

“What?”

I opened my mouth to
speak, but we just looked at each other.

“I know,” she said. “Me
too.”

Then she was gone and
the room seemed very empty. I pressed the down button on the control box and
fell asleep the moment the bed was flat.

Next thing I knew was
that thing where you’re not quite asleep, but not fully awake. It must have
been late, because the lights in the corridor were dim and it was deathly
quiet. I sensed someone moving around. I forced my eyes a little ways open and
saw it was just the nurse adjusting my IV. I closed my eyes, ready to drift
back again, aware of the hospital smells of alcohol, disinfectant, and White
Satin.

In a flash I was fully
awake. Ms. Ricasso was inserting a needle into my IV. I grabbed her wrist with
my good hand, pulling her down and away from the tube. The needle came
dangerously close to my chest. I twisted her wrist, trying to snap it, but I
was too weak.

Growling like an animal
she leaped on top of me. She bit my thumb, deeply. Blood spurted into her mouth
and onto her face. I couldn’t help it, I let go. She pinned my good hand against
the bed and plunged the hypodermic towards my throat.

I threw my left arm up.
The needle penetrated the cast a little before snapping in two. I jerked my arm
sideways, ripping the syringe from her grasp. It flew against the wall and fell
to the floor behind the bed. With another growl, she reached up with both hands
to unhook that fucking necklace of hers. I heaved up off the mattress, tossing
us both over the railing and out of the bed.

I hit the floor on my
back. The controller fell off the bed, bouncing off my shin. Ms. Ricasso was
still half on top of me, clawing for my throat, but something was holding her
back. Her necklace had snagged on the bed as we fell.

I grabbed a fistful of
her hair and jerked her towards me, pulling myself off the floor. She stopped
trying to unhook the necklace and put her hands around my throat. She grinned
triumphantly.

I stabbed my foot at the
controller, pinning it against the bed leg. The TV came on, blaring loudly. Oh,
for Christ’s sake! I moved my foot and pushed again. The mattress began to
rise.

“Time to die,” I said,
looking her right in the eye. “Tick, tock.”

Her smile disappeared,
replaced by confusion, and then fright as the great crushing pendant of the
necklace pressed deep into the center of her throat. She released me and began
yanking at the chain, but it was too strong. She had made sure of that. None of
her victims could break it, including her.

She clawed at my face,
trying to reach my eyes. I turned my head to the side, keeping a firm grip on
her hair, pulling her down against the pendant. Her gouging fingers grew
weaker. After a moment, they dropped away.

I turned back and
watched clinically as her face turned deep purple. The eyes bulged, and the
blood vessels in them began to burst. I thought about Raviv, dying naked and
helpless on that massage table. Boyd’s innocent secretary, who was merely in
the way. Jeffrey Boyd himself, paying for his many sins on a cold concrete
floor. Who knew how many others she had killed? Raviv was right; there were dragons
in this world. And even if the dragon slayers were not themselves perfect, the
world still needed them.

The swollen tongue
lolled out of her mouth and she stopped moving. I let go of her hair and she
hung there, her bloodshot, sightless eyes staring into mine.

I lifted my foot off the
switch just as the lights came on. It was Roma’s young fed from the Texas
diner. He just stopped and stared.

“You owe me, Sonny,” I
said. “I just saved your career. Now call Roma and tell him the bitch is dead.”

*****