Parker 02 - The Guilty (41 page)

I waited until O'Hurley's back was turned, then I pushed

the other cop aside and bolted toward the building.

I heard someone yell, "Stop that guy!" but it was too late.

I shoved the glass doors open, saw that the elevator was

stuck on nine and not moving. Without hesitating I sprinted

toward the end of the hallway, banged through the stairwell

door and began my climb to the ninth floor.

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Jason Pinter

When I got to five, my breath beginning to leave me, I

looked down. Nobody was following me.

Four flights above was a man who was preparing to do

something unspeakable to Amanda. Clenching my right fist,

feeling the stitches threaten to pop, I continued climbing.

57

When I reached the ninth floor I stopped to catch my breath.

If we lived through this, I promised to use the StairMaster on

a more frequent basis.

Guys like Roberts always looked like they would be a

pushover in a fight. Not too big, not too heavy, but their

muscles were trained. They were sleeping attack dogs waiting

to be prodded. First fight I ever won was against Bruce Baumgarten in the sixth grade. Bruce was a hundred and ninety

pounds, a Mack truck in seventh-grade weight. But I literally

ran around him until he could barely see straight, then one

punch to the stomach took away the last of his wind. He went

down like I'd stepped on an empty bag of potato chips.

The first fight I ever lost was against Kevin MacGruder in

the eleventh grade. I outweighed Kevin by twenty pounds. He

was president of the Math club. He had freckles and acne and

a rail-thin girlfriend we called Olive Oyl, and we mocked him

mercilessly. What I didn't know is that to burn off the rage from

our taunts Kevin hit the free weights five times a week. He dislocated my shoulder, and I pissed blood for two days after he

kicked me in the kidney. I never messed with Kevin again.

In a strange way I was glad I knew this. William Roberts

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would tear me to pieces. Even if I was able to separate him

from the Winchester--which seemed as doable as separating

Linus from his blanket--I had to deal with the fact that he

could pound me into sirloin, expending less energy than it

took me to climb the stairs.

I was prepared to fight dirty.

But that didn't mean I wasn't scared shitless.

Adrenaline was pumping through me. It was working, my

rage concentrating.

I'd only visited Amanda at her office once. Actually I'd

meant to come more, but I could never get away from the

Gazette
during working hours. Or more accurately, I didn't

want to get away from the
Gazette.

I tried to recall the office layout, seemed to remember

there being a conference room with a long, mahogany table,

several long-backed chairs and a speakerphone. I remembered Amanda's desk. There was a picture of us in a silver

frame. I'd had it engraved for her.
Only Happiness Lies Ahead.

I stood in the stairwell, moved closer to the door and pressed

my ear up against it. The stairwell was painted gray, dirt coated

the steps, and the metal was rusted. I glanced around, couldn't

see any security camera, so I was fairly confident Roberts

wasn't aware of my presence. I couldn't hear anything inside

the office, but the metal was likely muffling all sounds. But it

couldn't muffle a gunshot. And I didn't hear any cops storming

the stairs. Roberts hadn't killed anybody. Yet.

I gripped the doorknob, turned it ever so gently just to see if

it was locked. For a moment panic gripped me. If it was locked

from the inside, I wouldn't be able to get in unless our friendly

neighborhood rifleman decided to let me join the party. And I

knew the cops wouldn't greet me with open arms if I slunk back

downstairs. But the knob turned. I stopped for a moment.

The Guilty

351

The last time I barged through a closed door unannounced

and unwanted, a cop ended up dead and I ended up on the run

for my life.

I took three short, quick breaths, then three long deep ones

and gripped the knob. It turned easily, and I eased it all the

way to the left until it wouldn't go any farther. Then I listened.

Nothing.

I pushed the door slightly to make sure it moved inward.

It did.

I pushed it just enough to create a small crack between the

door and the jamb. I peeked inside.

I could see an elevator. An unmanned receptionist desk

with a tall, white orchid. Nothing else.

I pushed the door farther in, enough so that I could slip

inside. There were no sounds, nobody in view.

I stuck my head in, did a quick sweep, then crept inside

and tiptoed over and ducked behind the receptionist's desk.

I poked my head out the side. There was a door which I

recalled as leading to the conference room. I couldn't see

anything. No Roberts. No Amanda.

Nothing except for a quarter-sized circle of blood on the

middle of the carpet. My heart raced. I couldn't see any

bodies. Nobody was screaming or crying. But he was here.

Somewhere.

And when I felt the muzzle of the Winchester rifle press

against the back of my neck, I knew for sure.

58

"You were watching the whole time," I said as I stood up.

The gun followed me, the muzzle pressed against my flesh.

If my heart beat any faster, all I had to do was turn around

and it would burst through my chest, killing Roberts. Might

be worth a try.

"Yessir, I was," he said. "Everything's more exciting when

you're being watched."

"Sure it is. That's why you called the press before the cops

could come," I said. "You wanted us on the scene to 'make

things more exciting.'"

"Yessir," he said.

"If we got here first, the cops wouldn't be prepared. You

knew I'd try to contact Amanda.You knew I'd try to get inside."

"Yessir," he said.

"Then you also know that this building is surrounded by

more ammunition than every Schwarzenegger movie combined. And cops whose trigger fingers will get epilepsy the

second they get you in their crosshairs."

"Yessir, I do," he said. Roberts didn't seem the least bit

upset by this. His face was calm, serene even, like everything

was playing out perfectly.

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353

This was the first time I'd had a chance to study him from

close up. No bandanna, no bonds holding me down. He was

younger than I remembered. His short blond hair made him

look like a young twenty-one. It must have been easy for him

to pass through the city. Easy to get lost. He looked like

anyone's brother. Son. His eyes didn't contain the hate or evil

I thought they would. They contained as much levity as mine.

What lay behind those eyes might have been pure evil, but

the prism it shone through disguised it, altered it. He could

have been anyone.

"Same time, you can plan all you want but never really

be sure what's gonna happen." Roberts clicked his tongue.

And if my eyes weren't deceiving me, even nodded his head

in an appreciative way. "Glad you're here, Parker. Glad you

could make it."

"Where's Amanda?"

"Safe," he said. "One thing I'll say, that's a strong female

there. Didn't cry one bit. Didn't beg for help. She did say your

name once, kinda like she expected you to come. Guess you

two have some sort of telepathic link. That right? Can you

read each other's minds?"

I shook my head. "No," I said softly.

"Come on," Roberts said, his voice like a goading friend.

"You can tell me. You and Davies, you hear each other's

thoughts. Complete each other's sentences. Do all those

goopy things lovers do. I bet you even
talk
to her after you're

done fucking. Don't just snooze off like most guys. Bet you

talk to her about your feelings and shit."

"What the hell are you talking about, you sick asshole?"

I said. Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, because the

muzzle bit into my skin harder than before. I winced. Roberts

sensed this. Dug in harder.

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Jason Pinter

"I care because I want to know just how close you and

Davies are. I need to know, man. I need to hear you say it."

"Why?" I asked.

He walked around the side of the gun, eyed me, then lightning-quick, smashed me in the stomach. I doubled over, pain

shooting through my abdomen. I coughed, felt a speck of

blood hit my hand. Wiped it off. Stood back up.

Robert smiled. "Come with me."

He grabbed me by my jacket collar and pulled me into the

main office. Aside from the smashed window, blood on the

floor and an overturned chair, everything looked like business

as usual. Except for the sprinkles of plaster on the floor. I

looked up, saw the hole in the ceiling where Roberts must

have fired the Winchester.

"I see you asserted your authority," I said. "Guess you

needed to scare all these vicious not-for-profit workers."

"I'm not a fan of violence," Roberts said. He looked at me.

"You seem surprised."

"Considering you've killed about ten people, yeah, I'm

surprised."

"Only killed those people because they needed to go. Same

way you'd burn a tick, step on a spider. Doesn't mean you like

to kill. Means you don't want vermin spreading disease."

"So that's what Athena was doing," I said. "Spreading

disease?"

"I'm not a killer," Roberts said. "I'm a liberator. You can't

see it now. They couldn't see it with my great-grandfather,

either."

"Billy the Kid was no liberator," I said. "He was a butcher

who killed twenty-one people. He should have died in the

womb."

Roberts laughed. "You're fucking clueless, man. The

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355

country
exists
because of my great-grandfather. America,

man. Cowboys and Indians. Outlaws and lawmen. The Old

West gave birth to the new world because of men like my

grandfather. He killed the people who impeded progress. The

people who lied and cheated and stole."

"Like Joe Mauser?" I said. "Like Mya Loverne? Like

your
family?
"

"You don't get it," Roberts said. "You and everyone, ignorance is the new intelligence. Athena Paradis and David

Loverne don't exist. They're shells, Parker. Husks. As soon

as their public life overtook their private life, as soon as
who

they were became more important than
what
they were, they

ceased to exist. People like you, you're happy to stare at the

shell and as long as it's pretty, you don't care what putrid shit

is underneath. My great-grandfather understood this. He was

the only one who had the balls to make things right. He

brought together the Regulators to kill the disease that everyone else ignored. Jeffrey Lourdes? Athena Paradis? All I did

was kill what needed to be killed. You should be thankful. And

you will be. See, to realize my destiny, I had to cut off everything that weighed me down. Soon I'll do the same for you.

Then you can report my story with a clearer head. You're

gonna make me famous, Parker."

He pushed me toward another closed door. Looked at me.

Then pushed the door open.

Amanda was tied to a chair, her hands bound behind her

back. A handkerchief wrapped around her mouth. Her eyes

widened when she saw me. Pleading. Helpless.

"Amanda!" I shouted. Lunged for her. Felt the butt of the gun

come down on the back of my neck, driving me to the ground.

Amanda shrieked as loud as she could. Which wasn't much.

Roberts knelt down next to me. I could feel his breath on

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my face. He smelled like tobacco and sweat. He grabbed my

shirt in his hand, pulled me closer. He was breathing heavy,

and the calm in his eyes had been replaced by a manic anger.

I was sure the eyes I was seeing right now were the same eyes

that killed Athena. Joe. Jeffrey. David. And nearly Mya.

"See, Henry, you're a shell. You're one of them. I know

about you. I know what happened to you last year. I know

about all those reporters who love you, think you're a hero,

and the ones that hate you, think you go against everything

that's noble about your profession. Who you are has become

more important than what you are. I can fix that."

"You can kill me," I said. "But leave Amanda out of this.

Let her go."

"Not on your life," Roberts said. "If you hadn't noticed, I

already let all the other useless ones go. I need Amanda for

this. You can do a whole lot more good than she ever can. You

have a voice. I need that voice to reach people, so they understand what I've done. But you also have a shell. You have a

protective skin. All I'm going to do is remove that skin. I don't

plan to leave this building alive. But neither will Amanda. And

then you'll be free, Henry."

Amanda was listening to every word he said. Listened to