The Legacy (7 page)

Walsh nodded in resignation.

Were already in bed together, Jamison pointed out. We might as well make the sex good.

I suppose, Walsh agreed.

The president glanced up, forcing a positive tone into his voice. How did the attorney general hearings go today?

Walsh waved his hand as if swatting at a fly. Ah, the senators on the committee are all chiding her on her lax record monitoring the casinos while she was attorney general for New Jersey, but ultimately theyll approve her. Weve got the votes. Itll only be another couple of days before we can break out the champagne and toast her appointment.

The president smiled. Good. Things were progressing on schedule. His associate would be happy.

THE LONE GUARD seated behind the main lobbys long front desk wore a plain light gray business suit, as all Gilchrist & Company security personnel did when they were on duty. He also packed a snub-nosed .38 in a leather shoulder holster beneath the suit coat. Most of the guards were former New York City policemen. They never smiled, rarely engaged in conversation with nonsecurity personnel and were coldly efficient in protecting the Gilchrist premises.

Cole held up his plastic photo identification card as he signed the after-hours register. The guard nodded stiffly, and Cole moved to the elevator banks. As the car ascended, he checked his wristwatch. It was pushing eight oclock. He had kissed Nicki goodbye after leading her back inside Emilios, then caught a cab to the Gilchrist Building. After he finished here, he would return to Emilios and pick her up. Cole smiled. He couldnt wait to be with her again. They would tell each other many things tonight. Things they had always wanted to say, but never had.

The elevator stopped on eight, and the doors slid open to a dimly lit floor. As Cole stepped into the hallway and the elevator doors closed behind him, he suddenly realized how quiet it was here. The only sound was the hum from the few fluorescent bulbs still lighted. He moved through the glass doors leading to the inner offices, turned right, and walked down a long dark corridor toward the screening room he had used this afternoon to view the tape.

Halfway there Cole stopped suddenly. A shadow at the end of the corridor seemed to be moving. He squinted. There it was again. He swallowed hard as he realized the moving shadow was only being made by a bulb about to die. Stay calm, he told himself. Control your fear.

He moved forward once more, checking back over his shoulder every so often. Finally he reached the screening room and moved inside, flipping on the light as he entered. He walked directly to the rows of videocassette cases lining the shelves and pulled one out. As he gazed at it, he laughed to himself. This was the tape he had retrieved from the Chase safe-deposit box earlier in the day. The one he had hidden in the stacks of the New York Public Library was a decoy, an old presentation a Gilchrist investment banker had produced for a buy-side client. If anyone had followed him into the library and watched him hide that tape behind the atlases, then retrieved it thinking it was the tape of the Kennedy assassination, they would be sorely disappointed.

Cole flipped on the television and the VCR, then pulled the tape from its case and inserted it into the slot. He wanted to make certain no one had pulled a switch. Almost instantly the limousine was turning left in front of the building, and a wave of relief coursed through his body. The idea of hiding the real tape here and taking another one away had occurred to him as the cleaning woman had pushed for immediate access to the screening room. When he had opened the door, hed seen her glance down at what she thought was the Dealey Tapeas he was going to call the cassette when he began his auction tomorrow with the media. He was fairly certain that the woman would never have thought to check the tapes in the screening room, but you never knew.

His shoulders sagged and he leaned back against the wall for a moment. The last few hours had seemed interminable without the Dealey Tape actually in his possession, and he suddenly realized how drained he was, physically and mentally. But he would probably improve when Fox offered ten million dollars for the Dealey Tapeand feel even better when ABC offered more.

When the tape had ejected from the VCR, Cole replaced it in its black plastic case, turned off the television and the VCR, and headed toward the screening room door. In the event that someone had followed him to the library and taken the tape from behind the atlases and now realized he had been fooled, Cole was going to be careful. He was going to stay at the Marriott Marquis tonight and would get a room for Nicki as well. There was no reason to take a foolhardy chance by returning to the apartment. The blond man who had chased him down Fifth Avenue could easily find out where he livedafter all, two mobsters in sunglasses hadand it wasnt as if one scrawny doorman was going to stop someone looking for this piece of history. By this time tomorrow a megadeal for the Dealey Tape would be struck. It would be too late for those who might want to keep it from the public, or to acquire it for themselves so that they could make the deal and get the money.

Cole flipped off the screening room light, stepped into the hallwayand nearly ran into a short dark man with a scar slicing from the bridge of his nose down his left cheek all the way to his jaw.

Before the man could react, Cole slammed his scarred cheek with a hard right fist. It was instinct, and it saved his life. As the man toppled backward, Cole stumbled over him and toward the same stairway door he had slipped through several hours before to avoid the cleaning woman. The man grabbed for Coles legs, but Cole was quickly past him and into the stairwell, taking the steps even faster than he had this afternoon, leaping from landing to landing, the cassette case tucked like a football in the crook of his right arm. He heard the door slam open above him and several sharp reports as the man with the scar aimed his gun down the stairwell and began firing.

In seconds Cole had descended several stories. He hadnt imagined a damn thing. They were after him, whoever they were. The cleaning woman, the blond man, now this man with a scar. All of them after the Dealey Tape. A bullet zipped past him, pinging the metal handrail, and Cole ducked as he jumped onto the second-floor landing. One more set of steps and he was back in the deserted lobby.

The guard lay facedown behind the desk in a pool of blood. Cole caught only a fleeting glimpse of the prone body as he tore across the lobby. Christ, these people werent screwing around. What the hell had he stumbled into?

Rage erupted as Cole thought of his father. Jim Egan must have known this would happen. He must have known there would be people willing to go to any lengths to obtain the Dealey Tape. Why else would he have arranged for it to be conveyed so covertly?

As Cole burst through the outside door onto Fifth Avenue, the stairwell door slammed open behind him. The man with the scar fired from across the lobby and glass shattered. Cole ducked again and started left, but he noticed a woman coming at him down Fifth Avenue. It was the same woman who had been outside the screening room beside the trash container as the bond traders had sauntered down the hallway. But she wasnt wearing the robins egg blue uniform of the cleaning staff anymore. Now she was wearing black from head to toe.

Cole whirled and took off in the opposite direction. He sprinted south on Fifth Avenue all the way to Thirty-eighth Street, then crossed Fifth and headed east down the shadowy cross street to Madison Avenue before turning up Madison and finally running west on Thirty-ninth for a short distance. During the day the streets would have been jammed with people, but now they were deserted. He stumbled into a recessed doorway, smashed the dim bulb above the door with the cassette case and stood perfectly still in the darkness, his back against the inside wall, gasping for breath as quietly as he could.

For ten minutes he stood in the dark doorway, slowly regaining his breath. He was certain he had put a fair amount of distance between himself and the woman. He had played wide receiver for the University of Minnesota football team. That was seven years ago, but he was still in excellent physical condition, still very fast. There was no way she could have kept up with him.

Finally he peered out of the doorway into the gloom. He saw nothing unusual and stepped out of the doorway, crossed the street and began jogging back toward Madison Avenue. There he would catch a cab, pick up Nicki at Emilios, anonymously call 911 to alert the police to the Gilchrist security guards plight and get to the safety of a hotel that would take cash up front without requiring a credit card imprint. That was where he and Nicki would stay tonight, not the Marriott Marquis. The crazies chasing him might be able to track them down if he used a credit card, but not if he used cash. Hotels that would accept cash without the guest having to produce a credit card werent the nicest places in the world, but hed take safety over style for this one night. He clutched the Dealey Tape tightly. It was more valuable than gold.

The woman stood directly in front of Cole on the sidewalk, clutching a pistol. He stopped abruptly a few feet away from her, unable to believe what he was seeing. He hadnt noticed her until he was practically on top of her. He glanced around frantically, but there was nothing he could do now.

The man with the scar on his left cheek raced up behind the woman, breathing heavily. He patted her on the shoulder, pointed at the tape in Coles hand and mumbled something unintelligible into her ear. Then he moved to where Cole stood and grabbed the tape. Cole didnt release his grip on the tape right away, but the man yanked harder and finally tore it loose.

You thought youd made it, didnt you? The man remained in front of Cole for a moment, smiling smugly.

Cole didnt respond.

Sure you did, the man answered himself. But even if you had given us the slip, we would have gotten you when you went back to your apartment. Its all set to explode, he said, still smiling. Then he turned and walked to where the woman stood. Shoot him, the man ordered loudly.

Instinctively Cole put his arms up and ducked, then dropped to the ground and rolled. He heard the crack of a gun, but felt no pain. Maybe you dont feel a gunshot wound right away, he thought as he scrambled behind a parked car.

Suddenly Cole saw the man with curly blond hair sprinting up the street, pistol in hand, aiming at the man with the scar, who had taken off toward Madison Avenue. And he saw the woman lying on the sidewalk, blood oozing from a neat hole in her forehead, her gun at the end of her outstretched fingers. Then the street became quiet as the two men disappeared around the corner.

Cole bolted from his hiding spot behind the car and ran west, away from the corner around which the two men had disappeared. Within seconds he had reached Fifth Avenue and flagged down a cab.

Minutes later the cab screeched to a halt in front of Emilios. Cole jammed a ten-dollar bill into the slot in the Plexiglas between the front and back seats, then moved quickly into the restaurant.

Wheres the woman I left sitting right here forty-five minutes ago? Cole shouted at the bartender, who was busy fixing a round of drinks.

Huh? The bartender didnt look up.

The woman I left sitting right here. Cole repeated himself as he pointed down at the stool beside which he was standing. You and I talked briefly before I left. I told you to make certain she didnt leave.

The bartender finally glanced up as he finished mixing the last drink. What did she look like?

Tall, blond, beautiful, with a face you couldnt possibly forg

Oh, right. The bartender snapped his fingers and pointed at Cole. Sure, I remember now.

Well, where the hell is she?

She just took off. The bartender waved at Jimmy to let him know that his round of drinks was ready.

What?

Yeah. She was trying to call some friend of hers but couldnt reach her. She said the woman was supposed to be meeting her at her apartment. The bartender gestured at the door. So she left to meet the woman. She said to tell you shed see you back at the

Give me that phone! Cole interrupted.

What?

Right there! he yelled, pointing at the cordless phone standing next to the cash register on the counter behind the bar.

Sure. The bartender picked up the phone and tossed it to Cole.

Seconds later the information operator had given Cole the main number for his apartment building and he had punched it into the phones keypad. The line rang ten times before a recording finally answered. Dammit! He tossed the phone back at the bartender, then turned and raced out of Emilios.

Emergency lights flashed red and orange across Coles face as he stood on the sidewalk gazing at the two ambulances and three pale blue-and-white police cruisers parked at odd angles in front of his apartment building. There were several hundred residents in the forty-story buildingmany of them elderly and likely candidates for emergency servicebut he still had a terrible feeling about what was going on. Slowly he limped forward, putting one foot in front of the other as if in a daze. He was exhausted and his ankle was swollen, but he barely noticed the pain. His gaze was now fixed on the buildings front door.

Hey, buddy, you gotta stay here while we bring the victim out. A large police officer stepped in Coles way.

Cole glanced at him. Victim?

Yeah. The policeman gestured toward the night sky with his flashlight. There was some kind of explosion up in one of the penthouses and a young woman was hurt pretty bad. We need to keep the entrance clear so the paramedics can bring her out.