By The Sword Part 40

One other guy took him up on it. Jack lent them his lighter to fire up. After a few drags-fake inhaled for fear of coughing-he looked around.

"What's going on? What's everybody doing outside? This a fire drill or something?"

The blond guy grinned. "d.a.m.n near. Like three o'clock this afternoon we get the word: Everybody outta the building. Move-move-move. We been out here ever since. I went and grabbed a burger and come back figuring everything'd be back to normal. But no. Still locked out, and no reason why."

A tall, sullen type was eyeing Jack. "Ain't seen you around before."

Jack eyed him right back. "I'm kinda new. Been out all day ripping down those sword flyers. You know they got them posted as far out as Jackson Heights? I mean, what gives with that?"

The blond guy said, "Word is that someone heard just as we were being moved out that the next job would be taking down the girl posters."

Jack stiffened. "You mean those missing Dawn Pickering things we've been plastering all over town? They want them down down?"

"That's the word." He shrugged. "Don't mean it's true."

"Did they find her?"

The tall guy shrugged. "Don't think so. I been workin the phones these past four weeks and I ain't heard nothin but bulls.h.i.t comin in. One lie after another, just trying to get a piece of that reward. Sometimes people make me sick, y'know? I think Hank just figured if we ain't found her by now, we ain't gonna find her at all, and he decided to pull the plug."

"You might be right," Jack said.

Like h.e.l.l. No way Hank would give up on that baby. He and his late unlamented brother Jerry saw Dawn's baby as the Key to the Future. Only three reasons he'd pull the flyers: Dawn was dead, Dawn had gotten an abortion, or Dawn had been found and was under his control.

Clearing out Kicker HQ on such short notice added a lot of weight to number three. If true, she could be inside right now.

"Nice night."

Jack turned away and looked up, pretending to stare at the sky, but really checking for a vantage point that would allow him to see into the building. As he scanned the cornices of the rooftops across the street he spotted a flash of reflection-a double flash, side by side.

As in binoculars.

13.

Her scream jolted Hank. Why-?

Oh, yeah. The sword. He'd been swinging it around when she stepped into the room. Must have thought he was going to attack her.

"Hey, it's all right," he said, lowering the blade. "I'm just playing with it."

She stood inside the doorway, trembling, her eyes shifting left and right.

"Wh-where's Jerry?"

Jerry? Did she think he was still alive?

Of course she did. She'd known him as Jerry Bethlehem. As far as anyone knew, Jerry Bethlehem was a murder suspect on the run from the law. But that had been an a.s.sumed ident.i.ty. His body had been ID'd and he'd been declared dead under his real ident.i.ty, Jeremy Bolton. No way Dawn could connect the two.

He studied her. She didn't look pregnant. He barely recognized her. She'd lost weight, and with her blond hair dyed brown and cut short, he might have pa.s.sed her on the street without recognizing her. Only when he focused on her puggish face did he know for sure it was her.

And he wanted to slug her. Or cut her.

Probably not the best idea to be holding the katana while talking to her, but he liked the way it felt in his hands.

He fumed at the thought of how she'd come within a few feet and a few seconds of killing Jeremy's baby. If she'd set foot inside that clinic, she'd have been out of reach and the Plan would be in ashes right now.

But much as he wanted to, he couldn't hurt her. Not while she carried the Key to the Future.

But after the baby was born... a whole new ball game.

Then again, maybe not. She'd be the Mother of the Key, which might make her untouchable.

So Hank bottled his fury while he considered what to say.

She thought Jerry was alive... maybe he could use that.

"Jerry's not here at the moment."

"Where is he?"

"Around. He doesn't want to see you yet. He's too mad at you for running off and putting us to all this trouble."

"Us?"

"Him, me, all the Kickers. We've spent a lot of money and a lot of manhours looking for you."

She frowned. "What's in it for you?"

"Why, the welfare of your baby, of course."

She was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You... you look like him."

Hank noticed Menck and Darryl still standing in the doorway.

He waved them off. "Close the door behind you." Then he turned to Dawn and said, "Like who?" though he knew exactly who.

"Like him him. Put a beard on you and-oh, Jesus! You're related!"

"True. Jerry wa-" He caught himself. Almost said was was. Have to watch that. "Jerry and I had the same father. He's my half brother. And that... " He pointed to her midsection "... is my nephew."

She grabbed her belly with both hands and backed away until she was pressed against the door.

"Oh, G.o.d!"

She began to cry, and he couldn't help feeling a little-just a little-sad for her. After all, she was only eighteen. Just a kid. She hadn't asked for this.

But on the other hand, she wouldn't even exist if not for the Plan, so she owed owed the Plan. Owed it her life. And all the Plan was asking in return was the baby she didn't even want, the baby she was on her way to kill. the Plan. Owed it her life. And all the Plan was asking in return was the baby she didn't even want, the baby she was on her way to kill.

He spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "It's not the end of the world, Dawn. It's nine months out of your life. And you're already-what?-almost two months into it. So we're talking maybe seven months here. You see it through, and then, if you don't want the baby, you walk away and spend the rest of your life any way you want to. If you want to stay and help raise him, you'll never want for anything ever again."

She stopped crying and glared at him as she spoke through her gritted teeth.

"I don't want don't want this baby! I know who Jerry is and I want this obscene thing out of me! If I could rip it out with my hands I would. It shouldn't even exist. I don't know what you two are up to or what you think this baby's going to be, and I don't care. Find your 'Key to the Future' somewhere else!" Her voice rose to a scream. this baby! I know who Jerry is and I want this obscene thing out of me! If I could rip it out with my hands I would. It shouldn't even exist. I don't know what you two are up to or what you think this baby's going to be, and I don't care. Find your 'Key to the Future' somewhere else!" Her voice rose to a scream. "I don't want it!" "I don't want it!"

Hank felt heat filling his head. "Well, you're going to have it so get used to it, babes. You can make it easy or you can make it hard, but that's the way it's gonna be."

"Yeah?"

She got a wild look in her eyes, and then suddenly she was charging him. No, not him-for the sword. He pivoted and moved it out of her reach. That was when he realized that she had no interest in him or the sword. She was heading for the window. And at the rate she was moving, it couldn't be just for a look. The window-a single piece of old gla.s.s-was down but she looked like she was going to jump right through it.

Hank dropped the sword and dove for her. He tackled her around the knees.

As they hit the floor, he shouted, "Menck! Darryl! Get in here!"

They burst into the room saying "Oh s.h.i.t!" in unison. They each grabbed Dawn by an arm and hauled her to her feet.

"You can't keep me here! You can't make me a prisoner! It's against the law. I'll kill myself rather than stay here!"

Hank rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

"Take her back to the bas.e.m.e.nt."

He heard her screaming about how they couldn't keep her here all the way down the hall.

Well, she was right about that. This old building in the heart of lower Manhattan was possibly the worst place on the planet to hold her. But he had to keep her somewhere, and preferably close to the city.

He picked up the sword and began swinging it in figure eights again. Where-where-where?

And then the sword gave him the answer-sort of. It reminded him of the North Fork and all the farm country there. Had to be some isolated cabin or old farmhouse for rent.

Yeah.

He tossed the sword onto the bed and headed for the office on the first floor. They had a computer there. He'd start with Craigslist. If he couldn't find anything there, he'd contact some Realtors first thing in the morning.

14.

Watching the watcher...

Jack kept an eye on the guy with the binocs from behind the rotting boards of a defunct rooftop water tank. He'd sneaked over from the adjoining roof. These old buildings rarely had working alarms on their roof access doors.

At three stories this particular building matched the height of the Lodge across the street. The guy was all in black and his interest seemed particularly focused on one lit window on the second floor. It must have opened into a high-ceilinged room because it was half again as high as a regular window. Still, Jack couldn't see inside from his angle.

Hank had said that the Scientologists and Dormentalists had it in for him because so many of their suckers were defecting to the Kickers. Could this guy be-?

Without warning the watcher leaped to his feet and turned. Jack ducked back and held his breath. Had he made a sound and given himself away? He snaked his hand back and pulled his Glock. A rooftop fight was the last thing he wanted, but if this guy wanted to rumble...

But no, he swept on by toward the rooftop entry, yammering on his cell phone as he pa.s.sed. Light from within bathed him as he opened the door, and Jack got a good look at his face: j.a.panese.

One of the faux Naka's cult buddies?

When he was gone, Jack moved to the roof edge and looked down to see what was so interesting. He recognized Hank talking to a young woman with short brown hair. He wished he had his Leica along. Then he noticed something long and slim in Hank's hand.

A katana.

Again, binocs would have come in handy to confirm what Jack had already guessed, but this pretty much clinched it: Hank had the Gaijin Masamune.

And that was what had put the watcher on the move. He'd seen the sword and had gone running to tell his boss.

Question was, who was his boss? The suit with the yakuza, or this Order of the Hidden Face Slater had talked about? The answer mattered. One had been ready to kill him and the other had already tried. He knew the location of the yakuzas but not the Hidden Face. If the watcher was one of those crazy, self-mutilating monks, Jack wanted to know where they hung out.

As he was turning away he saw a flurry of motion from within. The woman was diving toward the window. Hank tackled her and brought her down. After a brief struggle, two men came in and hauled her to her feet. Her mouth was open as if she was screaming, but Jack heard nothing. For an instant her face turned his way, giving him a dead-on look. He stiffened as recognition bolted through him. The long blond hair was gone, replaced by short, choppy brown, but no question about who she was.

Dawn Pickering.

All those flyers must have paid off. Someone had spotted her and dropped a dime for the reward.

He leaned back on his haunches, thinking.

He'd found Dawn and the katana in the same place. What were the odds of that? High. High enough to make him uncomfortable. He'd come looking for the katana, but that took a backseat now that he'd found Dawn.

Now he knew why the lower-level Kickers had been kicked out onto the street. Hank and his inner circle had an unwilling guest that they didn't want the hoi polloi to know about.

Despite what Glaeken had said about keeping the katana out of the wrong hands, Jack had made a promise to Christy Pickering to separate her daughter from the man she knew as Jerry Bethlehem.

Okay, not a promise, but he'd taken her money and said he'd do the job. And he had done it. But now she was in Hank's clutches, and that was pretty much like being in Jerry's. So in a way, the fix-it wasn't finished. He felt a duty to Christy to free her daughter.

So the katana could wait. He knew where it was and had a feeling it would never be too far from Hank Thompson. A glance back showed him standing near the window, swinging it in flashing loops.

No, that blade wasn't going anywhere-at least not tonight.

But what about Dawn? He doubted she'd be going anywhere tonight either. He needed a way to get her out of there without endangering her.

His first thought was to call the cops. He could tell them that Dawn Pickering, a person of interest in a Forest Hills murder, was hiding in the Lodge. A warrant, a search, Dawn is discovered, tells the cops she'd been kidnapped and held prisoner: hot water for Hank and company.