Colby Agency: Colby Justice Part 12

"No way." He shook his head and shifted his aim to Ben. "I'll shoot him before you can work up the nerve to even think about pulling the trigger."

"Maybe." She took a challenging step toward him. "But then your friends will know something's going on down here and they'll find out what you've been up to behind their backs."

"Stop right there!" he warned.

"Or what?" She stepped between him and Ben. "You'll shoot? I don't think you will. You want to live through this day so you can spend all that money waiting for you. You could care less about your buddy Hardin, but the guys upstairs, you can't afford to rub them the wrong way until you're out of here."

She was going too far with the att.i.tude. Ben wiggled his hands free from her loose bindings. He had to be ready to intervene...they could use this guy.

"Don't kill him," Ben suggested, "he could help us."

The bad guy dared to look from Alexander to Ben.

"He's worthless," she argued.

Enough with the good-cop/bad-cop game. "Listen to me, Alexander," Ben urged. "He has access to the fourth floor. He can help us."

"What about the fourth floor?" Suspicion weighted with skepticism colored the guy's tone.

Ben made a decision. One he hoped he wouldn't die regretting. "We're here to rescue the head of the Colby Agency. We don't care about the others or the money you've stolen. Or even who helped you. You help us get access to the fourth floor and you and your friend can disappear. No questions. No trouble."

"Where's Hardin?"

"In the ladies' room on the floor. He's tied up but unharmed."

"How do I know you'll honor your deal?" he countered, his scrutiny lingering a little too long on Alexander's near naked body. "She lied to me. How can I know what you're saying now is the truth?"

"You'll have to trust me, Cates," Alexander tossed out. She shot Ben a look. "Trust is the key element in any relationship or business deal."

Ben ignored the jab. "You'll keep your weapon," he explained as he pushed up to his knees. The guy's eyes widened with surprise. "If you feel like we're not living up to our end of the bargain, you can use it. How's that for a good deal?"

"If they figure out something's up," the bad guy said, "we'll all be dead."

"I know. That's why we're not going to let that happen."

Ben moved in close to Alexander. "Give me the weapon and get your suit back on."

Without shifting her aim or lowering the barrel, she allowed Ben to take possession of the gun.

"So what's your plan?" the guy asked, clearly growing nervous with the pa.s.sage of time.

"You take Alexander to the fourth floor. Tell your superior that you found her attempting to obtain access to the savings and loan. She injured Hardin, left him unconscious and secured. You turn Alexander over to your boss, and rush back down to help your fallen comrade. The two of you get out of the building while we take care of our business. You'll have your money, and we'll do what we came here to do."

"There's five armed men up there," Cates said, his tone dubious. "Three in the conference room, one at the entrance to each stairwell. How can you possibly expect to take all five alone? And where the h.e.l.l will you be when I'm turning over your woman?"

His woman.

Ben ignored the way his gut knotted at the thought. "I'll be watching from a chosen vantage point. You don't need to worry about me. Our mission has nothing to do with you and your friend's extracurricular activities. All we need is access to the fourth floor."

The seconds ticked off with Ben and the other man standing there, weapons trained on each other.

"What if Pederson sends someone down with me to check on Hardin?"

The sound of the zipper on Alexander's suit momentarily distracted Ben. He banished the vivid mental images of her toned body. All that creamy skin. Black panties and bra...flaming red hair flowing over her shoulders.

Focus, d.a.m.n it.

"Then that leaves one less on the fourth floor for me to deal with. I'm certain you can come up with a diversion for anyone who tags along with you." In other words, that was his problem. "You might even suggest that you and another of your colleagues should make sure there are no other intruders lurking about. You think you can handle that?"

"I can't guarantee anything more than access," the man hedged.

Good enough.

"Ready." Alexander moved up beside Ben.

Good girl. She had picked up the weapon Ben had left on the floor. She'd learned a h.e.l.l of a lot in the past few hours. There weren't a lot of places she could hide it wearing that suit. As if she'd read his mind, she pa.s.sed it to Ben.

"Do we have an agreement then?" Ben demanded, needing confirmation. Time was wasting.

Cates reached for his collar with his free hand.

Ben tensed, snugged his finger against the trigger of his weapon.

"We have a problem," Cates said aloud.

"You find Hardin?" a male voice asked.

"Not yet," Cates responded, his voice reflecting concern, "but I've intercepted and detained an intruder. I'm bringing her up."

The triumphant sensation Ben had expected upon hearing that Cates would cooperate didn't come.

This was going down.

And Alexander was the decoy...the bait.

Her life...as well as those of the others in that conference room on the fourth floor...was in his hands. If he failed...

"You're bringing her here?" Cates's superior demanded.

Ben's tension ratcheted up.

"Unless you want me to kill her," Cates offered. "I'll do whatever you say. I just figured you might want to interrogate her. Figure out what the h.e.l.l she's doing here. h.e.l.l, I'm still trying to get her to tell me how she got in. She's not cooperating at all."

A nasty chuckle echoed from the com link. "Bring her to me. She'll talk."

"Yes, sir." Cates closed the link, his gaze connected with Ben's. "I hope you've got one h.e.l.l of a plan because he will kill her whether she cooperates or not."

"I understand the risks." There was nothing else Ben could say. Nothing else he could do.

This was their only option.

He pointed to Cates's collar where the com link rested. "Why the left side of the collar?"

Cates shrugged. "Those were the instructions we received when we prepared for this job." He reached up as if to touch the link. "Besides, if you're right-handed it makes sense."

"So the entire team used the left side of the collar for positioning the communications link?"

Cates nodded. "That's right."

"Move it to the right," Ben ordered.

"Why?"

"So we'll be able to recognize you." Ben rested his hand on the b.u.t.t of the weapon at his waist. "I wouldn't want to shoot you by accident."

Cates did as he was told. "You know," he said, looking from Ben to Alexander and back, "the two of you act like you really believe you're not only going to survive but that you're going to complete your mission." He shook his head. "Pederson isn't going to make any deals with you."

He headed for the door. "He's going to kill you."

Chapter Sixteen.

Inside the Colby Agency, 3:40 p.m.

Gordon had tried to escape.

Victoria couldn't help feeling sorry for the man, no matter his crimes. When Thorp had insisted, he had begun confessing his sins. Then Gordon had jumped up from his chair and made a run for the door.

One of the four terrorists in the room had wrestled him back to his chair. Gordon had spent long minutes stacking the files from the box into what he insisted was an organized flow. He claimed he couldn't accurately address his professional decisions and ethics until he settled on a starting place. Thorp had remained patient thus far. Victoria suspected this was his way of allowing Gordon's tension to build. Thorp wanted both Gordon and Clark to suffer as long as possible before being put out of their misery.

Across the table from her, Reginald Clark's head lolled as if he were having trouble staying awake. The gag had kept him silent. Now and again the guard stationed behind him would bop him in the back of the head to keep him awake. Each time, Victoria flinched, and prayed that help would arrive soon.

Incredibly, to some extent it was easier for Victoria to dredge up sympathy for the cold-blooded killer than it was to find compa.s.sion for Gordon.

Life and all its wondrous gifts had been served up to Cook County's former district attorney since the day he was born. From a wealthy family, he'd been reared in privilege. The best universities in the country had opened their doors in welcome. He'd only had to choose one and show up. His ex-wife had brought another stream of wealth into his already blessed life. The divorce had only come once the book deal was imminent, leaving Gordon to retire in the style to which he had become accustomed-and free to pursue younger companions.

A universe away was Clark's tragic history. Left to his own devices by an absent father and a desperate mother, he'd climbed to the top of the mountain of least resistance. Why bother with occupational training or an education, both of which would have been available at little or no cost, when there was a far less complicated path with far more instant gratification.

As a street thug, he didn't have to worry about being jeered at by his peers, or about meeting the expectations of teachers or superiors. All he had to do was maintain a ruthless att.i.tude. And kill anyone who stepped on his toes or got in his way.

Both men had succeeded. Each had ultimately fallen into a life of crime. But Gordon had no excuse for his selfish, greedy decision. Not that Clark's was excuse either, but the facts did make his dossier somewhat more understandable.

Gordon was certainly as guilty of murder and numerous other heinous crimes as Clark in Victoria's opinion. The law would have various names for it-accessory to the act, impeding justice, and others.

But neither man deserved to die this day under this mockery of justice.

No one understood the need for vengeance better than Victoria. But that, as she herself had been forced to come to terms with, was wrong no matter how one rationalized the horrific act.

"Need I remind you that we're waiting, Gordon?" Thorp prodded. "Dragging your feet will not change how today will end."

Gordon looked up, sweat sliding down his pale cheeks. "I believe I'm ready to begin."

If Gordon regaled them with his prosecution history for the next hour or so, would that be enough time for Victoria's people to accomplish a rescue scenario? She'd hoped someone would be inside by now. But the terrorists a.s.signed to patrol duty did not appear to have encountered any indication that an infiltration had taken place.

Should she be thankful...or fearful?

Victoria knew how skilled Jim's Equalizers were, as were her investigators. Certainly Lucas would be providing his expert advice if not the a.s.sistance of his specialists. Yet the criminals who'd orchestrated the siege appeared equally skilled.

There was no way to know what was going on outside the conference room door.

No matter how suffocating her desperation, there was little she could do. Though the dull ache in her head and the exhaustion clawing at her worked against her determination, she would not admit defeat.

She had to keep trying to put off the inevitable.

"Mr. Thorp." She turned to the man in charge of the mockery. "Before Mr. Gordon begins, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course," he responded instantly. "I have nothing to hide, which is far more than I can say about our esteemed former district attorney."

Victoria understood that most would consider what she was about to do utterly heartless. But if her actions slowed down this descent into further travesty, then so be it.

"I believe your stepdaughter was twenty-three at the time of her murder," Victoria offered.

"That's correct. As a juror from her murderer's trial, you should well remember that fact. I watched every minute of every day of the trial. I have complete confidence that you were paying adequate attention."

Victoria nodded, acknowledging his not so subtle reprimand. "When did you and your wife first recognize that Patricia had an addiction problem?"

Rage flickered in Thorp's eyes. "I know what you're trying to do and I will not permit you or anyone else to turn this into a circus act. I endured more than enough of that in the courtroom and in the media. That is something else you should well recall."

Victoria ached for his loss. For the tragedy he simply could not come to terms with...that had led him to this place of sheer desperation. That had led them all to this place.

"Mr. Thorp, you cannot have it both ways," Victoria countered, braced for the retaliation that would no doubt come. "You expect Mr. Gordon to reveal his every secret, as did Mr. Clark, and yet you, yourself, refuse to do the same. Where is the justice in that?"

Thorp launched to his feet, sending his chair tumbling backward. "Justice?" The word roared from him like the flame from a mythical dragon. "There is no justice to be found in our system of law. That's why we're here. This is the only way to get justice!"

Victoria held her waning composure in place. Refused to show even a hint of the fear and weariness taking its heavy toll on her. "That is my point, sir. Justice is too often hard to come by. You have a.s.sembled this group here to find what you could not find elsewhere. That you," she pressed, "were denied. Are you, too, going to withhold that same justice to others by determining who will receive fair opportunity to speak and who won't? I am certain that is not your intent."

Her heart seemed to still as the silence thickened in the room. She prayed she had not gone too far. What she had said was merely the logical truth. But a rational man would not have gone to these extreme measures. Reason was not among the motives that drove Leonard Thorp.

Thorp swayed then reached for his chair but one of his henchmen quickly righted it for him. The weary man settled into it once more. "Ask your questions, then. I will not be accused of denying any of the facts relevant to my daughter's case...to justice."

Victoria repeated her last question. The painful impact stamped itself across his face as he prepared to answer.

Again she prayed that this excruciating step would not be for nothing.