Colby Agency: Colby Justice Part 8

"Let's see what happens when they rendezvous on the third floor," Michaels suggested. "They will surely need to report in to their superior soon."

"If not," Jim countered, "we're moving forward. We can't afford to lose any more time. So far the rest of the hot bodies are on the fourth floor."

At least none had gone cold yet. The thermal scan Lucas Camp had provided was cutting edge. A few degrees drop in body temperature and the scanner would detect the variance. But the inability to see exactly what was happening in the conference room with his mother had to be killing Jim.

Ben was going to get her safely out of there.

"I'm going to-" Alexander motioned toward the bathroom "-use the facilities."

Ben watched her walk across the room. He liked the way she moved, with grace and fluidity, like a dancer. Another of those uncharacteristic smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Penny Alexander wasn't into casual s.e.x, which put her off limits. The sooner he got that through his suddenly thick skull, the better off they would both be.

This was a job. Not a date.

When she returned, she made a face that said she had something to share that she found embarra.s.sing. "I didn't flush because of the noise it would make. Sorry. But it seemed like the right thing not to do."

"Smart move." He headed that way to relieve himself as well.

The suits they wore hadn't exactly been designed for personal comfort. Peeling it loose from the injury was more than a little uncomfortable but he managed without too much grunting and wincing.

When he'd taken care of business, he lowered the lid and, on second thought, didn't pick up the gloves Alexander had left on the sink their first visit. If the gloves disappeared the enemy would know they had been back in here. He supposed that was why she had left them when she'd had the opportunity twice now to pick them up herself.

As he rejoined her in the office, Jim's voice interrupted his distracting thoughts. "Both men have returned to the fourth floor. Time to move."

"Copy," Ben acknowledged.

Chances were the two infiltrators weren't going to report the breach of security. Not considering they had something to hide from the boss. Neither man would want to explain exactly what he'd been doing when he noticed something was amiss on the second floor.

At least Ben hoped that was the way it went down. Since the enemy's entire team was back on the fourth floor, Ben supposed they would know soon enough.

If the breach was reported, Ian would likely get a call.

Or someone would die.

Maybe both.

Chapter Eleven.

Inside the Colby Agency, 1:45 p.m.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself, Mr. Clark?" Thorp demanded.

The man seated across the table from Victoria c.o.c.ked his head to glare at Thorp. "Ain't you gonna ask me the real question you want to know the answer to?" Clark said.

Victoria's pulse jumped. Every exhausted muscle in her body tightened with a new burst of tension. They had been doing this for more than two hours. No one had been allowed to drink, there was no food and scarcely a bathroom break. How much longer could this go on until someone snapped? She stole a glance at Gordon. His pale face remained damp with sweat. He, she suspected, would be the first to break.

For a time Thorp only stared at Clark, his expression filled with sheer hatred and animosity. "I know what you did to her. I had to identify the body. My wife could not look at the horrors done to her only child."

"If it makes you feel any better," Clark mused, "I didn't enjoy killing her."

Someone had to stop this. Victoria looked to Gordon. Was there nothing he could do? But Gordon was mentally absent for all intents and purposes. The fear and resignation on his face told the tale.

Victoria was on her own.

Fury contorting his face, Thorp started to speak, but Victoria cut him off. "I'm certain that is not the answer Mr. Thorp is looking for. I doubt any excuse you provide will be sufficient, Mr. Clark." Was he intentionally trying to antagonize the man who held his life in his hands? Evidently so.

Clark shrugged. "I'm dead anyway, ain't I?"

"Why?" The single word came from Thorp. The agony in that one syllable and now etched across his face tore at Victoria's heart.

"Because she saw something she should've kept her mouth shut about," Clark explained as nonchalantly as if he were forecasting a seasonable weather report. "I told her what would happen if she ran off at the mouth. She didn't listen."

Victoria knew the rest of the story. Patricia Henshaw went to the police. Then she disappeared. Her tortured and mutilated body was found four days later.

"She was a s.l.u.t," Clark announced. "One with a bad drug habit who couldn't keep her trap shut."

Something in Thorp's demeanor changed. Gone was the misery and weariness. His expression reflected one thing now-determination. "Kill him."

"Wait!" Victoria launched to her feet, fought the dizziness. "This isn't over." She glanced at the muzzle boring into Clark's head, then to Thorp. "Justice won't be fully served until you've heard how and why your daughter's murder case failed."

Thorp's jaw tightened visibly. "We'll hear that from Gordon." He stared down the length of the table at the former D.A. "That's next on the agenda. After Clark is dead."

The terrorist behind Clark jammed his weapon into his temple.

"But," Victoria urged, desperation pushing her, "if you kill Clark now, you'll only hear Gordon's side of the story. There will be no one to confirm that he's telling the truth."

Gordon shot her a lethal look.

Thorp appeared to consider her caveat for long enough to make her knees go weak.

"You're right, Victoria." He clasped his hands and placed them on the table. "Gag him," he said to the guard holding the gun to Clark's head. Then he turned his attention to the man at the opposite end of the table. "Start talking, Gordon. Maybe your story will garner more sympathy-" he nodded toward Clark "-than this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's."

Victoria wilted into her chair.

She'd bought a little more time.

But would it be enough?

Chapter Twelve.

Inside, 2:15 p.m.

Penny hesitated. She had just made the turn that led to the final horizontal stretch of metal tunnel before reaching the third floor return grill. But something was wrong. The door/grill was open. Light filtered into the darkness corroborating her conclusion.

This was way, way wrong.

They had taken their time moving from the second floor to the third through the enclosed metal s.p.a.ce, particularly the ninety-degree angle that separated the two floors. Ian had confirmed that the two men remained on the fourth floor with their comrades.

However, since their presence had been detected, extreme caution had to be taken with every step from this point forward. This was one of those steps.

Steele tugged on her ankle. She eased backward, aligning herself with him in the cramped s.p.a.ce. It made for more of that body-to-body contact but it was essential. They could not risk being overheard.

"The grill is open and the filter is missing at this third-floor exit point," she whispered. "I know our guys are still on the fourth floor, but it makes me wonder if there might be a trap of some sort."

That was something Ian Michaels and the others wouldn't be able to see unless the trap for some reason emanated heat. Penny's heart rate accelerated. She'd done d.a.m.ned good this time. Hadn't let the confining s.p.a.ce or the darkness get to her. But the idea of what could be waiting for them outside that opening set off all kinds of stress triggers.

If they were captured, Victoria and the others could very well be executed before Thorp's ridiculous mock trial was over. Pushing the endgame up by several hours. As long as Thorp and his head henchman, Pederson, were unaware of the intrusion, there was still time to stop this travesty before anyone died.

Steele tapped his mic. "Any movement from the fourth floor?"

Ian responded immediately. "All hot spots are accounted for and remain on the fourth floor."

Penny shook her head. "Something feels wrong," she murmured to Steele.

"We're going to hold our position," he reported to those listening at the temporary command center. "Standby for further advis.e.m.e.nt."

Penny understood that if anyone had moved from the fourth floor Ian would know it...but she couldn't get past this sensation of overwhelming doom.

"You okay?"

Her gaze settled on Steele's. She'd given him the truth about her discomfort in confined s.p.a.ces. But the last thing she wanted was him doubting her ability based on her admission. "Absolutely." She hesitated a second and added, "You?" After all, he was the one with the injury.

He made a soft sound, a weary chuckle. "Far more than the pain from the injury itself, I'm actually dreading when this operation is over and I have to get that tape peeled off."

An unexpected smile tilted her lips. She could definitely understand that. "Maybe you can chew on a bullet or something. Isn't that what tough guys like you do when enduring pain?"

"I think," he returned quietly, his voice chockfull of amus.e.m.e.nt, "the term is bite on a bullet."

"Whatever. My training's in the world of science, as you know," she tossed back, "I wouldn't have a clue about that sort of thing."

"Maybe you should hang around and watch how a tough guy takes the real pain," he suggested, "just for the experience, of course."

Was he inviting her to hang around him after this was over? "Maybe I will. I'm certain experience along those uncomfortable lines could be useful in my future at the Colby Agency."

a.s.suming she didn't get herself killed today and had a future at the agency or anywhere else. Particularly if Steele opted to mention her little personal problem in his final report.

BEN WAS STILL KICKING HIMSELF about the offer he'd made five minutes later as they moved to the exit onto the third floor. He couldn't remember the last time he'd invited a woman to anything that didn't include a lengthy tangle in the sheets.

The concept that this particular woman got to him on a wholly new level under their current circ.u.mstances was definitely not the norm. But then he'd never encountered a woman exactly like Penny Alexander.

Not only could she contort her body into positions that were intensely intriguing, she was completely oblivious to her innate s.e.x appeal. Maybe that was the part he liked best about her. Innocent wasn't precisely the right word. Una.s.suming, maybe. He rarely met women like that in his line of work. Then again, he typically found his companions in places where una.s.suming wasn't the standard profile.

That Alexander was profoundly determined not to let her weaknesses stand in her way, was admirable. And s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

"I'll go first."

He blinked, reprimanded himself for not staying focused. According to the folks back at the temporary command center, the perimeter around their exit point remained clear. Admittedly, they were all pretty well convinced that the enemy did not possess thermal-scanning capability. Other than the probability that the cameras in the stairwells remained operational for the enemy's convenience, the floors had been searched and the enemy apparently didn't see continued monitoring as a necessity.

With the exception of the two men who patrolled the lower floors. And, obviously, they weren't telling their secret. Ben didn't doubt for a second that they would be back. They would want to know where the person who screwed up their extracurricular activity was hiding.

As well as the code for unlocking the keyboard.

"I'll be right behind you," Ben said, acknowledging Alexander's game plan.

When they were both standing in the corridor, Ben motioned for her to follow him to the maintenance room on the third floor. From there they would access the overhead area that was designed in such a way that the entire area was contained to that floor. There was no way to reach the next floor through that avenue. His hope was to reach the third-floor electrical system and disable the stairwell camera leading to the fourth floor.

Time would be short once that was accomplished. As soon as the enemy recognized the camera was disabled, a.s.suming they did, patrols would be fanned out to find the problem. Ben's plan involved showing Alexander what to do, leaving her to make it happen and then at the instant she shut the camera down he would make a run for the fourth floor. She would join him as backup when she could-through the ventilation system if necessary. Every step depended upon the enemy's reaction to the previous one.

On the third floor, which housed a major Chicago advertising agency, the only access to the overhead electrical and plumbing systems, as was the case on all four above ground levels, was in the maintenance staff's supply room.

Ben crouched down before the door and pulled the tools he would need from his backpack. A few carefully placed insertions and twists and the tumblers in the lock released. He placed the tools back into his pack and stood. "And we're in."

"Another trick of the trade I might need to learn," she said, keeping her voice low even as her expression reflected just how much he'd impressed her with that trusty old maneuver.

A true rookie. There was a lot Alexander needed to learn if she planned to make it in the business of private investigations.

Ben opened the door and stepped inside the approximately ten-by-twelve room. Tools, electrical breaker boxes, plumbing shutoff valves. This was the floor's grid hub. All incoming utilities for the floor, other than the main security system lines, were controlled from here. Maintenance could routinely shut down a portion of the grid on a given floor without affecting the operation of any other sectors.

A steel ladder attached to the wall on the back side of the s.p.a.ce provided access to the padlocked entry door on the ceiling above to what most would refer to as the attic s.p.a.ce.

Alexander surveyed the obviously unfamiliar items. "Is there something I can do?" She turned to Ben, that frustrating uncertainty forming small lines across her brow.

He liked that she wanted to help even when she wasn't at all sure what to do.

"Lock the door." It could be locked from the inside without a key. "Keep your eyes and ears open. If I need you, I'll let you know. If you get word that trouble is headed this way-" he gestured to the ladder "-hide just inside that overhead door."

"Speaking of that door," she said, and pointed to the access on the room's ceiling. "Are you planning to work your magic on that lock, too?"

He grinned. "I could." He walked to the ma.s.sive upright tool chest. "But I think I'll take the easy way out." He checked the drawers and shelves until he found what he needed. Bolt cutters. No good maintenance man would be caught without that particular tool. Could cut through most anything.

She crossed her arms over her chest and observed his movements, skepticism replacing frustration and uncertainty.

With the heavy tool in hand, he climbed the ladder, snapped the padlock and removed it. He handed both the lock and the tool to Alexander. "Be careful," he warned as he reached for the door above his head.

"Me?" She flattened a palm on her chest, along the top of the pleasant rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "You're the one who needs to be careful."