Naked Frame Part 8

When they were back on the third floor, Gabby took out his phone and called 911 to report the fire. When he had ended the call, he said, "Becca, we can't stay here. By the time the fire trucks come we'll be dead from the smoke. We've got to go up to the roof. We can go over to the next building and climb down the fire escape."

"No. We can't go up there, Gabby. The shooter may be trying to smoke us out. He'll pick us off as soon as we step out the door."

Gabby thought for a moment. "I have an idea." He felt his way over to the wall.

Rebecca followed him.

"There's a door here. The guy who used to own these buildings wanted to be able to go back and forth easily, so he cut a pa.s.sageway."

"Can you still get through?"

"I think it's just nailed."

"What about the door on the other side?"

"I don't know."

"If can get through, we'll hide out in the other building. The shooter will think we died in the fire. You got any tools?"

"A few." Gabby fumbled around in the darkness until he found his toolbox. He located the flashlight. It was small but the batteries were still good. He picked up the toolbox and carried it over to the door. "We've got two hammers and a big screwdriver."

"Great." Rebecca took the flashlight and shined it at the door. "Look at this. They didn't nail the side with the hinges. We'll pop the pins and pry it open."

Gabby held the flashlight while Rebecca removed the pins with the screwdriver and hammer. Then she drove the screwdriver in between the door and the frame and began to pry with it. Once it opened slightly, she jammed the claw of her hammer into the crack. "While I hold this, see if you can get the claw of the other hammer in here, so you can help me pry the door open."

Gabby put the end of the flashlight into his mouth. He picked up the other hammer and forced its claw into the narrow opening.

They worked their hammers from the top to the bottom of the door. One by one, the nails began to give way. Finally, they were able to swing the door to one side.

Gabby shined the light into what he expected to be a short hallway. Instead he saw a white wall. "What is that?"

"Foam insulation. They must have sprayed it into the gap between the doors to absorb the sound."

Gabby turned around and shined the light toward the stairwell. The smoke was flowing up the staircase into the room. "We've got to get out of here fast."

Rebecca swung her hammer into the foam, claw first. She yanked it backwards, ripping out a small chunk of the foam.

Gabby joined in. They chomped away at the foam like a couple of beavers.

By the time they hit the other door, they were soaking wet with sweat, and beginning to cough.

"How are going to get this door off? The hinges are on the other side."

Rebecca thought for a moment. "Do you have anything we can ram it with? Some heavy piece of equipment or furniture?"

"No, I don't have-wait. Yes, I do. Come with me."

Rebecca followed Gabby into his office. He opened his closet door.

"I bought this weight set a while back."

"Perfect."

They tore into the boxes, put the weights on the ends of the bar and locked them in place.

"That's 130 pounds," said Gabby.

"I hope it's enough."

They picked up the bar at the ends, and Rebecca led them through the work room, into the pa.s.sageway between the doors. "Okay," she said. "We'll swing back on three and forward on four."

"Got it."

After three rams, the door had still not budged.

"It's not going to work," mumbled Gabby. He took the flashlight out of his mouth to cough. "Maybe we should take our chances on the roof."

"No. It has to work. We've got to hit it harder."

"I'll try." He put the flashlight back into his mouth.

"One, two three, four! Did you feel that, Gabby?"

"Yeah."

"One, two, three, four! h.e.l.l, yeah, Baby!"

"We're gonna make it." Gabby coughed hard, and the flashlight flew out of his mouth. He picked it up from the floor and shined it toward Rebecca. He could barely see her through the smoke, even though she was standing right in front of him.

"Hang in there. One more time."

They both knew this might be their last chance-before collapsing into a smoky grave. They slung the barbell with all their might. The door swung open a full foot. They lost control of the barbell and it fell to the floor.

Gabby took the flashlight out of his mouth. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Come on." She squeezed through the opening.

Gabby followed her. "We made it. I can't believe we did it."

Rebecca heard the sirens. "The fire trucks are here. If the shooter is still out there, he's watching for us on the roof. He has to know that if we don't come out soon, we're dead from the smoke. So, let's hurry downstairs and slip out to the alley."

Gabby shined the flashlight back toward his shop.

"I'm sorry, Gabby."

"I'm just glad I didn't let my insurance coverage lapse."

They watched the smoke billowing in through the partially opened door.

"Good thing this side is vacant," said Gabby.

She put her hand on Gabby's arm. "Why don't we go find another motel and crash for the night?"

"Why get a different one? We're still checked in."

"Did you use your real name? How did you pay?"

"I used my credit card. Oh."

"Yeah. We need to go find an ATM and get some cash. Then we can give a fake name at another motel. We don't want to make it too easy for somebody to find us."

"Right." Gabby shined the flashlight in front of them to locate the stairs, and they went down to the first floor.

They slipped out into the alley, got into Gabby's car, and drove away.

Rebecca took out her phone.

"Who are you calling at this hour?"

"Carly. I need to tell her Big Bill is dead."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"She'd want to know now. She works until midnight. Never goes to sleep before two."

"Lousy schedule."

"She's not answering."

"Leave her a voice mail."

Rebecca thought for a moment. "No. This is not good. Something's wrong. I need to get over there."

CHAPTER 9 - Tuesday, 1:37 a.m.

Mandibul slipped into the lab. As nimble as a jaguar, the 6-foot-5 black man moved slowly along the wall toward Phillipa's office. His firearm was holstered. With hands the size of an NFL quarterback, he rarely needed a gun.

Her office was empty.

He spotted her, standing at a workbench-in a state of high vulnerability. His timing could not have been better. The steady hiss of her acetylene torch would mask any inadvertent scuff of his boots on the tile floor. He stayed low to avoid any reflection in her welding goggles.

Within a foot of her back, he stood upright. "Don't move."

Phillipa flinched.

"Kill the torch."

She turned it off and set it down on the workbench.

"Feel that?"

She gasped. "Yes." She took off her goggles.

"Hold still, or it might go off."

"Have you no control over your weapon?"

"Very little."

Phillipa spun around. "What the h.e.l.l took you so long?"

He grabbed her up in his rock-hard arms and kissed her hard on the lips.

She pulled away. "How much time do you have?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Let's make it count."

He scooped her up as though she were a feather pillow. Phillipa loved that. She was tall and fit, but at 175 lbs., very few men could make her feel weightless.

Mandibul carried her to her office and set her down on her feet.

She threw off her lab coat and began to unb.u.t.ton his security guard shirt while he took off her blouse.

Phillipa looked up into his eyes. "You could get fired for this, you know."

"We won't get caught."

"I'm not talking about getting caught. I'm saying if you give a sub-par performance."

"You know better than that."

She grinned. "Yes, I do."

He stripped off her bra, poised to devour her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Mandibul?"

He did not take his eyes off her chest. "Yes? What do you desire tonight? Your wish is my command."