Part 34 (1/2)
The second man moved quickly to Mason and slammed him in the stomach. He sank to his knees, wrists straining at the rope, gasping for breath.
Jose bent down very close to Melissa's ear and pulled the gag from her mouth. ”Where does he keep his files?”
”I don't know,” she whimpered. ”I swear I don't.”
”Why did you send me that e-mail from Los Angeles?” Gillette demanded.
Faith looked at him strangely, putting a hand on her chest. ”What e-mail? What are you talking about?”
They were standing in the middle of an upstairs room at the Waldorf that Stiles had hastily arranged. ”The one from the coffee shop. What did you mean I needed to be careful? And who are 'they'?”
”I don't know what you're talking about.”
”I know you sent that e-mail, Faith. We have a record of you doing it.”
”You couldn't possibly have a record of it,” she retorted. ”They don't-”
”Don't what?” Gillette asked when she stopped short.
She said nothing.
”Faith, you have to tell me-”
”Why did you lie to me?” she demanded.
”Lie?”
”About your mother's death.”
It was Gillette's turn to go silent.
”Did you think I wouldn't find out?”
”I figured you would sooner or later,” he admitted. ”I'm sure it wasn't hard.”
”Why did you tell me she died that day?”
”She did for me. Maybe not physically, but in every other way. I'd had enough.”
”You pulled her out of the pool, didn't you? You found her and you saved her life?”
Gillette stared back at Faith. ”Yes.”
”And you didn't tell me about your brother and sister, either. Why did you tell me you were an only child?”
”How did you-”
”I saw them mentioned in an article about your father's plane crash. Your mother was mentioned, too.”
Faith glared at him for several moments, then her expression softened. Finally she smiled sadly, moved close to him, and slid her arms around his neck. ”Thank you for helping me,” she said softly, hugging him. ”The label called this morning to tell me they were doubling my ad budget.”
Gillette had called the music company's CEO yesterday and ordered the increase. ”I told you I would.”
”A lot of people tell me they'll help me but they don't.” She gazed up at him. ”Remember what you said to me at dinner? About trusting no one?”
He nodded.
”I trust you,” she whispered, pulling his mouth to hers.
For a moment Gillette hesitated, then he pressed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply.
Jimmy Holt stumbled through the parking lot toward his car, drunk. It had been all he could do not to tell the other energy a.n.a.lysts from the office about the huge new oil and gas field in Canada, all he could do, as he stood at the bar and listened to them talk sports and women, not to cut in and describe the data he'd lifted from the tapes. Increasingly difficult with each beer.
So he'd left. Afraid that a seventh beer would make him spill his guts. Despite his boss's warning.
Holt fumbled through his pockets for his keys, his head spinning. Finally locating them. Pointing the car key at the door and pressing the b.u.t.ton. Vaguely aware of the car's parking lights flas.h.i.+ng and of reaching for the door. Knowing that he shouldn't be getting behind the wheel. But he wasn't going to leave his car here and have to come get it in the morning.
Suddenly he felt himself pitching forward. Forced to trot, then run, to keep from falling face-first. So drunk he was unaware it wasn't the alcohol causing him to stagger ahead. Unaware that he'd been violently pushed.
Holt's forehead slammed into the curb as he finally tumbled forward, the cement opening a gaping wound above his left eye. As blood poured onto the cement, Holt vaguely felt the barrel of the gun pressed to his temple. Then there was a flash and everything went dark.
Mason closed his eyes tightly, his heart in his throat. He was dangling over the railing of the balcony by his wrists, forty-two stories up. He tried to yell for help, but the heavy gag m.u.f.fled his cries.
Then he felt himself dropping. He fell maybe only five feet and it lasted less than half a second, but now he was screaming like a baby as they hauled him back over the railing.
”Where are your files?” the Hispanic man hissed into Mason's ear, pulling the gag down around his neck. ”Don't tell us and we'll drop your wife over.”
”Wall safe in the bedroom,” Mason gasped. ”Let me go in there. I'll open it.”
Kathy Hays sat on the porch of the cabin, listening to the sounds of the night. She pulled her sweater tightly around herself and s.h.i.+vered. It wasn't cold here in Mississippi, but it was eerie. She peered into the darkness, certain she'd seen something move among the Spanish moss draping the trees. She held her breath and looked harder. Nothing. Just a small tree moving in the breeze.
She let out a long breath. The time was going slowly.
”I'm sorry about what happened tonight,” Gillette said quietly to Isabelle as he held her.
”Don't worry about it,” she whispered. ”It's incredible to me that you'd choose to be with me. I mean, Faith Ca.s.sidy is a superstar.”
”Well, I-”
His cell phone rang and he pulled it hastily from his jacket pocket. ”Yes,” he answered, turning away from her and pressing the tiny phone tightly to his ear so she wouldn't hear.
”Christian, it's Jose.”
”Yes?”
”You were right. He was keeping files on companies at Everest. We got them. All the ones in his safe at his apartment.”