Part 20 (2/2)
He grinned at my surprise, his dimples nice and deep, and without any more expression or warning he pulled first one trigger, then the other, emptying both barrels into the open doorway.
Chapter 9.
I WAS ON the tile floor. It smelled of soap, cordite, burned fiber, and blood.
The impact of the blast had thrown me back against a washbasin, which altered the angle of fall and twisted me facedown. The agony of the shot pa.s.sing through my body left me stunned as few things could. I fought to hold on to sanity and solidity. It was several long seconds before my s.h.i.+vering, jerking limbs recovered enough control to stand.
The door still hung open, and the air was thick with blue smoke. Ten seconds to find my feet, five more to stagger to the hall, but it was long enough. Malcolm was gone.
So was Braxton. He was on his back and not moving. The shot had all but cut his slight body in two. His blood flooded the black-and-white tiles. His face was calm and dreamy. Death had come so fast there'd been no time to react.
Matheus was on his side in the hall, one hand still clutching his cross. A smear of blood was over his right eye and a crimson thread flowed from it into his hair. Still alive.
The studio door opened. There was no time to explain, I vanished before anyone saw me, and sank down through the floors, hoping to reach the ground ahead of Malcolm. A few people were standing in the main lobby of the building. I took the risk of re-forming, but no one noticed; they were looking out the front doors. I pushed past and went outside. No Ford in sight, but there was a man running away, his long coat flapping. My legs gobbled up his fifty-yard lead and I hauled him up short and spun him around.
Watery eyes, a three-day beard, no chin, stinking of booze and sweat, he wore Malcolm's coat or one just like it.
”Easy, Captain!” he wheezed.
”Where is he? Where's the blond man?”
”Did what he said, was it good? I get another two bits if it's good. Was it good?”
”What'd he tell you to do?”
”Wait on the stairs 'n run. Captain. Lizzen fer the bang 'n run. Good joke, huh?
Was it good?”
It was good, it bought Malcolm enough time to get out another way while I chased down the wino. I ran back to the lobby. The doorman was the first official- looking type, so I collared him, said there'd been an accident at the studio and to call an ambulance, then raced upstairs to look for Malcolm. It was a poor chance at best, he'd be gone by now.
The studio hall was in a mess. Men were peering into the washroom, and a small knot had formed around Matheus. Some woman was crying and another man was holding her. The stage was empty except for the chairs and piano. Crossing the divider between it and the audience, I was stopped by the man in s.h.i.+rtsleeves. He gaped at my shredded clothes.
”Sorry, you have to stay out.”
”I'm with Bobbi Smythe, she was on tonight.”
”She'll be backstage, but- The backstage door opened to a hall full of people all looking at me, questions on their troubled faces.
”Where's Bobbi Smythe?” I asked no one in particular.
”I think she left,” a woman suggested.
”When?”
”She was here just a minute ago,” someone else said.
There was another set of washrooms down the hall. I opened up the ladies' and called for Bobbi and Marza. No one answered.
”They must have taken the back elevator,” the woman told me.
That was down the hall and around the corner, with more people in the way.”What the h.e.l.l happened?”
”I heard an explosion.”
Was it a bomb?”
”Nan, Big Al must be back an' havin' a party.”
”Musta been a gun-Johnny said someone got shot.”
”G.o.dd.a.m.ned drunks, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the show.”
I ignored their speculations and punched at the elevator b.u.t.ton. This time I couldn't sink through the floors without getting unwanted attention, besides, the operator might have seen something.
He had, and told me about it on the way down.
”Yeah, the blond, a real bombsh.e.l.l-she stood out from that group like fireworks.”
”What floor?”
”They got off on ground a few minutes ago.” They?”
”She had some harpy with her. Seemed anxious to leave, and a couple of others, too. What's goin' on? What happened to you?”
We made the ground floor and I left him guessing. The back hall was empty, so I went around front. There was a cop in the lobby by now, asking questions. I waited until he was in the elevator and scanned faces. No Bobbi, but the doorman was still there.
”Hey, did a blond in a red dress go out? She was with a black-haired woman in green.”
”Haven't seen 'em.”
”If you do, ask 'em to wait.”
”Cops say everyone has to wait, n.o.body gets out now.”
I went through the ground floor, again checking the washrooms, but with no luck.
They should have left by way of the front; it was a busier street and more likely to have cabs, but then they shouldn't have gone at all. If she'd heard a man had been shot, Bobbi would have been on the scene to make sure it wasn't me. Marza must have dragged her out to protect her. d.a.m.n Marza, anyway.
The rear exit was ajar and unguarded-so much for the cops' instructions. It opened to another street busy with cars and nothing else. I called her name, but no one answered.After wasting a lot of time, I finally wised up and drove back to Bobbi's hotel. It would be the place for them to go since it was closer than Marza's. Before I reached the elevator, Phil flagged me down.
”What happened to you?” he asked, staring at the hole in my clothes where the sh.e.l.l had gone through.
”Fight.” I was in a hurry to get past him.
<script>