Page 61 of Better off Dead

Eight seconds had passed since the first gunshot. Nine at the most. Not much time to react. And yet there was Mansour, in the next corridor. There was a chair outside Dendoncker’s office door. One of the orange ones. Mansour must have been stationed there, like a guard. But now he was coming toward me. Charging. Head down. Arms wide. Moving fast. Already too close for me to bring the Uzi to bear. So I stepped forward. I figured I could grab some part of him, move to the side, pivot, and use his weight and speed against him. Launch him into the window. Or the wall. Or at least send him sprawling on the floor. But the space was too narrow. He was too broad. His shoulder caught me in the chest. It was like being hit by a cannonball. I was knocked off my feet. I landed on my back, half propped up by the pack, and slid along the shiny floor. One of the Uzis clattered into the glass. I lost track of the other. All the breath was knocked out of me. I couldn’t suck any more in. My ribs felt like a million volts had been run through them. All I knew was that I had to get up. Get off the ground before the guy closed in with his feet or his fists or his overwhelming bulk. I clawed my way upright. And saw Dendoncker. He was disappearing into the glass corridor. He was wearing a gas mask. I realized it was mine. It must have fallen off when I fell. Mansour was following him. With no mask. Dendoncker had a way of inspiring loyalty. I had to admit that.

I retrieved the Uzis and started to chase after them. I reached the double doors. Then I heard a sound behind me. A guy had come out of the room at the far side of Fenton’s. Someone I hadn’t seen before. Presumably the guy I’d spoken to on the phone. He had already reached Fenton’s door. He must have tiptoed along while I was reeling from the impact with Mansour. The noise was his key working the lock. He opened the door. Stepped inside. With a gun in his hand. I turned and ran back. The door swung closed. I couldn’t see into the room because of the newspaper over the glass. But I could hear sounds from inside. A scream. A crash. And a shot.

Then silence.

I kicked the door open and strode inside, ready to empty the Uzi’s magazine into the guy who had just entered. And I came face-to-face with Fenton. She was standing near the bed, without her crutch. She was pointing the guy’s gun at me. The guy himself was on the floor. He was slumped half on the mattress I’d used the night before and half on the wood. His right wrist was twisted around at a crazy angle. It was broken. That was clear. And the top of his skull was missing.

“Guess we’ll need new accommodations tonight.” Fenton lowered the gun.

“Guess we will.” I came farther into the room. “You all right?”

She nodded and sat on the bed. “More or less.”

I opened my backpack and handed her the prosthetic foot. The one that Dendoncker’s guy had brought to the café. Then I turned and headed for the door.

“Thanks,” she said. Then, “Where are you going?”

“To get Dendoncker. If he’s still here.”

Chapter49

I paused in front ofthe double doors. Took a couple of deep breaths. Then went through, raced to the far end of the glass corridor, and burst into the dining hall. There was a breeze blowing over the roof now. It was helping to suck the gas out through the gap left by the vent. But Dendoncker’s formula was potent. My eyes were stinging and raw even after such a tiny exposure. I resisted the urge to rub them. Made myself stay still and wait until my view of the world was less blurred. Then I started to search.

I didn’t bother with the kitchen or the offices. I figured Dendoncker wouldn’t want to hide. He would want to get out of the place. There were two ways to do that. The tunnel. Or the SUVs. I crossed the assembly hall and looked through the window. The parking lot was empty. There was no sign of the Cadillacs. And no sign of Dendoncker or Mansour. I went outside and crossed to the gates. Both were still and closed and solid. But on the rough road beyond them, I could make out four red pinpricks. Two pairs. The same configuration. The Cadillacs’ taillights. The lead vehicle looked like it was riding lower on its suspension. Like it was carrying something heavy. But that was just an impression. I couldn’t be sure. Not at that distance. Not with the way they were bouncing through the gloom. It didn’t matter anyway. They were heading for the horizon. And there was nothing I could do to stop them.

—

Fenton was inthe corridor when I got back to the far side of the building. She was moving gingerly as if her refitted foot was causing her pain. She had already passed the door to the next room and she stopped when she heard me catching up to her.

“Someone else is here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Another prisoner. I don’t think he’s in good shape.”

I said, “How do you know?”

“When you called me the guy who brought the phone always stood in the doorway while we talked. With the door open. One time when we were done I was taking the phone back to him and I saw two people in the corridor. Walking together. Coming from the right. One was Dendoncker’s sidekick. The enormous guy. The other was a stranger. He was carrying a bag. A black leather one, all beat-up, like doctors use. He was speaking. In Spanish. He said something like, ‘You have to dial it down. He can’t take much more. Leave him alone for a while. Forty-eight hours. At least.’ ”

“Who was he talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did Dendoncker’s guy react?”

“He sounded annoyed. Said Dendoncker would never go for a delay. That he needed to know whereitwas, and there wasn’t much time.”

“It?”

Fenton shook her head. “I don’t know what they meant.”

“So where are they holding this other guy?”

“I thought he would be in the room next to mine. But I just looked. No one’s there. Just a bed and a bunch of security monitors. Nowhere to keep a prisoner. So there must be somewhere else.”

Fenton started moving again. With some difficulty. I followed, keeping to her pace. It seemed futile. The corridor must be a dead end. Like beyond Dendoncker’s office. The exit was boarded up tight. I’d seen it when I was searching for an alternative way in. But as we went farther I realized there was a difference. The final classroom’s wall didn’t run straight. Not all the way to the perpendicular wall. The was a recess at the very end. A setback of about a foot. To draw attention away from another door. A solid wooden one. With a sign attached. It said El Conserje.The Janitor.

The door was locked. But not in any serious way. It only took one kick to open it. Inside a set of stairs led down to another basement. They were wooden. Painted white, but less worn than the ones running from the kitchen down to the tunnel. I turned on the light and started to descend. Fenton followed. The space at the bottom was divided into two areas. One-third was for cleaning equipment and supplies. Two-thirds were for maintenance and repair. Or they had been. Now the tool benches and equipment lockers had been pushed to one end. Another army cot had been set up in the space that had been created. There was an intravenous drip stand next to it. A tube ran down from a bag of clear fluid. It was hooked up to the arm of a guy on the bed. His body was covered by a sheet. So were his legs and his other arm. But his head was visible. His face was swollen and cut and covered with scabs and bruises and burns. There was a huge lump on his forehead. Big chunks of his hair were missing. Fenton screamed. She pushed past me. Rushed to the bed. She looked like she was going to pull the guy into her arms. But she stopped herself. Took hold of his hand. And said one word. Softly. With a voice full of guilt and pain.

“Michael.”

Chapter50

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