They were in Lady Ainsley-Hunter's bathroom, Natalie already in the shower, Corry trying to sort her gear. He helped me get my radio off, taking the rest of my equipment as I stripped, then holding my glasses as I joined Natalie under the spray. He didn't ask any questions.
She was slumped against the tiled wall, her head down, diluted blood swirling at her feet. When she looked up at me I could see the source. Drama had broken her nose.
After taking a face full of icy water for thirty seconds, Natalie and I swapped places again. My watch was an Oris, water-resistant to one hundred meters, and I checked it again, saw that I had twenty-two minutes. The burning had stopped where the water was still hitting me, but everywhere else it still persisted, not as ferocious, but constant. There was nothing more I could do about it; pepper only relents in the face of three things – fresh air, cold water, and time – and time was the only sure cure.
Corry handed me a towel as I got out. Dale was now standing in the doorway.
The phlegm still bubbling in my throat made my voice thick. "Drama's got her," I told them.
It was on their faces that I was only confirming what they already knew.
"No word to the law, no alarms, nothing. The balloon goes up, she'll kill her." I dropped the towel, reached for my clothes. "I'm supposed to be at my place in twenty minutes for further instructions."
"I'll bring the car around," Dale said, and went.
"What do I tell Moore?" Corry asked.
"Have him and Chester come to my place as soon as they can, but tell them not to rush it. If the police catch a whiff, we're fucked."
"You think Drama's serious?"
From the shower, Natalie said, softly, "Absolutely."
I finished tying my shoes, grabbed my gun and radio. "There's another problem."
"Fowler's with Bridgett, and both were with Moore when the radios started," Corry said. "We're not going to be able to keep Fowler from coming here, or to your place, if that's where Bridgett is headed."
"Then don't try. Just make sure he doesn't find out why we've moved." I checked my watch, saw that I had just twenty minutes. "I'm gone. You and Nat follow as soon as you're able."
"What'd she say?" Dale asked.
"She wants me to stay by the phone. She says she'll call. She says again if we raise an alarm, Antonia's dead." I carefully replaced the receiver.
"What do we tell Scott?"
"Nothing."
Dale moved closer. "He'll know something's up, Atticus. He'll have to report this. He's legally and ethically obligated to report this."
"Then we'll lie."
"Atticus…"
"Dammit, Dale, Drama has her and the only reason Antonia's not dead is because she wants something else!"
He let go of my shoulder, scowling. "Don't shout at me."
I matched his expression with a scowl of my own, and then stepped past him. From the gun locker in my closet I took my Smith Wesson, my extra clips for the HK, the ammunition I needed for both guns. Dale was where I'd left him, staring out the window. He turned his head enough to watch me dump everything on the kitchen table.
"We're going to need maps," I said.
"I have the Hagstrom in the car."
"Get it."
He went and as soon as I heard the door close I reached for the phone. Bridgett's cell phone rang twice before she answered, and before she could speak I started talking.
"Don't say my name. We've got a situation and it's bad and Fowler cannot be a part of it. Understand?"
"Uh-huh."
"Where are you?"
"Leaving Midtown North."
"Is he with you?"
"Uh-huh."
"I need you to come up with an excuse to separate from him."
"I can do that, but it might be a couple minutes. I'll have to go to the office first."
I was so worked up I didn't even appreciate the embellishment. "Moore told you where he was going?"
"Uh-huh."
"Dammit." That meant Scott already knew we'd moved from the Edmonton to the apartment, and that meant he'd be coming here anyway. "All right, don't worry about it. I'll call you back when it's safe."
"Well, safety is my middle name."
"Your middle name is Eileen."
She hung up, and so did I, and I stared at my spare gun and then set about loading the extra clips. I didn't have any immediate plan to use it; I didn't even have any immediate plan to wear it. But it kept my hands busy, it was something to do until the others arrived, until the phone rang again. Drama had as much as said we were now playing the waiting game, and I expected that she would make us wait long, to try and wear us down before she made further contact. The best thing to do would be to use the time well, and that meant getting ready for whatever might happen next. When the others arrived, we would discuss it, try to work out a strategy, a plan.
But just thinking that, I knew that there really wasn't anything we could do at all.
The pepper burn had finally relented, and now my insides felt raw. The illness I'd felt earlier seemed to have gone too, though if that was a result of the unending supply of adrenaline I seemed to have tapped or because I was actually healthier, I didn't know. I didn't much care. My face throbbed from where Drama kicked me, and when I touched my cheek, I could feel the swelling beneath the skin.
Dale came back with the maps, and a couple minutes later the intercom buzzed, and Natalie told me that she was downstairs with Corry, Moore, and Chester. I let them into the building, told Dale to cover the hall, then went out my apartment door to the top of the stairs. After a minute I heard them coming up, and when I saw Natalie leading the way, I waved Dale off. Wet hair clung limp around her head like sodden newspaper, and the swelling across the bridge of her nose had already begun turning purple and red. She swiped at a weak trickle of blood from her left nostril as she crossed the threshold.
Once everyone was inside, Dale shut and locked the door. Corry put Chester on the couch, sitting down beside her, and Natalie took the chair in the corner by the stereo. Moore remained standing. He waited until Dale joined us before asking if we'd received the call.
"She called," I said. "Her Ladyship's still alive, I heard her voice, not a recording."
"How'd she sound?" Chester was moving a glare over each of us, while the fingers of her right hand pulled at the upholstery on my couch, making a small hole larger.
"Scared." I looked at Moore. "They explained it to you?"
He nodded.
"We did everything we could."
He nodded again, and I knew he accepted what I'd said, but I also knew knowing it gave him about as much comfort as saying it was giving me. "Has she made demands?"
"She's primed the waiting game," I said. "Orders are to stay by the phone, wait for her call. If word gets out…"
"I heard," Moore said. "She hasn't said what she wants?"
"No."
"Doesn't make much nicking sense, then, does it?"
"Not so far."
Moore scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb, squinting as if trying to read small print. I waited for him to chase the thought, to see if he ended up at the same destination I had.
"How much time you figure?"
"It won't be until midnight at the earliest," I answered. "This is psych one-oh-one stuff; she's going to try to unbalance us. She can afford to make us wait, she knows that'll only make her position stronger, but she can only play that for so long – otherwise she risks the balloon going up whether any of us want it to or not. My feeling is we won't hear from her again until the long hours tonight. But we should start prep now."
"I agree. Natalie?"
She was already pushing out of the chair. "Dale and I'll go clean out the office. Anything in particular we should grab?"
"We don't know what we'll need," I said.