My aim was blocked by Orford who was staggering toward me, his hands reaching desperately for the syringe. I ducked around him and fired twice just as three bullets from the killer’s automatic cut through the space I’d occupied a split second earlier and drilled into the wall behind me in a perfect kill pattern. My own shots missed, though I didn’t think by much.
Jesus, the guy could move.
I ducked left as the bastard unleashed more shots before crashing out the window and dropping from view.
We were on the second floor-there was simply no way he was going to walk away from that, I thought as I bolted to the window, but there he was, on the damp soil and rising out of a perfect roll. He was already upright when I fired several rounds at him as he jagged one way, then the other, and sprinted off down the sidewalk.
“Fuck!”
I gritted my teeth so hard I could feel the roots grind into my jaw, and after an instant of raging frustration, I realized that Orford needed urgent medical attention if I was going to keep him alive long enough to answer my questions-but the door to his office was open and he’d vanished from sight.
Where the hell was he?
I rushed out into the suite’s reception. No one was there, but the door was open. Raising my gun, I edged toward the door and peered out into the corridor. Down and across the corridor from the suite, Orford was standing in the kitchen, a large kitchen knife in each of his hands.
I moved toward him. Thankfully, the area was otherwise empty. “Orford, we need to talk. About my dad, Colin Reilly. Then I’ll get you the help you need.”
He was staring at me with manic eyes, his pupils dilated like he was staring into the darkest black hole, his face was all sweaty, his knife arm moving jerkily from side to side.
“Stay back,” he hissed. “You’re not getting me too.”
My arms opened up in a calming gesture, my gun no longer aimed at him, my other palm wide open.
“Orford,” I said. “Put the knife down and talk to me. That’s all I need. Colin Reilly. 1981. I need to know what happened. I need to know what you did to him.”
He was just eyeing me with sheer terror. “I know what you are. I know what you really are inside-that,” he said with a mix of fear and disdain. “You don’t fool me. Just-stay away from me. You’re not getting inside me. Do you hear me? You’re not getting me too!”
Whatever he’d been injected with was taking over and messing with his mind, big time. I realized I might not have much time. “Orford, calm down. Just talk to me. What did you do to my father?”
“Your father? How the hell should I know? Your people-they probably took him too. Like they took everyone. Everyone!”
“Orford, put the knife down,” I said as I inched closer. “I’m with the FBI.” I tried to talk as unthreateningly and soothingly as I could, but he was backing away, riven with fear, his eyes manically darting left and right-then they registered the window.
Our eyes met-then he just freaked and yelled, “You’re not taking me, you fuckers!” and he threw the knife at me-a lousy throw, it just flew past harmlessly-before charging towards the window. I rushed after him but I couldn’t cover the ground in time to grab him before he flung it open and just threw himself out.
His landing wasn’t anywhere as graceful as the killer’s. He was sprawled on the ground, his neck and arms twisted at odd angles.
I hurtled down the stairs and out of the building and reached him just as a few gawkers were hesitantly approaching his prone body. Blood was oozing out of his mouth and his eyes were just staring into the distance, unfocused.
“Someone call 911! Get an ambulance here,” I yelled at the shocked faces as I tried to focus on what really mattered to me. I bent down, closer to Orford’s face. He was still breathing. “Orford. Do you remember? You must remember! Colin Reilly? He shot himself?”
His eyes flickered, then glanced sideways at me with the look of a soul so lost, so haunted it was hard for me to not look away. “That’s why you’re here, right? To set us free. Ralph, Marcus, me, Reilly…”
I couldn’t make sense of it. “What you do mean? Did you know my father? Did you know Colin Reilly?”
“Reilly… yes, he was… interesting.”
I knelt down and took hold of Orford’s head, knowing this was my very last chance. “Orford. Please. Tell me what happened.”
His eyes locked onto mine, but there was little light behind them. Then it flickered out and he was gone.
The sound of distant sirens edged into my awareness.
I have to get out of here.
I stood, pocketed the gun, pulled my badge and spoke in the most authoritative voice I could muster.
“I need to go after the man who did this. Tell the police they’ll find the murder weapon on the floor of Orford’s office. Tell them there was another man here, a man sent to kill him. He jumped out of Orford’s office window and escaped.”
I was about to run off when I remembered the open laptop on Orford’s desk. I decided I had to risk it. I raced back into the building and up the stairs to Orford’s office where I grabbed the laptop and stuffed it into his own shoulder bag.
I was almost back at the stairs by the time the sirens were right outside.
I stopped, stepped across to the window of the kitchen, which was on another side of the building, and looked out.
Two Montgomery County PD cars and an EMS vehicle had pulled up outside. Four cops and two paramedics were rushing towards Orford.
I watched as the EMTs got to work and waited for the cops to disappear inside, then swung the bag across my shoulder and rushed back to Orford’s office. I was going to have to follow the killer’s route out. I grabbed the neatly folded blanket from the leather sofa and laid it over the base of the window frame. No way was I jumping out. I’d try to hang off the frame and drop down, reducing the distance to around fifteen feet.
As I lifted one leg over the empty window, I noticed something for the first time. The photo at the back of the framed pictures sitting on a lacquered cabinet, only now visible because of the angle at which I was looking at it.
It showed three guys in their forties on a hunting trip-Orford on the left. Behind them was some kind of hunting blind.
I swung my leg back inside, grabbed the picture and stuffed into the laptop bag. Then I climbed out, took all my weight on both hands, hung for a moment, and dropped to the ground. A piercing shot of concentrated agony burst through my right ankle as I hit the sidewalk.
I pulled myself upright and hobbled away, parting a few rubberneckers as I picked up speed, ignoring the screaming pain accelerating up my right leg.
I climbed into the BMW, thankful that Gigi had explained the car’s registration was tied to a fake ID and a derelict address, and charged off.
46
Federal Plaza, Lower Manhattan
Sitting at Aparo’s desk, Deutsch was staring off into space, her mind and body so worn out that she was now totally dead to any emotion regarding what had happened over the past two days. Indeed, this impenetrable numbness was so oddly relaxing she feared what would happen once it wore off after she’d grabbed a good night’s sleep and eaten properly.
As she sat there, both unable and unwilling to move, a junior agent she’d vaguely seen around the office walked over to her. He was waving a letter-sized manila envelope.
“Agent Deutsch? This arrived this morning; it’s addressed to Agent Reilly. Since his calls are being rerouted to you, I figured you’d want to take care of this too?”
“Who’s it from?”
“There’s no name, no return address. Scan shows it’s only got paper in it.”