“That’s just what he wants. That’s why he started the goddamn fire,” I said.
“We secured that shed, right?” Banner said, addressing Castle.
“We had two guys right outside, orders not to move no matter what.”
“They’re dead,” the agent at the door said abruptly.
“What?”
“Park and Cole,” he elaborated. “Wetherspoon says they’re both down.”
“That’s impossible,” Castle said. “That’s inside the ring. If he’d gotten that far, we’d know about it. He’d have engaged one of the teams.”
“Looks like he got past them,” I replied.
“Sir, we need to—” the agent started, trying to herd us toward the front door.
Castle ignored him. “Something’s wrong. This is all wrong.”
He was right. A hundred and fifty armed men protecting the building, and Wardell had managed to get close enough to give himself his only realistic chance of acquiring the target, by smoking us out. There was something more at work here. But we would have to worry about that later.
At that moment we had two pressing concerns: to get out of the building before it burned down around us, and to make sure Hatcher didn’t leave by the main door. I opened my mouth to say as much, just as a door at the other end of the hall exploded off its hinges, a dragon’s breath of fire billowing into the corridor in its wake. Beyond the doorframe was an inferno. The entire north side of the house was ablaze, and it was spreading fast.
The agent who’d led us out of the basement was at the main door, yelling for us to follow.
“Hatcher,” I yelled. “Are there any other exits?” Wardell had played an expert hand, but there was still only one of him. He’d be forced to play the odds and cover the main door. Hatcher had a glazed look on his face, as though the fire on top of everything else had caused a sensory shutdown.
Castle looked at the main exit, saw what I meant. He grabbed Hatcher’s shirt lapels and pushed him back, slamming him against the wall.
“Hatcher! Another way out?”
Slowly, he got the words out. “Master bedroom. Stairs down from the deck.” He started toward the big spiral staircase.
Just then, one of the exposed ceiling joists collapsed directly above us with a shrieking, bansheelike noise. I wrapped my arms around Banner’s waist and dived for the floor, just scraping under the falling beam. Flaming debris showered down after it like confetti. A spark ignited the sleeve of my shirt and I managed to pat it out with Banner’s help, but not before sustaining a long burn on my right forearm.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded, wincing. “Good thing I’m allergic to polyester,” I said, turning to look at the long bonfire that now divided the wide entrance hall. I looked down the length of the beam and saw that the bulky agent was lying dead under it, his skull crushed by the beam.
Castle and Hatcher were on the other side of the flaming beam, both unharmed. The collapse seemed to have snapped Hatcher out of his daze, and he was looking around for an exit. The beam had landed roughly diagonally across the space. Banner and I could reach the front entrance, but not the spiral staircase that led to the mezzanine. Castle and Hatcher were faced with the opposite situation.
Castle pointed at the door. “You go. I’ll get him out by the bedroom.”
I grabbed Banner by the arm. Front entrance it was, then. Especially since the only other option was going back down to the basement and slow-roasting. I only hoped Wardell wasn’t feeling like a consolation prize, because we were about to present ourselves as candidates. As we headed for the door, I glanced up and saw Castle and Hatcher reach the second-floor mezzanine that overlooked the hall. A lone agent appeared from the south corridor, beckoning for them to follow. I turned away and then did a double take. The agent was thin and was wearing glasses. Even through the smoke and the heat haze, there was something familiar about him. Then it clicked. It was the man I’d seen in the crowd in Fort Dodge.
I yelled out Castle’s name, but the sound was lost in the roar of the flames as the three men disappeared along the second-floor landing.
“Come on,” Banner yelled, tugging at my arm.
“You go,” I said, unstrapping my Kevlar vest and handing it to her. “Hold it up like a shield and run like hell for cover.”
“What about you?”
I didn’t answer. Castle and Hatcher were in trouble, and being trapped in a burning building was the goddamned least of it.
46
I lingered long enough to see Banner bolt through the front door, then waited a couple of seconds. There were no shots, none that I could hear. Encouraged, I turned back to attempt to get past the bonfire, quickly realizing there wasn’t a way. The flames had spread rapidly, and the big Oriental rug, together with much of the wooden hall floor, was ablaze. I’d have to circumvent it. There was a big antique cabinet below the mezzanine level, only inches away from the flames spreading from the doorway at the far end.
I took a breath and ran for it, pushing off my right foot, landing atop the cabinet with my left, and then slingshotting myself upward. The mezzanine was a good twelve feet off the ground, so I barely made it. My left hand found the polished wood floor and slipped off, but my right hand caught the bottom of one of the banisters and found purchase. I hauled myself up and over.
The mezzanine was empty — smoke seeping from beneath the doors on the north side. I touched the back of my hand to one of the brass door handles and instantly pulled it away. It was like touching a griddle. The whole place was a time bomb waiting to explode. I ran in the direction Castle and the others had gone, rounded a corner, and saw Castle lying prone on the wood floor.
I rolled him over onto his back to check for a pulse, but he saved me the trouble by groaning and opening his eyes. He touched a hand to the back of his head and winced. “Blake. What…?”
I started to ask which way they’d gone, then remembered there was only one direction possible — straight ahead. There were three doors at the far end of the halclass="underline" one on the left, one in the middle, one on the right. The one on the left was closed and faced north, so it would be a backdraft death trap. The one on the right was open.
I hauled Castle to his feet and we made for the door. Behind us, I heard a whump as one of the landing doors exploded outward. I was first through the open doorway and instinctively raised my arm up to cover my eyes from the blinding light flooding the room. Someone had removed the plywood from the big plate-glass window, and a searchlight from one of the choppers lit up the room like Las Vegas. I blinked the flash out of my eyes as the helicopter’s beam angled away and was able to make out two blurred figures by the window.
“Hatcher, get down!” I yelled, not sure which of the figures was him.
Just then I felt Castle’s shoulder slam into me and knock me off my feet. I heard three shots from a pistol and a yell of pain and anger. As I blinked the last of the stars out of my eyes, I saw Castle charge at the thin gunman and football-tackle him to the ground. Hatcher was standing by the window, watching the two men on the floor. I suddenly realized that this room faced the front of the building. There was no deck out there, which meant it wasn’t the master bedroom. The thin man had brought Hatcher in here for the very reason I had avoided bringing him out the front entrance.
“Get—” Before I could finish, part of Hatcher’s head seemed to vanish, and there was a puff of vapor that was bright red in the concentrated light. His legs buckled and he dropped to the floor.
I scrambled to my feet and ducked as I heard another shot, realizing quickly that this one had come from within the room. The two men on the floor had stopped moving. The thin man was on top of Castle, slumped and unmoving. They looked like a couple who had just finished lovemaking. I pulled the thin man off, knowing he was dead from the bloody stain over his heart. Castle was still breathing, but it didn’t look like he would be for much longer. The vest had stopped one of the rounds, but another had hit between the top of the vest and his throat.