She snuggled deeper into his arms. “Hours?”
Underwood raised her head. “Hours and hours and hours.”
Marie gazed into his eyes and murmured. “I could get to like that.”
They stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Slowly their lips moved and joined in a shy tentative caress. The kiss became more passionate as their arms encircled each other.
When at last he pulled his head back, his hand came up to caress her cheek. A soft sigh escaped her lips and she murmured, “Hours and hours.”
His whisper came back. “A lifetime, I hope.”
This time they didn’t come up for air for a long time.
He didn’t leave the building until the next morning. Fortunately there was a shower in her lab. She loaned him one of her father’s shirts, from his cache. It was big, but would do, until he got a chance to go home and change. Most of the employees had extra clothes on hand. It was too easy to ruin clothing with all the various chemicals and corrosives they had to deal with.
Underwood drove to the station. Even on the weekends the work piled up. Crime never took a weekend off. Parking in his reserved space, he walked across the parking lot to the side entrance. All senses on alert, he scanned in all directions for any sign of a repeat of yesterday’s sniper attack. After what seemed like hours he passed through the door and headed for his office.
The day was a complete waste. The captain couldn’t keep his mind on his work. He read the Murphy file three times and still the words made no sense. With the trial just a week away, he knew he had to be prepared to go on the stand. But too many distractions kept his thoughts whirling in his head, and refused to slow down. An assassin stalked the city trying to kill him. The killer had already tried twice and missed. Unless they managed to catch up with him, sooner or later the man would succeed. The death toll was already at six. The fact that there was a race of murderous vampires out there in his city preying on human flesh certainly added to the situation. Then his involvement with Marie provided the crowning distraction of the day. The memory of holding her soft vibrant body, the smell of her long silky hair, the sensuous valley between her breasts. His finger worked overtime drawing its circles. Every moment of the previous night stood out and blocked other thoughts from registering.
The day crawled by. Every problem seemed tedious and unimportant - every person long winded and a bore. The shift finally ended at five and he drove home to change his clothes for his dinner date with his ex-wife. She had left a message that he would either meet with her tonight or he could meet with her attorney on Monday, no more excuses.
A quick shower and fresh clothes and he was on his way to the restaurant. He pulled into the parking lot only twenty minutes late. A Savannah landmark, the Pirate’s House enjoyed a fine reputation for many years.. He and Ellen had looked forward to eating there while they were married, dining in many of the small intimate rooms. In fact all seventeen anniversaries had been celebrated at this downtown establishment. Just a few miles from the Atlantic Ocean, the restaurant specialized in seafood of every description.
Dinner was a quiet affair. A little small talk before the food came but little conversation during the meal. And not even one caustic remark about his promptness, or lack of it.
“What’s wrong, Ellen?”
“What makes you think something is wrong?”
“I’m a cop, Ellen. I’m trained to make these kind of observations.”
She sneered. “Well if you were that good at observing when there’s something wrong, we would probably still be married.”
“Ah, that’s better. There’s that razor sharp tongue I’ve grown to expect.”
“Oh, stop it! I didn’t bring you out here to fight.” She shook her head in annoyance. “God knows, we did that enough in the last few years.”
“I’m sorry. The pressure to solve these killing is unbearable, but I have no right to take it out on you. Let’s start over. What’s on your mind, Ellen?”
Ellen started fidgeting with her napkin, trying to summon her courage. A few deep breaths and she finally blurted out, “I’m getting married, Jim.”
His fork clattered to the table. “What?”
Once begun, she continued without hesitation, “He’s a doctor, Jim. I’ve been seeing him for several months. He’s kind and considerate, and he pays attention to me. We’ve set the date for two weeks from tomorrow.”
His mind whirled. He had known that it was over between them, but he couldn’t seem to break the last few bonds. Seventeen years of sharing their lives... No, that’s wrong. If he had shared more of his life with her, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
Ellen grimaced. “Stop making those damn circles and talk to me, Jim.”
He put his left hand on top of his right to hold it still and managed to stammer out the words. “Hey, that’s wonderful. Ellen I’m so glad for you. If there’s anything I can do, . . .” The rest of the conversation was a blur as his brain put everything on automatic and tried to comprehend the information it had received. Somehow he managed to get through the small talk and pay the check, but he had no recollection of it. The next thing he knew he was in his car ready to pull out of the parking lot.
On the way home he tried to collect his thoughts. His wife was gone. They had been separated for two years, divorced for one. But even the final decree from the lawyers hadn’t hit him this hard. Ellen would now belong to another man.
As he drove things began to solidify. He knew this day would have to come. Ellen was a vibrant social person, and needed companionship - companionship that he had been unable to give her most of the seventeen years they were together. After a long shift in the precinct, he would come home and try to barricade himself from the world. He didn’t want to talk about his day - he wanted to forget that it ever happened. So he would withdraw. Ellen would try to draw him out but with little success. They never had children, so Ellen didn’t have that outlet for her social needs. And when she tried to tell him about her day, he would make the proper responses from time to time, but both of them knew it wasn’t important to him. She needed and deserved someone who would be there to listen to her, and be listened to by her.
The more he drove, the clearer his feeling became. He felt free. All this time he felt responsible for Ellen because he had treated their marriage so badly. But now she had found someone else, and she was happy, for the first time in so many years. And the more he thought about it, the happier he became. The guilt he had been dragging around for years was gone - well, not gone but certainly no longer the anchor holding him back. He could return Marie’s love with no more hesitation - no more doubts. He was free.
He pulled into the driveway of his two bedroom stucco bungalow. Walking across the front lawn, his feet barely touched the grass. He felt lighter than air. As he opened the front door his hand automatically flipped the light switch. The room remained in darkness - no lights. A warning bell went off in his head. Ellen had insisted that he change the bulb just two weeks ago. He began to drop down into a crouch just as his head exploded in pain.
Chapter 11
The blow was delivered with enough force to crack Underwood’s skull like an eggshell, but he had dropped low enough so that the blow was just a glancing one. Even so, he collapsed to the floor stunned, barely able to move. A dark figure moved closer. The captain’s side erupted in agony as the figure kicked him in the ribs. Another kick and the policeman heard as well as felt something snap. He waited until the leg poised for another swing, then rolled out of the path. The heavy boot just grazed his shoulder as it swept by. Grabbing the upraised foot as it repositioned to stomp him, Underwood shoved. The figure toppled backward. Underwood leaped to his feet and grabbed the lamp on a nearby table in an effort to defend himself. As he lifted the lamp, the shadowy figure ripped it out of his hands with such force that the electrical cord was left dangling out of the wall.
Underwood swung a fist, but the figure blocked it with ease. “He’s just playing with me,” the captain thought. Another swing was blocked just as effortlessly. As he cocked his arm for another try, the stalker tossed a fist toward him. His head exploded with pain, and he went down. Unable to get up, a voice filtered through his hazy mind, “Now it ends. And when Michael finishes with the girl, everything will return to normal.”
The girl. He must mean Marie. Underwood fought to regain his senses. As he lay there on his side his eyes focused on the lamp cord with its broken end spitting sparks. He struggled to grab the wires but they were just out of reach. His attacker walked over to the window and ripped the pull cord from the end of the blinds. He advanced on the fallen policeman.
Underwood managed to get to his hands and knees and grab the wire just as the cord was wrapped around his neck. A snicker from behind, “The lawman gets hung in the end. How appropriate.” In the next instant he was heaved into the air just as his fingers closed on the lamp cord. Dangling on the rope as the figure held him up, Underwood gasped for air. Holding the detective as high as he could reach, the man chuckled as he watched his victim struggle. The captain knew he had to do something quickly - his strength was ebbing fast. Less than a minute and it would be over.
Captain Underwood hung on to consciousness as he wrestled with the wires. Getting one wire in each hand he pulled the wires apart. Bringing his hands together and raising them above his head he jabbed the ends of the wires as hard as he could into the assassin’s eyes.
A piercing scream came from the figure’s lips as the wires penetrated into both eyes. Sparks flew and the eyeballs virtually exploded. The figure lost his balance and tumbled backwards, going down hard and striking his head on the hearth of the fireplace. The captain managed to roll over and free himself from the cord. Getting to his feet he looked for a weapon. There next to the hearth was a set of fireplace tools. The blinded Chosen struggled to his feet and fumbled around in an effort to locate the captain. Underwood grabbed the fireplace poker and, running across the room at full speed, impaled the monster. The head of the poker went all the way through the creature’s body and embedded itself in the wall. The figure slumped, but the poker kept the body from falling. Before Underwood could decide what to do with the body, the memory of the haunting words came back, “And when Michael finishes with the girl. . .”
There were two of them. And one of them was after Marie.
Captain Underwood leaped up and ran to his car. In a cloud of smoke from his poor abused tires, he squealed in reverse into the street, stopped, and left another inch of tread on the pavement as he started forward. By the time he hit Wheaton Street, he was virtually flying, lights and siren opening the way before him. Fumbling with the microphone as he wrestled for control of the car, he called the dispatcher.
“Dispatch, this is Unit 5.”
“Go ahead, Unit 5.”
“Send any nearby units to the GRIL headquarters immediately. Have them find Dr. Marie Bell and put her under protective custody until I get there. Tell them to be alert for any unauthorized personnel. Consider them armed and extremely dangerous. I’m on my way there now.”
“Ten four, Unit 5.”
The dispatcher looked thoughtful. The worst of this fiasco would soon be over. When they eliminated Underwood and the girl, their secret would be safe once again. She concentrated for a few seconds and smiled in satisfaction. The fifteen second conversation with Underwood no longer existed. Everyone would wonder about the gap, but she wasn’t even in the same room with the recorder, so the problem could not be traced to her. And with Underwood dead, there would be no witnesses. Satisfied, she went back to work.
He made the trip to the GRIL complex in record time. As he neared the building he doused both siren and lights. Surprise might be crucial in dealing with the assassin, if the other units hadn’t arrived.
He pulled up in front. No flashing lights and no patrol cars were in evidence. His eyes narrowed. Not a good sign. Pulling his gun, he raced up the steps of the building to the front door, two steps at a time. The door that was supposed to be locked was wide open. The only lights visible were the emergency lights. Apparently the main power was out. On the floor just inside the glass lay the inert form of the desk security guard. As Underwood stepped through the entranceway, there was no need to check for a pulse. The man’s throat had been slashed from ear to ear, and blood was spattered everywhere.
Moving swiftly to the elevators, he found both standing open. He entered the nearest elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor, hoping they worked. The door closed and he started upward. Marie’s lab was on three - maybe he could surprise the killer by coming at him from above.
It seemed like hours before the doors opened. Underwood slipped out of the elevator and moved quickly to the stairs. He opened the door gingerly but a little squeal resulted anyway. Sliding through, he let it close, silently this time. Working his way down the stairs to the third floor, the sound of every step seemed to thunder. Memories of other times - other similar situations - ran through his mind. Some of the scenarios had happy endings, some not.
The door on the third floor opened without a sound. Easing it closed, Jim moved down the hallway toward the forensic wing, and Marie’s lab. The hallway looked eerie in the dim light of the emergency lamps. As he approached the corner, the soft thud of a door closing came down the hall. Soft footsteps echoed in the passageway. Inching forward, he stole a peek around the corner. A figure crossed the hall from one office heading toward the next one down the hall, in a systematic search of the wing. Two doors separated the man from the lab where Marie worked. As Underwood watched he reached the next door and opened it. While the man stuck his head in the door and looked around, Underwood pulled his gun and silently crept closer. He was within a few yards when the figure turned around and came out of the doorway. Underwood raised his weapon and started to say, “Freeze,” when he stopped in confusion.
The man in the doorway was Michael Roukasis, the Mayor of Savannah.
Both men stared for a few seconds, then the mayor regained his senses. “Jim, glad to see you here. I saw a man go down this hallway in a suspicious manner, so I was checking out offices.”
It took a few seconds more to digest this information, before he discarded it as crap. The mayor had never been one to demonstrate bravery, at least not without the presence of the press. Added to that evidence were the flecks of blood spattering the front of the mayor’s otherwise immaculate blue dress shirt. He kept the gun up. “Please raise your hands, Mr. Mayor.”
A frown appeared on the mayor’s face. “What is this, Underwood? I’m the mayor, for Pete’s sake.”
“Raise your hands, Mr. Mayor. We can discuss my future with the police force later.”
Roukasis’ voice was filled with indignation. “Don’t think we won’t, Underwood. I’ll have your badge for this.”
“If you can get it, you can have it. In the meantime, suppose you tell me how they got to you?”
“Got to me? Are you crazy? You forget who you’re talking to! I’m the mayor, for--”
“Stuff it, Mr. Mayor. You’re standing there with blood all over you, and you’re still trying to bluff your way through another crisis. I really would like to know, what did they offer you? Money? Eternal life?”
Roukasis mulled the situation over momentarily, before reaching a decision. The answer came quietly. “Do you understand what living forever means to a politician? I have spent my life in the service of others, but one wrong decision can mean the end of my career. I’m at the mercy of the voters.”
Underwood almost responded, “The only service you’ve been in is special interest groups,” but he realized that the mayor really believed what he was saying, so he let it slide.
The mayor continued. “I’m fifty-seven-years old, and I could be kicked out of office at any time. In fact there is a citizen’s group right now demanding my scalp--my scalp, not yours--because of your department’s failure to find a solution to the killings.”
“These people came to me, and offered me immortality. All I have to do is help them put an end to this case. Can you imagine my feelings? I’ve been a good mayor, but I’m nearing retirement. They offered me the chance to start over. Can you imagine? To be young again? To have perfect health?” Roukasis inched toward the policeman as he was talking.
Noticing the movement, Underwood warned, “Don’t come any closer.” When the advance continued, he fired.
The mayor stared in astonishment at the hole in his shoulder. Blood seeped from the wound. The captain looked grim. “I warned you.” Roukasis’ gaze returned to the law officer and his shocked expression changed to a smile. Already the blood had stopped flowing. The wound was healing quickly.
The politician’s opened wide and he said softly, “Oh, did I forget to tell you? They’ve given me the blood. I’ve already joined the Chosen. Because of my age I’m already experiencing the pangs of need. I figured I’d get my first kill tonight.
He took another step toward the captain. “Join us, Jim. We can live forever. We can control the country. Hell, we can control the world. But it has to be done without publicity. We need an end to the investigation. You can help.”
Roukasis leaped. Underwood fired again, the bullet hitting the mayor in the knee, knocking him down. The man kept coming. The next shot caught him in the forehead just above the left eye. Roukasis went down, and this time didn’t move.
Underwood hurried to the body, and cuffed the man’s hands behind his back. From his experience with the senator, he knew this death was not permanent. Noticing a custodial closet nearby, he opened it and found some thin rope and tied the body’s legs together.
Racing to Marie’s lab and opening the door, he called, “Marie! Marie!” No answer. The lab was empty. He moved to the next door and called, then the next. As he closed that, the door across the hall opened. Underwood raised his gun to the new threat. Marie stuck her head out, then rushed into his arms.
He kissed her deeply. “I was so worried when you weren’t in your lab.”
“I was just getting out of the elevator when he attacked the guard. I was never so scared in my life. Anyway I panicked and started pushing buttons. I must have hit the right one because the door closed. The man was making so much noise killing the guard, he didn’t notice the elevator. When I got up here I knew he was coming after me, so I hid in this office. I didn’t dare go into my lab.”
Underwood nodded. “Smart move. Look, this is a very nice story, but we’ve got to get out of here. Fast. While you were in there you didn’t have a chance to try the phones did you?”
“Yes. No dial tone. He must have disconnected the lines downstairs.”
“Damn. And I left my cell phone in the car.”
They walked past the mayor’s body. Already he was showing signs of reviving. As Underwood watched in horror, the center of the bullet hole became shiny. The .38 slug that had penetrated the man’s brain slowly inched out of the hole and dropped to the floor. In the very next moment the mayor’s body opened its eyes and smiled.
“Jim, so good to see you again.” Struggling with his bonds, he snarled. “Underwood, release me. You know these cuffs can’t hold me for long.” He strained to break free.
Underwood pushed the girl down the hall. “Get in the elevator, Marie. I need to finish something.”
Marie looked worried. “But Jim . . .”
“It’s all right. I’ll be there soon.”