Crime Zero (40 page)

She stepped over a strip of blue tape and a sign saying CONSTRUCTION WORK. PLEASE KEEP OUT, opened a door, and walked up a flight of service stairs, negotiating an obstacle course of paint tins and abandoned ladders left by workers.

Alice Prince regretted using the gun with Madeline. But she had no choice. Madeline was just too dominant. She'd always had a hold over her, twisting everything around. Ever since they were children. Ever since Madeline had explained why it was right to punish Alice's father. Just remembering the day on the ice made Alice's chest tighten. It also convinced her that she was right to do what she was doing now.

The frozen lake close to her house in Baddington is beautiful, and Alice loves skating there. Except when her father joins her. Alice doesn't know if she loves her father because when he gets drunk, he hits her mother and her. But she's used to it now, so she's embarrassed that her friend Madeline knows.

In January a week before her fifteenth birthday Alice goes skating on the lake with Madeline. It's late on a Saturday afternoon, and it's so cold her breath almost freezes solid. The sky is pale blue, and the small lake, lined with neat fir trees, dazzles in the late-afternoon sun. The far end is roped off with a sign saying KEEP OFF: THIN ICE.

Because of the cold, only a few other skaters are on the ice, so the two girls have most of the lake to themselves.

Until her father comes out to join them. She can tell at once that he's drunk because he immediately orders her to skate with him. She tries to leave, but Madeline holds her back. Madeline wears a bright red jacket and hood with her white hair sticking out like icicles. Her dark eyes stare at Alice's father, and she confidently skates over to him with Alice in tow. Like two ducklings, they follow him around on the ice.

Alice's father is a large man with a red nose and face. His rheumy eyes stare out from under a furry Russian hat that makes him look like an angry grizzly. "Follow me," he shouts, "both of you!"

Then he proceeds to skate joylessly around the ice. Her father is a good skater, and as he goes around, he increases his speed. It's a game Alice knows well. Eventually her father will gain such a lead that he will lap her, and when he passes, he will push her over, laughing as he exhorts her to go faster.

But today it's different because Madeline is with her. Unlike Alice, Madeline is an athlete. She skates like the wind, and as she glides on the ice, she tucks Alice in behind her slipstream and carries her along with her.

The faster her father skates, the faster Madeline goes. And Alice is sure that Madeline isn't even trying. She just matches his pace, no quicker, no slower. They keep their distance on the ice. But her father is stubborn. He skates without respite for an hour, trying to close the gap.

As it gets late, the lake is deserted by the few remaining skaters. But behind Madeline, Alice feels exhilarated and safe. It is as if she had wings on her feet that could take her away from harm.

It takes another ten minutes before he tires of the game, realizing he can't win. The last stragglers have gone, and he suddenly stops and points to the unsafe end of the lake.

"Skate by the rope," he orders. His eyes have that cruel, bullying look she hates. "Or are you too scared?"

But she's not frightened with Madeline by her side. Then Madeline pushes the game further. "I'll skate to the other side of the rope if you follow me," she says to Alice's father. "Or are you too scared?"

His expression changes then, and he frowns. He approaches them, and Alice is scared. Then Madeline turns and, taking her hand, leads her away toward the rope.

"Come back here," he shouts.

But Madeline just pulls her forward, their skates hissing on the ice. For the first time in her life Alice feels a surge of power. It doesn't matter what he does to her after she gets home; at this moment the fire of defiance runs through her veins.

"No," Alice yells back. "Come and get me."

Then, ignoring the sign, Madeline crouches and skates under the waist-high rope, pulling Alice along behind. Cutting her skates into the ice, she stops and turns back to her father.

He glowers at her from the other side of the rope. "Alice, come back here. Do what I say. Now!"

"Don't move," whispers Madeline beside her. "You're safe here." Madeline's eyes are bright, and she has a thin, excited smile on her frozen face. Alice looks down, and the ice is so thin here she can see the dark water beneath her skates.

Madeline suddenly shouts at Alice's father, "If you want to hit Alice, you'll have to come here to do it."

His face reddens with rage.

"Be careful, Madeline," Alice says. She knows how vicious her father can be. "He might hurt you too."

Madeline shakes her head. "He won't hurt me. Watch."

Alice admires her courage but doesn't like the look on her face.

"We're waiting," Madeline taunts. "Or are you too scared?"

He waits for a moment, not believing they can be so defiant. Then he snarls like an animal and steps over the rope. Carefully he rests his first skate on the thin ice, and then his second. When he realizes the ice is taking his weight, he gives them a horrible smile. "Who's scared now?" he says, lunging for Alice.

For a second she is frightened, but then she hears a crack, and Madeline pulls her farther along the rope, and they step over to the safe side.

It happens in seconds.

One moment he is standing there scowling at her, and then he's falling through the ice, clawing on to the side of the hole, trying to pull himself back onto the slippery surface of the lake. She waits for his splashing to stop before skating closer to the breach.

"Pass me the rope," he orders her. His face is furious, but for the first time ever she can also see fear in his eyes.

She stands and looks down on him, but before she can move to him, Madeline holds her back. "Just watch!" she whispers.

"Hurry," her father cries. "I can't hold on much longer." His voice becomes more pleading as he realizes that she isn't rushing to his assistance. He looks up at her, his hands trying to keep their hold on the treacherous ice. His eyes now show naked terror. "Please, Alice, help your papa," he pleads. "Help me. Throw me the rope."

But she can't move. Madeline isn't exactly holding her back, but she legitimizes Alice's inaction. Because looking down on her father, seeing him beg makes Alice feel good. She can't remember how many times he has towered over her, ignoring her pleas.

Still, as she watches his fingers slip on the ice and sees him slide deeper and deeper into the freezing water, she wants to go to him, to help him.

But Madeline is saying in her ear, "Let him go. Let him slide out of your life. You don't need him. You don't love him. He only brings you pain." As he sinks, he starts to cry, but she can't move. Madeline isn't even touching her, but

Alice feels as if she's pulling her back.

"Help me," he screams in his panic.

Alice is too paralyzed to help.

He struggles and tries to scream one more time, but he slips farther, and the water drowns his cries. Alice stands on the ice, watching as her father's flailing body floats under the ice beneath her feet. As she stares in horror, Madeline takes her hand and leads her from the lake. "You don't need a father," Madeline reassures her. "I haven't got a father. We just need each other. Your secret's safe. You've done nothing wrong."

But that wasn't true. Deep down Alice had always known that she'd done something wrong. Something so evil that ten years ago her daughter had been taken from her as punishment. All her life she had been in Madeline's thrall, bound to her by guilt. She had always believed that Madeline must be right about everything; to believe otherwise was to face the truth that allowing her father's death was wrong. But now she accepted it was wrong--like so much else.

When she reached the service door on the mezzanine level, Alice paused beside the paint tins and boxes in the stairwell. Jackson had said he would leave Decker by the Calvin Klein poster. After slowly opening the door, she stepped out, ignoring a large sign, PLEASE KEEP OUT. WORK IN PROGRESS.

Turning to her left, Alice looked through a break in the advertising boards, over the balcony to the teeming concourse below. At that moment a group of businessmen in dark suits entered through the main doors. They were obviously from some kind of convention and were late for their flights because they stormed impatiently through the crowd, cutting a dark swath through women and children, almost knocking over a baby in a carriage.

As her eyes blurred, the milling throng no longer resembled humans at all, but cells in a petri dish. Some of those cells were good and healthy, but others were malignant-- male. She imagined the dark, invasive male cells being eradicated and the remaining cells having more space to move. Then she imagined them all moving at a kinder, more peaceful pace, working together rather than struggling against one another. The vision briefly pleased and reassured Alice, but then she looked again, and the reassuring warmth left her.

Turning, she saw Decker sitting against a pillar next to the Calvin Klein billboard just as Jackson had promised. Dressed in a black suit, he was gagged, and his hands were tied behind his back. When she looked into his green eyes, he seemed surprised more than scared. He kept glancing beyond her as if expecting there to be someone else.

She bent down to his level and reached forward to pull off the tape that covered his mouth. It wasn't strong tape and came away easily. His lips were dry beneath it.

"Where's Naylor?" Decker asked. There was no time for subtlety. The whole plan was to have her here too. If they took Prince, but Naylor was free and she had Phase 3...

Alice smiled. "She's not important. She's safe."

Decker tried to remain calm. After forcing Jackson to call Naylor, Decker had left him to McCloud's men and rushed here. McCloud had already sealed the airport, and although Decker couldn't see any of the ninjas, he knew they were close, waiting to pounce.

"What have you done with Phase Three?" he asked.

When Alice told him, his heart sank.

Then she put her face close to his and explained everything else. As he listened, he leaned forward, unsure he was hearing correctly. Then Alice reached for the teardrop amulet around her neck and made as if to bite it.

At that moment Decker saw two of McCloud's ninjas appear over Alice's shoulder, their guns trained on her, antivirus bleach sprays at the ready.

Suddenly everything slowed down.

Alice followed his eye. Snapped a look over her shoulder. Stood up, pulled the amulet from its chain, and broke it into two parts with her teeth. One part bore a tiny needle.

The ninjas ran at her.

"No," he screamed at them. Could see panic in Alice's eyes.

She moved back, against the waist-high parapet. She slipped backward. Made no attempt to steady herself. Kept both hands locked on the amulet. Suddenly she was falling backward over the parapet.

Decker reached for her, clutching at the ruptured amulet, its contents dripping onto the crowd below.

Senses heightened, he imagined seeing fine droplets float through the air. Beautiful in the refracted light, falling toward people oblivious of them on the concourse below.

"No," he shouted again, throwing himself at Alice Prince. She spread her arms wide. Received him in her embrace as she fell backward over the mezzanine.

"Spook," McCloud shouted behind him. But he too was falling now. Alice beneath him, jabbing the ampule needle into his arm. Below him everyone was screaming.

Alice smiled, clasping his face to hers, wrapping her body around his. "For Libby," she whispered.

Then there was nothing.

Alice Prince's body had jumped with shock when she saw the men in biosuits and guns. But as soon as she realized it was a trap and there was no way out, her terror left her.

She felt no fear of death. She would soon be reunited with Libby. And she had done all she could. It only seemed right that Decker, the son of her daughter's killer, should be the one.

Even as she positioned herself beneath Decker's body and crashed into the cart of luggage beneath her, snapping her neck, dying instantly, Alice was smiling.

Madeline Naylor was too late. She couldn't believe it. She stood stunned in the teeming crowd, watching the two bodies fall through the air toward her. The sound of impact was that of two heavy mattresses falling on dry kindling wood, a sickening cracking thud.

After breaking her way through the flimsy bathroom door, she had rushed here, trying to stop Alice and save her from herself. But she had failed. Her friend was dead. Alice was gone.