"But you sent someone. Graciella. She was a
hired killer. I know you did. She said so. She's dead too, in the
cellar with Marco."
"So Rogers told me, just before he died. Then
my poor fiancé dead from a manic depression suicide. How tragic.
I'll be devastated when I get the news." Morgan let the night
breeze reveal the silenced gun under his jacket.
"You never get involved in murder. Why now,
Morgan? Why kill Alex? He was loyal to you."
"It's business, darling."
"Why, Morgan? Alex did nothing to
you?"
"Don't try, Clarissa. I know no one has gotten
to you. You're not wearing any microphone. No one is listening. No
one knows you're here except the drunks and junkies in this place.
"
"Hugo knows. I called his roommate. He's
coming for me."
"He'll find you quite dead, a drug induced
suicide. You jumped off of the roof."
"I called Virginia. She's coming."
"Virginia is dead."
Clarissa was suddenly stunned at the total
lack of emotion in Morgan's face or in the off handed news that his
long time secretary was dead. Morgan felt nothing. Life and death
had little meaning to this stone cold man. It made Clarissa shiver
with renewed terror and she clutched tightly the knife handle in
her pocket.
"You ordered that, too?"
"Marco was out of control," said Wolfe as
reached for Clarissa's arm. "It was an accident."
Clarissa stepped back, bile burning her
throat. She did not want to think of what Virginia had suffered at
the hands of the twisted Marco. Clarissa forced down the nausea and
the let the sudden loathing of Morgan Wolfe fill her. She continued
to inch away from him across the front of the building. The rusty
handles of the fire escape were visible on the opposite
corner.
"How could you do that to her, Morgan?"
Clarissa spat. "How could you? Nothing with you is ever an
accident. No one gets out of your control. You're damned insane.
You don't think. You don't feel anything. Don't you know what Marco
would do to her?" Clarissa was screaming at Morgan, backing away
until she found herself trapped in a corner of the wall. Morgan
stepped in front of her, pinning her in the corner.
"You talk too much, Clarissa."
His hands clamped onto her shoulders and she
felt her feet leave the ground. "No, Morgan!" she screamed. The
knife was stuck inside her pocket. She could not pull it free.
Clarissa's fingers worked to find the lever that would release the
blade, and finally, there was the audible click and the blade poked
though the fabric. She tugged it free and with a desperate swipe,
Clarissa slashed at Morgan's chest. Her wind whipped shirt hampered
her stabbing attempt and the blade only grazed Morgan's side. He
reeled back in pain.
"You little bitch," he cried as his hand wiped
blood from his side. He came at her again and slapped her hard
across the face. Clarissa sank to the ground and threw up her free
arm against another slap. Morgan grabbed her arm and started to
haul her up on her feet. Clarissa drove the knife into Morgan's
right thigh.
He howled and released his hold on her. She
shoved past him and ran for the fire escape, the knife still in her
hand. On the dark roof top Clarissa did not see the puddle left by
the storm. She slipped and fell within an arm’s length of her goal.
Morgan limped to her. Clarissa tried to crawl away from him,
shrinking from the murderous rage in his distorted
features.
"Morgan, please! Don't!"
Clarissa twisted away, trying to gain her feet
on the rain slick roof. Morgan grabbed her around the waist and
caught her knife hand by the wrist. She struggled feebly, kicking
and screaming as he dragged her over to the edge. Morgan pinned her
facing the wall with his own weight against her and pounded her
wrist against the capstones of the wall until the knife clattered
to the roof.
"Morgan!"
"Shut up!" he shouted as he lifted
her.
Hugo glanced in his rear view mirror at the
sound of the sirens. Red and blue lights flashed behind him and for
a split second Hugo had the guilty feeling that they were after
him. When the first patrol car sped by him and turned up Western
Avenue he sighed with relief. A second and third police car, a
black SWAT van, and an ambulance nearly forced his black Porsche
into the parked cars on the side of the road. Hugo swore
softly.
By the time he got to Vista Del Mar Avenue,
the road was blocked off and an officer motioned for Hugo to detour
up to Santa Monica Boulevard.
"We have an incident at a hotel down the
block," the officer explained when Hugo protested. "You'll have to
avoid this area."
"I'm just picking up a friend," Hugo argued.
"I'll just be a minute."
"Sorry, sir," the officer was polite but there
was suddenly a hard edge to his voice. "Move along,
please."
Hugo drove down the block and found a place to
park on the street. He locked the Porsche and walked back toward
Vista Del Mar. Clarissa could wait. He would talk to Morgan later.
Hugo's natural curiosity propelled him down a dimly lit alley
behind the hotel that the police had yet to seal off. He had to
know what was going on. It was always good for business in the
salons if you were a first-hand witness to some juicy
gossip.
Hugo kept to the shadows and astutely avoided
the police and SWAT teams that were surrounding the Hempstead
Hotel. He found himself in the street in front of the hotel with a
small crowd of curious neighbors that had gathered from the
surrounding buildings. All of the activity seemed to be centered on
the roof of the Hempstead. Hugo could make out two figures in the
corner. A woman and a man. They seemed to be struggling with each
other. The man, dark and wiry was lifting the woman.
"Oh, my God!" the obese woman standing next to
Hugo screamed. "He's trying to throw her off!"
The crowd gasped in a chorus of exclamations
and obscenities. Hugo took a step forward to get a better view. The
woman was frail and blond but other than that he couldn't see much
of her. There was something about the man, something familiar. Hugo
took another step closer and his eyes widened in shock and
disbelief.
"Morgan Wolfe!" he yelled.
Clarissa was head down, her waist cradling the
lip of the wall. She reached behind her and grabbed at the edge of
the wall with her free hand and held fast. She struggled against
Morgan's lifting her, kicking wildly so that he could not get a
firm hold on her ankles or legs. She was dimly aware of sirens and
lights below her until she looked down. A quick glance before the
dizziness overwhelmed her, showed her police cars parked every
which way in front of the hotel.
Clarissa knew she was losing the battle. She
felt her grasp on the rough brick capstones of the wall begin to
slip. The iron-work of the fire escape was so close. She let go of
the capstone and reached out for it, her fingers just an inch
away.
"Mama, help me," she murmured. "Please, God,
don't let him do this. Morgan! NO!"
The fine, steady rain blurred her vision and
her temples pounded from the rush of blood to her head. She
squeezed her eyes shut from the terror and pain. She fought like a
wild cat with her legs and feet, landing several formidable blows
to Morgan's gut. But he was winning. She felt his grip on her ankle
and the scrape of the brick on her leg as it was thrown over the
edge. Her grip tightened on the edge of the wall but she could not
hold it much longer. Morgan bent down to grab her other leg and it
would only be seconds before she plunged four stories to the
pavement.
"Morgan Wolfe!"
Clarissa heard the shout from the street below
and felt Morgan stiffen. She opened her eyes for one moment but
dared not look down. Morgan's head was even with hers, his eyes
glaring over the edge at the crowd below. Clarissa stretched for
the fire escape and locked her fingers around one of the bars. Then
she kicked upward with a sharp jolt and rammed her foot into
Morgan's exposed throat. She held the wall with both hands and
pulled herself back over onto the roof. Morgan reeled back, his
eyes blazing with anger. He reached for the knife and grabbed
Clarissa by the hair. He forced her head back and raised the knife
to plunge it into her chest.
"Wolfe, don't!" Alex's voice cut the night.
"I'll shoot! Freeze, damn it!"
Wolfe turned and grinned. Alex was unsteady on
his feet, his clothes and hair soaked with blood. He held his gun
with both hands aimed at Morgan. "Don't do it," Alex warned again.
"Let her go. Drop the knife, Morgan."
"She's ruined me," Morgan hissed through the
madness.
"She had nothing to do with it," Alex said as
he fell backward against the door frame of the roof stairwell. "You
were under surveillance for over a year. Centac knows all about
you. It was just a matter of getting enough proof for an air tight
case. Let Clarissa go, Morgan. If anyone's brought you down, it was
me. Clarissa had nothing to do with it. Drop the knife."
Morgan struck like a cobra. He let go of
Clarissa and the knife whipped through the air, lodged in Alex's
ribs. He staggered backward against the door jamb. His gun
clattered to the roof.
"Clarissa! Clarissa!
Morgan turned back to the roof edge. He had
heard someone call her name, and his name. Who knew he was here? No
one. He had told no one he was going to take care of things
himself. Morgan glared down at the crowd and the police. Then he
spotted him. The weasel Hugo. Damn him, Morgan swore
mentally.
Those few seconds cost Morgan dearly. Clarissa
had scrambled away from the roof, crawled to where Alex lay, and
grabbed for Alex's gun. When Morgan turn around, she was sitting
with her back to the roof door, the gun aimed at Morgan's gut. His
face registered only anger. Then the familiar domino dropped into
place and he smiled at her.
"That will get you nowhere, Clarissa. You can
never escape. Don't you see that? You've never held a gun in your
life. Don't even try it. You'll miss. You've only got one shot and
you're not strong enough to control a .357 magnum. You know you
won't shoot. Not an unarmed man. Then what will you do? Run? I'll
always be behind you, Clarissa. Somewhere. Hunting you
down."
"I'm not going to hurt you. We're going to go
out of here together. Just you and me. We don't have much time.
Give me the gun before you hurt yourself. Damn it, Clarissa. Stop
being a stupid bitch!"
She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.
She felt the gun barrel kick back at her but she kept squeezing
again and again, hoping that one bullet would find its target. When
she dared open her eyes Hugo was beside her and a police officer
was taking the gun from her hand.
"Clary! My God, Clary! I though we wouldn't
get up here in time."
He knelt down beside her and held her in his
arms. She put her arms around her neck and buried her face in his
shoulder. She felt nothing but an emptiness, no tears fell, and
there was no feeling at all.
"Thank God, Hugo," she managed to whisper.
"Thank God it's over."
"Alex told me you were in some kind of
trouble. Then my roommate called. I got here as soon as I
could."
"Just hold me, Hugo."
"Excuse me, Miss Hayden," the officer said as
he lightly touched her shoulder. "Agent Rogers would like a word
with you."
"Agent?"
"He's over on the stretcher, Miss."
Alex was lying with his jacket off and his
shirt open, a wide bandage wrapped around his middle. He waved off
the paramedic that started to take the stretcher down the
stairs.
"You're a cop?" Clarissa asked him. He tried
to smile at her. "You could have told me."
"I tried."
"I probably wouldn't have believed you
anyway," Clarissa tried to smile but all she felt was exhaustion
and the effort was too great. "Is he dead?" she asked.
"He's close. Three years of work down the
drain if he dies. His network will go underground fast. I couldn't
get anything concrete on him until two nights ago."
"You should have asked me," said Clarissa. "I
could write you a book."
"I'll bet you could," he agreed.
"Alex, you're hurt bad."
"I'll be alright. Wolfe's aim was
lousy."
Alex dug into his pants pocket and pulled out
the crystal angel with the broken wing.
"Found this on Marco's body. I remember seeing
it in Wolfe's den. Is it yours?"
"I'm the one who broke it. I had it in my
make-up bag in the purse I left at Virginia's. Marco must have
taken it when he... I'm sorry. I'd like to have it
fixed."
"Be my guest," Alex mused. "She seems to be
the angel of death."
"Maybe her luck will change."
Clarissa waited until Morgan and Alex had been
taken downstairs on stretchers by the paramedics. Then she went
back to her third floor room and pushed open the door. Virginia's
black print scarf and Randy's red silk one were laying across the
bed. She picked up the red one, pulling it absently through her
fingers.