Heat (11 page)

She looked at the bundle of wire and located the top. With hands that shook from both fear and cold, Mary hooked the top over the windowsill and hurled the rest out the window. The emergency escape ladder uncoiled with a whine. Far below, she heard the bottom of the ladder clank against the side of the building.

Mary put her head through the window again and looked down. The ladder didn't reach all the way to the sidewalk, but it was close. If she climbed down and hung from the bottom, her feet would be no more than a dozen feet from the ground.

But that climb didn't look too easy. In fact, it looked insane. The narrow ladder seemed as
fragile as a bit of spiderweb
, and the bitter wind made the whole thing bob and dance. If Mary climbed down the ladder to the bottom and dropped from there, she would probably be okay. But if she fell from the top, or from thirty or fifty feet up, the sidewalk would do the intruder's job as well as any bullet.

Mary stepped back from the window and looked at

the bedroom door. Maybe going out the front wasn't such a bad idea after all. Slipping past the gunman suddenly seemed like a much better idea than trying to climb that toy ladder down five floors.

The bedroom door rattled. The knob turned, stopped, then turned the other way. A moment later there was a clicking metal-on-metal sound.

Picking the lock.
They're picking the lock just like my parents used to do when I was sulking in my room,
she realized.

Without another moment's thought Mary was standing in the window. She grabbed the ladder, gave it a tug to see if it would hold, then started down.

The ladder was even more treacherous than it looked. The rungs were so narrow that they bit into Mary's fingers like knife blades. The way the ladder lay up against the side of the building made it nearly impossible to keep her feet in place. Again and again her toes slid from a rung, sending her on a dozen terrifying minifalls. But she was doing it. She was making it down.

The end of the ladder was twenty feet below. Then ten.

There was a sudden jerk from above. Mary looked up to see the silhouette of a figure leaning from her bedroom window. With impossible strength, that person was pulling up the ladder. Instead of going down, Mary was heading back up.

She scrambled for the bottom of the ladder, moving

as fast as she could, but by the time she reached the last rung, the end of the ladder was nearly twenty feet above the sidewalk. And it was getting farther away with every passing moment.

Mary let herself dangle from the very bottom of the ladder, closed her eyes, and dropped.

It seemed to take a long time to reach the ground. Too long.

The ground hit her like a subway train.
A white-hot lightning bolt ran up Mary's right leg. She was on her side, then her face, then her back, then her side again. A sparkle of lights swam across her vision, and everything in the world shrank to a gray point far down a deep well.

When the world came back, Mary was looking at red taillights streaming past in the slushy street. Her face was lying in cold snow. The rest of her felt kind of numb, like that pins-and-needles feeling you get when your arms or legs fall asleep.

She tried to sit up, but that only brought a new explosion of pain from her leg.
Mary bit back a scream
and slowly turned herself over.

She was still alive. For the moment that seemed like a miracle.

"Miss?" A man came up at a run. "Miss, are you all right?"

Mary started to nod, then changed her mind. "No. I think my leg is hurt."

The man looked at her for a moment, then looked up at the building. "I saw you come down. That was quite a fall."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Mary squinted up at the window, but she could see no one looking down. The ladder was also missing in action.

"Is there a fire?"

Mary shook her head. "A guy broke into our apartment. I think he's trying to kill me."

The man stood and looked in both directions along the sidewalk. "I think you had better come with me," he said. "We should get you to the police."

Mary's long involvement with drugs hadn't exactly made the police her favorite people, but this seemed like an excellent time to make new friends. "Sure," she said. She tried again to get to her feet. Her right leg didn't cooperate. "I think I'm going to need some help."

The man reached down and helped her to her feet. "I have a car parked on the next block. You think you can make it?"

Mary nodded. "Let's go."

She hopped along at the man's side, leaning against him and keeping almost all of her weight on her left foot. As they passed under a streetlight, she saw that the man was older than she thought. Probably somewhere in his forties. He seemed strong, though, and he had a handsome, chiseled face.

"Why would someone be trying to kill you?" the man asked.

"I don't know," said Mary. She stopped for a second to catch her breath, then limped on. "There was this guy who tried to kill me a couple of days ago, but I don't think he has anything to do with this."

"Two different guys tried to kill you in the last few days?" The man gave a surprised laugh. "You're a popular girl."

"Mary," she said between breaths. "My name is Mary."

The man paused.
He supported her weight on one arm and reached across with the other to shake her hand. "My name is Loki."

"Loki? Is that from mythology or something?"

"Exactly."

Mary shook his hand and smiled. "It's a weird name, but you're certainly my hero tonight, Loki."

He took the dark, heavy bulk of the Glock pistol and pressed the blunt barrel against Mary's back.

SAM RANG THE BELL ON THE FRONT
of the brownstone and waited. He was more nervous than he wanted to admit.
This isn't a date,
he told himself.
Gaia probably doesn't even think about me like that. She only invited me over as a friend.

The Body

That didn't do much to help. But at least he was going to get to see Gaia. Since Thanksgiving they had barely spoken. Her visit was the last thing he had expected.

He heard feet coming toward the door at a near run. There was a fumble of latches, and the heavy wooden door swung open. "Sam!" said Gaia. "You came."

"I said I would come," he replied.

"Yeah, but I figured Heather would call, and you would . . ." Gaia stopped and shook her head. "Never mind. Come on in while I grab my stuff. I just got back myself."

Sam followed her inside the brownstone. "Where have you been?"

"I had an errand to take care of," said Gaia. "But it's all worked out now."

Sam nodded and looked around the room. "This is a great place," he said. He looked up at the high ceilings and the heavy molding. The brownstone was authentic and well maintained. Except for some tacky

ceramic figures and some modern art pieces that didn't fit the style of the house, it was the kind of a place that made it into the Sunday magazine section on homes.

"Thanks. It's okay," said Gaia.

Sam stopped looking at the room and looked at Gaia. "You look . . . different."

Gaia tilted her head. "If that was a compliment, you need more practice."

"It was," said Sam. "So I guess I do."
Gaia did look different.
Her hair, which often looked like it had never been introduced to a comb, was glossy and smooth. Her jeans and sweater were nothing fancy, but they were a lot nicer than the baggy cargo pants and sweatshirts that Sam had always seen her wear before. "So, where's the rest of the gang?"

Gaia opened a closet and pulled out a coat. "I told Ed and Mary we'd meet them in the park. We probably should get going."

"Okay," said Sam. He was relieved to hear that the list hadn't been expanded. If Gaia was worried that he might be doing something with Heather, Sam had been equally worried that Gaia might call in the mysterious boyfriend her foster mother had mentioned on the phone. Sam could take
being one of Gaia's gang.
He didn't think he could stand to see her cuddling with another guy.

A voice called from somewhere in another room. "Gaia? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend before we leave?"

An annoyed look crossed Gaia's face. She finished pulling on her coat and zipped it closed. "We have to go!" she shouted back. "If you want to meet him, you'll have to hurry."

A woman stepped around the corner into the front room. She was wearing a short teal skirt and a tight white top instead of an emerald dress.
But there was no mistaking the legs, the face, or the body.
It was the same woman that Sam had met at the bar. The woman he had sex with only hours before.

Gaia gave a sigh. She waved a hand at the approaching woman. "Sam, this is Ella Niven."

The woman walked up slowly, a Cheshire grin on her hungry red mouth. She reached out a hand with nails lacquered to the exact shade of her lips. "Hello, Sam. I'm Gaia's foster mother."

Sam wished that fainting were still in fashion. Falling into darkness and having everything just go away sounded like a wonderful idea. Instead his brain seemed to separate from his body and float up to the high ceiling of the room. He saw his self standing there. The body's mouth was open in a stupid expression. Its eyes were wide and glassy.

Sam watched as Gaia stepped around in front of

the body. He saw the woman--Ella--looking at the body with an amazing expression that mingled amusement, playfulness, and a promise that another night might be waiting.

Gaia looked worried. "Sam? You okay?"

The body took a step back. The mouth closed, opened, closed.

From his perch up by the ceiling, Sam thought the body was about the funniest thing he had ever seen. He would have laughed if he still had a mouth to laugh with. It was nice and warm up near the ceiling. He felt fine there. It was good to be free of the body and all the stupid, embarrassing things that it could do.

"Sam?"

The body turned and stumbled to the front door.


Gaia moved after it. "Sam? Where are you going? What's wrong?"

The body made some meaningless sounds. It fumbled at the door, opened it, and fell out into the night.

At once the feeling of floating by the ceiling vanished. Sam was back inside his own skull as he ran down the sidewalk, pushing past people on their way to parties and celebrations. He could feel the cold wind chapping his cheeks and nose. He could feel the
freezing tears
that streamed from his eyes. He

could feel the crushing weight of emotion that squeezed at his chest.

There was no escaping himself. No escaping the awful wreck he had made of his life.

GO AFTER HIM. YOU COULD
catch him.

Nothing but a Tramp

It was true enough. The same thing that made Gaia strong also made her fast. The visit to St. Mark's Place hadn't even been enough to dent the energy in Gaia's legs. She could run down Sam in half a block. But she wasn't sure what to do if she caught him. She had no idea what had made him run in the first place.

"I wonder what upset your friend," said Ella.

Gaia spun around and looked into her foster mother's face. As usual, there was
a faint trace of a smile
on Ella's lips. Except when she was angry, Ella always seemed to find everyone else in the world quite amusing.

"What do you know about it?" asked Gaia.

"Me?" Ella shook her head. "Why should I know anything?"

Gaia narrowed her eyes. "I don't know, but you do."

"Please. How should I know anything about this boy of yours?"

Gaia didn't bother to answer. Gaia was smart, but it didn't take a genius to know that Ella was hiding something.
Somehow Ella knew something about Sam.
And from Sam's reaction, Sam certainly thought he knew something about Ella.

"Where did you meet Sam?"

"Why, I'm not sure that I ever have," said Ella. "I'm not in the habit of associating with boys that young."

Gaia gritted her teeth. Ella might be in her thirties, but she certainly dressed like she still thought she was a teenager. Gaia knew that Ella was going out almost every night that George wasn't home--and sometimes even when he was. Ella wasn't fooling anybody but George. For some reason, George seemed completely blind to the things his much younger wife was doing. He was the only one who didn't realize Ella was nothing but a tramp.

If Ella was cheating on George, who was to say she was actually cheating with people her own age? Ella liked to dress younger. Maybe she liked to date younger, too. Maybe she was spending her nights running around with younger guys.
Guys like Sam.


Gaia decided not to think about it. She turned and ran out the door.

THE UNITED NATIONS BUILDING
gleamed in the darkness. Tom Moore walked slowly along the curving rows of flags and hunched his shoulders against the cold wind, sending a ripple of pain through his rib cage.
I shouldn't be out here on a night like this,
he thought.
Not in this condition.

Out of the Darkness

The snow that had started at sunset was falling more thickly as the night wore on. It whipped in between the multicolored banners and drifted up against the curb.

By the time Tom reached the meeting point, the snow had already covered the sidewalks. And was beginning to spread into the streets.

A figure came out of the darkness.
Tom tensed for a moment
, but as the man came closer he relaxed. Tom put out his hand. "It's good to see you."

George Niven gripped Tom's hand tightly. "It's been too long. Way too long." He looked back over his shoulder. "We better walk."

The two men turned and walked side by side along the icy sidewalk. "This is risky, George," Tom said. "You could have been followed."

"I spent the last hour making sure that I wasn't," George replied. "But don't worry. I don't intend to

make this a regular event. I heard about what happened at your apartment. You look terrible."

"I'm fine." Tom glanced at the older agent, dismissing the subject. "So why are we out here in the snow? Have you seen Loki?"

"No. I have no doubt he's nearby, but I don't know where."

"Then why--"

"I think Gaia's in serious danger." George shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and stared up at the fluttering flags.

"How do you know?" Tom asked.

George nodded. "I found a hidden microphone on one of her jackets." He lowered his eyes and looked at Tom. "I'd picked the jacket up off the banister, and as I was carrying it up to her room, I felt something prick my finger. I have no idea how it got there, but . . ."

"But it's got to be a Loki job," Tom finished.

George waved a hand through the air. "I'm almost positive." He paused and stared off into the darkness. "I have someone checking the device to see if we can trace it. Someone from the agency. But I'm not optimistic."

The implications of what George was saying swirled through Tom's mind. If Loki had been close enough to Gaia to have her bugged, then Gaia was under even closer observation than Tom had thought. Loki knew when she was home and when she was away. He knew everything, from what kind of music

she was listening to
what she ate for breakfast.


"You're right," said Tom. "My daughter is in even more danger than I knew."

George drew in a deep breath. "What do we do now, Tom?"

"I'd love to say that I'll come and get my daughter tonight," said Tom. "But I can't. Not in the shape I'm in. And not while we don't know what Loki's next move will be."

"So we keep waiting."

Tom nodded. "And when we get our chance, we act."

George walked over to the nearest flagpole and leaned against the metal base. "You mean we kill him."

"Yes. We'll do whatever we have to."

Tom pulled a gun from his pocket and studied it briefly before returning it to his coat. Then he shook George's hand again, turned, and walked away.

THE WEATHER HAD CUT DOWN ON
the crowds, but there were still at least a hundred people milling around near the arch at the center of Washington Square Park. Gaia stood
on her tiptoes, looking for Mary--and hoping that she might see Sam--but neither one was among the crowd. Finally Gaia spotted Ed on the far side of the mass of people and hurried over to join him.

Innocent Explanations

Ed was moving back and forth over the same patch of sidewalk. From the deep groves in the snow, it looked like he had been pacing for some time. He spotted Gaia as she approached and stopped. "Hey, I thought you were bringing Sam with you."

"I was." She shrugged and raised her gloved hands. "He weirded out on me." She started to say something about Ella but stopped herself. She didn't even want to think about it herself, much less give Ed a reason to start making theories. "I guess he's not coming."

Ed grunted. "I guess we're even, then. Mary never showed up."

"Maybe she's still waiting at her place."

"Tried it," Ed replied with a shake of his head. "I've called over there twice. No answer. Did you find our pal Mr. Skizz?"

Gaia nodded. "I found him, but I don't think he's the one after Mary." Thinking of Skizz's battered face, Gaia thought
that looking in the mirror must be the scariest thing he did all day.


"Then where is she?"

Gaia wished she knew the answer. There could be a hundred innocent explanations. Mary was never the world's most organized person. She might

have gotten the time wrong or run off to do some other errand before they got together. Somehow Gaia didn't think so.

"Come on," she said. "We've got to go."

"Where?" asked Ed.

Gaia started walking. "We'll figure that out on the way."

MARY LEANED BACK INTO THE PLUSH
leather seat. "For a government guy, you've got a great car."

A Very Popular Girl

Loki laughed. It was a good laugh.
Deep and reassuring
. "Thanks. It comes with this assignment."

"Nice work if you can get it." The pain in Mary's leg was beginning to ease. After the terror of escaping the apartment and the freezing air outside, it was great to feel safe and warm. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft hum of the car's big engine. She wondered if it would be too rude if she fell asleep on the way to the police station.

Loki took a right-hand turn at the next intersection. "What do you think they wanted?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Those people who tried to kill you."

"Oh, them." Mary had been so caught up in what the intruder in her apartment had been trying to do that she hadn't put much thought into who or why. The idea that someone was trying to kill her sort of shoved out all the other thoughts. Now that she was thinking about it, she found it was a pretty tough question.

There were
a couple of obvious candidates.
After all, Mary had been a very popular girl lately when it came to creeps and thugs.