Hell's Horizon (28 page)

Nick stared at the gun, gathered his wits and began painfully. “It was meant to be a joke. We’d done it before.”

“Done what?”

“Swapped partners.” He wiped his mouth with his good hand. “Nic arranged for rooms with interconnecting doors. Both our guys were into bondage. The plan was to tie them up, then swap places and…”

“You mean you’d screw Nic’s guy and she’d get off with yours?” He nodded. “Seems like hers was getting the worst of the bargain.”

He showed his broken teeth, all bloody. It might have been a grin. “She had a dildo…”

“Cute. Go on.”

“I got there before Nic and went into action. About half past ten, I looked in her room. She wasn’t there. I kept my guy going another hour, then I put the mask on him and went to see if Nic had turned up.”

“Why the mask?” I asked.

“To protect his identity. I left him tied to the bed, slipped into 812 and…”

I waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “
And? ”
I snapped.

“I saw the state of her back. How still she was. I thought she was dead. So I ran.”

“She was still alive then,” I roared. “You might have been able to save her.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” he replied bitterly. He was crying, but not from the pain. “I should have checked. I should have gotten help. But I panicked, fled for the stairs. I stopped on the third floor, ducked into a bathroom and cried till I was dry. Then I went back—the longest fucking climb of my life—and got my clothes. I should have let my guy go, but I just left him there—I wasn’t thinking straight. I took an elevator down and slipped out. Nobody noticed. That was it.” He looked at me with scared, small eyes, awaiting my verdict.

“Who was the man with Nic?” I asked.

“I don’t know. And she didn’t know who I’d be with. That’s how we always did it.”

“Did you see anyone or hear anything?”

“No.”

“Any chance the guy you were with—Charlie Grohl—knows more than you do?”

“He was tied up,” Nick said quickly. “Gagged.”

“Maybe later, after you left,” I suggested.

“No,” he insisted, but there was something in his denial which jarred. For the first time I got the feeling that he wasn’t playing straight.

“Remember what I said I’d do if I caught you lying?”

“I haven’t lied!” he yelped, scrabbling backward.

“Did Charlie Grohl say something to make you suspicious?”

“No. I swear. He knows no more about it than me.”

“I don’t believe you.” I pointed the gun at his groin. “Three seconds, Nick. Spill the beans or kiss goodbye to your greens.”

“Al, don’t do this. You—”

“One.”

“People will hear. They know your face here. They’ll—”

“Two.”

“I swear, I don’t know who it was, I haven’t—”

“Three.”

“No!” he screamed before I fired. “There was no Charlie Grohl!”

My eyebrows creased. “Come again?”

“It’s a name I made up. But I only did it to protect his identity. He said he’d kill me if anyone—”

“It’s an alias?” I shouted.

“One of my first lovers was called Charles Grohl. His name sprang into my—”

“Forget that,” I silenced him. “Who was in the room with you?”

Nick hesitated the briefest of moments. Then, shoulders slumping, he said, “I was with a cop called Howard Kett.”

I helped Nick clean himself up and called for an ambulance. He said he wouldn’t press charges because he knew how upset I was, but added that he never wanted to see me again, not even if I found out who murdered Nic. I felt ashamed, but for Ellen I’d face all the shame in the world. I left Nick cradling his arm and waiting for the medics, then tracked down Howie.

He was on the phone in his office when I walked in, brushing past the startled officers outside. I yanked the cord from the wall, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, stumbling to his feet.

“I know about you and Nicholas Hornyak,” I said, sitting down.

The rage drained from his face and he fell back into his chair. One of his colleagues came to the door and asked if everything was OK. Kett nodded and told him to close the door. For a long time he sat staring at me, saying nothing. Finally, “We met a couple of years ago. Bill and I busted him one night. I got chatting to him. A few months later we ran into each other and—”

“I’m not interested in ancient history,” I snapped.

“I don’t make a habit of it. But sometimes I just—”

“The Skylight, Howie,” I growled.

“My wife has no idea. She guessed I was having an affair, but thinks it’s with a woman. You mustn’t tell her. My life’s over if she finds out.”

“Tell me what happened at the Skylight or I’ll phone her now,” I threatened. That brought him out of his daze.

“How much do you know?” he asked.

“Nick paid Breton Furst to turn a blind eye so you could slip in unseen. He tied you to the bed and masked you. Furst freed you later.”

“I went home,” he said. “I rang Nick to chew him a new asshole but he couldn’t be reached. I spent most of the week trying to contact him. A couple of days before I learned about the murder, a photo turned up on my desk, of me and Nick, in the room. Naked. No note. Just the photo. I stormed over to Nick’s. I thought the photo was another of his sick jokes, like chaining me to the bed and vanishing, but he swore he knew nothing about it. He told me how he found his sister.”

“That’s when you turned up at the Skylight, looking for her body?”

“Was it, fuck!” he snorted. “If I interfered, someone might’ve found out about me and Nick. I kept the news to myself. But the next day I got a call at home, a man’s voice. He asked if my wife would like a framed print of the photo. I asked what he was after. He told me about Nicola and said I was to pick up her body after I called The Cardinal and invented a story about a snitch.”

“What did he tell you to do once you’d recovered the body?”

“Keep the news that the corpse was a week old to myself, and treat it like any normal homicide victim. Which is what I did. A few days later I got another call. This time I was told to go around to your place and tell you to keep away from Nick. I knew it’d make you suspicious but my hands were tied.”

“I wondered what you were up to,” I grunted. “It made no sense.”

“That’s because they were setting us up. I could see that from the start. Broke my fucking balls to play into their hands.”

“And Allegro Jinks—you were told to send Furst to look for him? That story about his mother was a crock of shit?”

Howie nodded. “I found a message in the pocket of my pants one morning.”

“Any more messages since?”

He shook his head. “When I got back from holiday and heard about your ex, I thought they’d be in touch, but so far, nothing.”

“If they contact you again, I want to know.”

“I can’t make any guarantees.”

“I’ll tell your wife about you and Nick if you don’t.”

He laughed bitterly. “And the others will tell her about us if I do. Screwed however I turn. Look, Jeery, much as I hate you, these are scum of a different order. I’ll do anything to help you fuck them up. But I have to blow with the wind. They scare me more than you do.”

“You’re not much of a man to have in my corner, Howie.”

“Never claimed I was,” he retorted. He nodded at the door, inviting me to leave.

“One last question. Ellen—any leads?”

His face softened. “It’s not my case. I’ve steered clear of it. I’m not even listening to office gossip. Bill can probably tell you more about it than me.”

“If you learn anything, will you let me know?”

“If I’m able,” he replied.

I left. The last thing I saw as I let myself out was Kett lowering his head into his hands, groaning quietly. Another time and place, I could almost have felt sorry for the bastard.

Rudi Ziegler wasn’t surprised to see me. “Come in,” he said glumly and took me through to the parlor. He sat at the table and played with his crystal ball, head bowed over it. I gave the room a quick once-over before sitting. I’d made up my mind to start softly—more softly than I had on Nick—but if I had to get vicious, I would.

“You know why I’m here?” I asked.

“I heard about Ellen. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know she was my ex when she came to see you?”

“No. She never mentioned Nicola or you. I wouldn’t have known the two of you were related if your name hadn’t been mentioned in the news.”

“That’s
your
story.”

He looked up. “You think I’m lying?”

“Two of your clients go under the knife, exactly the same way, exactly the same place. Coincidence?”

“Maybe,” he muttered.

I placed my gun on the table. “You’re in deep shit, Rudi. Talk.”

He put his face in his hands and breathed deeply. His eyes were raw with tears when he looked at me again. “I never knew it would go this far,” he sobbed.

My fingers slid away from the gun.

“I knew nothing about Ellen, but Nicola… It was
her
idea. She wanted to be carved. It was meant to be a symbolic sacrifice. There was a ceremony, by the base of the Manco Capac statue. It concluded with the symbol being cut into her back. There was pain but she welcomed it, offering it up to the god of the sun. I said rites before, during and after the carving. That was it. We cleaned up, bandaged Nicola, said our farewells, and I headed home.”

“Nic stayed?”

“I thought she’d left too, but she must have doubled back, or met her killer elsewhere.”

“You didn’t kill her?”

“No!” he yelped. “I worship the sun, life, the positive aspects of the universe. I would never—”

“So who did?” I challenged him.

He chewed his lower lip nervously. “I don’t know,” he lied.

“Who arranged the
sacrifice
?”

“Nicola. I organized the ceremony but she initiated it.”

“She didn’t plan on being killed?”

“Hardly.”

“What about the carving? You did the praying. Did you handle the knife as well?”

“Yes,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“You’re lying.”

“No.” Sweating now.

“Who was it?” I pressed. “Who sliced her?”

“Nobody! We were the only—”

His eyes flicked to a spot behind me. My training kicked in and I threw myself to the left, not even pausing to grab my weapon.

A gun exploded. A bullet screamed past the spot where I should have been and hit Ziegler in the chest. He went down silently. Blood and splinters of bone arced from his breast, spraying the table and floor. He might not have been dead before hitting the floor, but there wouldn’t have been much in it either way.

“Shit!” the assassin cursed. Feet shuffled. A silver barrel glinted. I lunged as the second shot was fired, feeling it tear through the heel of my shoe, somehow missing my flesh. Then I was on my assailant.

I drove my head into his stomach, my fist into his face. He grunted, gave a couple of inches, then rooted his feet to the floor and struck at my head with the gun. I took the blow on my shoulder and punched again. He stumbled. Blood was flowing from his nose or mouth. I grabbed his legs and pulled. He fell heavily.

I scrambled up his body to pound his face. When I got there, I paused with shock. It wasn’t a man—it was a large, mean, bullheaded woman. I knew her, but before I could place her name, she went for my eyes with her nails.

I rolled away just in time, though she scratched my cheeks pretty badly. With a growl she pushed after me, scuttling across the floor in a grotesque, arachnid fashion, teeth gnashing at my flesh, hands scrabbling for a hold.

I backpedaled swiftly, trying to make space for a counterattack. I struck at her face with both feet. She took the blow on her giant breasts. It slowed her but didn’t put her down, and she was on me again moments later, saliva spraying, teeth seeking my nose.

I hooked my fingers under her gums and pried her away. I tried kneeing her groin but only caught a meaty thigh. She slammed her own knee forward and fared better, driving much of the wind from my sails.

We thrashed about and crashed into the table, her hands around my throat. Something heavy rolled off and thumped to the floor. My mind put a shape to the sound. I jerked one hand back and punched the side of her head a few times without any effect, so I grabbed an ear and tugged. She screamed and drew away.

I let go of the ear and hit both sides of her neck with the inner edges of my hands. She screamed breathlessly and sank down, gasping for air. I slid across the floor and grabbed the crystal ball, which was what had toppled from the table moments before. It was cracked but intact. I got to my knees, raised my hands and slammed the glass globe down over her head.