Found Money - James Grippando [142]
“That’s far enough.” It was a booming voice from the side.
Amy froze. Joe Kozelka stepped out from behind the rocks. He had sent Rusch to do the job, but this assignment was far too important to rely totally on a subordinate. He had to follow, arriving quietly by boat off big Lake Cheesman, which stretched for miles behind the dam.
His gun pressed against the base of Marilyn’s skull. He was standing right behind her, using her body as a human shield. Amy turned her gun toward him, but Marilyn was in the way.
“Drop the gun,” he said.
Her arms stretched out before her. The gun felt heavy in her hands. But she didn’t move.
“I said, drop it.”
Amy squeezed her gun.
“Don’t listen to him,” said Marilyn.
“Shut up!” He wrenched her arm behind her back.
Marilyn cringed. “Don’t give up your gun, Amy. He’ll kill you.”
“Lose it,” said Kozelka. “Or I shoot her right now.”
Amy couldn’t move. She tried to take aim, but her hands were unsteady. She knew how to use a gun, but only because her mother’s death had made her afraid of them. She had always tried to learn about the things that frightened her. This shot, however, was beyond her capabilities.
Marilyn squirmed. “He’s bluffing, Amy. He can’t shoot me. I’m too important to him.”
“Drop it!” Kozelka was seething, nearly screaming. “I swear I’ll pop her right here. Right in front of you. You want to see another woman with a bullet in her head, kid?”
The words were like explosives—not just for Amy, but for Marilyn, too. On impulse, she fell back against him with all her force, knocking them both off the ledge. Together, they tumbled backward, head over heels, rolling out of control toward the observation platform.
Amy charged down the steps after them, but they were rolling too fast down the steep embankment, gaining momentum. They slammed against the rail at the edge of the platform, Kozelka taking the major blow. The wooden beams split on impact. Splintered chunks of wood fell two hundred feet down into the canyon, into the churning river water far below. Marilyn grabbed a railing to stop her fall. Kozelka grabbed the other, but his weight was too great. The bolts ripped from the footing. His body sailed over the edge, but he caught the bottom of the platform in a desperate lunge. He barely had a grip. His hand was slipping. He struggled to pull himself up, but couldn’t. He looked down. The fall was straight down. He could barely see bottom.
Amy ran to the platform and grabbed Marilyn. “Are you okay?”
She dabbed some blood from her nose. “Yeah. I think so.”
Amy peered over the edge and looked down at Kozelka. He was flailing at the end of the broken railing, like a hooked fish, trying to pull himself up. From this height, the fall alone would be deadly. Just below them, in a magnificent display of overkill, tons of running water shot from the open outlet tunnel that cut through the canyon wall.
Amy handed Marilyn her gun. “Keep an aim on him. If he tries anything funny, you know what to do.”
Marilyn took aim. “What are you doing?”
Amy braced herself against the railing and leaned over the edge. She extended her hand toward him, but not all the way. It was just out of his reach.
Marilyn’s voice shook. “Amy, get away. He’ll kill you.”
She ignored her. “You’re going to die, mister. Unless you tell me the truth.”
He groped desperately for her hand, but he couldn’t make contact. He was out of breath, barely able to speak. “What. Truth?”
“Tell me, you bastard. Did you kill my mother?”
“No.”
“You ordered her killed, didn’t you!”
“No. I had nothing to do with it.”
“You