Lifeguard - James Patterson [87]
I crouched low and tried to find him. Another shot rang out, clipping the tarp above my head.
“Getting closer to the end,” Stratton cackled, almost laughing. “Seems we did have one thing in common, though, right, Ned? Funny how our conversation just never got around to her.”
My blood started to boil. Tess.
“She was one sweet piece of ass. Now, those friends of yours and your brother—that was just business. But Tess . . . That one I regret. You, too, I bet. Ahhh, she was just another whore.”
If he was trying to get me mad, it was working. I jumped out from behind the cover and fired two angry rounds in the direction of Stratton’s voice. A floodlight shattered.
A shot rang back. I felt a searing pain lance my shoulder. My hand shot to the wound. The gun slid out of my hand.
“Oh, jeez, Ned”—Stratton showed himself from behind a light trestle—“careful there, buddy.”
I stared at the bastard. He had that supercilious grin I’d grown to detest, along with his shiny bald brow.
And that was when I heard it. The faintest thwack-thwak-thwak beating in the distance. Coming closer, getting louder.
Then off in the sky, a set of flashing lights was approaching, pretty fast. A chopper.
“Wrong again, Mr. Kelly.” Stratton smiled. “Here comes my ride.”
Chapter 109
ELLIE CLIMBED the stairwell leading from the kitchen doors.
She ran into a waiter hurrying down, babbling about this guy who was chasing some lunatic, headed up to the sixth floor. Ned. Ellie told him to grab the first cops or FBI agents he could find and send them after her. Exiting on six, she encountered a freaked-out concierge, shouting into a phone for security. She said that two men, with guns, were up on the roof!
Ellie checked her weapon one more time and stepped into the stairwell tower.
What the hell are you doing, Ned?
Ellie brushed beads of sweat off her cheek. She heard voices on the roof. She clutched her Glock with both hands.
Ellie quickly made her way to the top of the stairs. She looked out. Floodlights illuminated the tower ceiling. The lights of Palm Beach stretched out below. She leaned against the heavy door. Now what? She knew Stratton and Ned were outside. Stay calm, Ellie, she exhorted herself. It’s like training. You stay out of the line of fire. You size up the situation. You wait for backup.
Except in training, you didn’t have some guy you probably loved screwing up the situation.
She told herself she knew how to do this. She twisted the handle on the door and took a deep breath.
Then she heard two sharp bangs echoing on the rooftop. That changed everything.
Shots were being fired.
Chapter 110
I HAD SCREWED UP things like the complete amateur I was. The thought that Stratton would get away after murdering Mickey, Dave, his own wife, was killing me more than anything else.
“Don’t be so glum, Ned,” Stratton said expansively. “We’re both going on a trip. Unfortunately, yours will be a little shorter.”
He shot a glance at the chopper’s progress and motioned me along the roof with a wave of his gun. I didn’t want to give in to him, to give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid—but I knew my only chance was to go along. The FBI was in the building. Someone had to be up there soon. Just wait him out somehow.
There was a narrow stone ledge in front of me, all that separated us from a six-story drop.
“Come on, Mr. Kelly,” Stratton said with derision in his voice. “Time to take your big bow. This is how you’ll be remembered.”
The wind kicked up and now I was starting to get really scared. Stratton’s helicopter was executing a narrowing circle, angling in toward the roof. The lights of Palm Beach stretched out before me.
Stratton stood five feet behind me. His gun was pointed at my back. “How does it feel, Ned—knowing you’ll be dead while I’ll be sipping mai-tais in Costa Rica, reading over that fancy nonextradition treaty? Almost doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“Go to hell, Stratton.