The Darkness - Jason Pinter [100]
Hollinsworth's head snapped up, his eyes wide open.
"He did what?"
"You heard me," Jack said.
"Jesus, how do you know this?"
"Because the girl who took that photo was paid ten
thousand dollars by Malloy to help him."
"I don't understand," Hollinsworth said. "Why would
he do such a terrible thing?"
"The woman he kidnapped was a reporter," I said.
"Like us. He blackmailed her into writing an article for
her newspaper."
"I don't read the papers," he said.
"So I gather. I just happened to bring a copy with me."
I took out the copy of the Gazette with Paulina's article
and slid it across the table to Hollinsworth. He picked it up.
And as soon as he read the headline, I knew the whole
story was about to unravel.
"That's...that's impossible," he said.
Hollinsworth ripped open the paper to Paulina's story
and read the entire piece. We sat there, watching his face,
studying it, transfixed by the multitude of emotions that
ran through it.
When he finished, the professor dropped the paper to
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the floor. The man's shoulders were slumped, his eyes
nearly closed. He stared at the floor.
Then finally he said, his voice barely above a whisper,
"I never thought they'd do it."
"Do what?" I said.
"Darkness...Ramos...Rex and Eve were always talking about some new drug Noriega's people were developing, something that if synthesized properly would be
twice as potent but half the cost. But the way they were
talking about it...it wasn't kosher. I always got the feeling
that if we didn't keep tabs on them they could--"
Then, before William Hollinsworth could say another
word, the door to his office banged open. Standing in the
doorway was a young man wearing a suit along with a
baseball cap. His hair was blond, but I noticed a tuft of
black hair beneath it. He was wearing a wig.
And I knew what he was going to do even before he
pulled the gun out.
Suddenly the world became a blur, and before I could
get out of my seat the young man was holding a small,
black gun and pointing it at William Hollinsworth.
The professor's eyes went wide and I heard him
scream, "No!"
Then there were three deafening blasts, and three
gouts of blood erupted from the former Special Forces
agent's chest.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, watching helplessly
as Hollinsworth toppled backward in his chair, a horrific
spray of blood covering the back wall of his office, decorating the space with grisly red where the professor
himself had declined to hang any decorations.
The shooter's eyes met mine, and to my surprise there
was no anger or malice in them, but pure and simple fear.
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His head shook as our eyes met, and suddenly he
turned and ran away.
"Jack, call 911!" I shouted, jumping from my seat and
racing into the hallway.
Peeking out from the doorway to make sure there
wasn't a muzzle waiting for me, I saw the coattail of the
man rounding the corner and heading for the lobby.
I ran after him, screaming and shouting echoing in the
halls behind me. I couldn't sense anything else; my world
narrowed to a tunnel.
Turning the corner at the end of the hall, I heard some
sort of commotion and a loud crash. Again I leaned out
from the corner, only to see that the shooter had tripped
over Carolyn's desk and was gathering himself up.
Carolyn was screaming, holding her head in her hands
and she stared at the man with terror etched on her face.
Then I saw it. The gun. It had fallen from his grasp and
was sitting mere feet away.
I had one chance.
Without thinking, I sprinted forward and threw my
weight into the man's back.
I heard a humph as his breath was driven from him, as
we both fell forward onto the ugly brown carpeting.
The man swung his elbow around at my head, but I
was able to duck it. As he did so, the ball cap and wig fell
off, revealing the man's hair and face.
His hair was short, black, and he was breathing heavy,
sweating. One thing was for sure, this man was far from
any sort of professional.