Gunfire sounded on the south side of the building. Walker didn’t take time to analyze who was firing what and why. He was up and running on legs painfully stiff from the cold. In the darkness, Walker saw Marc’s rifle blast at the bushes beneath the first-floor balcony. Another shot and a return shot and then Walker hurled himself forward with the bayonet.
Marc heard the steps behind him and whirled, deflecting Walker’s blow. The point of the bayonet buried itself in the sleeve of his jacket and the Springfield went flying to the snow. And then they were struggling, Walker clawing for the rifle barrel. An earsplitting shot missed Walker’s head by inches and he managed to knock Marc’s hand off the trigger, but his chilled arms had lost their strength. The two men grappled for long moments in the darkness of the night, but Marc was bigger and dressed for the weather. Walker felt his stamina ebbing in the biting wind.
Then something whizzed toward Marc’s head, connecting solidly enough to throw him off balance. He dropped to one knee and another blow sent the assault rifle flying. Marc was down, and Walker was on him before he could move, pulling his hands roughly behind his back. When he looked up, he saw Ellen standing over him with her tennis racket tucked under her arm, handing him a piece of rope. He secured Marc’s arms with hands that felt like blocks of ice. And then there was the welcome sound of a chopper in the distance, coming closer. Paul and Jayne had made it.
The next few moments were a blur of motion. Two officers rushed to take charge, handcuffing Marc and leading him away into the belly of the helicopter. Moira and Grace came around the side of the building supporting Betty between them, and two burly members of the SWAT team raced over the snow to help. Paul led four men into the building to inspect and secure it and Ellen and Walker found themselves momentarily alone, staring down at the trampled area in the snow where it had all happened.
Walker reached out to take Ellen’s arm. He wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful, courageous woman in the world. At the same time, he wanted to yell at her for being so incredibly foolish and crazy. It took a real idiot to come out here armed with nothing but a starting pistol and a tennis racket. And then he wanted to pull her close and kiss her. And tell her he’d do anything for her, that he was ready to settle down with her for the rest of his life if she’d have him. But there wasn’t time for all that. Instead, he turned to her and said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Nice backhand, Ellen.”
EPILOGUE
It was noon in Vegas and the temperature had hit the hundred-degree mark. The desert sun was merciless, glaring against the sides of the mirrored tower building and causing several passing tourists to fumble in their purses and pockets for sunglasses. Inside, it was cool and dark with the drapes drawn tightly and the air-conditioner turned up as high as it would go. The twentieth floor was an oasis of soothing relief from the blazing heat, but the four men at the table took no pleasure in their comfortable surroundings.
The tanned blond man frowned as he addressed the senior member of the group. “I got the word that they’re moving him tomorrow. I made the arrangements, just like you said.”
“Good!” The older man smiled in satisfaction. “He betrayed my trust. A rat like that does not deserve to live.”
The short, thin man sighed deeply. “We respect your grief at your daughter’s death. He will not die peacefully.”
“I have no daughter!” The older man thumped his fist on the table. “It was an old man’s foolishness to agree to his plan. I see that now. If she had lived, I would have killed her myself. I swear it!”
The heavyset man nodded. “I called this meeting to discuss a new plan for distribution, since the mannequins are no longer possible. We own a mail-order company. Computers and printers. It would be a simple matter to switch over the whole operation.”
The older man frowned. “It is a risk to move my supplies.”
“It’s more of a risk to leave them where they are.” The blond man pushed back his chair and stood up. “We’ve located a new storage place and our truck is ready. You’ll go with me to supervise the move?”
“Do I have any choice in the matter?”
The blond man shook his head and there was silence until they had left. Then the heavyset man wiped his perspiring face with a handkerchief and sighed. “Your man knows what to do?”
“We went over the details this morning. It’s unfortunate, but he’s getting too old. He’s already made several mistakes.”
“I know that. Do you really think he would have killed his own daughter?”
The short, thin man shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Jack glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes and pressed the buzzer to summon the nurse. After a moment a tall woman with a mass of curly red hair bustled into the room. She was wearing a name tag that identified her as Miss Cooper.
“You buzzed, Mr. St. James?”
“Right. I’ve got ten to three. They said they’d be here at three, didn’t they?”
“That’s right.” The nurse reached out to adjust his pillows. “Just relax, Mr. St. James. I’m sure they’ll be here on time.”
Jack frowned as he looked up at the crank and pulley that kept his leg stiffly elevated. “What are the odds of getting out of this thing, just while they’re here? Jayne’s going to say that I’m trussed up like a Christmas turkey.”
“The odds are better at rigged roulette. The doctor says your leg has to be in traction for another two months.”
“Come on, Miss Cooper. Can’t you do something? I heal fast.”
“Not that fast.” The nurse laughed. “And I’m sure Jayne Peters won’t say word one about a Christmas turkey.”
“Want to bet a fiver?”
“Sure.” The nurse nodded. “I’d better get some more chairs in here. Seven visitors, is that right?”
Jack shook his head. “Six. Jayne and Paul, Moira and Grace, and Ellen and Walker.”
“I thought they said seven. I’ll bring in an extra chair, just in case they’re bringing a friend.”
Jack sighed as he watched the nurse move in the extra chairs. Here he was, stuck in a hospital bed for at least two months, when he really wanted to be back up at Deer Creek Condos taking care of Betty.
“Here they come.” Miss Cooper glanced out the door and hurried to fuss with his pillows one more time. “Just remember that bet you made.”
“Jack, honey!” Jayne raced into the room and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Look at you, all trussed up like a Christmas goose!”
“A Christmas goose?” Jack groaned and handed Miss Cooper a five-dollar bill. “I thought for sure you’d say Christmas turkey!”
“No way. Turkeys are for Thanksgiving and geese are for Christmas. I even wrote a song about it. ‘Don’t be a Turkey at Christmas.’ You never heard it?”
“No, but Miss Cooper did.” Jack glared at the nurse, who laughed and made a hasty exit. Then he turned to Paul. “Hi, Paul. Sorry I can’t stand up to shake your hand. I tried, but they wouldn’t let me out of this rig.”
“It is no big contract.”
“No big deal.” Jayne corrected him automatically. “Come on, Jack. Shake his hand so he’ll sit down.”
Paul bowed slightly and extended his hand. “It is good to see you, Jack. Grace and Moira will be here shortly. They are arranging permission for the refreshments.”
There was a knock at the door and Grace came in, followed by Moira with a picnic basket. While Moira opened the basket and set out glasses on Jack’s bedside table, Grace came over to kiss Jack.
“The doctor said it’s all right, that you’re allowed to have the cake and ice cream we brought and a glass or two of champagne as long as we don’t get you so drunk that you break out of that traction thing you’re hooked up to and start swinging from the light fixtures or something equally destructive and, oh, I’m so glad to see you, Jack!”