“Of course, I removed their heads and hands to slow identification. The beauty of it was—even when the police learned their identities—who would care? The police don’t care about a bunch of sleazy prostitutes; the vice squad probably considered it a favor. My chances of getting caught were nil.”
He paused, and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Until that stupid plainclothes cop blundered in. And then you.”
Fielder was getting too close; Ben had to start across the horizontal telephone pole. Just pretend like you’re on the ground, he told himself. It’s just like walking on a curb, except that the telephone pole is actually much wider. Piece of cake. He closed his eyes and pushed.
Halfway across, Ben was startled by a tremendous scream. He opened his eyes, waving his arms to recover his balance. He sat down quickly and straddled the pole. Somehow he managed to keep himself upright. He scooted across the rest of the pole.
Fielder was almost across the Burma bridge, laughing uproariously. “Made you flinch,” he said, grinning.
“Son of a bitch,” Ben muttered. He clung to the tree and scrutinized the next leg of the High Course. It was the wire track—one above, one below. If he could just make it across without falling, he could ride the zip line down to the earth. Terra firma. Best of all, he could tie the zip line down at the bottom so it wouldn’t return to Fielder. Fielder would have to go back through the course and descend on the giant’s ladder—and that would give Ben enough time to get away. If Fielder didn’t catch him first.
Ben stepped sideways across the wires. “Killing the girls wasn’t a piece of cake, though,” Ben said. “At least not the last one.”
“True enough,” Fielder admitted. “I did have trouble locating…Trixie.” He let the name drip off his tongue. “Sneaky cunt took to hiding, had half the whores in town covering for her. Bitches. I found her, of course, courtesy of that faggot she holed up with.”
“What did you do to Buddy?” Ben asked. “Is he still alive?”
Fielder ignored him. “Don’t worry. I had my revenge with Trixie. I didn’t kill her fast, like the others. I dragged it out and enjoyed it.”
Ben felt his sickness returning. His eyes were watering up. Just ignore him, he told himself. You can’t afford to be distracted now.
Ben watched Fielder float effortlessly across the telephone pole. He seemed to have no fear at all; he acted as if it really was just a curb on the ground. A heartbeat later, Fielder was on the wires and moving steadily toward Ben.
“End of the chase,” Fielder said. “Strap on your parachute. What—you don’t have one? Pity.”
Ben moved as quickly as he could without plummeting to the ground. It was no use. Fielder moved more than twice as fast as he did.
“Why did you try to kill Crichton?” Ben asked.
“Crichton?” He seemed genuinely puzzled. “He wasn’t in the Club. He was never on my list. On the contrary, his stupidity has been quite useful to me.”
Ben reached the end of the wire track and clutched the final tree. He tried to take the zip line, but Fielder grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him back.
Ben pressed his hands against Fielder’s chest, trying to hold him off. Fielder slammed down hard on Ben’s elbow, trying to break his arm. Ben cried out, then wrapped his arms around Fielder. Fielder twisted back and forth, trying to get free. Ben held tight. Snarling, Fielder butted Ben with his head.
Ben fell to his knees, his arms wrapped around Fielder’s legs. “I’m not letting go!” Ben shouted. “If I fall, we both fall!”
“I’ll see about that.” Fielder reached over Ben’s head and grabbed the zip line seat. Bracing himself, he drove his knee under Ben’s chin. A second blow thudded against Ben’s chest.
Ben felt the wind rush out of his lungs. He was out of breath, heaving, trying to maintain his all-important balance. Freed from Ben’s grasp, Fielder swung his leg back again and kicked hard.
This blow caught Ben in the stomach. His head slammed back against the tree. He fell to one side. At the last possible moment, he clutched a limb of the tree, desperately trying to keep from falling. He knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand another kick like that.
“You’re history,” Fielder said. He reared his foot back for the killing blow.
A gunshot rang out from somewhere below them. Fielder stopped, then, a second later, twitched strangely. Ben saw the wound on Fielder’s right shoulder.
“Stay right where you are or I’ll fire again!”
“Chicken shit assassin,” Fielder mumbled. He lurched forward suddenly and embraced Ben. “He’ll have to shoot us both.”
Ben struggled, but couldn’t break Fielder’s grasp. He raised his fist and pounded Fielder’s shoulder, just over the bullet wound. Fielder shrieked in agony and fell backward, just enough. Another gunshot rang out, this time catching Fielder dead center in his chest. He staggered backward, teetered for a moment, and fell.
Ben watched Fielder’s body plummet to the earth. He smashed onto the ground with a sickening thud.
Ben grabbed the tree behind him and pulled himself to a more stable position. He inhaled and exhaled evenly, trying to slow his racing pulse.
“Are you planning to stay up there all day?” Mike called out. He was standing on the ground, bracing himself against a tree trunk.
“Just for a little while,” Ben said between gasps. “Till I’m certain I’m not having a cardiac arrest.” He took a few more deep, drinking breaths. “I thought you were going to the hospital.”
“While you rushed out and played the daring young man on the flying trapeze? Not a chance. I gave the paramedics a rain check.”
“Just as well, under the circumstances.”
“So, are you planning to come down or what?” Ben wiped a quart of sweat from his forehead. “Maybe. Someday. No hurry.”
“I thought you were afraid of heights.”
Ben tried to smile. “I’m becoming acclimated.”
PART FOUR
What We Can
52
BEN POURED CUPS OF coffee for himself and for Christina. The Apollo legal staff meeting had already ran over an hour long and they weren’t done yet. Mercifully, Chuck had suggested a break.
Ben picked up the two hot Styrofoam cups, then winced. His hands were still raw and tender from his race through the High Course.
“Here’s the Java,” Ben said, passing Christina her cup. Because of the importance of the subject matter of the meeting, legal assistants had been invited for the first (and probably last) time.
“Thanks. How are your hands?”
“Not bad. Sore enough to give me an excuse to retire from the High Course forever.”
“Retire? Just when you were getting the hang of it?”
“Believe me, I was awful.”
“Ben, last week you couldn’t complete the High Course in full regalia. Two days ago, you completed it without any belay support. I’d call that significant progress.”
“Well, my progress was forced somewhat by the circumstances.”
She grinned. “Are these meetings always so gloomy?”
“Only when the main topic of conversation is how one member of the staff murdered another member of the staff and five other people as well.” During the past hour, the staff had been informed of the horrible secret buried inside their department. Mike was the official leader of the meeting, but Ben was filling in most of the details. Ben had tried to explain the whole plot as he now understood it—how Fielder had formed the Kindergarten Club, how he’d enlisted Hamel as secretary, and how together they had raked in the dough.