“Go to hell,” the bleeding man growled, his face contorted in agony.
“If I press harder still, the knife will completely puncture the lung and you’ll pass out from the pain.”
He applied a slight pressure to prove his point. The German screamed again.
“Now, let’s try this again,” said Jerome, leaning closer.
“What – what do you want to know?” the man grunted between quick, shallow breaths.
“Who sent you the order to kill me?” asked Leopold.
“I – I don’t know his name. I swear!” he implored as Jerome’s expression hardened. “All I know is I get a phone call a few days ago. He tells me he might need my services, and I’ll get a call when the time is right. I got the call this morning with your location and followed you here.”
“The explosions,” said Leopold. “What did you use?”
“I was given something.” He pointed at his jacket.
Jerome carefully unzipped the man’s leather jacket with his free hand, keeping an even pressure on the knife. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a small metal case ten inches in diameter.
“Open it,” gasped the gunman.
Jerome snapped open the small case to reveal four small white plastic discs, roughly the same size and shape as a quarter, nestled in black foam like a valuable coin collection. The bodyguard rested the case on the man’s chest and pulled one of the discs out, holding it carefully between his thumb and index finger.
“Careful,” the man rasped. “You don’t want to set those off. Boom.”
“What are they?” asked Jerome.
“I don’t know their name. They were left for me at the drop point. They have instructions, you just put them down and detonate them with a cell phone. Boom,” he laughed hoarsely.
“Are there more? Tell me, who else is coming?” Leopold asked.
The gunman only laughed harder, despite the knife in his side. “You have no idea, do you? I hope they make you suffer, I hope you are awake when they do it. I hope – ”
He didn’t get to finished his sentence. Jerome pushed the knife deeper into the man’s rib-cage, making him howl in pain for several seconds until he passed out, still breathing, but only just. The bodyguard handed the tiny metal case to Leopold.
“Could these really cause all that damage?” Jerome jerked his head back in the direction of the collapsed tunnel.
“Evidently. Though how, exactly, I need to figure out. Nothing a couple hours in the lab can’t determine.”
“What are we going to do with him?” he looked down at the gunman.
“Leave him here,” replied the consultant. “He won’t last long without medical attention, and I don’t think his employer is going to be too happy about his performance. I doubt we’ll be seeing him again.”
“What about the others? I don’t think I can carry them both, and Albert needs some stitches.”
As Leopold considered their next move, he heard Mary and Albert groan quietly as they regained consciousness and he breathed a sigh of relief as they both got to their feet.
“What happened? Is everyone all right?” Mary asked, her voice groggy.
“We’re fine,” the consultant replied, “though I think Albert might be a little worse for wear.”
“Don’t worry about me,” murmured their tour guide, clutching his shoulder. “It’s not bleeding much any more. Just a scratch. Really.”
“Good,” said Jerome, “I carry a small first aid kit in my jacket that can help with the bleeding. I can get you fixed up, but you’ll probably need to go get stitches.”
Albert nodded thankfully and squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, turning to Leopold. “What’s next?”.
“Let’s get you fixed up first. Then we’ll think about our next move. I’ve got a feeling we’re getting close to finding some answers.”
Chapter 27
Leopold helped carry Albert down the tunnel, stopping at one of the bulbs that hadn’t been shattered to allow Jerome to inspect the injuries under the hazy light. The bleeding had mostly stopped, leaving a deep, clean gash. The bodyguard dabbed at the wounds gently with a cotton ball and a splash of liquid antibacterial, making his patient flinch in pain. Leopold saw the look of concern on Mary’s face.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
“I know. It’s just that we shouldn’t be putting civilians in danger like that.”
“Technically, Jerome and I are civilians too.”
“That’s not the same. You both knew what you were getting into. Albert had no idea. We lied to him and nearly got him killed. Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care. I know I don’t always exactly speak my mind,” he smiled as Mary rolled her eyes in agreement. “I’m not as callous as you think.”
“I don’t think you’re callous. I just find you impossible to read, that’s all.”
“A product of my upbringing, I’m afraid. My father wouldn’t approve.”
“Letting people know how you feel isn’t a weakness. Your father was a good man, but he didn’t always get it right when it came to emotions,” said Mary, resting her hand on his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine.
Leopold paused before considering a reply and felt a clawing in his chest. He brushed it off and forced a smile.
“You didn’t know him like I did,” he said.
Mary squeezed his shoulder, making the hairs on Leopold’s forearms stand on end. “It’s not your fault, you know,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “No one could have predicted what would happen.”
“I should have. The signs were all there.”
“Nobody’s perfect, Leopold. Not even you. And I still stand by what I said. We’ll find out what happened, eventually.”
He nodded, and the pair sat in silence as Jerome finished cleaning their tour guide’s wound. Albert inspected Jerome’s handiwork and gave a thumbs up, then lifted his arm so that a bandage could be fitted.
“What do we do now?” he asked, once Jerome had finished.
“We need to get hold of the security logs that coincide with the time stamps we found on the computer,” replied Leopold.
“The security guard’s not just going to hand them over,” said Albert.
“Let me worry about that,” said Mary. “I can be very persuasive.”
“Can we avoid any more shooting?”
“No promises,” said Jerome.
“We’ll try, Albert,” said Mary.
Leopold lead the group back through the basement and into the corridors of Uris Hall, each of them squinting as the halogen lights hit their eyes. In less than a minute they had found their way back to the main lobby, the floor littered with scuff marks and dirt from where the fire fighters had trampled through in search of the non-existent emergency. The room was empty, the students having returned to afternoon classes.
“Hey, you! Stop!” a voice rang from the other end of the hall.
Turning, Leopold saw a portly security guard, red-faced and panting, jog over to where they were standing. He reached them after a few seconds of obvious exertion and took a moment to catch his breath.
“You! I know you!” he glared at Mary. “My keys! They went missing after you ran into me outside! What have you done with them?”
“You mean these?” the police sergeant held up a set of keys and jiggled them in front of the guard’s face.
“Give them to me!” he reached out a pudgy hand, but Mary drew back out of his grasp.
“Not so fast, Marty,” she eyed the guard’s security ID badge. “We need a little favor from you.”
Marty’s face, already red from running across the lobby, turned the color of beetroot. “Give me those keys, now!”
“Not a chance. We need you to do a little search of your security logs and give us the names of everyone who was in this building two days ago at midnight.”
Mary dangled the keys again for effect. The fat security guard trembled from what Leopold could only assume was rage. Or perhaps indigestion.
“And just why the hell should I help you? You have exactly two seconds to give those keys back or I’m calling the cops.”