“You’re out of your league, boy,” Seagrave said with a smirk. “I have broken most of the men who have stood in my way. The others I have had killed.”
“Maybe,” Morgan said, sneering back. “But I’ve killed every man who’s crossed me. And I did it with my own hands. Face to face.”
“I suggest we handcuff this dangerous pair,” Stone said. “They can be placed in the detention room until our meeting is completed, then Monk can have his fun with them.”
“Why wait?” Morgan asked, turning to face the giant. “Put the guns away and let the girl go, and gruesome and I can settle this thing right here and now.” He dropped into a low fighting stance and put on his best hard look. Felicity just stared at him. Everything about him, body language, facial expression, vocal tone, said he really believed he could take this monster. He projected his confidence purposely at Monk, who hesitated for a moment, and Morgan saw a wave of doubt pass ever-so-briefly across his simian face.
Stone had seen it too. “No!” he snapped. “Later. Paul, handcuff these intruders.”
Looking at two pistols focused on his head, Morgan consciously relaxed, and slowly moved his hands behind his back. He decided he had judged this Paul correctly. The man was a pro. He held his pistol close to his right side, and expertly locked the cuffs around Morgan’s wrists with his left hand. As he reached for Felicity, she turned defiantly, jabbing her index finger into Paul’s face.
“I told your little helper Paco he was a dead man the day he slapped me,” Felicity said through clenched teeth. “You ought to know we left him lying in a vacant lot in the Bronx. And I’m willing to bet that your other chubby friend is up in a certain tenement building up there with one of my partner’s bullets in his head. And now I’m telling you, mister, you’re going down next. You won’t hold me.”
She sprang for the door like a scalded cat, diving into space as if she might clear the human wall blocking her way. Her agility startled even Morgan. The sole of her left foot hit Monk’s chest, her right landed on his shoulder and it looked as if she would simply climb over him until Monk grasped her lower legs. For a moment Morgan thought she might squirm free, but Monk’s grip was just too strong.
Monk dragged her back over his shoulder, hand over hand, reaching higher on her leg each time. Felicity clawed and pounded madly at Monk’s face and chest in apparent desperation. Monk merely grinned at the assault and tossed the girl casually to the floor. Felicity’s face was pressed into the carpet as Paul’s knee dropped into the small of her back. He had handcuffs locked on her wrists before she could move.
“I do remember some of what Stone told me about you, girl,” Seagrave said. “I must say, you failed to live up to your reputation. That was stupid. Monk, get them out of here. But return immediately. We have business to conclude, and I need you here.”
Monk grabbed each of his charges by an arm and tossed them roughly into the hall. The jarring impact with the wall stunned them both. Unasked, Paul followed into the hall, his pistol held close, but always on Morgan. When the elevator came, Felicity followed Morgan’s lead and remained docile as she entered. He was sure they were in no immediate danger, and attacking Monk while his hands were locked behind his back would be sure suicide. Paul slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed.
“What’s the matter,” Felicity asked. “Don’t you trust the ape here to handle us?”
“I just don’t want you taking off in different directions when the doors slide open.”
Morgan nodded at the compliment and stayed relaxed as he stepped out of the elevator. Monk opened a door across from the elevator. Morgan grimaced and approached the door with caution until a hulking arm shoved him and Felicity unceremoniously into the small room and slammed the door.
Morgan rolled forward and sat up on the cold cement floor, scanning his surroundings. One naked light bulb cast crude shadows against the cinder block walls, and in its pale light, he saw nothing he liked. The room was about fifteen by twenty feet. Big for a bedroom, maybe, but it didn’t offer much space to maneuver and nowhere to hide. In other words, Monk’s perfect fighting environment. The faint smell of dried blood told him that past fights in this room had gotten ugly. There was no window, no furniture, not even a molding along the ceiling or baseboards. He saw nothing that he could turn into a makeshift weapon. There was no inside door handle. And on the far wall, he spotted the ominous down-swinging door of an incinerator. Disgusted, he turned and looked into Felicity’s face, shaking his head.
“Before I die, would you please share with me just why you decided to charge into the enemy camp, unarmed and outnumbered. I hate being handcuffed.”
“I guess I got carried away,” Felicity said. He could see that she was chilled by the room’s temperature and maybe by the coolness of his anger as well. “I can’t very well take it back now, can I? The cuffs, on the other hand, we can do something about.” With a short hop, she pulled her legs up and swung her arms forward, so her feet slipped through her arms. Now her hands were in front of her. From her hair band she pulled a small slip of spring steel. With casual ease she used it to remove first her shackles, then his. “Better?”
“Better.” He rubbed his wrists to regain circulation. “Now at least we have a chance. Sure hate to fight that monster in here, that’s for sure. It’s too close.”
“You’re thinking of fighting that fellow?”
Morgan nodded, his hands on his hips. “I’ll have to hit him as soon as he opens the door and hope for the best. I think I can maybe bowl him over. He’ll expect us to be handcuffed and helpless. If we can get past him, we can get out.”
“Could be. But we’re not going to play it that way. I got us into this, after all, and I’ll get us out.”
“Yeah? How?” Morgan asked. “With no weapons, locked in here…”
“Slow down,” Felicity said in a soothing tone. From under her shirt she produced a small revolver.
“Where did you…?”
“Remember when I made that `stupid’ attack on Monk?” Felicity asked. “I could have taken that clod’s boxers and he’d never have known it. He said he didn’t need his gun, but I figured you could use it. It is a wee thing, but I’m hoping it’s enough if we meet him in the hall.”
“It’s only a thirty-two,” Morgan said, accepting the revolver. “But I can kill any man with a thirty-two. You just have to hit the right spot.”
“Good,” Felicity said with a smile. “Now for the door.” She crouched in front of the door for a closer examination. Morgan stood behind her, hands on knees, watching her work. A steel plate had been screwed on where a lock and doorknob would normally be. There was a slot for a coded card like the one on the elevator door on the roof.
Felicity’s hair band yielded a flat steel rectangle, one inch by two inches, about as thick as a dime. She used this as a screwdriver and seconds later the plate was gone. Next Felicity chose two springy lock picks, one slightly longer than the other. It required exactly twelve seconds for her to open the door.
Morgan held the gun forward in a two-handed grip as they stepped out of the room. A menacing gesture, he figured, but unnecessary. The hallway was vacant. It seemed too easy to simply push the button and summon the elevator. In fact, he was just wondering if his luck could get any better when the elevator doors slid open.
There stood one of the bodyguards from the conference room, all alone, holding Morgan’s big fighting knife. He stared down the barrel of Morgan’s pistol, actually following the sights in reverse until he was looked up into Morgan’s laughing eyes. Slowly he licked his lips and extended his arm, presenting the knife like a peace offering. A few drops of sweat slid down his forehead making him blink when they hit his eyes.