I let go, but, in all honesty, not without some regret. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I continued to be furious with Zak for his manipulations. I was never very good at math, but no matter how I turned the equation around, Zak’s pulling at the puppet strings still resulted in Kira’s murder. I suppose that as a younger, more narcissistic man, I might have seen things differently. I might have thought my few days with Kira were somehow worth it. I wasn’t that good a liar anymore. My joy, no matter how expansive, would never be worth someone else’s life.
“Are we in the tunnels beneath the school?” I asked, sitting up.
“Yeah,” Zak said, rubbing his throat. “But these tunnels are unused. They are extensions to buildings that were never built. Everybody knows they exist, but none of the students know how to get access.”
“Now you do, but I don’t think it’s worth it.”
“I guess not,” he agreed.
“How did-” My question was cut short by an opening door.
“I put him here, Mr. Klein,” a vaguely familiar voice answered my unfinished question. Dean Dallenbach stepped through the open door. He was flanked on either side by the desk clerk and the ski dude. “Now why don’t you make the inevitable easy on everyone and hand over the disc.”
“If it existed, asshole,” I didn’t hesitate, “I might be inclined to make it easy.”
“You are going to be tiresome, aren’t you?” Dallenbach’s hand gestures were very affected, exaggerated.
“I guess so.”
“But we’ve already been through this with your nephew, Mr. Klein. Do you actually believe me such a fool?”
I smiled. “You really want an answer to that?”
“George!” Dallenbach barked.
The ski dude hopped to and proceeded to slap me so hard across the face that the force tore a gash in my cheek.
“Nice shot, George, but you’re pissing me off. I get very stubborn when I get pissed off.”
“Jerry!” the Dean was barking again. “Hold Mr. Klein steady for George this time. I don’t think our guest quite appreciates the seriousness of the position he and his nephew are in.”
As the desk clerk stepped toward me, I thought I saw him lick his lips. But he was a phony motherfucker. With him it was all show for the boss’ sake. And I knew Jerry would be a little more careless than his partner. While he moved by me to take hold of me, I head-butted Jerry in a part of his anatomy that was particularly sensitive to strong blows with a blunt object. He folded like a pup tent in a tornado. And as he was busily getting in touch with his new vocal range, I sprang on top of him, sinking my teeth into his neck. But just as I was clamping through the thick sheath around his jugular, I heard Zak scream.
“Your nephew’s about to lose his resemblance to you, Mr. Klein,” Dean Dallenbach warned almost too calmly. “I suggest you get off of Jerry this instant.”
I rolled off and got a kick in the ribs for my trouble. It was worth it. Jerry looked like Christmas; red and green all at once. He had one hand on his balls and one on his neck. George smiled at me. That took all the fun out of things. I knew no good would come of his smile. He teased me by releasing his arm from around Zak’s neck. But just as Zak was out of his grip, George pistol-whipped Zak across the back of his head. It was one of George’s specialties. I knew from first hand experience.
Zak went down harder than Jerry, blood spurting through his thick, reddish brown hair.
“Have I established my intentions, Mr. Klein? I’m quite certain you can be very stubborn and very brave when it comes to pain. But I know the type of students that attend this school and somehow I don’t get the impression that your nephew, as motivated as he might be, could withstand what you could, sir.” His assessment was twin to mine. “And even if he were able to muster what it would take to put up with George’s skills, I doubt that you would be able to sit through it. Now please hand over the disc.”
I never got a chance to debate the issue. The door swung open behind Dallenbach and MacClough, hands cuffed behind him and blood leaking from the corners of his mouth, was shoved through. Except for the blood, MacClough seemed well enough. I thought I detected a smile. He had apparently enjoyed his little escapade. He didn’t let anyone else catch wind of his pleasure and got properly serious when he saw Zak face down on the concrete.
Two of Riversborough’s finest stepped in quickly behind John and closed the door. One of the cops looked like an escapee from a blimp factory and had a nose so full of gin blossoms he could have opened a florist shop. He wore a tired yellow toupee, had yellow fingers with dirty nails and incongruously square white teeth. I doubted the teeth were original equipment. His partner was a fidgety boy with slicked-back hair and eyes that couldn’t agree on which way to look. In most places he would have been lucky to get a job as a security guard. In Riversborough, he’d probably make commissioner.
“I don’t like it,” said the future commissioner to no one in particular. “I don’t like it.”
“You’re not getting paid for your opinion,” Dallenbach hissed. “Now get out of here and go tell your story about Mr. MacClough’s escape to any fool who will listen.”
The fat cop was busily cleaning a few pounds of dirt from under his nails with a key. He wasn’t the excitable type. His manicure complete, he tossed the key to Dallenbach. “For the cuffs,” he said.
Dallenbach immediately tossed the keys to George. Jerry frowned, truly hurt that his boss had chosen George to hold the keys. The cops left. As the door closed behind them, we could hear the fidgety boy still moaning about his work.
“These two I recognize,” MacClough nodded at George and Jerry. “That’s the asshole who followed you from the airport and that’s the desk clerk from the Old Watermill. But who’s-”
“John MacClough, meet Dean Dallenbach,” I introduced them.
“I know all about Mr. MacClough,” Dallenbach doffed an imaginary hat. “Join us, won’t you?”
“For a man who’s about to take a tumble, you’re in an awfully jolly fuckin’ mood,” MacClough sneered.
The smile ran away from Dallenbach’s face. Zak stirred, sitting up. He rubbed the back of his head. I pulled him to his feet. If the three of us were going to try anything, Zak would be better off in an upright position.
“George!” Dallenbach made a gun out of his thumb and index finger and pointed at Zak. George pressed his Glock to Zak’s temple. “The disc. We were talking about the disc.”
“There is no-” Zak began.
“Stop it, Zak,” MacClough cut him off. “There’s no use in jerking these guys around anymore. They’re way too smart to believe that they got played for fools by some college kid.”
“You’re annoying me, Mr. MacClough.”
“Good, I’m tryin’ to.”
George broke into a smile, but Dallenbach told him to calm down. John had bought us a little time.
“Where is the disc?” Dallenbach repeated, but, for the first time, there was a trace of doubt in his voice.
“Not so fast,” MacClough played his hand. “After you satisfy my curiosity, maybe we’ll talk about the disc. And do me a favor, don’t even say that I’m in no position to bargain. If I wasn’t, we’d all be dead by now.”
Dallenbach did the finger gun thing again and had George move the real gun to John’s temple.
“Kill me, asshole, go ahead. You see, the problem is, I’m the only one who knows where the disc is. I had it with me when I ran and ditched it on the way out of town.”
“You’re bluffing.” Dallenbach squirmed.
“Then call the bluff. You’re gonna whack us anyways.”
I’d been in several rough situations with MacClough in the past, but he was really pushing it this time. I couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. It was all I could do not to tell him to try and play it a bit less over the top.
“Very well.” Dallenbach gestured for Georgie boy to lower his 9mm. “What is it you want to know?”