Whiplash

"How?"

She saw Kesselring shrug again. "You will see I know exactly what I'm doing. Are you ready to help me?"

Jane Ann nodded. "She's got to be here somewhere, listening to us."

"At least you were smart enough to take her gun." He glanced down at his belt line under his dark blue jacket. Sherlock knew at that moment he had her SIG tucked under his belt.

Sherlock watched Kesselring walk over to where she'd lain unconscious, trussed up with the duct tape. "She woke up from your pills, managed to get down a stage knife and saw the tape off, quite an accomplishment, given all the knives retract. It couldn't have been easy." He called out louder, "That was quite good, Agent Sherlock. You might as well come out now. There's no place for you to go. Mick is guarding the outside door, you can't get past him."

Sherlock took one step then another down a long row of plastic bagged costumes, toward the door. Her best chance was to get to the door, slam it shut, lock it. She could deal with Mick, he was an amateur. She didn't have a chance with Kesselring, not so long as he kept his distance. He'd shoot her in the head in a heartbeat.

One more step. Easy. A board creaked. Sherlock froze, then squatted down to peer through a long lacy sleeve of an 1890s ball gown hanging out of the plastic bag. She saw Kesselring whirl around on the balls of his feet, a pistol in his right hand, but he wasn't pointing it at her, it was aimed at least six feet away from her. He'd heard the board, but missed the location.

"Come out, Agent Sherlock," came his soft voice. "I don't have much more time to play with you." He didn't sound now like he believed her dangerous to him. He fired two rounds. A bullet splintered a hanger, and a long Victorian gown spilled out onto the floor.

"I see that you do have a weapon, I can see its outline on the board. Is it an axe? A knife? You've got to know that unless you're a circus act, it's not going to do you much good. If you throw it at me, if it even manages to strike me, it will simply bounce off. Come on out now like a good girl and we'll get this over with. Tell you what, if you show yourself, one professional to another, I won't kill you. I'll tie you up and take you to Van Wie Park and stash you in some bushes."

Yeah, like she'd believe that. He was enjoying this. He didn't realize this butcher knife could hurt him. Good. Suddenly Sherlock realized she wasn't going to be able to get to the door, because there was Mick standing in the middle of the open doorway, looking scared enough to vomit.

Smart man.

Time was her enemy. She didn't see a weapon in Mick's hand, but Kesselring was armed and quite ready to shoot her. It didn't matter, she had to act. Even with the distance and her Lady Colt, she might wound him. If she was really lucky, she'd hit an artery and he'd bleed out. She wouldn't be sorry about that. But if she didn't manage to disarm him, she was, quite simply, dead.

Sherlock was raising her Lady Colt when Kesselring walked quickly to Jane Ann, grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and jerked her in front of him, wrapping his arm around her neck. He brought his pistol to her temple. "Mick, come in now, or I will kill this loud-mouthed slut."

Mick Haggarty shouted, "I knew we shouldn't trust you! I told Jane Ann you were crazy, told her you had dead eyes, but she said she could handle you. Don't you dare kill her, you lunatic!"

Mick dove for Kesselring.

Kesselring calmly turned, pulled Sherlock's SIG Sauer from his belt, and shot him in the forehead in mid-leap. The force of the bullet slammed Mick Haggarty back against the wall. He slid down the wall leaving streaks of blood and brains in his wake, dead before he hit the floor. Jane Ann screamed.

Kesselring grabbed her around the neck again and began choking her. She was gagging, beginning to turn blue, her hands pulling at his arms, but it did no good. He yelled, "You stupid woman, I told you I had a plan!"

Jane Ann stopped trying to pull his arms loose. Sherlock watched her get it together, watched her rip her nails down his face and drive her elbow hard into his belly. Kesselring howled and cursed in German and slammed the barrel of his gun to her head. Jane Ann sagged in his arms.

No time. No time. Sherlock took careful aim and fired one of her precious bullets.

58

Bowie and Erin slammed through Mick Haggarty's apartment door, three local cops behind them, so excited Erin hoped they wouldn't shoot her or Bowie.

"No one's here," Bowie said after racing through the apartment. "They took her somewhere."

"Agent Richards!"

Bowie ran over to Deputy Henry Mote, who was bent over near the door. "Look, sir, it's a cell phone."