“My machine, Martina’s designs!” Martin cried. He darted around me and scooped up an armful of journals. With his other hand, he grabbed Alison and dragged her to the ladder.
I watched them disappear through the opening, heard their feet on the wood planks. A moment later I heard shouts but couldn’t make out voices or words. I had my gun out of my holster and was on my way up after Alison and Martin when Moe’s face appeared in the trapdoor.
“We’re coming down. You stay where you are.”
“Let him down.” It was Dorothy, her voice barely recognizable. “They found Lily, they’ve got Lily.”
51
POWER DOWN
I BACKED AWAY from the stairs, tucking my gun into my waistband, hoping Moe hadn’t seen it. He lowered himself into the room, grunting slightly.
“Open that door!” he barked, gesturing at the far wall with his gun.
“Why?” I said. “You’re already in here.”
“You don’t have your dog, you don’t have your lawyer or your interfering neighbor to protect you, and we have the little girl and the junkie mom. I think you’ll do what we want.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” I demanded. “Are you freelancing for Metargon, or is terrorizing the citizenry part of your—”
He hit me across the mouth with the flat of his gun. My mouth filled with blood. When I spat it at him, one of my front teeth felt loose. I caught his arm and wrenched it down. His gun came out and skidded across the floor. I beat him to the gun, but Durdon had reached the bottom of the stairs. He was carrying Lily. The little girl was screaming. The pink ribbons had come out of her pigtails and her face was streaked with dirt.
“Drop the gun, Warshawski,” Durdon ordered.
I dropped the gun.
“And that one stuck into the back of your pants.”
I dropped the Smith & Wesson.
“You were lucky yesterday, weren’t you,” Durdon added, his tone contemptuous, “but Mr. Breen wasn’t impressed. If you thought you were smart enough to outwit him, it proves how stupid you really are.”
I was stupid, no question about it. I shouldn’t have left the Mustang out on the road, for one thing. And I should have gotten Martin and Alison away from Tallgrass Drive at once, instead of lingering to talk.
“Where’s your pal Deputy Davilats?” I asked.
“I don’t need him, not when I’ve got federal agents to back me up.”
Alison and Martin were climbing down the stair ladder, Dorothy and Meg slowly following. Curly brought up the rear, covering the group with an ugly snub-nosed twenty-two.
Durdon planted Lily on the floor, hard. She was still crying, no longer the shrieks of terror, but the heartbreaking moans of desolation.
“We were heading for your car, but they threatened to shoot my mom,” Martin said, his voice dead. His hands were empty. At first I thought he’d dropped the papers, but then I saw Curly was holding them.
“You!” Durdon turned to Dorothy. “Get the brat to shut up.”
He pushed Lily toward Dorothy, who carried the little girl to the daybed that stood against a side wall. She sat the child down, cuddling her, smoothing her hair with thick arthritic fingers.
Meg was so distraught that she hadn’t registered what had happened to her child. She called Lily’s name, looking around in distress until she saw her daughter with Dorothy. She stumbled over to the daybed and sat next to them, taking the child into her own lap and folding her into her chest.
“Why did you let these men come here?” Meg demanded of me.
I had no answer, only remorse, which was useless right now.
“Durdon, why are you doing this?” Alison asked. “Doesn’t Dad pay you enough?”
He looked at her in astonishment. “I’m doing this for your father. I’m helping him protect Metargon. That’s why we involved Homeland Security in the first place, to make sure our assets aren’t compromised.”
“But not like this,” she protested. “I know Dad wouldn’t order you to do this, scare little children, beat up people. He’ll be terribly upset when I tell him.”
“Your father knows he can count on me to do whatever is necessary for Metargon’s long-term security,” Durdon said. “What I don’t know is whether he can count on you to do the same.”
“I don’t believe Dad wants anyone to hurt people to keep Metargon safe,” Alison said. “Martin’s grandmother—that wasn’t you, was it? Why would an old lady need to die?”
“Metargon’s secrets are proprietary. Some are vital for America’s nuclear safety. The old lady was keeping us from getting back documents that were essential for our survival,” Durdon said.
Alison’s hand went up to her mouth, an involuntary gesture of revulsion.
“I guess that’s the logical outcome of the Supremes deciding that corporations are people,” I said. “You start to feel the same fealty to the corp that medieval people attached to their kings. Does Cordell Breen share your devotion?”
“Huh?” Durdon glared at me.