Chapter XII
"Frank! Don't! It's us!" Frank nearly tumbled down the steps in his effort to stop his momentum, but he grabbed the railing in time and leaned against it, the slat dangling from his hand.
"Joe?" he ventured cautiously, wondering if hallucinations were an after effect of the drug. "Callie?"
Joe was grinning hugely. "Yeah. And we're unarmed, so don't hit us, okay?"
Frank's face split into an answering grin; he dropped down onto the landing with a thump and started to laugh.
"Hey - hey, come on, bro - " Joe hurried up the remaining steps. "I promise you can fall apart later, but right now we have to get out of here."
"I'm sorry," Frank gasped. "I thought - "
"Okay. I know. Callie, take his other side. Up we go."
Frank rose unsteadily. "Really, I'm okay." He turned to Callie, who still had her arm around his waist. "Honest, I can walk by myself."
"I don't doubt it," Callie retorted. "But I happen to have a need to hang onto you for the moment." Frank met her look and his eyes softened.
Joe interrupted hastily. "Also lots of time for touching reunions once we're out of here. But let's get out of here! C'mon!"
"Wait!" Frank stiffened and motioned for them to be silent. Faintly, they heard the snick of a fire door latch release somewhere above them. Frank winced at the sound.
"Great," muttered Joe.
"Could be anyone," whispered Callie hopefully.
"What's odds?" Joe felt for the small gauge shotgun he had taken off of the Gray Man's cohort and stuffed into his waistband before he had left. He wasn't a big fan of shooting, but if worse came to worst it wouldn't hurt to point it. "Okay. Down the stairs everybody, as quickly and quietly as you can. Callie, you lead, Frank you follow." Joe gave Frank a gentle shove, drawing his firearm and bringing up the rear. In the echo of the stairwell he thought he made out the scuff of a footstep. What a lousy place to be trapped.
Callie and Frank had both made it around the next bend by now. He glanced upward before following. One more flight, if he remembered correctly, then they could make a run for it. Once they were out in a public street in broad daylight their odds would be a whole lot more to his liking.
He rounded the bend to the lobby level and felt Frank tug on his sleeve. He was pointing to a door at the foot of the flight of stairs labeled "Basement" in big red letters. There was a second door that must lead to the lobby. Either way, they were going to have to choose fast. Joe cracked the door leading to the lobby and peered out. He swallowed hard at the sight of the familiar plaid shirt lingering by the elevator. Jerry Stryker. Then who was on the stairs...? He remembered his visitor from the night before and swallowed again. No one else would have a reason to creep down those stairs. But they had no idea what they would find in the basement, either - it could leave them completely cornered.
Watching the expressions chase themselves across Frank's face he figured he was going through the same thought processes. A sudden shadow looming from above made up their minds. Frank pulled open the basement door and shoved Callie behind it. It stayed propped open on an automatic catch. Almost at the same moment, Joe pushed Frank into the space under the stairs and crowded himself in next to him. It was a poor excuse for cover, but he held the revolver at the ready. Frank's eyes widened at the sight of the gun, but before he could say anything, a pair of silver-toed black boots rounded the stairwell right in front of them.
From the recess under the stairs it was impossible to make out more than the boots and the black clad legs as they turned first toward the lobby door, then the open basement. Joe held his breath at the creak of the lobby door opening, then clicking shut again. The boots walked back to stand consideringly in front of the open basement door. Perspiration was gathering at Joe's hairline. He was weighing the wisdom of staying put as opposed to jumping out and pushing the figure down the basement stairs and making a run for it. If only he could be sure Jerry was out of the lobby - if only he could be sure Frank was up to running.
The boots turned away from the basement door and moved in the direction of the lobby. There was
the sound of the door opening, and then snapping closed. Joe waited, counting to ten, then counting to ten again, then stuck his head cautiously from under the stairwell. Something cold and hard pressed deep into his temple and he groaned.
Caught. By the oldest trick in the book.