Chapter 11 Charles & Deborah Kluge Charles & Deborah Kluge 2 1 2001-11-05T01:53:00Z 2001-11-05T01:53:00Z 7 2773 15811 131 31 19417 9.2720

Chapter 11

"This is a stupid idea, Amanda," she muttered to herself as she stood in the corridor leaning against the master bedroom door and gathering her courage.  Trouble was, she couldn't think of anything better.  Taking a deep breath, she straightened and called out in a ringing voice, "Veronica?"  Knocking on the door of the room behind her, she opened the door, closed it again with a noisy click, moved up the hallway to the next door in line, and did the same.

"Veronica, are you here?  It's Amanda."

Knock . . . open . . . close . . . click.

Knock . . . open . . . close . . . click. 

She systematically worked her way up the hall toward the room in the middle of the corridor, calling inquisitively.  Reaching it, she rapped and grasped the doorknob tightly.  But before she had the chance to do anything else, the door was jerked open.  Not expecting that action, Amanda was thrown off balance by her hold on the knob and she stumbled into the room.  Directly in front of her, Veronica Van Houssin sat rigidly behind a large mahogany desk .  Her eyes were huge and terrified and her skin was so white, it might have been carved from alabaster.  Its purity made the growing black bruise on the right side of her face look almost obscene.  With senses heightened by fear, Amanda could feel Perkins behind her.  The faintest breath of air caressed her bare back as he swung the door closed once more.  Pretending to be unaware of his presence, she moved quickly to put distance between them.

"Veronica?  I was looking for you.  I thought maybe we could . . . are you all right?"  She scurried to the other woman, hastily putting the huge desk between the two of them and her adversary.  "Have you had an accident?" she babbled, hoping to put Perkins off balance by her sudden appearance and incessant chatter while her eyes searched frantically for anything she could use as a weapon.  "That looks just terrible!  You really need to call a doctor.  Surely there's one downstairs among your guests.  Whatever did you hit yourself on?  That lamp?  Oh, and it's broken.  What a shame.  Such a lovely thing . . ."

"Who are you?" Perkins demanded in a harsh voice when she finally had to stop to take a breath.

Amanda jerked around for her first real look at the trouble she was facing.  Almost as tall as Lee, he probably outweighed her partner by a good 75 pounds.  His hair was an indiscriminant color somewhere between light brown and gray.  He wore faded denim jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and worn leather boots.  But it was his eyes that drew her.  A light, cold amber that froze her where she stood, they reminded her of the eyes of the cobra she had taken Jamie and Phillip to see at the National Zoo last fall.  Watchful and deadly.  She would only have one chance.

"Oh, h-hello.  I-I'm a friend of Veronica's . . . one of her guests," she stuttered breathlessly.  Forcing herself to turn her back to him again, she eyed Veronica carefully.  The glazed looked warned Amanda that she'd better not plan on help from her.   "Thank goodness you're here.  She's been hurt.  Can you bring me some water for her?"  Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly spotted a wooden stand.  Sitting by the window in a nearby corner, it held an assortment of umbrellas, a cane, and other oddities.  But what caught Amanda's eye was the heavy wooden walking stick that was partially hidden by the folds of the draperies.

Shooting a swift look over her shoulder at Perkins again, she smiled, pretending not to see the gun he held in his right hand.  Gesturing toward a wet bar on the far wall, she said, "It's over there.  And if there's a napkin, please bring that, too.  She seems to have hit her head.  It's just so easy to trip and fall, particularly on throw rugs like those.  And with all the sharp edges in a room like this . . . well, it's amazing more people aren't hurt.  It's one of the reasons I have carpeting in my house.  No rugs to stumble over.  And it's so much easier to take care of, don't you think?  A good vacuum cleaner is all you need . . . "  Glancing at him again, she noticed a slightly dazed look on his face.  Lee always did say her incessant chatter could overwhelm the most rational man.

"A-Amanda?"  The hesitant voice drew her attention back to Veronica.  "I . . ."

"Hush," she commanded firmly.  "You've hit your head.  You just take it easy for right now."

"That man . . ." Veronica murmured dazedly.

"It's okay," Amanda replied comfortingly. 

Suddenly, from somewhere downstairs, they all heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.  As Perkins whirled toward the door, Amanda grabbed the opportunity.  Taking two quick steps, she snatched up the walking stick and was rounding the desk before Perkins was even aware of her movements.  The man whipped around, snapping off a shot at her.  But she was moving too fast for him to get a good aim and the bullet whistled past her right shoulder.  Before he could take aim again, she planted her feet, grasped the walking stick in both hands like a baseball bat, and swung with all her might.  It caught him full in the stomach and he doubled over, struggling for breath.  Yanking it free, Amanda raised it over her head and brought it down across his shoulders.  The man dropped to his knees and gasped in pain as Amanda heard something break.  In the distance, she heard the escalating sound of screams and then more gunshots.  Gritting her teeth, she swung the stick one more time in a bunting motion, catching Perkins in the right temple.  The man slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"And Francine makes fun of my coaching Little League," she panted.  Dropping the walking stick, she snatched up Perkins' gun and then rounded the desk again.  Veronica was staring at her blankly.

"Come on, we have to get out of here!"

"Y-You hit him!" Veronica sputtered.

"You're darned right I did. Now come on!"  Grabbing the other woman's hand, she pulled her out of the chair and dragged her across the room to the door.  Opening it, she scanned the hall quickly and then darted out, pulling Veronica with her.  "We need to get out of the house.  Which way?"  Before Veronica could reply, they both heard the sound of running footsteps to their right.  "Definitely not that way," she said breathlessly and began running in the other direction.  But before she reached the staircase, she heard footsteps coming up that way, as well.  Darting to one side, she pulled Veronica into the guest bedroom she'd been in earlier and locked the door behind them.  "How many of them are there?" she hissed softly to Veronica.

"I – I don't know," Veronica replied hesitantly, starting to come back to life.  "T-there were at least three men who seemed to be in charge . . ."

"Perkins, Abernathy, and Stockton.  I know about them.  Any others?"

Veronica looked at her strangely.  "Yes, but I don't know how many."

Gunshots came again, this time sounding closer.  Amanda spun, scanning the room frantically.  "I have got to find my partner!  I have no idea what he's doing."  Fervently, she wished that it were Lee Stetson out there rather than William Windsor.  She'd know what Lee was planning without his even needing to tell her.  But Windsor?  She had no clue.  Crossing the room swiftly, she threw open the doors to the terrace.  Bitterly cold wind swirled around her, tugging at her dress and hair.  "Is there a staircase off of this balcony?"

"No.  Amanda, who are you?  And what's going on here?  Those men kept telling Matthew that they wanted the plans he was holding.  I have no idea what they were talking about . . ."

"Veronica, I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this right now.  My partner's down there alone.  It's my job to guard his back and I can't do that up here.  Help's on the way, but we've got to hold out until they get here and you've got a houseful of potential hostages that can really complicate matters.  Now, is there any way out of here?"

"Well, there's a trellis . . ."

Amanda sighed.  "That figures.  Where?"

The woman gestured to the far opposite end of the house.  "Down there.  It's mounted on the side of the house so the ivy has something to climb."

"All right.  You  . . ."  But Amanda never had the chance to finish the thought.  The doorknob was suddenly jiggled and a voice Amanda recognized called from the other side of the door. 

"Stockton!  Down here.  This door's locked!"

Veronica turned terrified eyes to Amanda who hissed at her, "Too late.  Come on!"  Grabbing the other woman by the arm, she dragged her out onto the terrace and closed the doors behind them.  Then taking her arm again, she ran for the other end of the house.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Francine, are you there?"

Billy Melrose's voice was sharp in her ear and there was a tension there that warned of more bad news.  She peered anxiously out the front window of the helicopter, straining for a view of the Van Houssin mansion.  Beside her, Magician gripped the controls tightly, fighting the gusting wind.

"I hear you, Billy."

"Leatherneck's people have finally managed to boost the gain on a receiver enough to pick up the signal on Amanda's transmitter.  It's breaking up very badly, but we've picked up the sound of gunfire."

Leatherneck swore in frustration from the back seat, and Nighthawk demanded, "What about Windsor's transmitter?"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Leatherneck cut in.  "His equipment came from MI6 and we had trouble picking up his signal from any kind of distance.  What about Amanda?  Can you tell if she's okay?"

"It sounds like she's running and we don't think she's alone.  We're getting broken bits of a conversation with someone we think may be Veronica Van Houssin."

"Come on, Pete, give this thing more gas," Francine urged the agent next to her.  "They're in real trouble."

"Lay off, Francine," Magician snarled in response.  "I'm worried about her, too, and I'm doing the best I can.  Furthermore, I don't want to be on the receiving end of Scarecrow's temper if anything happens to her!"

"What is with you guys?" Francine demanded in aggravation.  "You all make it sound like Lee takes a personal interest in anything to do with Amanda King.  For God's sake, she's just a . . ."

" . . . 'suburban housewife'," the three agents in the helicopter finished in chorus.

"Geezus, Francine, put your personal prejudices aside and open your eyes," Leatherneck snapped.  "Amanda King means a lot more to Lee Stetson than just being his partner!" 

"When he's around, he won't let anyone near her.  You think we don't hit on her because we don't want to?" Magician demanded.  "God, the first time I even looked in her direction he all but took my head off!  I'd say Scarecrow is well and truly caught."

"Even if he hasn't quite realized it yet," Nighthawk added.

"Right now, I don't care how he feels about her," Billy interrupted.  "I just want her out of the middle of that mess."

"There's the house!" Francine interrupted.  "Where's the rest of the backup?"

"You should have local cops within five minutes and an agency response team within another five."

"Don't let the locals come in lights and sirens!" Magician instructed sharply.  "They do that and our friends are liable to start using all those guests for target practice."  He glanced over at Francine.  "I'm gonna put us down here.  We'll go in across the estate grounds and come in from the rear."

"Just do it!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sound of the gunshot from the other end of the house echoed clearly in the frigid night, even over the sound of the wind.  Amanda balanced precariously on the icy balustrade and looked back toward the single light at the far end of the terrace.  They've shot the lock out of the door, she thought.  They're not trying to disguise their actions any more.   Shadows moved against the light and Amanda knew they were running out of time.  The gun was cold against the base of her spine where she'd thrust it to free up her hands.  Clutching the corner of the house, she leaned out as far as she could, searching for the trellis.  Her fingers curled around it and she tugged experimentally.  It shivered but held.

"Amanda!"  Veronica's low wail held definite panic.  Amanda looked up just as the terrace door swung open and a man with a gun stepped out.

"Come on!" she said urgently, grabbing the other woman's arm as she dropped down off of the railing onto the terrace once more.  Amanda knew that her dark gown would provide her with a little bit of cover, but Veronica was dressed in pure white.  For all that it was cold and windy, it was also clear and there was a moon.  Veronica was going to show up like she was luminescent.  She had to get her off this terrace.  "Climb up on the rail, reach out and grab the trellis.  Get your fingers and toes into it and then climb down as quickly as you can.  Once you get to the ground, get out of sight.   They'll come down here sooner or later and you don't want them to see you standing down there."

"I – I don't think I can . . ."

"You have to!  Go on!  I'll be right behind you."

Hesitantly, Veronica climbed up onto the rail and reached out as she was instructed.  Amanda pressed herself against the side of the house, watching the man she assumed was Stockton cross the terrace and look down toward the ground.  A soft gasp caused Amanda to look back.  Veronica now clung to the trellis, seemingly frozen. 

"Go on!" she said urgently to the terrified woman.  "He's coming!"  Amanda watched tensely as the woman felt hesitantly for a foothold and with painful slowness, began to descend.  Amanda knew that she didn't dare try to get onto the trellis until the Veronica reached the ground.  It wouldn't take the weight of both of them.  Knowing she had no choice, Amanda hoisted herself over the railing and felt for a handhold along the edge of the balustrade.  Her fingers found the decorative edge of the roofline and without hesitation, she grabbed it and lowered herself until she hung off the edge of the roof by her hands.  Above her she could hear footsteps moving along the terrace.  She looked down and saw Veronica release the trellis and drop the last two feet or so to the ground.  She fell as she hit, but immediately stumbled to her feet and fled for the shadows against the house.

Amanda felt her arms begin to shake as the combination of her weight and the cold began to take its toll.  She struggled, swinging her feet in an effort to move toward the trellis.  She froze as a flailing foot struck something up underneath the terrace roof.  Stretching out with her foot, she found it.  Peering into the darkness, she could make out a lattice-like network of light and dark at about the level of her knees and about a foot in front of her.  She pushed on it with her foot again.  Definitely lattice, with some kind of a trim rail.  Her own back yard suddenly flashed into her mind and she knew what this was.  Privacy fencing.  Desperately, she released one hand and sought some kind of handhold that would get her close enough to be able to wedge a foot into the lattice.  She found the ceiling mounted storage rack just as she heard Stockton immediately above her. Without a second thought, she grabbed the icy metal and threw herself into the sheltering darkness underneath the balcony.  Hanging by her hands and praying the rack would take her weight, she held her breath.  The seconds seemed to creep by like an eternity. 

Finally, she heard the man grunt and the sound of footsteps began to retreat.  "There's no one out here and no way down off of this terrace," she heard him call.  "We don't have time for this.  Let's get the other one and then get out of here."

Amanda let out a shaky breath and then began searching with her foot for the privacy lattice again.

"Amanda?"  Veronica's hoarse whisper reached her.  "Amanda, where are you?"

"Over here, just under the roof," she called back softly.  Under her foot, she felt the lattice again, but putting her weight on it caused it to bend precariously.  It would never hold her.  "Is there a ladder out here anywhere?"

"I – I think there's one in the shed here."

"Get it quickly!  I don't know how much longer I can hang on."  Amanda could hear the other woman shuffling around below her and she gritted her teeth.  Her hands were going numb from the cold of the metal rack and she was shaking constantly now as her body heat bled away in the bitter cold.

A moment later, Amanda heard the scrape of wood on the tile below her and then Veronica called, "It's the only one I could find in the dark.  Can you reach it?"

Feeling around with her leg, she suddenly banged her ankle against the side of it.  "Yes, but it's a little too far over.  Can you move it more toward the outer edge of the terrace?  There!  Stop.  That's good.  Now hold it steady . . ."  Finding the top step with her foot, she put her weight on the ladder and attempted to release her handhold on the rack.  She felt a sharp pain in her left palm as she pulled her hand free.  Hissing softly, she doubled her injured hand into a fist and eased her way down the ladder.  Reaching the ground, she gestured to the other woman.

"Come on.  We've got to get back inside."

"No!  I don't want to go back in there with them!"

"Veronica, we have to.  My partner's in there.  And it's too cold for us to stay out here.  You know this house.  What's the best way to get back in?"

"I – I don't . . .  The kitchen door maybe . . ."

"Show me!"  Pulling the gun out of the back of her dress, she pushed the other woman to get her moving and then the two of them stumbled across the terrace toward the lights that marked the kitchen.  They were still several feet from the door when dark shapes suddenly materialized out of the surrounding blackness.  Amanda gasped and spun, trying to bring the gun to bear.  A familiar voice stopped her.

"No!  Amanda, don't!  It's me."

"Francine!"  She staggered in relief and felt supporting arms encircle her.

"You're going to freeze to death out here dressed like that," Leatherneck scolded her.

"Better than getting shot by Stockton.  Trust me."

"What's the situation?" Magician demanded.

"I don't know for certain.  William is in there somewhere, but I don't think they've taken him yet because I'm still hearing gunfire.  I think he must be trying to draw them away from the guests because the shots seem to be coming from the other end of the house, away from the ballroom.  I'm pretty sure Perkins is still out of commission, but I don't know how many others we're dealing with.  We should be able to get in through this door."

"Us, not you," Magician said.  "Billy wants you out of this now."

"No way," she replied flatly, pulling away from Leatherneck sharply.  "That's my partner in there.  I don't go without him."  Before any of the others could react, she spun away and dived for the door which Veronica now had open.  She was through it before anyone could stop her.

"Dammit . . ." Magician swore as they followed.  "How does Scarecrow put up with this?"

Nighthawk snorted.  "I'd say it's payback.  He's been doing it to the rest of us for years."