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Suddenly Key stepped forward and covered her mouth with his hand. He also motioned the priest to silence and angled his head toward the door, which they’d left open.
“Someone’s out there,” he mouthed.
He signaled Lara to crouch behind the credenza. She adamantly shook her head and headed for the door. He grabbed the back of the loose dress and brought her up short. Furious, she spun around and glared at him. But her glare fizzled beneath his, so she did as he instructed and crouched down at the end of the credenza. Father Geraldo knelt beside her.
By now she, too, heard the faint rustling of footsteps beyond the door. Key crept closer to it. He had propped the rifle against the desk, but was holding the handgun out in front of him as though he fully intended to use it.
What if they had caught Emilio off guard? What if he’d heard their approach and, fearing for his life, had hidden in another room? He was barely more than a boy, and he’d been loyal to Randall and her. He might know the location of Ashley’s grave. Key, with his trigger-happy reflexes, could shoot him the instant he appeared in the doorway.
Lara held her breath and listened. Unmistakably the footsteps were coming nearer, although the one making them was trying to go undetected. His approach
was halting, as if he, too, was pausing occasionally to listen. Finally the footsteps ceased. Unless her ears were playing tricks on her, the person had stopped just beyond the door, exactly as they had done before Key forced open the door with the butt of his rifle.
Lara watched in dread as he aimed the gun at the doorway.
There was movement in the opening.
Lara surged to her feet and rushed forward. “Emilio, look out!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Startled by her shout, Key spun around and backhanded her, knocking her to the floor. Then, hearing a sound in the doorway, he dropped, rolled, and fired three times.
The blast echoed in the empty building, causing Lara momentary deafness. She tasted blood. Woozy and stunned, she struggled to a sitting position and looked toward the doorway. On the threshold, one side of his body opened by gunshots, lay a goat.
“Fuck!” Key yanked Lara to her feet and shook her hard. “What the hell were you thinking?” He shoved her toward the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Come on, padre. In a minute or less this place is going to be crawling with troops.”
Stumbling from the room, she barely avoided stepping in the gore. Key splayed his hand on her back and pushed her ahead of him down the staircase and through the formal reception halls on the ground floor. Her lip was throbbing; she knew it was rapidly swelling.
When they reached the rear door through which they’d entered, Key jerked her to a halt. Cautiously he poked his head outside and surveyed the immediate area. Lara glanced at Father Geraldo. Breathing heavily, he was supporting himself against the doorjamb. Sympathetically he passed her a handkerchief. She blotted her lip with it; it came away stained with blood.
Key said, “Let’s go. But keep your head down and be ready to run for cover. There could be snipers on the roofs.”
He gripped her hand and made a dash for the jeep. He hoisted her into the passenger’s seat, then ran around to the driver’s side, taking over Father Geraldo’s position as driver. The priest didn’t seem to mind. Without argument he scrambled into the backseat only seconds before the jeep lurched toward the nearest alley.
Key stayed off the main roads, driving at a breathtaking speed down one alley and up another, dodging heaps of garbage and warfare debris, unpredictably switching directions like a crazed animated character in a video game.
“Did I hurt you?” He gave Lara a swift glance.
“Of course you hurt me. You hit me.”
“If you’d kept your butt where I’d told you to keep it, it wouldn’t have happened.” He swerved to avoid colliding with a youth on a bicycle. “Jumping up and hollering like that. Jesus Christ!” He banged his fist on the steering wheel. “You were a prime target for whoever was outside that door. I didn’t have time to ask you nicely to duck. I knocked you down to save your life.”
“From a goat?”
“I didn’t know it was a goat and neither did you.”
“I thought it was Emilio.”
“And what if it had been? Were you hoping he’d kill me?”
“I was trying to keep you from killing him.”
“I’ve got more self-control than that.”
“Do you?”
He stopped the jeep so suddenly that she was pitched forward. “Yes, I do. And you, better than anybody, ought to know that.” His eyes held hers for several telling seconds.
