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The man he was sitting on began to spasm. Marc's teeth clenched as the movements jarred him, but the "Unnnhh" of pain escaped anyway.
"Don't bother," another voice said behind her. "I regret the necessity of this, but I really can't let either of you live."
* * *
Chapter 21
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Marc sagged in Karen's arms, and she struggled to hold his weight. His head turned toward two newcomers, a trim, good-looking man, in his fifties perhaps, with a gray mustache and gray hair, and an older, heavier man who looked as battered as some old fighter. Both were standing slightly behind them, each holding a silenced pistol in his right hand. The pistols were aimed at them.
They couldn't see the gun she held, Karen realized, staring at the weapon in her right hand. And where in hell was the man McPherson had sent to follow them? Unless—horrible thought—he was the man who had just tried to kill them.
"Hello, Senator Lake," Marc said in a strained voice, and coughed.
The younger man looked startled and aggravated. "How did you recognize me?" he snapped.
"I was… kind of… expecting you. I… read the book."
"Don't talk," Karen begged him. Painfully, he dragged his left arm up so he could touch the pistol. She knew he was telling her to let him have it. But he was too weak, she thought, in too much pain; he would never be able to handle the heavy weapon. She tightened her grip on the gun, her jaw locking as she stared at this new threat.
Marc closed his hand around the pistol, groping. His shaking finger found the safety, clicked it off. The sound was a tiny snick. Karen barely heard it, but she knew what he had done.
Senator Lake's gaze went to the small, stained notebook lying on top of the box. "Keep them covered," he said to the bigger man, and quickly stepped into the storage unit to retrieve it. He flipped through the pages, then tucked the book into his shirt. "Yes, this is it," he said, and smiled at Karen. "How gratifying that someone has finally found it." He sneered at the dead man on the ground. "Hayes certainly couldn't manage to do the job, though he finally figured out where to look and led us here. He thought he was so sharp, with all his evasive maneuvers, but once again he underestimated my, ah, capabilities."
Senator Lake was very pleased with himself and the way the day had turned out. Not only was Hayes out of the way, but the notebook had been found. This whole aggravating nightmare was almost over with. He was especially pleased with the weapon in his hand; the pistol itself wasn't much, but the best silencer made anywhere in the world was screwed onto the barrel. Nothing more than a slight cough would be heard when he fired it. Hayes had told him once about walking up to a target on a busy street, shooting him with a silenced .22, and no one around them paid any attention until the target keeled over on the sidewalk. By then, Hayes was already several steps beyond the target, blending with the crowd. He should have known then that Hayes couldn't be trusted, because what sort of man would brag about something like that?
He was amazed sometimes at how well things worked out. How convenient of Hayes to leave town at just the right time. Disposing of him in D.C. would have been a problem, even for Raymond. For one thing, reporters were always snooping around. For another, Hayes would have been missed. That was where he lived; he had associates, neighbors, people who would have been able to identify him. Here… well. This was all working out very nicely. There would be three bodies here, and nothing to tie any of them to him.
All in all, he was rather proud of himself. He seemed to have a knack for this type of thing. All one had to do was plan carefully, but really, he had found most people too stupid for such meticulous thinking.
"Shoot them," he said to Raymond.
Karen tensed, her gaze locked on the big man's pistol. She started to lift her right hand, knowing even as she did so that she wouldn't be fast enough, not with the big man already aiming at her. She felt Marc gather himself.
"How much… are you paying… for our murders?" Marc gasped between phrases, his chest moving in jerks as he tried to breathe. The froth at his mouth dripped down his chin. "As much as… you paid Whitlaw… to kill… your brother?"
The big man froze. "What?"
The revelation rocked through Karen. Horrified, she stared at the man she had seen so many times on television, a man known for his integrity. So that was what Marc had read, what he hadn't had time to tell her. That was why her father had been killed.
"You had your own brother killed," she said slowly. "You hired my father to do it. He was blackmailing you, wasn't he?"
"Don't be ridiculous," the senator said, his tone uneasy as he glanced at the big man beside him.
"Mr. Stephen." The big man was white, haggard. "Mr. Stephen, let me see that book."
"Don't be ridiculous," the senator said again. "Don't tell me you believe this… this pack of lies!"
"It was in Vietnam," Karen said.
"Shut up!" The senator rounded on her, pointed his pistol at her.
"My father was a Marine sniper," she continued, though she was shaking in every limb. "You paid him twenty thousand dollars to kill your brother."
"Kill her, Raymond," the senator said, infuriated.
The older man, Raymond, still looked stunned, but he was recovering. He said, sadly, "Mr. Stephen," as he turned his weapon on the senator.
