“If you don’t mind, ma’am, I like to see these things for myself,” Tremaine said curtly.
Fiske watched Sara. He was sure she was going to start screaming. Come on, Sara, hold on. Don’t lose it.
Behind the door of the darkened bathroom, Josh Harms had his pistol pointed directly at Tremaine’s head through the slight gap between the door and doorjamb.
Josh had already sized up the tactical advantages he had, slight though they were. Vic Tremaine first, and then Rayfield, unless Rayfield got him first, which was a real possibility given Josh’s very limited field of vision. Well, there was no way he could miss the little Sherman tank of a target Vic Tremaine represented. His hand tightened on the trigger as his brother loomed over his shoulder, pressing his bulk up as far as he could against the wall. But there was barely an inch of space between him and the door. As soon as Tremaine touched the wood, it would be over.
At that moment Fiske started to stuff the files in his briefcase. “I can’t believe it. First two black guys almost run us over and now this.”
Tremaine and Rayfield jerked around and stared at him. “What two black guys?” they said in unison.
Fiske stopped what he was doing and looked at them. “We were coming in the building and they ran by us, almost knocked Susan down.”
“What’d they look like?” Rayfield asked, his voice strained as he edged closer to Fiske. Tremaine quickly moved away from the bathroom door.
“Well, they were black, like I said. Now, one of them looked like he was ex-NFL or something. You remember how big he was, Susan?” She nodded and then started breathing again. “I mean, he was huge. And the guy with him was pretty big too, six-two, six-three at least, but a lot leaner. They were running like the devil and they weren’t young either. Forty-five, fifty if they were a day.”
“Did you see which way they went?” Tremaine asked.
“They jumped in some old car and took off on the main road heading north. I’m not good with cars, I don’t know the make or anything, but it was an old model. Green, I think.” He suddenly looked frightened. “You don’t think it was the escaped prisoner, do you?”
Tremaine and Rayfield didn’t answer because they were rushing out the door. As soon as they heard the outer door open and the boots running down the hallway, Fiske and Sara looked at each other and then they both, as though tied together with string, collapsed onto the sofa. They reached for each other and huddled together.
“Glad I didn’t have to shoot you. You think fast on your feet.”
They looked up at the grinning face of Josh Harms as he jammed his pistol into his pants. “We’re both lawyers,” Fiske said hoarsely, still clutching Sara tightly.
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Josh said.
Rufus appeared behind his brother. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
“I hope you believe us now,” Fiske said.
“Yeah, but I ain’t gonna take your help.”
“Rufus — ”
“Everybody’s tried to help me up till now, they’re dead. Except Josh, and we all almost bought it tonight. I ain’t having that on my conscience. You two get back on that plane of yours and stay the hell out of this.”
“I can’t do that. He was my brother.”
“Suit yourself, but you’re gonna do it without me.” He went to the window and watched as the Jeep sped off, heading north. He motioned to Josh. “Let’s get going. No telling when they might get the itch to come back.”
As the two men started to turn away, Fiske reached in his pocket and took out something, which he held out to Rufus. “This is my business card. It’s got my office and home numbers on it. Rufus, think about what you’re doing. By yourself, you’re not going to get anywhere. When you finally realize that, call me.”
Fiske looked surprised as Sara lifted the card from him and wrote something on the back. She held it out to Rufus. “That’s my home and car phone numbers on the back. Call either one of us, day or night.”