crash site. You want to do that?”
“I didn’t have anything to do with the plane bombing, I swear,” Hardy
yelled out.
“I know. But you were involved in one regard.” Sawyer took off his
sunglasses. “You killed the bomber.”
“Would you care to prove that?” Hardy’s eyes blazed at him.
“You told me, Frank.” Hardy’s face froze. “Down in the parking garage
where Goldman and Brophy checked out. The place was freezing. I was
concerned about the decomposition of the bodies, that the frigid
temperatures might make ascertaining the time of death impossible.
Remember what you said, Frank? You said it was the same problem with
the bomber. That the air-conditioning had made the apartment freeze
just like the outside air did to the parking garage.”
“So?”
“I never told you the air-conditioning was turned on in Riker’s
apartment. In fact, I turned the heat back on right after we found the
body. There was no mention of the A/C being turned on in any of the
bureau reports–not that you would’ve been privy to them anyway.”
Hardy’s face had turned ashen. “You knew, Frank, because you were the
one who turned the A/C on. When you found out about the bombing, you
knew Gamble had used you. Hell, maybe they planned to kill Riker all
along. But you were more than willing to do the honors. It didn’t hit
me until I was freezing my ass off in a police paddywagon driving over
here.”
Sawyer moved forward. “Twelve shots, Frank. I admit, that one really
puzzled me. You were so furious at the guy for what he’d done that you
went a little berserk. Emptied your whole clip into him. I guess you
still had a little bit of the cop left in you. But now it’s over.”
Hardy swallowed hard, struggling to keep his nerves under control.
“Look, Lee, everybody who knows about my involvement is dead.”
“What about Jason Archer?”
Hardy laughed. “Jason Archer was a fool. He wanted the money, just
like all of us. Only he didn’t have the nerve, you know, not like you
and me. He kept having bad dreams.” Hardy edged forward.
“You look the other way, Lee. That’s all I’m asking. You start work at
my company next month. One million dollars a year. Stock options, the
works. You’ll be set for life.”
Sawyer flicked his cigarette away. “Frank, let me make this real clear
to you. I don’t like ordering my food in foreign languages, and I
wouldn’t know a damned stock option if it jumped up and clamped me right
on the balls.” Sawyer raised his gun. “Where you’re going, the only
option will be top or bottom bunk.”
Hardy snarled, “Not by a long shot, old buddy.” He pulled the disk from
his pocket. “You want this, then put your gun down.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me–”
“Put it down,” Hardy screamed. “Or I throw your whole case into the
Atlantic. You let me go, I’ll mail it to you from parts unknown.”
Hardy started to smile as Sawyer’s pistol began dropping. Then, as
Sawyer stared into the grinning countenance, he abruptly returned the
pistol to its original position. “First, I want an answer to one
question, and I want it now.”
“What is it?”
Sawyer moved forward, his hand tightening on the trigger.
“What happened to Jason Archer?”
“Look, Lee, what does it matter–”
“Where is Jason Archer?” Sawyer roared over the crash of the waves.
“Because that is exactly what the lady back there wants to know, and
dammit, you’re going to tell me, Frank. By the way, you can throw that
disk as far as you want. Rich Lucas is alive,” Sawyer lied. He had seen
Lucas lying dead in the middle of the battlefield the hotel lobby had
become. The silent sentinel was now forever silent. “Want to bet how
anxious he is to rat on your ass?”
Hardy’s face went stone cold as he realized his exit option had just
evaporated. “Take me back to the house, Lee. I want to call my
lawyer.” Hardy started forward and then suddenly stopped as Sawyer
assumed a textbook shooting stance.
“Now, Frank. Tell me right now.”