David Adams pressed the gun into Helen’s back as he led her toward a building on the corner of Crosby and Broome. The cold, steel muzzle dug sharply into her, and her mind searched feverishly for a way to escape. Across the street, L’Orange Bleu restaurant was filled with patrons laughing, eating, and enjoying the evening. Helen kept glancing over, hoping someone, anyone, would notice her and see she needed help.
“Don’t even think about it,” David Adams whispered in her ear, jabbing her harder, “or you’ll be toast.” She knew he’d kill her without hesitation. She heard him laugh then, in an eerily high-pitched tone. “Toast. Isn’t that what the kids all say?” He laughed again, enjoying his little joke. “Over. Done. Finito.”
Helen was beyond scared. Every time she thought she might be able to disarm him, he seemed to sense it and shoved the gun deeper into her back. He hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. He probably wouldn’t until she told him what he wanted to know. “Where are you taking me?” Helen twisted to glance back at him. “Look, can’t we stop and talk about things?”
“Don’t be pathetic. I expect more of you.” He pushed her forward. “Anyway, we’re here.” His tone was menacing.
Here was a net-shrouded building Helen had noticed from across the street. Unlit, unwatched, and unobservable from the rest of the block, it was the perfect place to take her. The kind of building site New Yorkers passed without noticing unless they were looking for a place to kill someone. He must have spotted it while I was in the restaurant and realized no one would bother us. She shuddered. The idea of being held captive in this building made her skin crawl. Okay, Helen. Now what? How do I get out of the clutches of this madman? Helen searched her brain for clues to his craziness, anything she could use. He was a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur. Everything she knew about him pointed to that. Was there some way she could turn his aberration to her advantage?
“Right this way, madam.” He shoved her up against the side of the boarded-up building. Looking right and then left, he kicked hard at the padlocked board that served as the construction site’s temporary doorway. The old wood gave way easily and he shoved the door inward. Grabbing Helen by the shoulder with one hand and pressing the gun against her with the other, he propelled her into the dark space and kicked the makeshift door closed behind him.
Helen struggled to remain calm and tried to get her bearings. They were in an open, unfinished space on the ground floor of the building. One safety light up near the high ceiling provided scant illumination, casting the concrete support pillars around its edges into deep shadows. In the process of renovation like the rest of the building, the area was being used as a storeroom and was filled with stacked wooden planks, cement bags and buckets, tools and construction equipment. Helen scanned the objects strewn about, searching for something, anything she could use as a weapon.
Adams smiled at her and pushed her down onto an overturned drum of tar so that she was seated facing him. She wadded her shawl in her lap as she sat. He stood a few feet away, the gleaming silver gun he held tantalizingly out of reach. “So, Helen, you wanted to talk. Well, here’s your chance. Talk to me. I’ve got all the time in the world.” He waved the pistol in the air. “I’m not so sure about you.”
His words made Helen’s blood run cold. She swallowed back the bile filling her throat and looked at her captor. Play to his weakness. Get him to talk about how smart he thinks he is. She sighed, as if giving in, and smiled up at him with resignation. “Okay, David, you win. Although, I think you probably know as much as I do by now. Don’t you?”
“I’d like to hear your version of events from start to finish. Let’s begin with the part about how Laurel Imperiole nearly messed up the biggest deal of my life. It’ll help me figure out how to pay her back when I catch up with her.”
Oh my God. A shiver of fear ran through her and sweat gathered between her breasts. He’s already forgotten about killing Anne. It’s messing up the deal with the Santucci family that’s really gotten under his skin and he thinks he can still salvage it.
Helen decided to go for broke. “Well then, let me get right to it.” Her loathing for him was obvious in her voice. “It wasn’t Laurel who was responsible. It was her boyfriend, Matt Kuhn, the lawyer for Santucci.” Adams stared at her. She had his full attention. “Oh, didn’t you know Matt and Laurel dated? It’s one of those quirky coincidences—you and Anne, Matt and Laurel.” He’ll never know how quirky. “Anyway, you know how it is. They were in bed. He was being the big man, bragging to her about how he was getting ready to scam some ass-wipe wannabe who thought he’d make a killing by screwing some suckers out of their life savings and offering the mob an ATM deal they couldn’t pass up.” Helen gave Adams a defiant look. “He was talking about you. You’re the real sucker, so I’d say your deal is more than nearly messed up, wouldn’t you? Laurel probably wouldn’t have bothered about it at all, but killing Anne was just too much. You really screwed up with that.”
“You bitch,” Adams screamed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face turned red and his breathing quickened. “I’m gonna do this deal. Only, you won’t be around to see it.” He started toward her, closing the short distance. Aiming the Walther PPK at her chest, he began to pull the slide back. “Time to say bye bye, Helen.”
She wasn’t giving up without a fight. It was now or never. Muscles tensing in her sweat-soaked body, she used the split second before the gun’s slide ratcheted back to fling her shawl at him. At the same time, she dove to her right and hit the floor. A shot rang out. She scrambled away, trying to regain her footing. In the silence that followed, she gulped air into her lungs. She wasn’t bleeding and hadn’t been hit. She was confused. Adams started to fall forward, blood spurting from a small, neat hole in his temple. As his body doubled over, a figure emerged from the shadows on the far side of the room, revolver in hand. Adams’ lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
“Aaron?” Helen’s face broke into a shaky grin. “Now that’s what I like to see—a man with a smoking gun.” Then she fainted.