Hayes was waiting at the door to the library. His eyes lit up when he saw Nicole, and he let out a low laugh. “Oh, there you are, my dear. For a moment, we were afraid you’d taken leave of us. What a shame that would have been when we have a visitor waiting to see you. I understand he’s an old friend of yours.”
He made an extravagant bow. Gesturing for her to follow, he disappeared through the doorway. Ben gave Nicole a shove, and she stumbled into the dim recesses of the library.
This time there was no mistaking the smell of marijuana. As Hayes guided her toward the fireplace, he wandered rather than walked. Nicole felt a wave of disgust. Here was a man who sat around smoking dope while others did his dirty work.
At that moment, she noticed someone standing against the wall by the fireplace as straight and still as a suit of armor. It was Kevin, looking thinner and paler than before. His eyes were fixed on a chair in front of the fireplace.
Nicole followed his gaze and froze.
As the man in the chair turned to look at her, she saw that it was Reinhardt. Recognition flashed in his eyes, along with a warning she couldn’t read. She wondered what he was doing here. Was he undercover, pretending to be part of Hayes’ operation?
Then she noticed the way he was sitting, slumped slightly forward with his arms behind him. She realized that his hands were tied. He was a prisoner, too.
Hayes broke the silence. “Am I getting the impression that the two of you aren’t exactly thrilled to see one another?”
“You’ve made a mistake,” Nicole said. “I don’t know this man.”
Hayes looked at her, his shoulders shaking in mirth. “Well, that’s gratitude for you. Our friend here went through all manner of heroics to break into the house in a misguided effort to rescue you. Just like — what was it they called her? Oh, yes—Rapunzel.” His entire body quivered with silent laughter as he began to chant, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair.”
From Rapunzel, he went into a talking jag, his attention skipping from topic to topic — his adventures as a drug dealer, his duty to challenge the law and all “bureaucratic despots,” and bits of religious credo. His monologue included a drug-skewed mishmash of reincarnation, existentialism, and man’s God-given right to smoke marijuana. Meanwhile, Reinhardt regarded him with a weary impatience, as if he’d heard it all before.
While Hayes rambled on, Nicole took a long look at Reinhardt. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his white shirt was torn and splotched with blood. His dark hair was tousled, and she could see a shaved spot of scalp with a red, puckered line of stitches. She knew it was from the blow he’d received in the hotel corridor.
Hayes had stopped talking and was staring at Nicole. When he saw that he had her attention, he glanced over at Reinhardt and assumed a long face. “I’ll be very disappointed if what she says is true — that the two of you have never met and you’ve thrown your life away on a stranger. Perhaps I’m a hopeless old romantic, but I’d like to think there was some kind of grand passion between you, or at least a spark. Well, no matter …”
His voice faded, as if he were running out of steam. After glancing back and forth between his two guests, he rested his gaze on Reinhardt. “Your fate is entirely in this good lady’s hands. I’m giving her one last chance to tell us where the money is.”
She already understood the situation. If she told Hayes what he wanted to know, he’d have no more use for either of them. He’d kill them both. “I told you,” she said to Hayes. “I have no idea.”
“We’ll see about that,” Hayes said. “Ben!”
Instantly, the man appeared in the doorway.
“I don’t care how you do it,” Hayes said. “Find my money.”
Ben stepped forward and grabbed Nicole by the arm. Then he pulled out a small, snub-nosed gun and pressed it to the side of her head. He looked at Reinhardt and, with a nod, motioned for him to stand up. “Start for the door,” Ben said. “We’ll be half a dozen steps behind. I’ll tell you which way to go. And I warn you. Do exactly as I say. I won’t hesitate to use this gun.”
As they filed from the room, Kevin stepped forward, ready to join the procession, but Ben shook his head. “Stay here. I don’t want you tagging along, mucking things up.”
Ben and Nicole followed Reinhardt out of the room. Ben kept the gun pressed to Nicole’s head, gripping her arm with his other hand. When they entered the alcove at the bottom of the rear staircase, Reinhardt was ordered to stand with his forehead against the wall, legs spread. Meanwhile, Ben got out some rope and tied Nicole’s wrists behind her. The job required two hands, and he had to let the gun dangle from his fingers. As he secured the knot, he kept looking up to make sure Reinhardt hadn’t moved. Nicole tried to keep her hands flexed, but Ben tied the rope tightly enough to kill any hope of working her hands free.
When he was done, Ben wrapped one arm around her neck and unlocked the basement door. He ordered Reinhardt to lead them down the stairs.
As they neared the bottom, Ben released Nicole and sent her stumbling down the last few steps. Then he hurried to the top and pointed his weapon at them. “I’m afraid I have to leave you,” he said. “But don’t get any ideas. I’ll be right back.” He went out, slamming the door. They heard a key turn; a second or two later, the lights went out, and they were in darkness.
After Ben’s footsteps faded, Reinhardt said, “Let’s see what we can do to get these ropes off. We don’t want to be here when he comes back.”
“I’ve got a knife,” she said. “It’s in a little bag in my pocket.”
“Brilliant!” he said. “Move closer. If we stand side-by-side, I can get to it and cut your rope. Then you can cut mine. ”
In the darkness, it was all very awkward. Nicole held her breath while he fumbled to get the pouch, remove the knife, and hand the pouch back to her. He opened the blade, felt for the rope around her wrists, and placed the blade in a favorable spot for cutting. Then, before the rope was completely severed, he dropped the knife. As it clattered to the floor, he hissed, “Rotten luck!”
“Wait. My hands are almost …” She gave a last pull, and the rope dropped to the floor. “I’m free,” she said. “Don’t move. I’m going to look for the knife.” It took only a few seconds to locate it. When she stood up, she found the rope around his wrists, slipped the knife under it, and cut.
Reinhardt withdrew his hands with a sharp intake of breath. “That does it! “ he said. “Hang on while I pick up those bits of rope. They might come in handy.” She stood still while he retrieved them.
A moment later, he said, “Give me your hand.” And when she did, he placed it on his shoulder. “Follow me,” he whispered. “I have a plan.”
He turned and began patting his way along the wall. Nicole followed, her hand anchored to his shoulder. It was going to be all right, she told herself. Reinhardt knew what he was doing. This was what he’d been trained for.
He stopped and seemed to be trying a doorknob. “It’s locked,” he said. “I’ll see if I can force it with the knife.”
“Wait,” Nicole whispered. “I’ve got something better.” She opened the pouch, removed the awl, and pressed it into his hand.
“I must say — you’ve certainly come prepared,” he said. “This might just do the trick. I’m fairly handy with locks.”
She drew in a quick breath. “Was it you who broke into the Lowrys’ house that afternoon?”
He make a soft tsking sound. “Yes. Sorry about that. I do owe you an explanation, but I’m afraid that will have to wait.” He paused for a moment while the lock made a faint click, as if he’d almost managed to turn it. “Come on,” he murmured under his breath. “Come on.”
On the floor above, she heard pounding footsteps. Then a door slammed, and all grew quiet except for the sound of Reinhardt’s breathing and the tool rattling in the lock.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
There was a solid click as the lock released. He opened the door, and after some fumbling, flipped on a light switch. Nicole was disappointed when she saw that this was the furnace room, not the way out of the house. Directly before them, a dim bulb revealed a great, old-fashioned furnace. To their right stood several large water heaters and a coal bin. The temperature was warm, and it was difficult to breathe, as if the boilers had sucked out all the air.
Noiselessly, Reinhardt closed the door and led her over to the furnace. “I want you to lie on the floor directly in front of the furnace as if you’re unconscious.” he said. “When he comes down the stairs, he’ll notice the light, open the door and there you’ll be. I’ll hide behind the door. Once he steps into the room to investigate, I’ll jump him from behind.”
The floor was dusty and smelled powerfully of mold, but Nicole did as she was told. Reinhardt knelt beside her and wrapped the rope around her wrists so it would appear they were still tied.
“That’s the way,” he said. “Now turn your head toward the furnace.” Then, as he stood up again, he added, “Whatever you do, you’re not to move or look around.”
Despite the admonition, she turned her head long enough to watch him walk away and flatten himself against the wall. On the floor above, a door opened, and footsteps started down the basement stairs. As Nicole turned back toward the furnace, she began to see weaknesses in Reinhardt’s plan. Ben had a gun. What if he started shooting as soon as he walked in, before Reinhardt can disarm him? There was also the possibility that Reinhardt was no match for him.
She heard the door to the next room open. Then Ben’s voice said, “What in blazes?” Then, he shouted, “Reinhardt! Reinhardt! Where are you? Don’t be a fool, man! Show yourself!”
There was another silence, and he called Reinhardt again, this time in a less certain voice. He opened the door next to her and, after a brief hesitation, stepped into the room. “All right, woman,” he said. “What …”
There was a loud grunt as Reinhardt jumped him from behind. Nicole was instantly on her feet, trying to scramble out of the way. For fifteen seconds or so, she was trapped in front of the furnace while the two men grappled nearby. Reinhardt pressed the point of the knife into Ben’s throat. Ben let out a guttural croak and dropped the gun. Reinhardt attempted to kick it toward Nicole, who by now had retreated into the corner. She did her best to catch it, but the gun hit the base of the coal bin and skittered away, disappearing into the shadows.
By the time she straightened up, the two men were struggling over the knife. Ben grabbed it away, but a moment later Reinhardt kneed him in the stomach. The knife hit the floor, and it, too, spun into the darkness.
At the start, Reinhardt had the advantage of surprise; he was also younger, more agile, lighter on his feet. But Ben was strong and solidly built, and he seemed to have experience with this sort of combat. He kept hitting Reinhardt in the face, occasionally striking the injured side of his head. In the dim light, Nicole could see dark blood dripping from Reinhardt’s wound.
If Ben kept hitting him like that, it was only a matter of time before he knocked Reinhardt down and moved in for the kill. Looking around, she spotted a tool lying on the back ledge of the coal bin. It was a lethal-looking contraption, a cross between a sledgehammer and a pick ax, probably used to break up large chunks of coal. She dashed around the outside of the bin and picked it up. It was heavy, perhaps sixteen or seventeen pounds, but solid and well balanced.
The thrashing and grunting on the other side of the room stopped. Looking out from behind the coal bin, she saw that Reinhardt had Ben on the floor, face down. Using his knees to pin Ben’s arms to his sides, Reinhardt began to slam the man’s head against the cement floor — once, twice, three times.
On the third blow, Ben went limp. After a moment, Reinhardt got up and knelt beside him to check his pulse.
There must have been a noise, for Reinhardt looked around. Instinctively, Nicole shrank back into the shadows.
Kevin was standing in the doorway, holding a gun. “Step away from ‘im,” he said in a tremulous voice. “On the floor. Face down.”
Reinhardt did as he was told, and Kevin advanced toward him. Neither man glanced in Nicole’s direction.
When he reached the two prone figures, Kevin bent over to check Ben. Then he stood up and pointed his gun at Reinhardt. “You bastard!” he said. “You rotten bastard! You bloody well killed ‘im.”
As he spoke, Nicole ran up behind him. It took all her strength to raise the heavy tool in the air and bring it down on his head.
Her aim was perfect. The blow made a horrible sound, loud and hollow, while blood and soft globs of something else spattered everywhere — on her face and clothes, on the wall behind her. In what seemed like slow motion, Kevin folded up and sank to the floor.
The tool slipped from Nicole’s hands and the sour taste of bile leapt to her throat.
“Good girl.” Reinhardt was already on his feet, going through the pockets of the fallen men.
Nicole stared for a moment, then ran over to the coal bin to be sick.