The Naked Edge

Chapter 6.

The stairs felt cold. Cavanaugh tried to assure himself that was why he shivered. Footsteps scraping, the group descended from the fortieth to the thirtieth floor, where he surprised Jamie and Eddie by opening the door.

Eddie looked puzzled. "You said we were leaving the building."

"The others don't need to know."

Cavanaugh glanced inside and made sure that the softly lit corridor was empty. After they went in, he held three fingers in front of Jamie. "How many?"

She told him.

"Blurred?"

"No."

"Headache?"

"Yes." Jamie wiped blood from her nose.

"We need to wait and see if it's a concussion."

"How will we know?"

"If you throw up or feel sleepy."

"Sleepy? At this hour? Imagine that." Jamie turned toward Eddie. "We haven't been introduced. Jamie Travers."

"Eddie Macintosh. Are you an operator? You must be new. I haven't seen you around."

"She's my wife," Cavanaugh said.

"Wonders never cease."

"And yes," Cavanaugh said, "she's an operator."

"Haven't seen you around, either. I heard you left the business."

"I tried. But now I'm back."

Chapter 7.

Cavanaugh led them to a door marked WILLIAM FARADAY LAW OFFICES. He raised his jacket collar, reached into a slit in the material, and pulled out lock-pick tools that he'd taken from the Gulfstream's bug-out bag. He inserted one of the picks into the lock, probing to free the pins while he used another pick to apply torque and turn the key slot.

It took him thirty seconds. Too long, he thought. I should have been able to do it in fifteen. Perhaps he was still dazed from the explosions. But perhaps his lock-picking skills had atrophied during the months he'd stopped being a protector.

That made him worry about what other skills might have atrophied.

He opened the door and heard the intrusion alarm's beep. If he didn't enter the access code within thirty seconds, the alarm would blare. Leaving the lights off, he crossed the waiting room to the control panel and pressed buttons for the code that he and William had agreed on when the system was installed.

The beeping stopped.

Jamie locked the door behind them.

"Faraday," a voice croaked. "Jerk."

Jamie and Eddie drew their guns.

A dim nightlight revealed a parrot in a cage.

"Faraday. Jerk," the bird repeated.

"What the hell?" Eddie muttered.

"One of William's competitors sent the parrot after losing a case to him," Cavanaugh explained. "William thanked the rival attorney and promised to keep the bird in his reception room."

"William did that?" Jamie asked in surprise.

"He also swore to keep the bottom of the cage lined with photographs of the man who sent the parrot. William's clients find it amusing to look down and see bird droppings over the guy's face."

"Now that sounds more like William."

"Faraday. Jerk," the parrot squawked.

Cavanaugh hurried to the receptionist's desk and turned on its computer. Helped by its glow, he inserted Kim's memory stick and activated the printer.

As the machine went to work, he asked Eddie, "Are you armed?"

"Of course."

"Mind watching the front door while we clean the blood off us?"

Eddie pushed back one side of his leather jacket and drew a Beretta nine-millimeter. He had big hands and could handle the double-stacked fifteen-round magazine. He put another piece of gum into his mouth.

"Anybody who breaks through that door won't live to break through another one."

Chapter 8.

"Still got a headache?"

Cavanaugh used a moist paper towel to wipe blood from Jamie's face. The restroom didn't have windows, so it was safe to turn on the lights, which pained Cavanaugh's eyes.

"Not as bad. You?" Jamie wiped blood from his face.

"Shook up."

"You don't show it." Her voice echoed off the room's tiles.

"You're doing a good job of hiding it, also. Are you sure you don't feel dizzy?" The bright lights continued to hurt his eyes.

"You mean, do I think I'm going to pass out from a concussion? No. How do I know? Because I'm starved for a medium pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms."

"I guess you're going to live."

"For now."

"Yes," Cavanaugh said, the words sticking in his throat. "For now."

As he guided her toward the door to the hallway, she hesitated, no longer able to ignore her troubled thoughts. "How did they know to make the bedroom the target? I didn't turn the light on. They couldn't have known we were going in there."

"Maybe the phone call," Cavanaugh replied.

"You didn't answer it. They couldn't have known we were in that office."

"But then the call was automatically transferred to Brockman," Cavanaugh reminded her.

"You think he told them where we were?"

"I have no idea. He claims the phone call was about another agent who was killed."

"We'd need phone records to find out where the call came from."

"Yes, and while we figure out how to get them, here's something else that's been troubling me."

In the harsh light, Jamie's eyes narrowed.

"Duncan chose Brockman to be his chief-of-staff. It's a logical choice. Brockman's a first-rate administrator as well as a proven operator."

"So?"

"Why didn't Duncan give the company to him?"

"Because Duncan felt a bond with you."

"But he also knew I hated working at a desk. We were close, yes, but Duncan saw Brockman all the time and must have gotten along with him if Duncan kept him as chief-of-staff."

"I don't see where you're going with this."

"According to William, Duncan decided to make me his heir a month before he was killed. What if he gave GPS to me because he'd begun to suspect something was wrong with the company?"

"Is that what you think? You told Brockman, Kim, and Ali you trusted them absolutely."