The Killing Game

  “Probably. I've sent another duplicate to Quantico.” He paused. “But I wondered if you'd like to take a shot at it yourself. You work with photographs too.”

  “My specialty is age progression, and that's completely different from what you need here.”

  “Oh.” Spiro was disappointed. “Too bad.”

  Yes, it was, she thought with frustration.

  “Nothing you can do?” Spiro asked.

  She thought about it. “Maybe.” She stood up and got a phone book. “If there's a film developer in town who does global corrections.”

  “Global corrections?”

  “Air brushing and other kinds of—Here it is.” She had found an advertisement in the yellow pages. “Pixmore. Now we'll have to see if they have the equipment and the experts to do the job.”

  “Glamour shots?” Joe was looking over her shoulder at the ad, which showed a close-up of a beautiful woman. “Not exactly scientific.”

  “How do you think companies like this make their money? They remove everything from zits and facial wrinkles to dark hair roots on photographs.” She looked at the photograph again. “They might be able to do it. Correctors prefer to work with slides, but I'll take this to them, see if they have someone qualified.” She put the picture back in the envelope. “These places are usually backed up for weeks. Can you put a little FBI muscle behind me?”

  “I'll have Charlie meet you at Pixmore,” Spiro said. “How long should it take?”

  She shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe twenty-four hours. It depends on how good the technician is and what kind of overtime he's willing to put in.”

  “I'll ask Charlie to stay with him until it's finished.”

  “Good.” She moved toward the door. “That will probably help.”

  “I'll drive you,” Joe said.

  “That's not necessary.”

  He made a face. “At the moment I don't seem able to make any other contribution. I'm feeling the need to be needed.”

  PIXMORE WAS THIRTY minutes from north Phoenix and perched on the summit of a curving mountain road. The one-story building was all glass and stone and gleamed in the sunlight. Charlie Cather pulled into the parking lot right after Joe and Eve.

  “I'm glad you think we can get something done with that photo.” He shook his head. “I was disappointed. I thought I'd really zeroed in on something.”

  “You did,” Eve said. “It still may be salvageable.”

  “That's what Spiro said.” He nodded at the Toyota driving into the parking lot. “There's Grunard.”

  “What's he doing here?” Eve asked.

  “He was with me at the hotel when Spiro called. He's been bugging the hell out of me.” Joe made a face. “But he's not a bad guy.”

  “Spiro won't like it.”

  “I cleared it with him. He said give him an appetizer but not the main course. He leaves before they start working on the photo.”

  Mark was coming toward them, smiling.

  “Don't look now, but he appears ready for dessert,” Joe said dryly.

  “CAN'T YOU GET me a negative?” The technician's name was Billy Sung. He was under twenty-five and definitely not optimistic. “I'm not a miracle worker, you know.”

  “No negative,” Eve said. “Your boss says you're the best technician he has. I'm sure you won't have a problem.”

  “Don't give me a snow job. I'll have a hell of a problem. This print has multiple errors. One would be easy to correct, but not all of them. You need one of those digital imaging companies in L.A. or a university think tank to enhance those pixels. Pixmore doesn't have the equipment.”

  “No chance?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I have a college professor who has a government research grant, and his equipment is way beyond state of the art. He usually lets me use it.”

  “You're a student?”

  “Yeah, I need a degree to get a job with one of those companies on the West Coast. I have to compete with all those whiz kids from UCLA and USC. Those companies are cutting edge. It's incredible what they do with digital computer and software equipment.” He looked back at the photograph. “But I do damn well considering what I work with.”

  “I'm sure you do,” Eve said. “Who is this professor and where's his lab?”

  “Professor Dunkeil. Ralph Dunkeil. His lab's about five minutes from here on Blue Mountain Drive.”

  “Could I have it by tomorrow?”

  He shook his head.

  “Please, it's very important to me.”

  He looked at her face for a couple of seconds and then slowly nodded. “If you can clear it with Grisby. He's not going to like me putting everything on hold.”

  “Your boss has already okayed it,” Charlie said. “He said that you're ours for the next thirty-six hours.”

  “That sounds like slave labor.” He grimaced. “Though Grisby's pretty much of a slave driver himself. I had to threaten to quit last quarter to make him give me time off to take my finals.”

  “I'd be grateful if you'll try to hurry it,” Eve said. “You'll call me?”

  “I'll call you, Eve,” Charlie said. “I'll go with Mr. Sung and help.”

  “I don't need your help.” Sung gave Charlie a cool glance. “The government is too much into our business as it is. FBI, CIA, IRS. Now you come in here and try to pressure me.”

  “Hey, man, I'm only doing my job.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Sung said as he sat down at the bench. “I've heard that before. It's always followed by the crack of the whip.”

  “Perhaps I could go with you instead.” Mark Grunard smiled at Sung. “Do you have any objections to a little publicity? It might help you get that job in California.”

  Sung looked interested.

  “No way,” Charlie said firmly. “I told you that you couldn't stay, Grunard.”

  “But our friend doesn't like you as much as he does me.”

  Charlie jerked his thumb. “Out.”

  Grunard sighed. “Maybe I could come back after you've finished your work, Mr. Sung.” He handed him a card. “Call me.” He left the lab.

  “The results are confidential, Mr. Sung,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah.” Sung looked thoughtfully at the card before stuffing it in his pocket. “So were the atomic tests in Nevada that gave everybody cancer.”

  “Please call me as soon as possible, Mr. Sung,” Eve said. “It means a great deal to me.”

  “I'll let you know.”

  “WHAT DO YOU think? Can he do it?” Joe asked as he and Eve got into the car.

  “Maybe. He seems sharp.” She leaned back in the seat. “And I think he likes a challenge. Though Charlie may have a tough time. Sung evidently hates government bureaucrats.”

  “Maybe you should introduce him to Sarah. So what do we do now?”

  “Go home. Wait.”

  “That won't be easy.”

  “No.” It seemed as if they'd done nothing but sit around and wait lately. “But at least Spiro gave us a chance to hurry the process along.”

  “He's taking a big risk dealing with us. He's impatient to have it over.”

  “So am I, Joe.” She closed her eyes and tried to relax. “So am I.”

  IT WAS NEARLY three o'clock in the morning and the lights were still burning in the professor's lab on Blue Mountain Drive.

  Eve must be happy she'd found someone passionate enough to work so hard on the photo, Dom thought. Passion could be dangerous.

  But it could also be exciting. Every move Eve made was raising the stakes.

  He probably should have gotten rid of that photo years ago, but he had moved on and he had not thought it important enough. But what was happening in that lab was important.

  Time changed everything. Technology, morals, good, evil. Who would have known how much his needs would change? His priorities were so different now or he would not be sitting outside the lab.

  What was happening in there? Were they getting close?

  He felt excit
ement tighten his muscles. Go ahead, Eve. Come closer. Try to find me. . . .

  “MORE COFFEE?” CHARLIE asked.

  Billy Sung adjusted the computer. “Not right now.”

  “You didn't eat dinner. I could go out and pick up some fast food.”

  “No.” He was coming close. Screw those L.A. bozos with all their fancy equipment. He was as good as them any day of the week. Just a few more adjustments and he might—

  “Are you getting it?”

  “You bet I am.” He rubbed his eyes and bent forward again over the picture. “I wasn't sure I had a chance, but I'll be able to—” He stiffened. “My God.”

  “You've got it?”

  “Shut up. I have to check the shift.” He brought the picture in closer.

  The shift was coming in clearer and then clearer still.

  There could be no mistake.

  THE PHONE RANG on Eve's nightstand.

  “We're on our way to see you,” Charlie said.

  “What?”

  “Sung wants to see you. He's all excited.”

  She sat up in bed. “He did it?”

  “Not yet. He says he'll be done any minute. He was muttering about shifts and spectrums and he's bringing you the photo. He won't let me see it while he's working on it, but I'll take possession the minute it's completely finished.”

  “Why the secrecy?”

  “Search me,” Charlie said sourly. “He evidently thinks I'm the right arm of Big Brother. He made a phone call and then he said he had to see you right away. He seems to think this is only between you and him, but this is FBI business and he can't fool around with—Where the hell are you going?” He came back on the phone. “I've got to go. Sung must have finished. He just bolted for the front door. We should be there in thirty minutes.” He hung up.

  “Sung was able to do it?” Joe asked.

  “That's what Charlie said, but Sung wants to talk to me.” She put down the receiver and swung her feet to the floor. “He'll be here in thirty minutes with the photo. I'm going to get dressed.”

  Joe sat up in bed. “Why should he want to talk to you?”

  “I told you, he doesn't like the government.”

  “Bad enough to wake you in the middle of the night?”

  She headed for the bathroom. “I don't care if Sung comes up here and crawls in bed with us as long as he brings me that photo.”

  “I'd have a few objections,” Joe said. “By all means, let's wait for him downstairs.”

  “WHERE IS HE?” Eve glanced at her watch again. “It's been forty minutes.”

  “Maybe they had to go back to the lab for something.”

  “Wouldn't Charlie have called us?”

  “Car trouble?”

  “Stop being comforting. Do you have Charlie's digital number?”

  Joe nodded and reached for his phone. “No answer.” He hung up. “It's time to go looking.”

  “I'll go with you.”

  “Stay here. What if all that comforting bullshit is really true and they drive up right after I've left? If they come, give me a call and I'll hotfoot it back.”

  He was right. She had to stay. But, blast it, it was going to kill her to sit there and wait.

  EVE'S PHONE RANG forty-five minutes later.

  “There's been a crash,” Joe said. “A car went off the road and down into the ravine.”

  Her hand tightened on the phone. “Is it them?”

  “I don't know.” He paused. “The car's pretty messed up. It was over a hundred-foot drop.”

  She closed her eyes. “Christ.”

  “The medics and rescue team are going down to see if anyone survived. It's not going to be easy. The incline's very steep.”

  “How could anyone survive a drop like that?”

  “It's possible. The car hasn't exploded yet. I have to go now. I'll call you later. I'm going down with the rescue team.”

  The car hasn't exploded yet.

  Fear tore through her. “Let them do their job, Joe. Stay out of it.”

  “I like Charlie Cather, Eve.” He hung up.

  She liked Charlie too, but the thought of Joe going near that car terrified her.

  She dialed Joe back.

  No answer. He was already on his way down to the car.

  She headed for the front door.

  THE FLASHING RED lights of ambulances, fire trucks, and a half dozen police cars dotted the highway. A quartz spotlight was aimed down into the ravine. Yellow tape cordoned off the right lane.

  Joe.

  She parked on the side of the highway and jumped out of the car. She fought her way through the crowd, but dammit, she couldn't see anything.

  “Eve.” Spiro was coming toward her. He nodded to a policeman. “She's all right. Let her through.”

  She ducked under the tape and ran to the edge of the cliff.

  Spiro followed her. “You shouldn't be here, Eve. What are you thinking? This place is crawling with highway patrol and—”

  “I don't care. Where's the rescue team?”

  Spiro pointed at the line of moving lights at the bottom of the ravine. “They're almost at the car.”

  What car? It appeared to be only a mass of twisted metal. “Joe's down there.”

  “I know, he called me. But he was already on his way down when I got here.”

  “Does anyone know what happened?”

  Spiro shook his head. “No witnesses. We don't know yet if they were driven off the road or there was brake tampering. We're not even sure if it's Charlie's rental car. The rescue team is going to try to radio back the license number.”

  “But you think it is?”

  “Don't you?”

  “Yes.” The lights were almost at the car now. “Do they know how long it's going to take?”

  “It depends on what they find down there.” He paused. “But I have to warn you. The rescue team is already smelling gasoline. Even worse, gas vapor will be hovering over the vehicle. All it would take is a spark.”

  She went rigid. “Then tell them to get out of there.”

  “They have to try to rescue whoever's in the car.”

  “They don't have to get blown up. I've seen burn victims and—”

  “I know,” Spiro said quietly. “No one wants that to happen. The squad leader will call off the attempt if it gets too dangerous.”

  “Joe won't listen. He won't take orders from anybody. He'll do what he has to do to get them out of that car.” God, she wished she were down there so she could do something.

  “Take it easy, Eve. The rescue team isn't going to make any mistakes that will get anyone hurt. They'll disconnect the battery and then steady the vehicle. And they'll use Hurst tools to force their way into the car to avoid sparks.”

  The lights were moving, weaving in and around the wreckage.

  Ten minutes passed.

  Fifteen minutes.

  “Why aren't they coming back? Can't you find out what's happening?” she asked Spiro.

  “I'll try.” Spiro strode over to the command unit and came back a few minutes later. “They've got one man out. They weren't able to make a positive confirmation, but they think the other man is dead. The squad leader's made the decision to pull his team out.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated. “The car hood is crushed. They weren't able to get to the battery to disconnect it. They managed to turn off the ignition, but anything could blow the car. The catalytic converter, the wiring . . .”

  “And everyone's coming up?”

  “Look for yourself.”

  The lights below were moving faster, away from the wreckage, back toward the incline.

  Please let Joe be one of those men running to safety.

  Her gaze moved back to the wreckage.

  One light still burned in the midst of the twisted tangle of metal.

  “Joe.”

  She had known it. Damn him. Damn him.

  “My God, he's crazy,” Spiro said.

  Joe, ge
t out of there. Please.

  One minute passed. Two minutes.

  Don't stay. Don't stay. Don't stay.

  The wreckage exploded into a fireball.

  She screamed.

  Joe.

  She ran toward the cliff edge.

  Spiro caught her.

  She struck out at him. “Let me go.”

  “You can't help him. There's a chance he could be all right.”

  All right? She had seen that light inside the car when it exploded. “I'm going down there.”

  “No way.” His grasp tightened. “Too many people have been hurt tonight. I'm not going to watch you tumble down that mountain.”

  She kneed him in the groin and his grasp loosened. She ran, but two highway patrolmen grabbed her and forced her to the ground.

  She fought desperately, kicking, frantically striking out.

  Joe!

  Darkness.

  “YOU SON OF a bitch. Did you have to hit her?”

  “I didn't hit her,” Spiro said. “It was one of Phoenix's finest. They were trying to keep her from sliding down that mountain and killing herself. She's not hurt badly. Only stunned.”

  “You could have stopped them.”

  Joe. That was Joe's voice. Her eyes flew open. Joe kneeling beside her. Joe's face, oil-streaked, a cut on his cheekbone—but he was alive. Oh, God, alive.

  “How do you feel?” Joe was frowning. “Did they hurt you?”

  Alive.

  She shook her head.

  “You're lying. Why are you crying if you're not hurt?”

  She hadn't known she was crying. “I don't know.” She sat up and wiped her cheeks. “I'm okay.”

  “You're not okay. Lie back down.”

  “Shut up, Joe.” Her voice was uneven. “I said I was okay. No credit to you. God, you're stupid. I thought you were dead, you idiot. I saw the light in the car right before it blew up.”

  “I had to drop the flashlight when I wriggled out of the car.”

  Stop shaking. He was alive. “You shouldn't have been there.”

  “I know,” he said wearily. “The squad leader is mad as hell at me, but I had to make sure.” He glanced at Spiro. “I'm sorry, it was Charlie in the car. I thought he was dead, but I had to be sure.”

  “And he was dead?”