The gasp came from deep in Arthur Potters throat. As if his whole body had been submerged in ice water he shuddered, understanding perfectly what was happening. It was intuition probably, a feeling gleaned from the hundreds of barricades hed negotiated. The fact that no taker had ever spontaneously released a hostage this early. The fact that Handy was a killer without remorse. He couldnt say for sure what tipped him but the absolute horror of what was about to occur gripped his heart. No! The negotiator leapt to his feet, knocking the chair over with a huge crash. LeBow glanced at him. Oh, no! Oh, Christ, no. Charlie Budds head swiveled back and forth. He whispered, Whats wrong? Whats going on? Hes going to kill her, LeBow whispered. Potter tore the door open and ran outside, his heart slugging away in his chest. Snatching a flak jacket from the ground, he slipped between two cars and, gasping, ran straight toward the girl, passing the man Dean Stillwell had sent to meet her. His urgency made the troopers in the field uneasy but some of them smiled at the sight of the pudgy man running, holding the heavy flak jacket in one hand and waving a white Kleenex in the other. Susan was forty feet from him, walking steadily over the grass. She adjusted her course slightly so they would meet. Get down, drop down! Potter cried. He released the tissue, which floated ahead of him on the fast breeze, and he gestured madly at the ground. Down! Get down! But she couldnt hear, of course, and merely frowned. Several of the troopers had heard Potter and stepped away from the cars they were using as cover. Reaching tentatively for their guns. Potters shouts were joined by others. One woman trooper waved madly. No, no, honey! Get down, for the love of God! Susan never heard a word of it. Shed stopped and was looking carefully at the ground, perhaps thinking that he was warning her about a hidden well or wire she might trip over. Gasping, his middle-aged heart in agony, Potter narrowed the gap to fifteen feet. The agent was so close that when the single bullet struck her squarely in the back, and a flower of dark red blossomed over her right breast, he heard the nauseating sound of the impact, followed by an unworldly groan from deep within a throat unaccustomed to speaking. She stopped abruptly then spiraled to the ground. A Maidens Grave ~ Jeffrey Deaver
Posted on: Sun, 26 Jan 2014 09:01:47 +0000
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