“I don’t know.”
“Wright and his cronies?”
“I don’t know! Bloody hell…What if something’s happened? What’re they going to do with her, Gypsie-Ann?” He felt paralyzed, rended.
The reporter leaned in close with her beak.
“We don’t know anything yet. Nothing. You hear me? But we can’t sit here bunting hunches all night — are you coming, Jack? Move it, mister — you and that busted-up leg.”
#166
Gypsie-Ann decreed that the two of them needed to regroup with the other Equalizers to nut out a ‘team response’, even if it was against her better judgement.
“Don’t forget we’re in this together, Jack,” she said as she drove, eyes narrowed. “Strength in numbers, and all that jazz people tend to waffle on about.”
“What if the Brick isn’t okay?”
“Let’s deal with everything as it comes. And you really need to get PA to look at your wound.”
“I’m fine,” Jack muttered.
“I don’t care.”
When they arrived at Timely Tower, the clock said it was after midnight and the building was minimally lit. Having pushed through the big glass door, the two of them were intercepted by a security guard Jack had never seen before, a man younger than the usual breed, animated and bearing a smile.
“Excuse me, sir,” this guard said, as he came close. “Southern Cross, right? I recognize you from your picture in the paper. I’m Ford Davis.”
Jack nodded, thoughts plumbing elsewhere, but Davis handed him an envelope that smelled of citrus.
“There’s a young lady in the penthouse — she came earlier this evening. Said she’s a friend of yours and asked me to give you this. Didn’t do the wrong thing allowing her up there, did I?”
The guard appeared nowhere near as contrite as he pretended, and he winked at Jack while the Equalizer tore open the letter.
The note inside was short — and sweet. ‘I’m so sorry, Jack’, it said in Louise’s elegant hand, albeit a little shaky. ‘Upstairs. Let’s make up.’ Jack read the words a second time, his heart beating fast, and then smiled too. He breathed out, relieved.
“She’s here. She’s safe.”
“You-know-who?” Gypsie-Ann inquired, a suspicious eye on the uniform before them with his eager-to-please expression.
“Louise. Yes.” Already looking over at the elevator doors, Jack nodded. “She’s waiting.”
“You want me to come? Or have I become a third leg?”
“I think we can talk about everything tomorrow,” Jack said in a vague voice while he gazed up at the ceiling, still milking that silly grin. “With PA and the Brick, I mean.”
“Oh, sure — why be rash today, when you can put off everything to the morrow?” Still, the reporter remained leery. “Are the other Equalizers back yet?” she asked the guard. This fellow seemed put out with her query and the charm wavered.
“Not that I know, ma’am.”
Gypsie-Ann decided to try the Neon Bullpen or the Brick’s car phone — she had no way of getting directly in touch with her sister.
“All right, Jack, I’m out of your hair. But for crap’s sake be careful, you hear me? Don’t forget what we learned tonight.”
“All up in the old coin locker.” Tapping his forehead as he limped to one of the metal concertina doors beneath the Equalizers banner, Jack laughed. “She’s here. She’s safe. And thanks, Gypsie-Ann — for everything.”
Davis, the security guard, faded into the shadows near his desk while the reporter strode away from the foyer, shoved through the entrance, and headed for her convertible.
#167
The first thing Jack spotted when he entered Equalizers HQ were the flowers — hundreds of yellow roses sprinkled across the white floor, petals everywhere, making a path from the door, across the living space, and ascending the staircase.
Jack again smiled, deeply touched. He wanted to run along the trail, to take up the girl in his arms and shower her with kisses aplenty, and then to just hold her — for hours if need be. She’d forgiven him. She’d returned to him. She was safe. Even the death masks on the wall looked jolly.
He stopped, picked up a rose, sniffed it, and the smile became a beam.
Skirting alongside the other flowers so as not to damage a single one, Jack galloped upstairs — pain be damned—and tossed his hat across the room below. On the landing were additional roses, lined up leading straight to his bedroom door, which was partly ajar. Orange candlelight flickered within. Jack sneaked over, his heart pounding more than before. She’d forgiven him. She’d returned to him. She was safe, just when he’d begun to believe the worst.