Stealing Shadows - Hiding In The Shadows Part 28

him. If she walked a bit faster, she could catch up to him.

But no matter how fast she walked, he remained the same distance ahead

of her. She began to run. Her heart pounded and her breath came raggedly, and still he was distant and out of her reach.

Beyond her ability to touch.

She finally stopped running and paused to catch her breath, and when she

did she was puzzled to find that the beach was gone. She could stillhear the waves, the rhythmic pulsing that was so soothing, but now shewas at the construction site where Kane's building was going up.

Only it wasn't quite right somehow.

She walked around the steel skeleton to the back, and frowned because on

this side it was a solid office building, windows gleaming in the sunlight. That was very odd, she thought. Only half a building.

Why would Kane build half a building?

"He must have a reason," she said aloud.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she was in her apartment,

and she walked through it curiously, looking at familiar things, touching them.

But everything was curiously insubstantial, and she was puzzled again.

'You're dead, - Faith told her.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You are.

Dinah shook her head and continued through the apartment, searching now, her expression determined. "I'll find it, and then everything will be all right again, she said.

"But you're dead, - Faith insisted, miserable. "It's too late, becauseyou're dead. When I find it, I won't be dead anymore," Dinah explainedreasonably.

"How do you know that?"

"I just know, that's all. Why are you here?"

"I tried to reach you," Faith explained, following her. "I tried and

tried.

But it was so dark, and all I could hear was the water."

You're reaching me now."

"Yes, but I think it's because you're dead." 'How you do harp on that,"

Dinah said, shaking her head.

"Well, I'm sorry, but it's the truth. What is it you're looking for, anyway?"

"The Macguffin, I think somebody called it."

"That's what we're looking for.

"Yes, I know. But you're looking in the wrong place.

"Then tell me where to look.

Dinah made a sound of exasperation. "If I did, it wouldn't be a treasure

hunt, now would it?"

"I guess not. But-"

They were in the bedroom, and Dinah turned to her suddenly. "Faith, you

have to wake up."

"But I want to talk to you.

"Listen to me. You have to wake up."

"But-"

"Faith, someone's trying to get in your window."

CHAPTER TEN.

Faith opened her eyes and was instantly wide awake.

The music from the living room had ceased, and the apartment was filledwith a predawn quiet that was peculiarly heavy.

Almost still. Almost, but not quite, silent.

Something was scratching at one of the bedroom windows.

Someone.

Feeling her heart thudding against her ribs, Faith turned her headslowly on the pillow and stared across the room. She could make out thedark square of the window against the pale walls, but the drapes made itimpossible for her to see anything else.

We're on the fifth floor, and there's no balcony.

A sudden, distinct click from the window made her stop worrying abouthow someone could be out there.

Obviously, someone was. And it was unlikely to be a friendly visit.

Moving as quietly as possible, Faith pushed back the covers and slidfrom the bed. She worked her way cautiously across the room, her eyesfixed on the window, terrified she'd see the drapes move and ablackgloved hand reach in. She eased open the door and slipped through,leaving it ajar. Only then did she watch where she was going as shehurried to the living room.

The room was dark except for the low fire burning in the gas fireplace,but Kane was still awake. He sat in a chair, stumped, his unseeing gazefixed on the flames, and Faith had to say his name twice before hestirred and looked at her.

"What is it?" he asked, terribly polite. He didn't seem at all surprisedto see her standing there s.h.i.+vering in a sheer green nightgown.

"Kane "

-You should go back to bed. It's late."

She glanced over her shoulder toward the bed- room, wondering only thenwhy she hadn't knocked on Bishop's door and awakened the agent, whoprobably had a gun. And who was not locked away in some private h.e.l.l ofgrief, unreachable and untouchable. Keeping her voice low, she said,"Someone's trying to get in my window." Strange how calm she sounded,when her every sense seemed to be quivering in alarm.

"You were dreaming," he said.

I certainly was. But Faith wasn't about to tell him about that. "Kane,someone is trying to get in. I swear to you, I didn't dream this. Ididn't imagine it. Some one is outside the window trying to get in. Icould hear him."

Kane rose and moved unhurriedly toward the hall- way. He had, eitherdeliberately or unconsciously, chosen the route that would take him past her at the greatest possible distance, but Faith told herself thatdidn't matter. Not now. Not until she could think about it.

"Be careful," she urged.

He paused and looked back at her with lifeless eyes. "There's no one outthere, Faith. There are two security guards posted front and back of thebuilding.

And we're on the fifth floor." Steadily, she said, "Someone is outthere.

Please be careful." This time she made no attempt to lower her voice,even raised it. She hoped she woke Bishop, hoped the intruder had hishead inside the window and heard her. She was far less concerned with catching whoever it was than in making sure Kane didn't walk uncaringly'into a bullet.

He shook his head and took a step into the hall- way.

The force of the explosion knocked him back into the living room; helanded almost at her feet.

"The only real point in the bomb's favor is that the blast was containedpretty much in the bedroom."

Detective Nolan, in charge of the bomb squad, continued to describe theexplosion. "Not much fire to speak of and actually very littlestructural damage. In fact, even though it blew the hall door almostinto the livingroom.

@ it didn't even breach the closet door. Your bed's only a memorythough, I'm afraid."

Richardson, who had arrived with Nolan, didn't wait for Kane to respond.

"So it was a focused blast?" He was bright-eyed despite the early hour,and only the colorful hem of pajama hot- toms visible under his pantsindicated he'd been pulled from his own bed by Kane's phone call.

For some reason, Faith was surprised the detective wore pajamas.

"Oh, very focused," Nolan answered. "I'd say the guy knew he would catchhis target in bed, and aimed to get just that."

"Why?" Richardson demanded. "Wouldn't it have been more certain if he'dtried to gut the entire room?"

"Maybe, but if Mr. Macgregor and Miss. Parker are right about how littletime pa.s.sed between the time he gained entry and the explosion-"

"It couldn't have been more than a minute or two," Faith insisted. "Idon't think he'd gotten the window open when I slipped out of the room,or 'just barely."

Nolan nodded. "Then I'd say he had two problems ' in planning. First,to deliver the device quietly and carefully enough so histarget didn't awaken before it could go off, and second to get his a.s.sback up the rope to the roof before it blew."

"He definitely came down from the roof?" Bishop asked.

Richardson said, "One of my people found a rope mark on the edge of theroof, and it looks like the rope was fastened to a pipe up there. Infact, we found a smear of blood on a rusty bolt, so I'd say the guy cutor sc.r.a.ped himself because he was in such a hurry to get the ropeunfastened. The roof access door was open, so we're pretty sure he gotout through that service stairwell. Probably the same way he got up tothe roof."

Bishop nodded.

Nolan resumed his report. "From what we found, the explosive looks likea fairly simple sort with a plain burning fuse, a short one. I'd guesshe made a little bomb rather than a big one so he'd still be able to getto the roof if it blew prematurely, as homemade bombs frequently do.

Anything more powerful and he ran the risk it would have taken him outas well."

"Amateur night," Bishop muttered.

Nolan nodded again, this time enthusiastically.

"I'd say. No timer, nothing fancy. A bit of dynamite in some kind ofmetal container to concentrate the blast is my guess. I have to say, the M.O. doesn't match up with any of our known arsonists or weekendbombers, and since he kept it simple I'm betting we won't be able totrace him through what's left of the bomb. Maybe we'll get lucky andpick up a finger- print-"