Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 1)

He made sweeping arcs with his gun, and his grip on Bruno’s coat grew tighter. The candidate’s breathing was accelerating so fast King was afraid he might just faint. He thought he could hear the smacks of Bruno’s heart and then realized they were his own. Okay, he was as ready as he was going to be.

The clock hit 10:32, and the arc of King’s gun became faster as he tried to cover every inch of the room. The lights went out, and they were plunged into total darkness. And then the room erupted in kaleidoscope lights that would have done any disco proud. They swept around the room like a flash fire, and the voices started up on high volume. It was deafening and blinding, and King had to shield his eyes. Then he remembered and reached in his pocket and put on his sunglasses. Score one for the guys in shades.

Then the ding of the elevator came.

“Damn you, Morse!” King called out.

The doors slid open, or was it just a trick? Indecision was tearing King apart. Should he look over or not?

“Hit the floor!” he told Bruno, and the man dropped instantly. King turned his head, determined only to look for a split second. He never made it that far.

Joan Dillinger was right in front of him. Hanging less than ten feet away, suspended from the ceiling, it appeared. It was as though she were on a cross, spread-eagle, her face pale and her eyes closed. King didn’t know if she was real or not. He took a couple steps forward and reached out his hand, and it went right through her. Stunned, he jerked his head in the direction of the elevator. There was Joan, trussed up and suspended by wire. Her image had

been projected by some mechanical means. She appeared dead.

Looking at the woman, he felt an immense rage. And that was probably what Morse was counting on. That realization alone served to calm King down.

As he turned back, he stiffened. Standing directly in front of him, between two of the cardboard characters, was Kate Ramsey, her pistol pointed at his chest. “Put down the gun,” she ordered.

King hesitated, then laid down his gun. The lights returned to normal and the special effect sounds stopped.

“Get up,” she told Bruno. “Stand up, you bastard,” she screamed.

Bruno rose on shaky legs, but King kept between the candidate and his would-be assassin.

“Listen to me, Kate. You don’t want to do this.”

A voice boomed out from somewhere. It was Morse, playing the role of the director, calling out his next “shot.”

“Go ahead, Kate. I’ve delivered them both to you, just as I promised: the man who ruined your father’s career, and the man who took his life. Your bullets are steel-jacketed. One shot and you can kill them both. Do it. Do it for your poor father. These men destroyed him.”

Kate’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Don’t listen to him, Kate,” said King. “He’s the one who set up your father. He was the one who got him to kill Ritter. Bruno had nothing to do with any of it.”

“You’re lying,” she said.

“The man you overheard talking to your father that night. It was Sidney Morse.”

“You’re wrong. The only name I heard was Thornton Jorst.”

“You didn’t hear his name, Kate, you only thought you did. What you heard wasn’t ‘Thornton Jorst.’ What you heard was Trojan horse.”

Kate didn’t look as confident now.

King pressed this small advantage. “I’m sure Morse told you everything to say to us. But that part you told us was true, only you didn’t realize its significance.” Kate’s expression became confused, and her finger relaxed ever so slightly against the trigger.

King continued, talking fast. “Morse was the Trojan horse, the inside man on the Ritter campaign. That’s how he explained it to your father. Morse knew Arnold hated what Ritter was doing to the country. But Morse didn’t care about Ritter’s politics. So why did he join the campaign? Because Morse loved your mother. She was his Broadway-star-to-be. With your father out of the way, she’d be his. And when that failed, he killed your mother. And now he’s using you just like he used your father.”

“That’s crazy. If what you say is true, why is he doing all of this now?”

“I don’t know. He’s insane. Who else would put something like this together?”

“He’s lying about all of it, Kate,” boomed out Morse. “I’m doing this all for you. To give you justice. Now shoot them!”

King held Kate’s gaze. “Your father killed, but he did so in what he believed was a noble cause. That man”—King pointed in the direction of Morse’s voice—“that man is a cold-blooded murderer, and he did it out of sheer jealousy.”

“You killed my father,” she said bluntly.