Escape Out of Darkness (Maggie Bennett 1)

“That is too bad.” Maggie watched with an odd detachment as Mersot’s stubby fingers moved along the mahogany trim of the gerbil platform. “But I have had to weather other disappointments in my life. I can weather this one.” And before she could move, his fingers found a white button and he pressed.

The results were not what she had expected, and indeed not what Mersot had intended either. There was a blue-white flash, the crackle of electricity, and Mersot’s small, portly body was flung across the miniature city, crushing the glass with the force of the blow.

Mack moved before anyone else could, taking the old man’s pulse. “He’s dead.”

“Quite a neat trick, Pulaski. I presume you’re responsible? A nice jolt of electricity does wonders for an old man with a heart condition.” Van Zandt edged closer, peering at his fallen nemesis.

Maggie moved forward, averting her eyes from the old man’s body, trying to ignore the smell of scorched flesh, as she tried to pull the scattered remnants of her self-possession back around her. “Listen, Jeffrey,” she said in an urgent tone of voice. “This is your chance. If Mack just fixes the electricity, we can all get out of here. It’ll look like he died of natural causes, and no one will ever suspect that you had anything to do with it. You’d be home free. …”

“Not as long as the two of you survive,” Van Zandt corrected her patiently. “No, I’m sorry, but the chalet has got to go, and the two of you with it. It’s unfortunate, but I don’t really have an alternative. I’ve been too softhearted as it is.”

He’d turned his back to the table, ignoring Mersot’s lifeless body, unaware of the horde of gerbils rushing through the smashed glass, swarming over their master’s corpse, scurrying on little claws down his trouser legs to swarm across the floor. Maggie controlled her own shudder of revulsion, keeping her face calm and earnest, as the army of gerbils advanced on Van Zandt’s pants leg.

“Jeffrey, think how much we’ve meant to each other. …” She was grasping at straws, and Van Zandt’s soft giggle mocked her.

“Not a thing, Maggie. I never was your type, and I have to admit, you’re not mine. I wish this could end differently, but

I know that you wouldn’t let Peter’s death go unavenged. And I’ve got to come up with at least one scapegoat when I go back and confront the Company and Mancini. I still may be able to salvage …” His voice trailed off in a strangled scream as the first wave of gerbils gained his leg. And then they were swarming over him, a sea of rodents, clawing their furry way up his body, and all the time Van Zandt kept screaming, a terrified, high-pitched scream.

Maggie just stood there, watching in fascinated horror, until Mack dived across the room and tackled her, bringing her to the floor. Just in time, as Van Zandt began shooting at the gerbils scurrying over the floor, riddling the floor, the miniature village, and the fallen body of Mersot with bullets before he ran out of ammunition.

Maggie could barely see, crushed as she was beneath Mack’s strong body. Van Zandt threw the gun at the gerbils, still screaming, and began beating at his body. And then he ran, racing around the room, beating at the clinging rodents, until he tripped over a fresh wave of them. He went stumbling, staggering, screaming toward the wall of windows. The next moment he was gone, with a crashing of heavy glass, over the balcony and down, down, down. …

Maggie lay there on the floor, Mack’s body pressing down on her. The gerbils were at eye level, scurrying around, half mad with fear and panic, and as grateful as she was to them for their rescue, she didn’t want to be their next host. “Let me up, for Christ’s sake,” she said in a strangled voice.

A second later Mack pulled her to her feet. “Had enough, Maggie May?” His voice was hollow. “This place is set to blow at five, unless Van Zandt was lying. I think we ought to get as far away as we can.”

She swallowed a sudden, shuddering breath. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Bud Willis drawled from the doorway. “Christ, you guys are a two-man demolition team.” He kicked at the gerbils, stepping into the room and surveying it with his cold empty eyes.

“What is this, a convention?” Maggie demanded, his sudden appearance putting the final straw on her rapidly eroding courage. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’ve been on Van Zandt’s tail for the past three days. I didn’t figure I could count on the two of you to take care of him. I guess I was wrong. That Mersot?” He gestured toward the old man’s body, which in the ensuing melee had tumbled to the floor. Gerbils were still crawling over him, and Maggie turned away with a shudder.

“That’s Mersot. This place is going to blow up, Willis. Not that I really feel you deserve a warning, but I’m a nice guy,” Mack drawled. “We’re out of here, unless you have any objections.”

“No objections,” he said absently, looking around him.

“Do you want to come with us?”

He grinned, that death’s-head grin. “And interfere with the happy couple? No way. We’ll meet up again, sooner or later. In the meantime, Pulaski, watch your back.”

Mack’s hazel eyes were narrowed with dislike. “I’ll do that,” he said. He looked at Maggie, and she waited dismally for an order. An order that never came. “What’s your pleasure, Maggie?”

Relief and love swept through her. “Let’s do it, Mack,” she said. “Bye, Willis.”

“Bye, sweet lips.”

The late afternoon was sunny, bright, clear, and cool around the chalet. Van Zandt’s body was somewhere down in the crevasse beneath the chalet, lost for all time, Maggie hoped. Even if he were found, the authorities would simply assume he was a victim of the surprising explosion of Hercule Mersot’s chalet. And if anyone was still suspicious, she had complete faith in Hamilton’s ability to quiet those doubts.

“There’s a Jeep Cherokee parked down below the gate,” Mack said, his words prosaically normal. The last few minutes of horror and death might never have happened. “Can you stand it?”

“A Jeep Cherokee?” she echoed wearily, matching his coolness. “I haven’t recovered from my last ride in one.”

“We can always walk to Venice, but it would take a hell of a long time. And I think I’ve walked enough for one day,” Mack said solemnly.

“Venice?” she said, momentarily distracted. “We’re going to Venice?”