The Puppet Master

'God DAMN your black ass, O'Connell! Do what I tell you!'

The intensity of Jamaal's sudden anger, and the illogic of his decision, shocked O'Connell. Jamaal had always been a cool head, always thinking, rarely making a mistake. But this? No way in hell they'd get away with it. He reached and accepted the Uzi, thinking that when it was over, maybe he'd sneak off in the dark. He'd have a better chance hitchhiking, for chrissake. Naylene could fly, if that's what Jamaal wanted, though whether she could navigate was another matter.

Naylene could also shoot, and that's what Jamaal was interested in now. She'd been included to make them more convincing as tourists, but she could kill without scruple. She'd proven that in the past, and they'd all been checked out on the Uzis. Jamaal waited till O'Connell had disappeared around the back corner, then he led the other two toward the door.

* * *

The terminal's waiting room was 80 by 40 feet, with restrooms, an office-ticket area, and the baggage room at one end. At the other was a food service, closed at this hour.

The only scheduled flights this late in the season were daylight sightseer flights over the canyon, and this evening there was only one employee on duty. Counting Martti and Tuuli, the number of nonemployees was four, all awaiting pickups.

They might have napped, but the seats weren't well suited to it, so they simply sat, talking occasionally in murmurs. Silently Martti puzzled over who'd put out a contract on him, and why. After a little the door opened, catching Tuuli's attention, turning her eyes to it before it closed.

'Martti!' she hissed, 'they're here!'

He looked at her.

'A man just looked in the door, then closed it. He was in the park information center with the gunman in the canyon!'

'You're sure?'

She nodded vigorously.

He patted his jacket pocket, feeling the Lady Colt there. Two rounds.

'Should we sneak out the back?' she asked.

This, he thought, would be a good time for her psychic ability to turn on and come up with something. He shook his head. 'They may have someone outside the door, waiting to blow our brains out.' Getting to his feet, he walked over to the service counter, Tuuli following, and spoke to the night agent.

'Do you have a gun?' he murmured softly.

'A gun?'

Martti grabbed a handful of shirtfront and jerked, hushing the man. 'Christ, man! Keep it down! A guy just looked in the door, then backed out—a member of the black mafia in L.A. I'm an investigator. It's likely they're looking for me, and they won't be leaving witnesses.'

The man stared, paling. 'You serious?' he whispered.

Martti hissed his answer: 'Goddamn it! Do you have a fucking gun?!'

Eyes large, the man shook his head.

'Great. Mine will have to do then.' Martti gestured toward the other waiting couple, who sat next to each other, reading. 'Get them in the baggage room and on the floor. Quietly! Hon, you too.'

He took the pistol from his jacket pocket and stood with his back to the counter, both doors within his peripheral vision. The night agent hustled the other couple into the baggage room, Tuuli following. When nothing happened right away, Martti wondered if he'd done right not to try the back door. Another minute passed. Then the front door opened and Jamaal stepped in, Uzi poised. The empty seats held his attention for a moment, and perhaps, coming in from the dark, the light was a problem. Martti drew down on him. 'Drop it,' he said.

Jamaal blinked as if confused, then jerked his weapon toward Martti, who fired. The Uzi spewed a short burst that chewed the floor as Jamaal fell. A muffled scream from the baggage room didn't register on Martti's attention. Naylene stepped in behind the fallen Jamaal, and while her eyes sought a target, Martti shot her too. Even so, she fired a short burst that splintered the counter beside him.

The Colt empty, he'd started toward them to get a fresh weapon when Lionel came in, stepping over the bodies. 'Shark,' he said smirking, 'you a dead muhth . . .'

There was a shot from the back door, just one, and Lionel fell too, a bullet through the middle of his forehead. The Uzi fell from his hands unfired. Martti spun. Harley Suk O'Connell stood there, his .32 caliber lowered. He beckoned. Martti went over to him, unsure what the situation was.

'That's all of them,' O'Connell said. Then, 'I owed you, Seppanen. I'm out of here now. Tell the blues it was you killed them. I mean it! I'm staying clear of L.A. after this, but even so, if Terence finds out what I did, I'm a dead man.'

He turned and disappeared. Martti started over to the three on the floor. 'Tuuli!' he called, 'you can come out now! All of you can; it's . . .'

Suddenly his jaw dropped, then his face contorted in pain, and with a terrible grunting cry he fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, and pitched forward onto the floor. Tuuli rushed toward him screaming; a slashing, thrusting knife of sound: 'OUT! OUT! OUT!' Dropping to her knees beside him, she cradled Marti's head in her lap. After a minute he opened one eye and looked at her. 'Look who loves me,' he murmured, and chuckled, then shuddered and closed the eye again. 'Just let me lay here a few minutes and I'll be all right.'

* * *

A sky ambulance arrived from Grand Canyon Village about five minutes later and took Naylene away, unconscious and in critical condition. She wouldn't live to answer questions. By that time Martti was walking