leaned out as far as possible, hoping he had guessed right. Ironically, he had, but it proved to be his downfall.
Instead of peeking out from under the platform, Payne leapt out with only one intention: to grab the gunman’s tie. He had spotted it earlier when he had narrowly avoided the last shot. It had been hanging there, taunting him, like a leash on a lost dog. Payne knew if he got hold of it, he would control the gunman and he would control the situation.
But he hadn’t expected what happened next.
Stretching as high as he could, Payne snagged the tie with his right hand and gave it a mighty yank. The gunman, who had already been leaning over the edge, was unable to maintain his balance. Less than a second later, his feet shot skyward, and he flipped over the railing.
In a perfect world, Payne would have held onto him and saved his life, if for no other reason than to question him about his mission. Unfortunately, Payne knew his footing and grip
As Payne grabbed the bar, the gunman whizzed past, screaming and flailing the entire way until his life ended with a muffled thud on the icy rocks below.
19
Jones rolled down his window. ‘What happened?’
‘Someone fell,’ said the cop as Jones flashed his licence.
‘A jumper?’
The cop shook his head. ‘I wish.’
Jones wasn’t sure what that meant, but before he could ask, the cop waved him through and approached the vehicle behind him. Jones continued towards his building, unconcerned, until he saw half Payne’s security staff standing on the sidewalk instead of inside the warm lobby. The elderly guard manning the garage recognized
‘Morning, Clyde,’ he said as he climbed out of his vehicle and slammed the door shut. Jones was dressed for the Steelers game, wearing a blackand-gold Troy Polamalu jersey and a black Pittsburgh ski cap. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Don’t worry, sir. He’s fine. Just fine.’
Jones furrowed his brow. ‘Who’s fine?’
The guard stared at him, confused. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘Someone tried to kill Mr Payne.’
‘What?’ he asked, incredulous.
The guard nodded. ‘Pulled a gun on him down the street.’
‘Where’s he now?’ Jones asked.
‘Inside, I think. Not really sure, though.’
‘Thanks,’ he said as he hurried to find Payne.
Jones pushed his way through one of the revolving doors that opened into the atrium. Other than the spectacular view of the city, the building’s most prominent feature was the glass-lined lobby. It had been designed by Ieoh Ming Pei, the Chinese-born American architect who was later selected to build the Louvre
Payne was holding a cardboard box as he talked to two detectives near the security desk. As soon as he noticed Jones, he excused himself and walked over.
‘What happened?’ Jones demanded.
‘It was the strangest thing. I bought a dozen doughnuts and all these cops showed up.’
‘Come on, man, I’m serious.’
‘So am I.’ He opened the box as proof. The only thing left was some powered sugar on the bottom of the cardboard. ‘I hope you ate already.’
‘Jon,’ he said, annoyed, ‘what the hell happened?’
‘Not here,’ Payne whispered. ‘Meet me upstairs.’
Ten minutes later, the two of them had a chance to speak in the privacy of Jones’s office — the same place they had discussed Ashley’s criminal record the night before. Now they knew
Payne filled him in on the basics before Jones peppered him with questions.
‘The gunman knew about the letter?’
‘Not only did he know about it, that’s all he cared about. When I told him I didn’t have it, he started shooting.’
Jones grimaced. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Sense or no sense, that’s what happened.’
‘Did you recognize him?’
Payne shook his head. ‘Middle-aged white guy. Slicked back hair and a fancy suit. He looked European but didn’t have an accent.’
‘Did you get his prints?’
‘I tried to as he plummeted past me, but he didn’t cooperate.’
Jones shrugged. ‘Shit happens.’
Payne reached into his pocket and pulled out a wadded tissue. He carefully unwrapped it, then dumped a shell casing on Jones’s desk. ‘You might get something from this.’
‘You took this from the crime scene? I’m so proud of you.’
‘I learned from the best.’
‘Next time, just let the guy shoot you. It’s much easier to ID a bullet.’
Jones used the tip of his pen to pick up the casing. As he studied it under a desk lamp, he asked, ‘What’s our next move?’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that, and you’re not going to like my answer.’
Jones glanced across his desk. ‘Go on.’
‘Just to be safe, I think we should skip the Steelers game.’
‘Come on, Jon! It’s not like the guy shot you. I mean,
‘Maybe so, but two shooters in twelve hours makes a guy rethink his priorities. In the grand scheme of things, how important is the game?’
‘You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding. Because if you force me to answer that question, you’re going to be crushed by my response.’
Payne smiled. He knew Jones was teasing. ‘Normally I wouldn’t skip a game, but let’s be honest. We’re playing Cleveland. When was the last time we lost to Cleveland?’
He shrugged. ‘Probably before we were born.’
‘Exactly! So if we have to miss one game, this is definitely the one.’
Jones growled softly. ‘Last night it was Pitt
‘If that
Jones nodded. ‘You can count on me.’
‘Good,’ said Payne and changed the subject. ‘Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, I’ve been giving this some thought, and I think we have two different issues to worry about.’
‘The letter and the gunmen.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Last night I didn’t have a chance to track down the shooter. Let me call the cops and see if they came up with something.’
Payne shook his head. ‘That’s one of the things I asked the detectives in the lobby. The shooter is still a John
