The Collectors

Chapter 18

Hardy Pinkerton turned and his eyes opened in surprise as Ted came through the entrance doors of the lobby.

"Teddy, what are you doing here?" He watched as Ted walked toward him holding his head stiffly.

"I came to see if I still had a job, your girlfriend seemed to take over all the security for DeWhitt." His voice dripped with distaste for the absent woman.

"Connie, you mean? I don't get it."

"Come up to the office with me and ask Malcom yourself. She replaced you Hardy... and me. Ross was made second in command."

"That's crazy. You've been Malcom's man forever and I'm the official head of security."

"Come up and ask him." Ted sounded whiny. "If I lose this job, Hardy, what happens to us?"

"Hey guys!" Nick limped into the lobby with his cane, beaming at the coincidental meeting. Hardy and Ted automatically moved apart as Nick approached. "The team's back, eh? Good to see you, Hardy. How's the kisser?"

"It's all back together but it's still tender."

"Yeah, my ribs still hurt and this is a permanent addition they tell me." He tapped the cane on the floor. "How about you, Ted, you look pretty good?"

"Concussion. I have to be very careful and get plenty of rest."

Nick nodded and smiled. "So this is just all of us reaffirming our positions with the boss, eh?"

"Something like that." Ted headed to the elevator bank and the others followed.

Two stern looking men in civilian clothes joined them on the elevator and the two groups stood apart, eyeing each other as the elevator rose. Hardy had pushed their button but the other two had not and he asked what floor they wanted.

"DeWhitt and Winter."

The accent made the three men turn pale and they shuffled closer together. Hardy looked at the panel and coughed. "Oh shit, look at that. I pressed the wrong floor." He reached for the panel but a steel hand clamped on his wrist and he stared up into the dead flat eyes of the taller of the two men.

"We will all go to that floor."



Holly finished drying and took the hair dryer from the stand to dry her hair. She hummed happily, pleased to be back home and getting her life organized again. The ringing phone was ignored as she let the warm air caress her face and bare shoulders. The ebbing of her stress made her feel as if she might sleep for days. She snapped off the dryer and replaced in the stand, taking a large brush pulling through the soft strands.

The clink of glass made her stop and she cocked her head listening. That definitely was not her imagination. She put the brush down and pulled on her robe, moving barefoot into the bedroom and across to the hall door. She stopped and listened and then peered around the corner into the living room. The two men standing there looking at her made her heart stop and thump dangerously. She saw her purse on the coffee table and realized what the clink was; they had taken out her gun.

"What are you doing in my home?" She gathered herself and tried an offensive.

"You will come with us."

"The hell I will." She turned and ran back to the bedroom, slamming the door and trying desperately to push her dresser in front of the door. It slammed partially open and she fell back onto the carpet. Another slam and the dresser shunted a few more inches then there was a shout and a lot of funny sounds like twigs snapping and when the door opened, moving the dresser away, a man in a leather jacket, jeans and a collarless polo shirt stepped in and waved her to her feet with the barrel of a nasty looking gun.