Cafe Underground Presents
River Of Lawyers
Book 1 -- Chapters 7
The Detective Andi Wicksham Series, by RL Bell
Copyright © 1997 RL BELL
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....author RL Bell
Andi Wicksham's INVESTIGATORY SERVICES
Chapter 7
Andi returned to the office.
Lena worked away, a cup of coffee in one hand as she paged through files with the other. "How'd it go?" she asked off-handedly.
Andi stretched to work a kink out of her neck. "I got more information than I ever dreamed...more than I understand for sure..." Andi mumbled. She casually laid a hand on Lena's shoulder as she went by.
Lena reached up and patted it without looking up. "I found that guy for Janice Thompson."
"Yeah?" Andi perked up.
Lena swung around, sparkling with smug pride. "It was so easy...amazing somebody would pay you to do this." She rolled her eyes.
Andi shrugged. "Thompson's too busy to run around chasing loose ends...and it could have been a day or two of hassle. Anyway...it costs her nada, she passes on our cost and adds her percentage..."
Lena shrugged. "The file's back on your desk for billing. I typed everything I could think of to fatten the report...it wasn't exciting at all." she pouted. "You got phone calls from Ramirez and your landlord...note's on your desk. Landlord asked if four o'clock was a good time...I told him your calendar looked free at the moment." She swiveled her head to give Andi a quizzical look. "...and Ramirez asked if I liked barbecue. Know what that's about?"
"Hmmmmm..." mumbled Andi. How could she admit she'd led Ramirez to think they might be together? Damn again. She sank into her chair and reached for the note.
"Friday's the day after tomorrow, Andi...we'll need to crank another report for Morse...and I whipped out the synopses you wanted."
"Oh...the report," Andi remembered. Thank God there was another day to beat at details--she wanted to put her head on her desk and close her eyes. There was still yesterday's work to make sense of and today's would take hours to get any perspective at all. Tonight was a band practice with Sonny and tomorrow would be a day of notes and reports even if she burned the midnight oil. Friday would be OK if nothing came up--but what Chance was there that things would run smooth?
"This coffee sucks...and I need a break." Lena announced suddenly, she pushed her cup away with theatrical bravado and rose to her feet. "I'm going down the street for hot chocolate, want something?"
"Cocoa's fine." Andi said distractedly.
"Catch you on the rebound..." quipped Lena.
Only in my dreams thought Andi as she reached for the phone.
"Ramirez here." Ramirez's voice scratched from a long day at his desk. Andi could tell when he'd spent too much time on the phone
"Gotten out of your chair in the last couple hours?" she asked rudely.
"My friend..." he responded broadly. "I thought we might get together tonight..."
"Can't...band practice." Andi said curtly.
"We need to get together and talk..." Ramirez pushed. "...say just after work at Coffee People's."
"But I'm piled high with stuff...I just got in from..."
"Wicksham..." he interrupted, "..slow down, listen to the stress in my voice...we need to get together...OK?"
"OK, you got it." Andi glanced at her watch--it was after three fifteen already. "Quarter after five?"
"With bells on, Wicksham. God, it's hard to break into your busy schedule. It must be nice out in the private sector...making all that money...having all that freedom..."
"What crap Ramirez...I got to get to work. See ya at quarter after." She reached for her book, scribbled his name, place and time and looked at the chaos laying before her.
First, type in yesterday's work, second outline today's madcap adventures, third...maybe insert an hour to outline what she wanted in the report so in case she ran out of time she'd get the important stuff done. Fourth...oh shit...she was going to have to work late and run to band practice without a shower or change of clothes.
Lena came in with two paper cups and set one before Andi. "You know, if we took our mugs down we'd be more eco-cool and save fifteen cents a pop."
"Yeah? ...thanks." Andi started straightening the piles on her desk.
"Don't forget the last of the billings...you'll feel better with an actual cash flow. You live off savings between big checks, don't you?" Lena set her cocoa on the table primly and hung her coat on the chair.
"...how'd you know?" demanded Andi sullenly.
Lena waved her hands before her mysteriously. "I know all and see all...and I just trudged through what you consider your books...remember?"
"Oh yeah." replied Andi, a bit deflated. "We don't even know if we'll get anything back..."
"Sure we do...it's like statistical...a standard curve...some percentage of people lost your bill or are embarrassed at getting dinned and only need this little push--we'll get their checks first of the week--guaranteed. The bulk need two or three letters...the hard-cores you turn over to an agency that takes half the money but gives the satisfaction that you're putting them through consumer hell. The uncollected you take off you're taxes...how long you been in business?"
"That's why you're here, kiddo...I don't know diddly about business squat. All I do is sleuth about and make a zillion phone calls. I have the personal satisfaction of having maintained my billing system on good faith and naivete." Andi shook her head and put a goody-goody finger to her cheek.
"...good faith and denial..." Lena quipped. "I should have discussed doing this for a percentage." She stretched, sank into her chair and pointed at the piles littering Andi's desk. "Any way I can help with the albatross?"
Andi looked down and groaned, "I don't see how...most of its stuff I've got to puzzle over. Typing's the easy part." She looked across at Lena hopelessly. "I wish there were. I'm going to work though the weekend at the rate I'm going."
"When you want a better system, we can set it up." lectured Lena primly as she turned around to her table. "And you know phone work is in my job description."
"I'm used to doing everything myself." Andi's response was sharper than she intended so she added, "...I'll think on it...OK?"
"Workaholics usually have control issues, did you know that?" Lena couldn't leave well enough alone.
"You obviously don't have enough to do..." Andi thundered ominously.
"Why look here..." Lena said in surprise as she reached out for the ledgers. "...there's a bunch more billing stuff I can grind my nose on...funny how these things kind-of hide in the weeds out of sight."
"Humph..." conceded Andi. She flipped through her computer files and started reconstructing yesterday in her mind. She glanced over to scan yesterday's calendar; marinas and yacht brokers, phone calls and meeting Chang-Turner to get "Bryant's" papers.
"Where are those synopses you made on Bryant's papers." She asked without looking up.
Lena swung around and handed them as if they were already in her hand. Andi skimmed the neatly typed work. Lena had excerpted all the names and places and had inconsistencies notated and cross indexed.
"Wow...good work. Buy your weren't impressed, eh?" Andi looked up to Lena and waved the papers.
"My opinion is it's fake. And that last one seems in a whole different style."
"Yeah...but who planted it? Chang-Turner or Morse? They're not giving it to the cops. That means they know it's fake. The question is, why risk giving it to us in the first place? It's a big risk..."
"Only if its true..." said Lena dryly.
"What...?" Andi's brow furrowed.
"...well, if this stuff isn't true or there isn't enough evidence to prove anything, there's not a lot of risk...and we're kept spinning our wheels."
"But they're paying us for our time." Andi said in exasperation.
"Hey...I'm not arguing--just pointing out problems...I don't care whether anything's true." There was a defensive edge to her voice.
"Yeah, OK, sorry." she raised her paper cup of chocolate and said "Thanks."
"Skoal..." Lena lifted her own in a toast.
"L'chayim." responded Andi before returning to her work. What if Bryant's papers weren't what they seemed? "You want another job, Lena?" she looked up and caught Lena's eyes. "Check with DEQ to see if any of it's true. Maybe the Board of Corporations, maybe real estate transactions at the Courthouse. Be nice to know how much if any weight to place on it...no matter who put fingers to the keyboard."
"Yeeha..." Lena crowed dryly. "Dr. Watson on the case...I kind of like the role...I get jealous of you doing the interesting stuff."
"Wait until you spend three full days in the records room at the courthouse...you'll be changing horses from the other side of your mouth."
Andi smiled to herself in grim satisfaction. "I'll phone Morse and tell him we're billing your time."
She scribbled the note in her book and groaned when Bobby Soxx came waltzing in the door with bigger than life smile and a handful of paint chips.
She met Ramirez at Coffee People at five-fifteen. He sat placidly looking out at the other late afternoon denizens of Portland's cafe society. When his daughter hit fifteen she'd decided to move in with mom for "those critical teenage years" and his present life-mate Tanya worked until seven so Ramirez had taken to prowling the world of artsy, hip, political, unusual, or otherwise generally interesting watering holes.
He'd perfected the art of blending in with people that would shit the proverbial brick if his occupation were discovered. Andi suspected it was far more his natural crowd than the cop shop's studied collection of honest jocks and shallow thinkers.
She waved and stood in line for hot apple cider. Ramirez had saved a chair by perching his feet on it. He was reading a copy of Michael Foucault's Madness & Civilization.
"...you really reading that or is it part of your disguise?" she quipped as she pulled the chair from his feet and sat down.
"You should read more than escape literature...it would keep you from living too shallow a life." he dead-panned bluntly.
Andi let it die, sipped her cider and said "Well...so, what do you want?"
"So, we needed to talk. This Bryant thing has moved on...DNA tests prove the blood is Bryant's. Now it's a probable homicide...more to the point, Max is having a cow."
"The missing body?" Andi pulled the floating piece of cinnamon stick out of her cider and sucked on it.
"Probably gone by boat...keys to the docks are out in the world by the hundreds and almost everybody at the Yacht Club party but Bryant and Morse had access to one. Coast Guard says it might have been swept out with the river, but there's so much traffic and it would take a couple of days... Maybe Bryant was given concrete shoes? Who knows or cares really? Your boy Bryant had a lot of enemies...but I guess you know that." Ramirez looked thoughtfully disapproving.
Andi studied his face. Ramirez was being awfully circuitous. "...so what was it you wanted to see me about? Catch me up on your life at the office?"
"I want to know what you know about this thing, Wicksham. You've been hounding it for a couple of weeks..." He leaned back in his chair and calmly beamed his eyes right through her.
Andi fumbled quickly for a strategy. What should she tell--even for Ramirez there had to be a limit to how much she could divulge. "You guys been working the same couple of weeks." she said calmly. Stalling would buy a moment to think.
Ramirez waved away the diversion. "So who's on your suspect list...did he had a lover or anything?"
"Everybody's on the list..." Andi moaned theatrically. "Morse, Bryant's secretary, his clients...and no, none under any rock I've turned."
"Which clients?" Ramirez had a pad on the table and his usual automatic pencil poised above it. Andi hadn't seen him pull it out.
"Somebody Drexler of a company called Brian-Core...mixed up with shady real estate deals, maybe fraud around some toxic clean-ups. Mafia type reputation that might actually be more than cliche. There's a Sandra Ibbe of Noris-SDI, scam artist software entrepreneur...used Bryant to draw up contracts with questionable ethics...a rumor Bryant pulled the rug out from under a securities fraud they'd strung together. There's more..."
"Who else...?" Ramirez didn't even look up from his writing.
Andi lifted her cider. "An ex-employee named Lively who has a bunch of stolen files of shady dealings Bryant was involved in...possible blackmail..."
"Blackmail? Who by who?" Ramirez paused, sipped his coffee and looked calmly into her eyes.
"Who? Everybody it seems...Certainly Bryant and his secretary doing their clients, Lively maybe doing Bryant and the same clients, maybe Ibbe with a finger in one of Drexler's pies...Morse sits in the middle of the nest, even though I still haven't found a tie-in for him..."
"You're working for him, eh? He's your client, pays you an hourly fee?" Ramirez's dry comment dripped with innuendo.
"Daily...but it doesn't mean I don't suspect him..." asserted Andi defensively. "Most of the people I've talked to feel he's the puppet master pulling strings. I've wondered if hiring me is part of covering his tracks...but I've nothing to hang it on. He's not gotten in my way...that's something in his favor--not that he done me much good. I'm working on motives because I don't have anything else to kick-off from."
"...Bryant's social life..." Ramirez turned to a fresh page in his note pad and looked up expectantly.
"Can't help..." Andi shrugged. "He's a mystery...quiet life...no leads." She sipped her cider and smirked a half-smile of commiseration.
"Wicksham...give it up...covering for Bryant's friends will get you big trouble...you can be hauled in for obstructing an investigation...this is a murder." Ramirez's voice was deep and threatening--he was using his menacing "cop" voice.
Andi stared at him incredulously. Why was he giving her the third degree? "Hold it Ramirez... I'm not covering up a thing. First, I don't know anything about Bryant's personal life...I've found out zip--nada...I don't have a single friend or lover, or ex-lover, or barber or housekeeper. Second...what the hell you doing grilling me like this for? ...you change medications or something? ...is it a bad phase of the moon?" Andi leaned close and asked, "You and Tanya doing OK?"
Ramirez leaned back and smiled a slightly embarrassed smile. "Yeah...sorry, Wicksham...I got carried away...chalk it up to enthusiasm. Tanya and me are fine. It's Max...the brass are calling him twice a day demanding answers, the stupid investigation is dying, grinding away on nothing. You really got zip on his personal life?"
"Ramirez..." Andi spread her arms in a parody of one of his gestures. "I..don't..know..nothing. It's like he lived in a vacuum and didn't do anything but work. Morse and Chang-Turner are completely dumb on the subject, one neighbor says she saw him with a woman, another says a man, maybe there was an argument a day or two before he disappeared...you're not writing...you already have that?"
"Yeah, not me but another guy. So what gives? Was he a hermit? Did he drink?" Ramirez pursed his lips in a disbelieving scowl.
"He had a half-dozen bottles of wine at his house--an open chablis in the fridge. I didn't see any hard liquor--which I thought suspicious--not even something like cognac for entertaining. I didn't cruise the bars with his pictures cause I thought it would be a waste of time."
She paused for a breath. Ramirez waited impatiently, so she kept on going. "And my guess is no, he wasn't a hermit...but remember when I got into his house it was scoured of everything remotely personal. Ditto at his office, nothing in his desk with personal names or numbers. If you ask me, it's far too weird a coincidence to be a cleaning lady we can't find. Somebody wiped the slate to cover tracks."
Ramirez jotted notes, splitting his attention between his paper and her face.
Andi suddenly remembered another point. "Oh I know something. His next door neighbors used to collect his mail and get his paper when he was gone on business."
"Yeah, so what...he didn't this time."
"But there weren't papers and there wasn't anything but junk mail."
"So what are you trying to tell me..."
"I checked with the post office and paper..."
"And..." Ramirez was getting impatient.
"He did a change of address to his office last November and canceled his paper." Andi sat back with a feel of triumph. She could tell from his expression that he hadn't know that, which meant the department didn't check it out.
He countered. "People do that stuff all the time...cancel their papers and forward their stuff to their offices. It wasn't the day or week before or anything..."
Andi gave a disparaging look. "The bottom line is there's nothing else to find. You must have questioned Jesse Ohi. You were there yourself...nothing personal at house or office--right? Speaking of prints...what did you find at his house?"
"We found your prints Wicksham...and now there's talk of hauling you in for obstructing justice or complicity or anything just so Max can sweat some "truth" out of you. Its all I can do to keep them off your back...for a while."
Andi sighed despairingly. "What did you find in the desk at the house? It was locked when I was there." Changing the subject seemed a tactful ploy.
"Nothing." Ramirez said simply. "Nothing that led anywhere. I think there was client's business card and a ball point pen advertising a real estate agent. Somebody looked into them...the client hadn't seen Bryant in two years and there were five thousand pens given out."
"How about his car?"
"The green Jag? A few maps and a smudge of dirt from somebody's shoe--that was it."
Andi scratched an ear and kept asking. "...next of kin?"
"...getting done, but I haven't' got it."
"I'd like it if you could get it leaked."
"...maybe..."
"Any rap sheets on Morse or Chang-Turner?"
"What do you think...?" He shook his head and made a face in frustration.
Andi was silent for a long moment.
Ramirez had finally relaxed and seemed to be back on her side. The clamor of the cafe suddenly loomed loud around them.
"Thanks...I owe you one, but I really don't know anything more. I can get you Lively's number..." Andi finished off her cider and set the mug down with a purposeful clatter.
Ramirez gave her a sour smile. "Thanks, but it will be better if we get it from Bryant's office...you don't want any official ties to this case do you?"
"No I guess not..." Andi rose to her feet and grabbed her coat.
"Keep me posted, OK, Wicksham? If I tell Max I've talked to you every day or two it'll back him off somewhat."
Andi went back to her office and stayed until ten to seven, far later than she should have, grabbed some fast food tostadas that took an ice-age to be sacked and handed over and raced on to band practice. Her drums were left set up in Brighten's basement--all she had to do was show up and sit down.
She arrived twenty minutes late as Sonny dug through lyrics, her partner Paco was in a corner with a book. Rick, the bass player was tuning up as Andi came down the stairs; Brighten had wandered upstairs to talk with Martha.
Andi twirled a drumstick in silence, savoring the subdued excitement and prickle of tension just before plugging in.
"The prodigal daughter..." Rick quipped, leaning his bass against the amp and stretching a kink from his back. He played big-league jazz for big bucks, but privately claimed it had little soul. He was far over their amateur league; flew to New York and Vegas for three or four-day gigs, played with Winton Marsalis, once backed up Sinatra and made oodles of studio money, but here, he was just an old friend putting up with their garage-band chops.
Andi felt an excuse was expected, "Sorry I'm late...I'm so swamped at work I don't know what I'm doing."
"How's what's her name do?" Sonny had paper in both hands and still riffled through the pile.
"Lena...real good. Hard to believe I got along without her." Andi straddled her stool and diddled the tuning of her snare.
"You feel all right about that stuff we talked about?" asked Sonny from across the room.
"Nothing I can't live with..." Andi mumbled, resenting having it mentioned.
Sonny changed the subject. "Hey guys...Portland Rap a little slower and sexier than usual. I got another stanza.
"No, no..." Rick waved his arms and appealed to Andi. "...first warm up on a boogie blues? C-Jam Blues...OK? Count it out Andi." Rick looked over and caught Sonny's eyes.
Sonny shrugged.
"C-Jam?" Andi didn't care. She looked around, held up a stick and counted. "One..two..three..and.." They hit the down beat and kicked off the tune.
They played until half-past ten--the usual half-hour past when the cops could be called--pushing it to the practical limit. Brighten's neighbors had been broken into the routine long before and hardly ever complained.
In the morning, a sense of desperation lingered from a dream--she'd been fruitlessly searching for something. She got up to shake it off, but the grey desperation buzzed vaguely in the background, feeding on residual guilt of backlogged work while she showered, seeping into conscious thoughts as she dressed and finally blooming--and sweeping her through a hurried breakfast to her office around seven-thirty.
The back-half of her desk was lined with the files she'd made for the Bryant's case--she kept them in piles that she shuffled back and forth as she made new associations.
She focused on the week's report. She'd skim over meeting Ramone Bodega and bury doubts on who authored "Bryant's" papers among face-value interpretations of clients and people. There'd be a page or two on Lively; prime billing with a paragraph of recommendations and a few spare allusions to Sandra Ibbe's list of software developers.
Lena came in. Andi waved a curt hello without looking up. Lena switched on her screen and reached for the telephone.
Andi added her short list of suspects. A touch of this, a dash of that, a piece from each section for bulk. Her deepest suspicions, the ones with either Morse or Chang-Turner playing pivotal roles, she'd keep to herself. Good enough for now.
"So...good morning Lena." Andi pushed the save button and pushed her chair from her desk.
Lena swiveled around and leaned her head to a side. "...oh, Andi...I didn't notice you here. Were you here all this time?" the comment dripped sarcasm, her eyes wide in mock surprise.
"And how are you...come to work this morning, have we?" Andi figured fight fire with fire.
"...JC and I fought...he went out and didn't come back all night..." She gave a quick pained grin. "It wasn't good." Her voice was quiet, not touched with much emotion.
"You don't seem broken up." Andi observed cautiously, unsure whether to touch her hand. She decided not to and leaned back in her chair.
"It's denial...but what the hell, it works..." Lena did her little shrug and smirk. "I've been thinking of what I'll do after this relationship bites the big one."
"..not a good sign." Andi carefully offered--then after a long moment of silence, "What do you want to do?"
"I've entertained a few options..." Lena said vaguely, not meeting Andi's eyes. "But I don't know what might be out there...and I'm still involved..." She turned back to her computer and started working.
"Keep me posted." Andi said in a small voice. Suddenly she needed to get out of the office. "I'm going out..." she blurted. She scribbled some notes from the Drexler file and pounded down the stairs.
Brian-Core had four addresses listed in the phone book, but financial and business matters would be run from their main office in the Pearl district. There was a corporation yard housing trucks and equipment in Northeast and two other addresses in the inner Southeast. She might as well cruise the close two before crossing the river.
The first was little more than a rundown warehouse, its' drive-through door was down, but the door beside it was propped open with a chair. Between the doors were a Brian-Core sign and one saying "PDX MAINTENANCE." Andi got out and peeked inside. Two men in coveralls puttered beside a lawn tractor, two pickup trucks were surrounded by piles and stacks of construction equipment. A small, grimy office hugged the front corner. Leaning in the door, Andi could see a desk with piled work orders and a telephone.
"Hey...what do want?" One of the men had risen and was swiftly closing the gap between them.
"I was passing by and thought I'd stop...is Mr. Drexler here?" Andi threw caution to the winds.
The man approaching was still ten feet away.
"Drexler?" the man behind him said loudly. "Sheeze...why would he come here?"
"What can I help you with?" the first man stopped uncomfortably close, forcing her to lean back through the doorway to look up into his face.
"I'm looking for Mr. Drexler." In for a penny in for a pound--she couldn't change her story now.
"What's your business?" he asked bluntly.
"It's personal." Andi responded lamely.
"Phone his secretary and make an appointment..." The statement was deadpan and final, his face held no hint of a smile and he stood silent, as if daring her to continue.
"Sorry to have bothered you." Strategic retreat was a vastly undervalued tactic. Andi chose to use it--waving casually and walking down to the corner and turning out of sight. She hadn't heard his footsteps so she assumed he'd stood there watching. Just to be safe she coursed around the block before returning to her car.
The second property was a storefront with the Brian-Core sign and one stating "PDX PROPERTY MANAGEMENT." Two secretary types busied themselves beyond the glass front wall. A place to pay rent and take complaints maybe, certainly nothing worth a confrontation like before. She jotted a few notes in her book and drove on.
The Pearl district building was an old warehouse partially renovated for offices that took up half a large block at the edge of an industrial area in the course of rebuilding. She parked a block and a half away and walked casually by the door.
She could see a corporate looking reception room with sectional furniture, receptionist counter, a single female employee with a headset focused on a computer screen, a few pastel forgettable prints on the walls.
She'd never get past the smiling face without an appointment. Andi continued on to the corner. A loading dock with truck-sized doors filled the side. The doors looked like they hadn't been opened in years, but she climbed up and tentatively tried two to be sure.
She jumped down and retraced her steps. On the opposite side there was a short alley crowded with parked cars and two women and young man standing smoking just outside an open door. Coffee break, buy the looks of it.
Andi kept walking, then paused, gazed down the street and looked impatiently at her watch. She stood, out in the open, but studiously looking away, toward the building across the street. She listened for any hint of anything behind her, hoping to look so common she'd be invisible.
After a minute or two she looked at her watch again and shook her head in disapproval, after looking long, up one way and down the other, she kicked the scuffed the sidewalk with her toe in discouragement and idly turned toward the alley door.
It still stood open, but the stoop was vacant now--break must have ended. Andi casually sauntered close and looked inside. A small empty hallway or anti-room opened into a warehouse area--the inside door stood open. Andi took a breath and stepped inside, careful not to block the light and bring attention.
There was a large industrial space behind the remodeled front office. On the far side, a single man in coveralls finished stacking cardboard into a dumpster, slammed the lid, turned off the overhead light and returned to the office area. The high ceilinged room lay clad in half-lit silence.
It was impossible to tell what sort of business was done there. Crated objects stood on pallets along the far wall, cardboard boxes were piled high on a mezzanine-level platform under which stood an unlit coke machine and old industrial sink. Dust and cobwebs hung on the grimy walls. A small forklift waited silently in a corner. Anything of interest would be inside the offices and she'd have no Chance at all entering there.
Suddenly there was a sound behind her. She ducked around the far side of the entry alcove, hugging close to the unpainted wall, holding her breath with apprehension.
"She came in here..." Two men in ill-fitting security guard coats stepped through into the gloom. One stationed himself in front of the door while the other paced slowly across the open floor. She could tell their positions by the nervous shuffling of the first and the cautiously receding steps of the other.
"You sure...?" the first one asked.
"She came in here..."
"But what for? Maybe she went into the offices."
"I didn't recognize her..." the second man was a suspicious one.
"She must have been a new typist on break...come on..." The first stepped slowly toward the second who must by now be mid-floor, turning to survey the dusky walls.
"Know how to turn on the lights?" the second asked.
"Over there..." the first must have pointed. Andi hoped it was by the dumpster across the wide floor. The plodding footsteps of the first man moved--she could hear the second man hurrying to catch up..
Andi risked a quick peek their way. Sure enough, they were two-thirds across and moving away. It was now or never; she stepped around toward the corner and was half-way to the door when her toe caught on an irregular edge in the concrete and made a scraping sound.
"THERE SHE IS..." the shout came from behind her.
Without risking a glance back, she dashed through the outer door and streaked for the sidewalk. Behind her and gaining came the sounds of boots striking the rough concrete.
She made it to the sidewalk and turned right, away from Brian-Core's offices. If she could make it to the corner she'd stop. There was no Chance to outrun these guys; she'd always been a slow and hadn't even been a jogger. Her only hope was to fake them.
Andi spun around the corner and struggled to get her breath under control. She had head start enough to maybe elude them. She wiped her brow with a sleeve and tried to calm her racing heart.
The sound of pounding shoe leather grew closer. She stepped to the curb and looked up the street as if looking for a bus.
"There she is..." They were right beside her.
Andi forced herself to casually glance their way in disapproval and then impatiently look down at her watch.
"All right lady..." a rough hand grabbed her arm and jerked her around.
"HEY..." Andi complained loudly. It was to her advantage to make this a public scene. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
The man swung her against the building and brought his forearm under her chin, against her neck. "What were you doing sneaking into that building?" he growled.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT...GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME." There were a few cars and trucks coursing the streets, but it would take a major scene to get any to stop.
"What's your name and what were you doing there?" the first spat. The two men crowded close enough to block any casual observer's view of her. The forearm tightened against her throat.
"LET ME GO...HELP...FIRE...HELP...FIRE, FIRE..." she screamed at the top of her voice. She lifted a foot and kicked sideways, with her full weight, into the nearest kneecap--there was a satisfyingly-strangled scream. The arm thrust out, pinning her to the building and choking her. She struck out savagely with her foot again and caught shins at least three or four good licks.
The second man hopped away, reaching down to his knee, his face a mask of sudden agony. The first thrust against her wind pipe another time and poked savagely at her lower ribs with a single short punch.
"Better not see you here again..." he said menacingly. He stepped away and gave a disgusted look to his partner.
Andi doubled over, gasping futilely for breath, seemingly unable to fill her lungs.
The men retreated, favoring her with a last surly glance and she was left alone on the sidewalk.
She limped a block in the wrong direction to see if anyone followed, then circled around to her car. It had been a thankless, fruitless episode--she would have been better off staying at the office. She glanced down at her clothes, she had cobwebs and dust on her shoulders from hugging the wall. She hadn't fooled them a bit.
She dusted herself off, rubbed her ribs and the residual lump in her throat. Not something she'd tell Lena about--at least not for a while.
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