Kimberlain discovered, in strength, too. Locked against each other, they twisted across the floor in a bizarre pirouette. Kimberlain continued to pound the assailant’s face, but had his ribs thrashed in return. He felt his feet teeter on the edge of a rectangular cutout in the floor where someday a stairway would descend. In the haze of semidarkness, the assailant tried to thrust him over the side, but Kimberlain twisted and slammed the man backward into the nearest wall.
The entire structure seemed to quiver. The assailant took the full brunt of the impact and spun away from the wall, the Ferryman’s control over him gone. Kimberlain turned from one blow, but a second pounded his kidney and a third buckled his knee.
The pain sent electric shocks through him. Kimberlain righted his balance and kicked out with his legs, but another blow hammered the rear of his head. Then he was being slammed forward, directed toward another wall, he thought, until he saw the still-churning table saw.
His hands grasped the table and held just before his face met steel. His nose flirted with the spinning saw, oil and more remnants of the sawdust spitting up into his eyes. The assailant shoved onward, sensing the kill now. It took all the strength the Ferryman could muster just to hold his ground, and this left his position virtually indefensible. He couldn’t maintain the stalemate for much longer. A precarious shift in position was his only hope.
Kimberlain spun his entire body around in a sudden motion. Face to face with his assailant now, his arms jammed into the man’s shoulders. The man shoved hard, and the back of the Ferryman’s head flirted with the spinning blade. Dead eyes glared at him, hands struggling to summon enough strength to force him the rest of way down.
Kimberlain jabbed his right arm into the assailant’s windpipe, found his Adam’s apple, and squeezed. The man gave ground backward, which allowed Kimberlain to sweep his left hand toward the saw’s on-off switch.
Click .
The assailant’s savage, enraged thrust wedged Kimberlain against the blade just as it spun to a halt. The Ferryman twisted his Adam’s apple some more.
The man wailed and hoisted Kimberlain upright. The Ferryman went with the motion. The assailant probably thought he had him, right up until Kimberlain’s hands locked onto him, grabbing hold of his lapels with both hands as the momentum brought him forward. Still holding fast, Kimberlain ducked down and jammed his own shoulders against the plywood floor with a foot wedged in the man’s midsection. The assailant could do nothing to thwart the maneuver, and he was pitched airborne. He twisted to brace for the fall and then realized too late that he was heading for the empty hole where the stairwell was to be. His arms flailed desperately for something to grab but came up empty. His scream split the night, ending with a thud six floors below.
With the screech of more police sirens drawing ever closer, Kimberlain slid toward a rear exit and escape.
He called Talley’s number from a pay phone in a café a half mile south at the corner of Brook and Wickenden streets.
“Problems, Lauren,” he said as soon as she came on.
“Are you still in Providence?”
“At Brown, more or less.”
“Leeds?”
“Not exactly.” Kimberlain detailed in rapid fashion what had happened.
Lauren Talley accepted it all calmly. “I’ll have agents from our Boston office there in an hour. They’ll use discretion.”
“Tell them not to bother.”
“Can you get to the airport?”
“Soon as I grab a car.”
“There’s a plane leaving for Atlanta in thirty minutes. I’ll have them hold it until you get there. Go right to the gate. Sorry I can’t send the Lear.”
“I suppose you need it yourself.”
“I don’t want you going to Georgia on your own.”
“I didn’t know I was going at all.”
“We talked about it this morning.”
“I said later, Lauren.”
“And that’s what it is
The entire structure seemed to quiver. The assailant took the full brunt of the impact and spun away from the wall, the Ferryman’s control over him gone. Kimberlain turned from one blow, but a second pounded his kidney and a third buckled his knee.
The pain sent electric shocks through him. Kimberlain righted his balance and kicked out with his legs, but another blow hammered the rear of his head. Then he was being slammed forward, directed toward another wall, he thought, until he saw the still-churning table saw.
His hands grasped the table and held just before his face met steel. His nose flirted with the spinning saw, oil and more remnants of the sawdust spitting up into his eyes. The assailant shoved onward, sensing the kill now. It took all the strength the Ferryman could muster just to hold his ground, and this left his position virtually indefensible. He couldn’t maintain the stalemate for much longer. A precarious shift in position was his only hope.
Kimberlain spun his entire body around in a sudden motion. Face to face with his assailant now, his arms jammed into the man’s shoulders. The man shoved hard, and the back of the Ferryman’s head flirted with the spinning blade. Dead eyes glared at him, hands struggling to summon enough strength to force him the rest of way down.
Kimberlain jabbed his right arm into the assailant’s windpipe, found his Adam’s apple, and squeezed. The man gave ground backward, which allowed Kimberlain to sweep his left hand toward the saw’s on-off switch.
Click .
The assailant’s savage, enraged thrust wedged Kimberlain against the blade just as it spun to a halt. The Ferryman twisted his Adam’s apple some more.
The man wailed and hoisted Kimberlain upright. The Ferryman went with the motion. The assailant probably thought he had him, right up until Kimberlain’s hands locked onto him, grabbing hold of his lapels with both hands as the momentum brought him forward. Still holding fast, Kimberlain ducked down and jammed his own shoulders against the plywood floor with a foot wedged in the man’s midsection. The assailant could do nothing to thwart the maneuver, and he was pitched airborne. He twisted to brace for the fall and then realized too late that he was heading for the empty hole where the stairwell was to be. His arms flailed desperately for something to grab but came up empty. His scream split the night, ending with a thud six floors below.
With the screech of more police sirens drawing ever closer, Kimberlain slid toward a rear exit and escape.
He called Talley’s number from a pay phone in a café a half mile south at the corner of Brook and Wickenden streets.
“Problems, Lauren,” he said as soon as she came on.
“Are you still in Providence?”
“At Brown, more or less.”
“Leeds?”
“Not exactly.” Kimberlain detailed in rapid fashion what had happened.
Lauren Talley accepted it all calmly. “I’ll have agents from our Boston office there in an hour. They’ll use discretion.”
“Tell them not to bother.”
“Can you get to the airport?”
“Soon as I grab a car.”
“There’s a plane leaving for Atlanta in thirty minutes. I’ll have them hold it until you get there. Go right to the gate. Sorry I can’t send the Lear.”
“I suppose you need it yourself.”
“I don’t want you going to Georgia on your own.”
“I didn’t know I was going at all.”
“We talked about it this morning.”
“I said later, Lauren.”
“And that’s what it is
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