| Subject: WTTS2 - 88b (language warning) |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 22:53:48 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2 - More (splitting the thread *as requested by Sanlin*)" on 21:52:29 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 88b (language warning)
By KT
Copyright June 8, 2001
Gerald Price stood in his study, still spinning from the news about Petrosian's escape. He was legally bound to his client, and not a little afraid of him. Though Price had represented other major underworld players, none of them had posed the kind of threat that Petrosian did - his bizarre and unpredictable twisted personality. Price thought the man was a good candidate for a permanent straight jacket in the psych ward... but the money was too green and too abundant. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, greed had as much to do with his allegiance as fear.
He looked out the window. The streets were beginning to stir with light traffic, and the second wave of snow was moving in quickly. Price grabbed his coat and went to his car. As he sat warming up the motor, he contemplated what he was about to do.
He drove slowly, lost in thought, until he arrived at his destination. The street was practically devoid of pedestrians. Parking around the corner near the alley, he walked back past the front door. The gallery showed no signs of life. Price knew where Petrosian kept the spare key. He waded into the deep snow in the alley, where the footsteps previously made by O'Brien and his bounty had been effectively obscured by the new snowfall. As he neared the rear entrance, he never noticed that the door was slightly open.
* * * * * * * *
Egran Petrosian lay shivering on the floor, assessing the current state of his physical being. He gathered that he had dragged himself as far as the back door and passed out. A strange garment lay several feet from his legs, looking like a shedded snake skin. Snow had piled up around him and was continuing to fill the doorway and part of the room. Something colder than the snow lay under his hand, and he tightened his fingers around the handle of the gun he had acquired from the prison guard.
A shadow fell over him and the snow stopped swirling for a moment as the familiar face of Gerald Price materialized out of the storm. Petrosian's face registered nothing. Their eyes connected and a second later, Price found himself staring into the little black hole at the end of a gun barrel. A strange sensation overtook him... his muscles rebelled as fear turned them into jelly. His feet refused to obey the order his brain was sending: Danger! Run!! He attempted to speak, but his voice wasn't working either. Petrosian, tired as he was, had no trouble talking.
"Gerald. I assume your presence here indicates that you've had a conversation with the police... one Marcus O'Brien, most likely."
Price nodded, still paralyzed by the sight of the gun aimed at his heart. Petrosian moved, gathering his legs beneath him, and Price saw a flicker of pain pass over his face. As his captor began to rise, Price realized that Petrosian was wounded, the bloody sleeve of his jacket decorating his other arm. He could see dark liquid oozing from a hole near the shoulder.
A wounded animal is even more dangerous than a healthy one. He suddenly remembered learning that fact somewhere in school. Fear and caution overtook him in a wave, and he thought he was going to be sick. His eyes narrowed as questions ran randomly through his mind: how... when... why... gunshot wound... Nothing added up. His face paled as his heartbeat sped out of control.
Petrosian accurately assessed Price's terrified state, and knew that his only chance was to maintain his advantage. He made a small sweeping motion with his weapon.
"You have a vehicle?" Petrosian's voice held a desperate cast.
Price nodded. A protest was rising in his gut, but never exited his mouth.
"Let's go." The desperation cranked up a notch.
Price's voice finally produced a raspy reply. "OK."
Petrosian leaned against the door jamb, sliding his body upward until he reached his full height. Struggling to kept his edge, he ordered Price back out into the alley, the unyielding barrel of the gun keeping his prisoner in line. They moved slowly toward the car. Price kept trying to think of a way to turn the situation around, but he decided that Petrosian would not think twice about killing him and taking his car. Best to see how things played out. If only he could control his body reactions...
"Where to?" he asked, as they settled in the car, Price driving, Petrosian in the back seat.
"Your office."
"But..."
"I can't take any chances. My house is probably under surveillance. Perhaps yours as well. Now move."
Price eased his car back onto the street and they headed for his office. He tried to distract his passenger with small talk, but Petrosian wasn't interested. A sinking feeling began to permeate his mind as he realized that no one knew where he was. His cell phone rested in his coat pocket, but it was impossible to use it. Maybe he'd have a chance, if Petrosian let his guard down...
They arrived at Price's office. Petrosian waved him over to his desk and positioned himself on the sofa, where he could monitor things. Petrosian was in need of medical assistance, but he knew that a call to a hospital was out of the question. Price agreed to phone a doctor at a nearby clinic who was in his circle of colleagues, someone he could rely on not to talk about the incident.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence, sizing each other up. Petrosian knew he had to keep the upper hand, and Price knew he had to figure a way out of this... and he didn't intend to become a dead hero doing it.
* * * * * * * *
Minutes after Petrosian and Price took off, O'Brien's backup team arrived at the gallery. They moved to the rear of the building as per Cossins instructions. Since O'Brien's vehicle was not in evidence, as they were told it would be, things became immediately suspect. They burst into the open doorway with guns drawn, shouting their identity, but there was no response.
The officers saw O'Brien's coat on the floor, and an immediate search revealed the wounded detective, barely conscious and in shock from loss of blood. They called dispatch and were informed that an ambulance was already en route. Cossins asked them about Petrosian, but was told that O'Brien was the only person found at the location.
When Cossins was informed about O'Brien's condition, his thoughts turned angry. Damn the man! I told him not to go in alone! He instructed the team to stay with O'Brien and get a complete detailed report as soon as the detective was able to be questioned.
The ambulance arrived in short order, expecting to take the escapee into custody, but instead transported one very unhappy cop to Cook County Hospital.
* * * * * * * *
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