Silent Partner by Stephen Frey Page B

pulled the trigger twice. The bullets whined as they caromed about the cave, and then he was on top of her, slamming her hand against the rock floor fiercely until the gun skittered away. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her to her feet. She could feel herself starting to go dizzy as her air supply was cut off. Never trust. Never trust. She clawed at his beard as he slammed her back against the wall, then spun her around.
    “Where’s Lawrence?” he hissed, lips to her ear as he pressed her cheek hard against the rough rock wall.
    “At a cabin further up the mountain,” she moaned, grimacing in pain.
    “What?”
    She could feel his hot breath on her face. “At the cabin.”
    “But you’re supposed to be with him.”
    “Our meeting is over. He’s probably gone.” She didn’t know what else to say. “Please stop hurting me.”
    “This isn’t right!” the man roared. “Not right at all. Goddamnit, you’re supposed to be with him!”
    “I don’t know what to tell you.”
    “Tell me where—”
    She thrust her heel into the man’s shin, and he groaned loudly. For a split second she was free and she broke for the back of the cave and the revolver. But he managed to trip her and fall on top of her heavily, knocking the wind from her lungs as they fell. She reached desperately for the gun, just inches from her fingertips, but his hand darted past hers and he tossed it further back into the darkness.
    Suddenly she was being pulled to her feet again, her hands forced together behind her back, and he was pushing her toward the cave entrance, the cliff, and five hundred feet straight down. She fought desperately, struggling to dig her toes into the ground, but he was too powerful and she closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for the terror of the plunge and the horrible impact. Perhaps this was why she had hated heights since childhood. Perhaps somehow she had known she would die this way.
    She opened her eyes wide as they burst from the cave and screamed wildly as the man propelled her the last few feet. The canyon stretched out before her, sheer walls falling to a frozen river. This had to be a nightmare. She was going to wake up in her room at the lodge, on the edge of the sleigh bed, about to tumble to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. “No! My God, no!”
    And then they were both down on the trail, faces buried in the snow after a powerful impact. Angela could feel her head and shoulders hanging over the edge of the cliff, nothing but air beneath her. Her attacker was trying desperately to push her over, and she clawed wildly at the snow, digging for anything to hold on to. For an instant she found a rock, but it popped from the ground as she grabbed it and she was sliding further over oblivion.
    Then strong hands clamped down on her ankles, then her legs, and she was being dragged away from danger and pulled to her feet. Lawrence’s personal army had turned into her personal cavalry and suddenly she was safe. There were four of them around her, brushing the snow from her clothes and asking her if she was all right. She nodded, unable to speak, catching glimpses of her attacker being pummeled by four more of the guards a few feet away. He was shouting at them in a foreign language she didn’t recognize.
    Two of the men who had rescued her stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the scuffle. She strained to see, but once more they moved to block her view. When she was able to see again, her attacker was gone. For a few moments she didn’t understand what had happened, then the realization set in. He was off the cliff into the abyss. Dead. She stared at the empty space where he’d just been, dazed.
    Then she glanced to her right, between two of the men who had rescued her, and directly into the burning eyes of William Colby.

    It was almost midnight, and he was tired of trying to pick up the woman. She was with two female friends who’d made it clear with their withering looks across