"FATHER?" MAISEL ASKED, FROWNING.
"My mother," Bradford said, gazing at the reporter with angry eyes, "was one of the secretaries who worked at a station where my dad was a newsman twenty-two years ago. I was one of Lance Hopper's illegitimate kids the tabloids were so happy to start rumors about. Only in my case it wasn't a rumor. Four years ago my mother told me who my real father was. I came to see him.
"At first he thought I wanted money or something. But then he realized I just wanted to meet him, get to know him. We spent some time together. I liked him. He was a good man at heart. He had his vices and weaknesses--" Bradford laughed. "I guess I was the product of one of those vices. But he was somebody I started to admire. I decided to become a journalist and switched majors. He was going to get me a job here at the Network but I said no, I wanted to do it on my own. I applied for the internship and got accepted and that gave us an excuse to spend time together. We had different last names so no one ever knew who I was. But then he was killed ... It just about destroyed me. I assumed the story about what happened was true and let it go at that. But a few weeks ago I was doing mailroom duty, going through all the unsolicited mail, and I found Boggs's letter. I read it a dozen times. I got to thinking that maybe there was more to my father's death than what came out in court."
"You're the one who put the letter on my desk," Rune said.
Bradford smiled. "You're a crusader, Rune. Nobody else her
e'd give a damn about finding the real killer. But I had a feeling you would."
"You were using me too!"
"Let's just say I was looking over your shoulder. The more you found, the more I got to thinking that it must've been Piper or Dan Semple who'd killed him. Lee, you crossed my mind too--that Beirut situation always seemed fishy to me." He nodded toward Rune. "When she told me you were going to meet down here--a deserted studio--I figured you might be the one so I hid up there." He glanced at the empty control booth.
"Look, kid," Nestor said impatiently. "Why don't you just let us walk out of here. And we'll forget everything. You go your way and we'll go ours."
But Bradford ignored him. He nodded at the control booth and said to Maisel, "I got everything you said on tape, Lee."
Maisel closed his eyes. He slumped in the chair.
Nestor sighed and shook his head. "Think you're on your own here, Lee. Nice doing business with you." The killer grabbed Rune by the hair and pulled her to her feet.
"No!" she cried.
Bradford pointed his pistol toward Nestor but the fat man paid no attention. He walked to the table where his own gun lay and picked it up.
"Don't!" Bradford said.
"Yeah, right," Nestor muttered.
"Shoot him!" Rune shouted to Bradford. "Now!"
But the young man froze. His eyes wide, his mouth open in fear as Nestor lifted the gun and fired at him as casually as if he were tossing coins in a wishing well. Rune couldn't tell whether Bradford was hit or not. He fell or dove to the floor. Maisel slid from his chair and rolled to cover under the table.
Tugging Rune after him, Nestor said, "Let's go, honey. May need some insurance, in case the kid called the police."
"No! Goddammit!" she raged, trying to pry his hand off her hair. But he simply got a better grip and dragged her more quickly behind him.
"Shut up," he whispered.
Maybe Bradford had called the police. Maybe Sam Healy and a hundred other cops were outside right now, their guns pointed at the door. Nestor'd see that and give up.
He pulled her in front of him and kicked open the door that led to the parking lot.
Please, she thought, let there be a thousand knights waiting here to slay the dragon ...
They stepped outside. Nobody. She scanned the alley and the parking lot. Empty.
Oh, no ...
Nestor squinted, orienting himself.
"Car's on the other side of the building. That way." He pointed.
"Let go of me!"
He released her hair but took her firmly by the arm and led her forward. She recalled what he'd said, about being a mercenary soldier. She said, "If you let me go I'll give you eight thousand dollars."