Free Domino by Chris Barnhart Page A

outside
was weak and tearful. "Please, let me in."
    "Clarissa?" Virginia tried to hide the anger
from her voice. She could never be sure that Morgan hadn't sent
Clarissa to her for some unimportant errand. Morgan never called
first. Morgan would never be that courteous to his private
secretary. Virginia smothered the indignation. "Is something
wrong?"
    "Please, just let me come in," Clarissa
begged. "Please."
    Morgan hadn't sent her. Virginia was certain.
This was something else. Clarissa had probably wrecked the car or
something and didn't want to face Morgan. Well, she could just take
her licks.
    "It's late and I'm busy right now."
    "Please, Virginia, I have to talk to you. It's
an emergency."
    There was a long silence. Logic fought its way
through Virginia's hostility. If Clarissa did have a minor problem
and it got back to Morgan that she didn't help her, Virginia would
be the one to feel his wrath. Reluctantly, Virginia pushed the
button that opened the downstairs security door.
    "Come up then. You remember where it is?
Seventh floor. Number seven twelve."
    Clarissa almost screamed with relief when the
buzzer went off and the glass door yielded under her weight. The
city had become an alien wilderness with one danger, Marco
Camponello. Her luck to escape him twice had held, but that luck
could not hold out much longer.
    Already the terrifying suicide run toward the
train seemed hours ago. As she got into the oak paneled elevator
car Clarissa shuddered at the narrow escape. She had wanted to die
then, at that moment, rather than at the hands of Marco. There had
been no way out, no solution, no exit. There was just the massive
hulk of the engine, the gunshots and the blown tire, the train
barreling down on her, filling the Jag's windshield. She remembered
losing control of the steering wheel and the car spinning wildly.
There was empty track and dark buildings and Marco standing up in
the Cadillac. Then around again toward the approaching train
engine, the one brilliant light illuminating the interior of the
car, blinding Clarissa for a second, then darkness
again.
    She squeezed her eyes shut and steeled herself
against the final impact. The train whistle scorched her ears, and
she let go of the steering wheel to clamp her hands over them. Her
body vibrated with the thundering on the tracks and was suddenly
jolted and thrown hard against the door. There was a scream of
tearing metal and the sharp crack of splitting wood, and a renewed
sensation of spinning. Then stillness and the clattering of the
freight cars passing.
    Clarissa jolted awake as the elevator doors
slid silently open.
     
     
    Virginia took a deep breath, controlled her
hostility, and pulled open the front door. Her face remained a mask
of indifference but inside she was grinning. Clarissa looked a
mess. There was a welt on her cheek, her makeup was smeared as if
she'd been crying, her black cocktail dress was wrinkled and torn
at the hem, and she was missing a couple of acrylic nails. Whatever
she had been doing, Morgan was going to be in a rage. Virginia
stepped aside and Clarissa entered the spacious living
room.
    "Sit down, please," Virginia invited. "Tell me
what happened."
    The decor was overstuffed Southwestern in
pastels, with Western Indian art on the walls. A feathered Cree
prayer wheel, done in tan suede and heavily beaded, dominated the
front of the rock fireplace.
    Clarissa sat on the edge of the sofa, nervous
and looking over her shoulder as if she half expected Marco or Alex
to be hiding in the bedroom. Virginia curled herself up on an
overstuffed armless chair, tucking her feet under her and stared at
Clarissa for what seemed to be an eternity. When she spoke, her
voice betrayed none of the cynicism and contempt that she felt. She
was once again in the role of Morgan Wolfe's perfect executive
secretary.
    "So did you lovers have a spat?"
    "Morgan tried to kill me," Clarissa ventured
carefully, waiting and searching Virginia's face for a