Flash

who is certain he has the upper hand.
    "Gill wasn't too bright, was he? I set a trap for him when I left the first blackmail payment. Saw him pick up the cash. Followed him back to his house. He never had a clue."
    Jasper wrapped his hands around the metal uprights of the shelving. He would only get one chance.
    "Getting rid of Gill was no problem. You owe me for that hit-and-run, by the way. I did us all a favor when I offed the little bastard."
    Another padlock clattered.
    "But I made a real unfortunate assumption," Dixon continued. "I figured that since he wasn't a very clever blackmailer, he would have been dumb enough to stash his files somewhere in his house. To tell you the truth, I had a bad moment or two when I realized they weren't there."
    A padlock clanged. Much closer this time.
    "But when I ran into you two there, I realized that the sonofabitch had been blackmailing other people, as well. Imagine my surprise when I recognized Olivia that night. I knew it was you with her, Sloan. Had to be."
    A lock rattled. Jasper estimated that Dixon was no more than half a dozen doors away.
    "I figured right off that you two would have a much better chance of finding Gill's files than I would. After all, you were his employers. You had access to all kinds of information about him that I couldn't get."
    The leading edge of a flashlight beam flickered under the locker door.
    "So I decided to sit back and wait for you folks to do the legwork. I knew when you came here today that there had to be a good reason."
    Jasper tightened his grip on the uprights. With the overhead lights out, Dixon had only his flashlight for illumination. He would have to move at least a couple of feet into the locker to make certain that his quarry was not hiding inside behind the ranks of boxes.
    "Got to admit, I was pretty amazed when the first blackmail note arrived." Dixon chuckled. "Who the hell would have thought that some dipshit little accountant could have dug up that old information? I was so damn careful."
    Another padlock rattled in the darkness.
    "Even the police bought the story six years ago. They conducted a very thorough investigation. Concluded that poor Richard Lancaster had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Walked in on a burglary in progress and got himself shot to death. Hey, shit happens, y'know?"
    That answered one of those nagging questions of history, Jasper thought. It was Dixon who had murdered Eleanor Lancaster's husband.
    He listened as Haggard tried the lock on the locker next door.
    "Had to get rid of good old Richard, you see. He was standing in her way. He didn't approve of her going into politics. And he was rich. Eleanor needed the money to run her first campaign. As her campaign manager, it was my job to make sure she got what she needed."
    The flashlight gleamed beneath the edge of the door. It jerked sharply.
    "Hey, hey, hey. What have we here? A broken padlock?" Dixon's laughter held a razor-sharp edge of tension and anticipation.
    Jasper waited, motionless. Timing was everything.
    "I think we've played hide-and-seek long enough," Dixon said. "I'm sorry about what has to happen here. But I know you'll understand when I tell you that the future of the country depends on getting Eleanor elected. And that might not happen if the media finds out that her campaign manager killed her husband. Public's kinda fickle."
    Jasper heard him yank the broken lock off the door. It clattered onto the concrete floor.
    The door slammed open. The flashlight beam roared into the darkness like the light of an oncoming train.
    Jasper kept his eyes fixed steadily on the side wall of the locker. He could not afford to be blinded by Dixon's flashlight.
    "Sloan, you bastard, I know you and Olivia are in there. You might as well come out and get it over with. I'll make it quick and clean."
    The flashlight flickered wildly as Dixon played it over the boxes.
    "Goddamn it, come out. This has to end. It's my job to end it. I've got to protect Eleanor's future. This country needs her, you see."
    Jasper used his peripheral vision to track the dark figure behind the flashlight. Dixon took one cautious step into the locker.
    "Shit," he muttered.
    Jasper knew that it had just occurred to Dixon that he might have opened the wrong locker.
    Dixon took another step into the darkness. And then another. The light flared as it arced across the shelving. It danced across the toe of Jasper's shoe.
    "I knew you were in here." Dixon's