Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

spilled onto the marble floor.
    Charlie turned back to the operator. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid.” The little man nodded and took shelter in the corner of the lift. Simon moved stealthily across the floor into the foyer. He and Charlie exchanged quick glances. Simon slowly turned the handle and threw open the heavy double doors.
    Ready for anything, it was a shock to find absolutely nothing. The long entry hall was deserted, lit only by a single wall sconce. Slowly, shoulder to shoulder, they inched their way down the dark, empty passageway.
    The apartment was exactly as Elizabeth had described. Simon could almost hear her voice and he paused, nearly causing Charlie to run over the back of him. He shook off Charlie’s questioning look and kept moving. He couldn’t afford to think about how much he missed the sound of her voice, the feel of her. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself again and edged past where Elizabeth had said the Rubens drawing should have been. Nothing but a scratch and a bent hook remained. Outlines of picture frames stood out in pristine white, ghostly images surrounded by the stains of age. Slowly, they made their way down the hall, checking each room as they went. Each one was empty. Finally, they reached the end of the hall and Simon saw the door he knew must lead to the room with the Egyptian artifacts.
    Fully expecting it to be locked, Simon was surprised when he tried the handle and found no resistance. This room was empty too. No people, no artifacts. Nothing. It had been stripped bare, and judging from the scraps of brown paper on the floor and the hooks hanging askance on the walls, they’d left in a hurry.
    “Damn it,” Simon growled. If they weren’t here, where the hell were they?
    Charlie laid a comforting hand on Simon’s shoulder. “We’ll find her.”
    Simon kicked a leftover box and watched it skitter across the floor.
    “Come on,” Charlie said, and stepped back into the hall.
    A shot rang out like the crack of a bullwhip. Charlie was thrown back by the impact and landed with a thunderous bang against the door jamb. He clutched his shoulder and staggered to the floor, falling into the middle of the hallway.
    Simon sprang forward and tried to grab Charlie. Another shot rang out and ricocheted off the marble floor just inches away. Simon jerked his hand back inside. That damned elevator operator must have gone for help. They should have tied him up.
    “Jesus,” Charlie moaned, holding his shoulder.
    Simon took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall, firing before his feet were set. The recoil from the gun was stronger than he’d expected, so his shot strayed into the ceiling. He recovered quickly and fired again, aiming blindly. The report of the gun was thunderous and echoed down the long hall.
    Simon saw a hulking figure at the end of the corridor. He was no more than a shadow backlit by the light of the elevator. The thug tried to lunge out of the way, and Simon fired again. This time, he hit his mark. The bullet tore into the man’s thigh. He lurched, but didn’t fall.
    Just as Simon was about to fire again, another shot boomed from behind him. Simon spun back around and saw smoke drifting from the muzzle of Charlie’s gun, before it clattered out of his hand. Simon turned back toward the gunman, ready to fire again, but the shadowy figure jerked back and fell to the floor. His gun slipped from his lifeless fingers and skittered across the marble.
    Simon stood frozen for a moment. The man didn’t move. He was dead. Finally, Simon broke from his fugue and turned to Charlie. “Are you all right?” he asked, as he knelt at his side.
    Charlie grimaced and put his revolver in his pocket. “I was shot. What do you think?”
    In spite of it all, Simon laughed.
    “Sure, laugh at the bleeding man.”
    “Can you stand?”
    “Yeah,” Charlie said, but he couldn’t make it without help.
    Simon steadied him and then saw the elevator doors closing down the hall. “Hold on to something,” he said and ran forward. He sprinted down the corridor and through the foyer, managing to wedge his arm between the doors just before they closed. He shoved them open again and pointed his gun at the cowering elevator man. “I should shoot you right now. Don’t give me another reason.”
    The little man tried to press himself into the wood paneling.
    “Go and help my friend,” Simon barked and pulled the stop lever. “Now!”
    The man scurried out of the