Chapter 287 - 287: 287 | A Freakin' Gun?!

The man was in his forties, neatly dressed, with thinning hair and a leather document case. He stopped when Emily opened the door for him and offered Von his hand.

"Martin Shaw. It's good to finally meet you, Mr. Varley."

"Von's fine." He shook the man's hand. "Emily says you might have information about the account."

"I have something you should see." Martin glanced toward Emily. "We agreed he'd hear it privately."

Von looked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Emily drew a breath. "Martin's brought old records. Some of what they say concerns me, and I'd rather you heard his explanation without me sitting here arguing about it. I can come back when you're finished."

"You're the one who asked me to come."

"I know." Her fingers tightened around the folder. "Please, Von. Five minutes. Then we can talk about everything."

He didn't like the arrangement, but this was the first person who might explain the transfer into Emily's account.

If the man had documents, Von wanted to see them. The guards were still in the reception lounge, and there was nothing stopping him from walking out if he didn't like what he heard.

"Five minutes," he agreed. "Then we're calling Zack."

Emily nodded, picked up her folder and stepped into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind her. Through the glass, he saw her tap the access card against the reader. The indicator turned red as the door locked against entry from the hallway.

Von frowned and tapped the glass. Emily looked back from the corridor.

He gestured toward the reader, and she pointed to the lounge, mouthing something he couldn't hear. Then she continued toward the far end of the corridor.

Von tried the door handle. It opened from inside, just as the guard had demonstrated. He let it close and turned back toward Martin.

"Alright. Let's see what you've got."

Martin had set his case on the table, but he wasn't opening it. Instead, he was looking at the glass wall, watching Emily disappear from view.

"You said you brought records," Von reminded him.

"I did."

The man unfastened the case. His left hand held it steady while his right moved inside, and Von noticed the way his shoulders shifted before he saw the weapon.

It was a freakin' gun!

BOOM!

Von moved as Martin raised it but it was too late. The first shot tore through the outer part of his left upper arm and struck the wall behind him.

Pain ripped through his shoulder, but his body was already moving. He seized the near edge of the conference table with his good hand and shoved it into Martin's legs as the second shot went off.

The bullet punched into the window frame, sending chips of plaster over the carpet.

Martin staggered but kept hold of the pistol. Von rushed him before he could recover, catching the man's gun wrist and driving it upward.

Another shot cracked into the ceiling. The smell of burnt powder filled the room, and blood began soaking through Von's sleeve.

The man struck his injured arm with his free fist. Von swore and slammed him against the cabinet, but Martin twisted under him, fighting to bring the muzzle down toward Von's chest.

He knew how to handle a weapon. What he hadn't expected was Von's strength.

Even with his shoulder burning, Von kept the gun arm pinned against the cabinet while the man struggled to pull it free.

It almost felt like he hadn't been shot a minute ago.

'Dammit,' Martin cursed while struggling.

Beyond the locked conference-room door, someone was pounding against the glass.

His security officers had heard the shots and rushed through the wing, but neither had the card that would open the room from outside.

One of them was shouting for the receptionist to unlock it.

As Von struggled to hold the gun away, he caught sight of Emily farther down the corridor.

She was walking toward the elevators with the folder she'd carried earlier still tucked under her arm. Von slammed his bloody palm against the glass beside him.

"EMILY!" he shouted. "HELP ME!"

Emily turned toward the room.

Von struck the glass again as Martin fought against his grip. Emily stood facing him, and for a moment he thought she was coming back.

Then she turned away and disappeared around the corner.

He barely had time to stare after her before Martin wrenched his gun hand free. The barrel dropped toward Von's stomach.

Von drove his knee into the man's leg and seized his wrist again, forcing the weapon against the edge of the cabinet until something snapped beneath his fingers.

Martin screamed. The pistol fell, and Von kicked it under the table before the man could reach it.

One punch drove Martin backward into the cabinet. The second sent him to the carpet, where he lay without moving.

Von stood over him for a moment, breathing hard. His arm was still bleeding, and the pain was beginning to spread down to his elbow.

What he hadn't expected was how tough his physique was for him to still be standing.

He kept his eyes on the attacker until he was sure the man wasn't getting up. He staggered toward the room door and pulled down the handle.

The lock released from the inside, and his guards rushed in as soon as it opened.

"Mr. Varley!"

The senior guard caught him before he could fall. His partner hurried past to secure the attacker and the pistol.

The first guard pulled a dressing from his medical pouch and pressed it against Von's arm while calling for an ambulance.

"Where else are you hurt?"

"Just my arm," Von managed. "That bastard tried to kill me."

"We've got him. Help's coming."

Von stared down the corridor toward the elevators, waiting for Emily to appear.

She didn't.

By the time the police arrived, the building's alarm had cleared the third floor. Paramedics were tending to Von in the reception lounge, and Martin Shaw was being treated under guard in the conference room.

He was breathing, but he hadn't regained consciousness.

An officer took Von's preliminary statement while another spoke to the two security guards.

There were bullet holes in the wall and blood on the conference-room carpet. Several guests had heard the shots, and the executive center had already handed over its visitor register and access records.

"You knew the man who attacked you?" the officer asked.

"Never met him before today."

"Who was he supposed to be?"

"He said he had records about a bank account. Emily knew him from years ago."

The officer paused with his pen over the notebook. "Emily?"

"Emily Brooklyn. My manager." Von swallowed.

"Is she still in the building?"

Von looked toward the elevator corridor. One of his guards had called her twice already. Both calls had gone unanswered.

"I don't know."

"And who arranged for you to meet Mr. Shaw here?"

Von looked down at the blood drying across his fingers. He remembered Emily at breakfast, asking him to trust her. Her access card against the reader. The man opening his case. And Emily turning away while he screamed for help.

None of it made sense to him, but there were too many clues to ignore.

"Emily did."