"Holy shit!" one of the team muttered, shifting the photos around. "Fucking sicko!"
"Without a doubt." Fisk glared at Jasper for a moment then let his stare sweep the entire room. "This is now a metro-wide manhunt. Every division of every municipality east of ninety-five from Braintree to Stoneham is looking for this bastard. This started right here in our back yard. I want ideas, options, and stakeouts at everyplace this sonofabitch took a piss for the past year. I want his picture on every goddamn bulletin board and phone pole in Cambridge. Rewards for information, anonymity, get out of jail free cards, whatever it takes!"
"His parents are rich. There'll be a backlash."
"Fuck the backlash. We've got a positive ID of the suspect from two of our own, and unlike our illustrious Sergeant Jasper, one of these fine young ladies managed to hit what she was shooting at last night."
"They shot him?" Jasper was out of his seat. "Did they get a blood trail?"
"Yes. Detective Dempsey shot a hole through the pocket of her coat, and they think it hit him in the leg. Blood in his left footprints. They followed it south into the Longwood area then lost it. Forensics is working it up now to positively ID Penningly." Fisk took a deep breath. "Boston PD said Penningly might not have known the two were cops. They were trolling the parks in plain clothes, trying to flush him out."
"Looks like it worked," one of the junior detectives said.
"Yeah, it worked." Fisk took another deep breath and let it out slow. "Another thing; while the neck and…other wounds are consistent with Penningly's other killings, and the attack on Willis, there was one wound that was different. Dempsey had a compression fracture of her left radius and ulna, near the wrist. There were three puncture wounds where the fracture occurred. They're thinking he broke her arm with whatever weapon he used for the other attacks, but the force applied to break two bones was more than a man could exert. He must have some kind of prosthetic or robotic assist on his hand, which would be consistent with what Jasper told us."
"Some kind of MIT robot nut?" another detective suggested.
"Could be." Fisk tapped the photos with a rigid finger. "I want everyone to look at these, no exceptions. No more dead cops. Let's bring this sick fuck down before he can kill again. Jasper, you're closest to this; I want you to brief anyone who's not up to speed. I want ideas, ladies and gentlemen, and I want them now."
Jasper examined the photos. He'd do as he was told, but he knew where he needed to look for Penningly.
42
When Hutch's keys hit the bowl beside the door, Iggy rattled his cage hard enough to send it clacking against the kitchen cabinet. The sound brought a smile to his lips, despite the damage to the cabinetry.
"Calm down, you scaly little escapee from the Cretaceous Era! You'll break something!"
"He's just happy to see you."
The voice from the darkest corner of the living room made Hutch's heart skip a beat. The shadows in the corner moved, and he saw her. The hood of her robe was thrown back, revealing her angular features, the hard planes of her face, the prominent jaw, only a hint of Aleksi remaining. She was still changing, still becoming something else. The voice was hers, however.
"Aleksi!" Iggy forgotten, Hutch stashed his computer bag and went to her. She stayed in the shadows, worried, he knew, that unfriendly eyes might see her through the windows. "It's early. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Hutch." She returned his embrace, though he could feel her reluctance there, her fear that she might inadvertently hurt him. "I thought about what you said earlier, and I picked up a couple more prepaid phones. If there's a way to do the relay trick, I think I'll—"
The sliding glass door rolling on its track brought them both whirling around toward the balcony. The curtain parted and a grim figure strode into the room.
"Oh, this is just so fucking sweet, I might just puke." Derrick Penningly's yellow, dragon eyes glowed in the dim light.
"Derrick!" There was more sheer malevolence in Aleksi's voice than Hutch had ever heard. "Tired of killing innocent homeless people yet?" She stepped between them, her arms spread wide, claws extended to their fullest.
I need a weapon, Hutch thought, his mind a whirl of fear, anger, worry, and a sense that he was in very, very deep shit. The closest sharp implement was in the knife block in the kitchen.
"Not even a little bit." Derrick side-stepped across the hardwood floor. Hutch took a moment to look at him, and grimaced. The coat hung open, the shirt streaked with dark stains, a makeshift bandage around one leg, also stained. "They taste like chicken, you know. Isn't it strange that everyone tastes like chicken? What do you suppose you taste like, Aleksi?"
Aleksi shifted to her right, toward the kitchen, out of the shadows, and Hutch moved with her. He could vault over the counter and the knife block would be in easy reach.
Aleksi sniffed the air. "You smell wrong, Derrick. I don't know why, but this thing's made you a monster."
Hutch looked at Derrick in the light and realized that he looked different than Aleksi, not the sleek beauty, smooth scales, clean angular features. His shoulders were hunched, deep-set eyes like holes in a sheetrock wall with someone peering through from behind. Aleksi was right; he was a monster.
"So are you, Aleksi." He edged a step closer, his eyes livid, teeth bared, prominent canines made to tear meat. "We're both monsters. You're like me. You feel it, don't you?"
"No, Derrick. I'm not like you."
"Come on, Aleksi! These meat sacks like Tomlin and your sweet professor aren't what you need! You need me! I came here for you!"
Hutch edged toward the counter, ready to move.
"You didn't come here for me, Derrick, you came here to die." A sound issued from deep in Aleksi's chest, a growl, a challenge. "And I'm happy to oblige."
The two leapt at each other, claws and teeth flashing. Hutch had seen predators clash before, watched male lions fight for supremacy, big horn sheep and wolves competing for mates, but never had he seen such horrible, flashing violence. Claws swept like scythes, parting the thin material of Aleksi's robe and the thicker cloth of Derrick's coat. Scaly flesh was torn, blood spattering the floor, the walls, the ceiling, all in an instant that left him gaping in horror.
Hutch vaulted the counter, thinking only to put something solid between him and the terrible fray. The thought of a weapon seemed stupid now; a knife against something like that was ridiculous. If Derrick killed Aleksi, he would be next, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to affect the outcome. Nevertheless, he pulled the biggest knife from the block.
After the initial clash, the two backed away from each other. Now they circled, both bleeding, clothing in tatters. Derrick's shoulder was torn and Aleksi's robe was ripped open from neck to hip, though Hutch couldn't see how badly she was hurt.
"Come on, Aleksi. You know you want it. We're the only two of our kind. You'll never get another fuck from your pet professor there." Derrick feinted and flung the heavy mahogany coffee table at her. She dodged as if the hundred-pound missile flew in slow motion, flowing out of the way like golden quicksilver. The table smashed into the bookcase, sending volumes and shattered trinkets to the floor with a cascade of splintered wood.
"People aren't pets, Derrick!" Aleksi dashed in, but he dodged, as lightning quick as she.
"No. You're right! They're prey!" Derrick lunged, but she pivoted around him, grasping and flinging him into the big flat screen TV. Plastic shattered, clattering to the floor like hail. He crouched among the shards, shaking his head with a feral grin. "They're nothing but an entertaining food item."
"Wrong again." She crouched, ready for his next spring.
Watching her, Hutch realized that she was positioning herself not to her best advantage, but to direct Derrick's attention away from him. Also, their strength seemed out of scale with their mass. Wild primates were much stronger than their size suggested; a sixty-pound macaque could break a man's arm. These two were beyond that by orders of magnitude, strong eno
ugh to tear a man in half, but weighed only slightly more than a hundred pounds. He found the fight both horrible and mesmerizing.
"This…thing was made to protect humans, not to prey on them. It's the only thing that makes sense."
"Then why the dreams, Aleksi?" He circled again, his back now to the kitchen. "You have them, too. I know you do. You feed on humans in your dreams. We're the same."
"Not all humans, Derrick, only men, and they're not dreams." Her claim stopped him. "They're genetic memories of what we were before."
"Want to hear my theory?"
"Not really."
"We're the next stage in human evolution. I'm going to father a new race with you. A better race! But first, I have to eliminate the competition." He whirled toward Hutch, yellow eyes wide, claws ready to tear.
Hutch barely had time to raise the knife before Derrick leapt, but Aleksi was already on him. The impact of her attack saved Hutch's life. Claws that would have torn his head from his shoulders missed the end of his nose by an inch. They crashed onto the sink counter, the thick marble cracking, cabinetry splintering under the onslaught.
Hutch crouched down beside Iggy's cage, knowing he should move, get out of the way of the terrible mayhem, but transfixed by the horrible beauty of the conflict. They were both so fast that he could barely see them move, so powerful that every blow they deflected or absorbed would have killed him. Aleksi grasped Derrick's thick coat and twisted, pivoting his mass around hers and propelling him over Hutch, over the counter to crash into the dining table. Before Hutch could stand to look, Aleksi dove after him. Another crash, and Hutch rose to peer over the barrier.
Amidst the wreckage of the splintered table, Aleksi sat astride Derrick, his wrists pinned to the floor in her taloned grasp. She couldn't strike, but she had him immobilized for the moment.
"Oh, so you like it on top." Derrick bucked hard, arching his back and pushing with his legs.
Aleksi flew forward but twisted and maintained her grip on her opponent's wrists, claws deep in his flesh. She landed with her feet under her and jerked hard, flinging him against the wall. The sheetrock buckled, but the steel studs beneath only bent. Now Aleksi stood between her foe and the kitchen.
Derrick's grin faded. Blood flowed freely from gashes in his arms and shoulder. Aleksi was scratched, but not as deeply. Her robes hung in tatters, but her claws were extended, ready. He glared at her and glanced at the open glass door.
"There's no place you can run, Derrick." Aleksi's voice dripped venom. "You came here for me. Finish what you started."
"I always finish what I start!" Derrick flexed his hands. He tried to grin, but it was now more of a grimace. He had misjudged her and realized his mistake. "I will finish with you! Just not today."
Derrick dashed for the open door, but Aleksi was right on his heels. One sweeping claw caught his flapping coat and spun him around. They missed the open door and crashed through the heavy plate glass, Aleksi's claws reaching for his throat as they plunged over the balcony rail.
The beast within her had finally been set free. All the rage and frustration melded with the instincts of the dragon. Finally, she could kill something that deserved killing.
Falling in a glittering spray of shattered glass, Aleksi had an amazing span of time to think. They tumbled as they fell, sky and earth flashing past in a sickening vertigo. Claws reached for her, and she couldn't fend them off. He raked her shoulder but couldn't get a grip. Neither of them could alter their trajectory, but both struggled to land on top. Winter dead trees, parking lot crowded with cars, two astonished faces looking up through a windshield, and the glaring street lights all whirled past. Derrick flung one arm wide, his tattered jacket and the membrane from his elongated fingers to his ankle biting into the wind to tumble them over.
The hood of the unmarked police car was slightly softer than asphalt.
Sheet metal buckled under the impact, the windshield shattering beneath Aleksi's head. The blow would have killed a human, but only left Aleksi dazed. Derrick lay on top of her, pressing onto her chest. Exclamations from the two police officers in the car and the hiss of air escaping the airbags pierced her momentary confusion.
"Say you want me, and I won't kill you."
A surge of revulsion at Derrick's voice in her ear sent adrenalin lancing through her like lightning. She shoved him up, but he had a grip on her shoulders. His hips ground into hers, but she couldn't get a leg up to pitch him off. He grinned down at her, pulling against her thrusting arms, kicking to force her legs apart. She couldn't believe he was actually trying to rape her on the crumpled hood of a police car.
A pencil-thin beam of light swept between their faces, bobbled for a moment then flicked into Derrick's disheveled hair. Horror crossed his face. Even as he released his hold on her, she reached for him. All she had to do was hold him still for half a second, and someone else would finish this for her. Her claws grasped the fabric of his coat, but he tore away.
The shockwave of a bullet passing through the space where his head had been buffeted them both. Derrick tumbled away. She lunged after him, claws digging furrows in the hood of the police car. The laser wobbled and swung toward Derrick.
"Stop! Police!"
"Shit!" She ducked and dashed for the shadows.
A muzzle flash caught Derrick like a strobe. Snow spat up beside her as she leapt behind a car. With something solid between her and the guns, she had a few seconds to think. One of the cops shouted something ridiculous, while the other yelled into his radio, calling for help. Derrick was nowhere in sight. Tires squealed, and she hazarded a glance to see how many police cars were closing in.
Three black Escalades raced down the street toward the parking lot.
"Shit-shit-shit!" She had to move, but where?
Then she saw a heavy storm grating only twenty feet away. She was moving before she could talk herself out of it.
Bullets spalled against pavement and metal, but her claws were in the grating before anything hit her. She wrenched the heavy cover up as another salvo roared. The steel grating rang with the impact of a bullet, but she was already dropping through the hole. The grating clanged into place above her as her feet splashed into icy water.
The darkness here was thicker, but she knew it was her friend. She tried to remember which way it was to the river and dashed into the gloom, claws scrabbling for purchase on the tunnel walls.
By the time Jasper arrived, the place was crawling with feds. Three big SUV's had disgorged SWAT armed mystery men like giant kiddy cars spewing clowns in a circus. Despite his own flashing blue lights and badge, a stone-faced man held up a hand at the parking lot entrance, the ID in his other hand unfamiliar. It wasn't an FBI badge.
He got out of his car. "Who the hell are you guys?" There were half a dozen more squad cars hot on his heels, blue lights strobing through the night.
"Federal agents, sir." Well, at least they were polite. "We've cordoned off the area. We'll let you have the scene as soon as we've seen to a few things."
"I'm Sergeant Jasper, Cambridge Homicide, and those are my men." He pointed to the two officers who were surrounded by a ring of feds. "I need to speak with them." He started forward, but the fed put his hand up again.
"I'm sorry, sir, but nobody enters the scene until we've seen to a few things."
"What things?" Tires squealed behind him and uniformed police got out. He glared at the man before him, then gaped as he saw that his two detectives were being guided toward one of the waiting SUV's. "Those are my men!"
"Your men will be returned to you when they've been debriefed, Sergeant." Jasper turned to see a woman in a dark suit approaching with two more fed clones in tow. "This scene is ours for now."
"And who the hell are you? That wasn't an FBI badge he flashed, and I have jurisdiction in this city!"
The woman stopped three feet in front of him and held up her ID close enough for him to see. The picture wasn't very flattering, but the broad blue letters "D
.H.S." sure were.
"My name is Dr. Johansen, and the whole of the United States is my jurisdiction. This has become a matter of national security. Your men will be debriefed and returned to you, this scene will be sterilized, and we will thank you for your cooperation." She put the ID away. "That's how this is going to happen, Sergeant Jasper."
"You are not taking—" Motion at the doors to the condo building caught his attention, and he turned to see Dr. Hutchinson being escorted by two more dark suits toward yet another SUV. "You can't just kidnap people like this!"
"It's not kidnapping, its detention, and we certainly can detain anyone we wish, Sergeant."
Jasper heard in her voice that her list of potential detainees included police detectives. He gritted his teeth, forcing down his temper.
"I want some kind of contact information before you leave here, Doctor." He nodded to the dozen cops who had fanned out behind him. "Or nobody's leaving."
"Of course." She handed over a white business card.
A glance showed him only an embossed seal of the Department of Homeland Security, her name, followed by PhD, and a phone number.
"This is hardly proper identification, Doctor. I need some kind of—" His phone rang, but before he could even answer, Johansen told him who was calling.
"That's the chief of the Cambridge Police Department, Sergeant. He's going to tell you to give us your full and complete cooperation."
He gave her a withering glance and answered his phone. Damned if she wasn't right, even about the full and complete part. He could only say, "Yes, sir," and hang up. He ordered his people to set up a perimeter and watched the show. As they dismantled the damaged police car, he made the connection.
National security…professionals wearing combat boots…missing specimen… But he couldn't figure out why the Department of Homeland Security would want a bunch of old fossils.
Dragon Dreams Page 37
