by Jeramy Gates
The killer must be somewhere nearby, she realized.
Val moved closer. At the sound of her approach, the figure stirred. Her eyes widened as she realized he was still alive. She rushed to his side, scanning the area to be sure that it wasn’t some sort of trap. There were no trip wires or other obvious signs that she could see. They seemed to be alone. She knelt next to him, and the man broke into a fit of coughing. His lean shoulders shook, and a fresh trail of blood ran down his chin. He raised his head to look at her, and Valkyrie caught her breath. His eyes were gone.
“Don’t move,” she said, scanning his injuries. “I’m here to help.”
He made a choking sound. In the distance, she heard police sirens. Val hesitated. She should run. She still had enough time to get away. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Valkyrie?” the Informant mumbled, his voice choking. It almost sounded like a laugh.
“Don’t talk.” She holstered her firearm and produced a pocket knife. With the press of a button, the blade snapped out. She started sawing through the bonds on his ankles. His only response was a grunting sound. His lungs rattled in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Val moved to cut the bonds on his wrists. When she came back to face him, he was unconscious.
Outside the hangar, she heard the unmistakable sound of an airplane engine. Her eyes went wide. The Collector!
Valkyrie raced across the hangar. She reached the front door just in time to see a small single-engine Piper gliding down the runway. Her heart fell as she watched the plane lift off at the end of the strip and soar over the treetops into the night sky. On the street below, she caught glimpses of flashing squad car lights.
Her phone rang. She pressed the button on her earpiece. “Matt?”
“No,” said a man’s deep whisper. “It’s not Matt.”
“You!”
“Sorry to leave you like this, Valkyrie. I’d love to talk, but I have an important date. Maybe you can catch up with me later.”
“Sure. There’s a nice diner in town. How about twenty minutes?”
He laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m afraid I won’t be sticking around. I have important business; something I have to wrap up. Besides, it’s not our time yet. Be patient.”
“Where are you going?”
More laughter. “Nice try. I’m going to miss our little talks when this is all through. Maybe I should give you a clue. I suppose someone has to help you out, now that the Informant is dead.”
“He’s not dead yet.”
“He will be.”
“All right,” she said, gazing at the tiny speck in the night sky. “I’m game. What’s your clue?”
“I’m thinking big this time, Val. Real big.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’m going to build a bomb.”
Valkyrie caught her breath. “A bomb? What for?”
No answer. He was gone. She considered what he’d said, but couldn’t make any sense of it. It wasn’t like the Collector to use a bomb. He wasn’t an indiscriminate killer. He liked it personal. He liked to torture his victims, not use some distant, anonymous method.
Frustrated, she redialed Matt’s number. “Matt, please tell me you can track an airplane.”
“Negative. I lost the satellite a while ago. Did you get a tail number?”
“No, it’s too dark.”
“Sorry. Does that mean you found him?”
Val didn’t respond. She was watching the police lights come down the road. She thought of the Informant, and rushed back inside to check on him. She found him just as she’d left him, sagging forward in the chair, blood streaming down his exposed flesh. Nearby, she noted a pile of discarded clothes. She hurriedly searched through them and located a wallet in the slacks.
“Levin Alexander,” she mumbled, fumbling through the wallet.
“What’s that?”
“That’s his name. Levin Alexander is the Informant’s name.” She touched the victim’s neck with tips of her index and second fingers. She sighed. “He’s dead, Matt. The Informant is dead.”
There was a crash behind her as the police kicked the door in. Dozens of uniforms came racing into the hangar, the beams of their flashlights cutting through the darkness like lasers. Val dropped the wallet and rose to her feet, her hands raised. Cops in tactical gear surrounded her, semi-automatic rifles trained on her. Castillo appeared. He was a tall man, Hispanic, clean-shaven with a crew cut. He had wide shoulders and a thick jaw. There was a quality about him that reminded her of a boxer: a few years past his prime perhaps, but still a force to be reckoned with.
“Valkyrie Smith,” Castillo said, looking her up and down. “We’ve been chasing you for a long time.”
Val made no effort to struggle. She held out her wrists, cane still in hand, and they cuffed her. A quick pat-down revealed the pistol under her jacket and a small-caliber derringer in an ankle holster. The cop who searched her confiscated both weapons and then turned to face Castillo. “Should I take the cane?”
Castillo gave a shake of his head. “That won’t be necessary. Take her to my car. Mrs. Smith and I will be driving to the field office in Portland this morning.”
The courtesy of leaving Val her cane did little good. The walk through the hangar and across the parking lot was slow and awkward. Her back muscles were as tight as bands of steel, and every step sent a jolt up her spine. Valkyrie gave no outward sign of her discomfort other than a slight narrowing of her eyes.
The cop took her to Castillo’s Escalade. He ushered her into the backseat. With the door closed, Valkyrie found herself alone in silence. Her back throbbed, but taking the weight off her legs seemed to do some good. She glanced around, taking an assessment of her situation.
The vehicle had been modified with a metal mesh that separated the front from the rest of the cabin, and another that isolated the cargo area behind. Val noticed that the seatbelts were gone and the door handles had been removed. The window button remained, but she tried it and found it had been somehow disabled. Outside, she saw the cop wandering across the lot.
“Matt, are you there?” she said in a low voice.
“Affirmative,” he said through her headset. “I heard everything. Are you alone?”
“Yes, they locked me in the agent’s car.”
“Are you cuffed?”
“It’s all right, I have a key.” Actually, she had two: one for each of the most common handcuff types. Both were made of hard plastic so they wouldn’t show up under a metal detector. They were attached to a tiny plastic key ring that she had sewn inside the cuff of her sleeve. She also had a small knife made of hardened plastic with a razor-sharp edge that was sewn into the hem of her blazer. Val’s experience had taught her to think ahead, to take every possible precaution. Not only had she witnessed the terrible consequences of failure to do so, she had lived them. One night spent as a serial killer’s hostage was more than enough to make her paranoid for the rest of her life. She had also been arrested, more than once. Small solutions -like handcuff keys or a plastic knife- were cheap and simple, but in the right situation, they could make all the difference in the world.
It was ironic, in a way. The woman she had once been would have scoffed at the idea of carrying a knife in public, much less a firearm. That woman had been naive. Dangerously naive.
Val straightened her arm and dug into her right sleeve with the fingers of her left hand. Thank God they didn’t cuff my hands behind my back…
It only took a few seconds to retrieve the keys and release her bonds. She tossed the cuffs aside. Val leaned across the seat and tested the window button on the other door, with the same results. Both switches had been disabled.
“Matt, how do I get out of here?”
“What kind of car did you say it was?”
“It’s an SUV. An Escalade.”
“Nice. Here’s what you do: There’s a plastic plate on the door handle, a bezel that the window switch is attache
d to.”
“Yes, but the switches don’t work.”
“That doesn’t matter. Pry the bezel away from the handle. It should snap off fairly easily...”
Valkyrie dug her nails under the thin plastic trim. She bent it back, away from the armrest. It came free with a pop!
“Okay… Now what?”
“Are there loose wires inside? They’ll either be unplugged, or cut.”
In the narrow space under the handle, she saw the disconnected plug just hanging there within easy reach. A smile came to Valkyrie’s lips. “I knew I could count on you.”
Chapter 4
Castillo knelt before the Informant’s body, examining the wounds. “How long until the coroner gets here?” he said.
“ETA twenty minutes.”
“I want you to keep this quiet. I don’t want details leaking out.” He rose, stripping off the nitrile gloves he’d been wearing. “Call me when forensics are done.”
Castillo called the office on his way out of the hangar. He told them to run a background check on the victim, Levin Alexander, and to be prepared for an interrogation. They finally had Valkyrie Smith in custody. He stepped out of the hangar and found the deputy who had taken Valkyrie just outside the front door, semi-automatic rifle slung over his shoulder, a short length of cigarette dangling from his mouth. Castillo disconnected the call and glared at the rookie.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Waiting for orders. You need something’?”
Castillo pressed his lips together. He hurried through the maze of police vehicles to the other end of the lot. He circled the rear of a truck and stood there, his face darkening into a deep frown.
“What’s wrong?” the rookie said, coming up behind him.
“Where is my Caddy?” Castillo snarled. He turned, scanning the area. A set of raw tire marks scored the lawn along the parking area and vanished as they returned to the road. “Didn’t you even hear it?” he said, glaring at the deputy. Then he noticed the small wireless headphones dangling around the cop’s neck. He’d been listening to music. Castillo cursed under his breath as he fought the urge to backhand some sense into the rookie.
Chapter 5
A cold predawn mist hung over Portland’s affluent West Hills neighborhood. The rain had been intermittent for several hours. The asphalt glistened with moisture under the still-glowing street lights. It was six a.m. when Val rolled to a stop at the bottom of the steep, narrow lane. She scanned the GPS, looking for a better route, but decided there was no way around it. She’d have to make the climb.
A small hybrid appeared up the road and came rolling down towards her. The bleary-eyed driver seemed to be paying more attention to her phone than the road. Val waited for the car to pass. When the way was clear, she put the Escalade into gear and started the climb. She encountered a number of vehicles along the way -early morning commuters headed to work with headlights blazing and steaming mugs of coffee clutched in their hands, all driving way too fast. Each time, she had to pull to the side, scraping up against the bushes in order to make room.
In other words, everyone had seen her, and if the cops asked, they would almost all remember her. Unfortunately, the situation was unavoidable. On the bright side, Special Agent Castillo’s weighty SUV made the ascent with authority. The four-wheel-drive was in automatic mode, but it operated so smoothly she couldn’t even be sure whether it had activated.
Valkyrie located the address she was looking for and then pulled off the road on a ridge overlooking the property. She parked under the trees, waiting. Just down the hill sat the house that Matt had pinpointed as the Informant’s primary residence. It wasn’t the only property he had owned. In fact, it was one of nearly a dozen- but most of those were rental or getaway properties. This, Matt had assured her, had been his last official residence.
The home in question was a tall Colonial-style building surrounded by similar two and three-story custom homes. They were large -bordering on what one might call a mansion- all valued in the millions and all commanding impressive views of the city below. Many of them were a century old or more, but had been customized to reflect modern aesthetics and updated to meet modern building codes.
Val gazed down at the property, taking it all in. Though the lot rested on a hillside, much of it had been graded flat. It was a little more than one acre, with a big landscaped backyard with a Japanese garden and koi pond, and just beyond, a tiled veranda with an outdoor kitchen, a bar, and a big screen television. Colorful flowerbeds ran the length of the yard between the pond and the gate, and there was a small rose garden off to the right. Val also saw a swing set and a wooden children’s fort on the side of the house, and in the back corner of the lot, a large shed. The house itself was imposing but austere, painted bright white with black doors and shutters. Tall columns lined the front and rear of the building.
It seemed the Informant had done fairly well for himself. Val hadn’t heard from Matt with the results of his background search, so she could only guess what Levin Alexander’s job had been. She would know soon enough.
Val waited under the trees for a few minutes, scanning the neighborhood for traffic. Breaking into the home of a dead man came with certain inherent risks -one being the fact that police might be watching the place, another that the killer himself might be there. The third and the most obvious was that a neighbor might see her breaking in and dial 911. For all these reasons, Val had chosen to approach from the woods behind the home, and to look for a point of entry there, where hopefully no one could see her.
When she was satisfied, Val left the SUV and located a trail running down the slope behind the house. The ferns and undergrowth glistened with moisture as she strolled down the path under the trees. Dark clouds roiled overhead, threatening to burst at any moment. She glimpsed streetlights in the city below, glowing in the dawning gloom. It was April, but somehow it did not feel to Valkyrie like spring.
She moved cautiously down the muddy trail and finally slipped through the tall hedge of arborvitae trees at the edge of the sprawling property. Val felt a bit more comfortable now, knowing the trees made her all but invisible to nosy neighbors. She crossed the smooth, manicured lawn and approached the building. After seeing no signs of life, she moved around the back of the house, peering into windows. She tried the French doors on the veranda and found them locked. She targeted a sliding glass door nearby as an easy point of entry. A quick tug on the handle verified that it too, was locked.
Val searched the doorframe for signs of an alarm system, and found none. Setting her cane aside, she took the door handle in both hands and lifted it upward. The entire door rose almost half an inch inside the frame. Val smiled. She shook the handle, lifting and dropping the door with quick, almost violent motions. In three shakes, the lock disengaged and the door slid open.
Valkyrie slid the door quietly shut behind her as she stepped inside. She found herself in a family room, with a dining area and kitchen off to her right and hallway straight ahead, leading to the front of the house. The interior was dark, but the windows provided adequate lighting. So far, so good, she thought.
Hanging in the hallway, Valkyrie found a series of family photographs. It seemed Alexander had had two children -a son and a daughter- both grown now and raising families of their own. A woman in the photos that Valkyrie assumed had been Alexander’s wife appeared in only two photographs, both of which were notably older than the others. Val wondered if the woman had divorced him, or if she’d died. Another question Matt would probably have the answer to by now.
Valkyrie moved into the front room. This was a formal living room, furnished with antiques and decorated with artworks framed in exotic hardwoods. Frilly lace curtains filtered light through the large window, but still offered a clear view of the street out front. A pile of mail rested on the floor in the foyer before the front door. In the adjacent study, she found a laptop computer. Val tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead and she didn’t see
a power cord anywhere nearby. She decided to come back for it after checking the rest of the house. If it still worked, it might contain clues as to the Collector’s identity and his connection to the Informant.
Valkyrie climbed the stairs to the second floor. The children’s rooms had been made up as guest rooms. The bed in the master bedroom had a slept-in, hastily made look. Val’s preliminary search of the home was complete, but she still hadn’t checked the basement. She returned to the hallway and paused long enough at the top of the staircase to activate the light on her phone. So armed, she made her descent.
The narrow wooden stairs creaked under her weight. The place smelled overwhelmingly of mildew. Dim light flooded in through high windows in the concrete walls. She saw a workbench against the outer wall, a small tool box and a few neatly arranged bins of miscellaneous nuts and bolts. Her gaze settled on a chair resting in the shadows at the far end of the basement.
It was a high-backed walnut chair from the dining room. Even in the dimly lit environment, Val could make out the strands of duct tape hanging from the armrests. She moved closer, kneeling to examine the tape. It had been ripped apart, she realized. The person bound there had escaped, otherwise it would have been cut. But who would have been tied up in the Informant’s basement? Something didn’t make sense.
Val’s phone rang, and she jumped. She yanked the phone out of her pocket. “What?” she said, sounding a little more tense than she would have liked.
“It’s Matt. I got tired of waiting for you to call back.”
“I’m in the middle of something.”
“Do you need me to call back?”
