In the distance could be heard the rising wail of sirens.
“Those poor people!” Ellie said.
Merrick nodded. “You have to be so careful on the road these days,” he said. “Anything can happen.”
95
“DID YOU SEE THAT?” Chris said as he climbed into the sedan and slammed the door. “The bastard lied right to our faces.”
“Maybe we should go back,” Jordan said. “Play good cop, bad cop. Press him harder. You be the bad cop.”
“What do you mean? That was my bad cop.”
“Seriously?”
“You’re saying my bad cop isn’t very convincing?”
“My son could have been more intimidating than you were. Besides, Verenich is right. We don’t have anything on him that connects him directly to Rosenfeld. Which means we don’t have grounds to request a warrant.”
“Your son, huh?” Chris said. “Okay, here’s a thought. We go back and you use some of your psychic stuff on him. Maybe put your fingertips on his temples and suck the salt out of his body until he starts to scream or dies, whichever comes first. I’m rather partial to the latter.”
“I get the reference,” Jordan said. “The original Star Trek series… big-ass, salt-sucking vampire. I saw that episode. Loved it.”
“You don’t even have to use your fingertip tentacles if you don’t want to.”
“I’m a psychic. I don’t have tentacles. Nor can I suck the salt out of people.”
“So you say.”
“But if I did, and could, I can think of someone I’d use them on right now.”
Chris smiled. “Okay, tentacles are out. How about using the FreeSurge plaque as our in?”
Jordan shook her head. “There are dozens of awards in those display cases. Any one of Verenich’ associates could have put the plaque in the case without him even knowing about it.”
“Still, it would be nice to put a little pressure on the worm. Watch him squirm on the hook.”
“After our visit I’m sure he’s doing quite a bit of squirming.”
Jordan’s phone rang. She answered the call through the car’s speaker system. Agent Hawkins was on the line. “Tell me you’ve got something good for us, Hawk.”
“I heard back from Cyber,” Hawkins said. “The contents of the flash drive are account numbers just like I thought they were.”
“Any ID on the account holders?” Chris asked.
“They’re still working on it. As soon as I hear more, I’ll get back to you. How’s it going on your end?”
“Apparently I make a really crappy bad cop,” Chris said.
“Huh?”
Jordan looked at Chris and shook her head. “Never mind, Hawk. Chris is just upset because I wouldn’t suck the salt out of Verenich’s body.”
“You two need therapy,” Hawkins replied.
Jordan’s call waiting sounded. The display read RIDGEWAY.
“A.D.’s calling, Hawk,” she said. “Gotta go.”
“Later,” Hawkins said. He hung up.
Jordan answered. “Assistant Director.”
“Where are you now, Jordan?” Ann Ridgeway asked.
“Just leaving L.A., ma’am.”
“I assume Agent Hanover is with you?”
“Yes. We’re working the Rosenfeld murder in Hollywood. We’re headed back to the scene now.”
“Turn around. I need both of you to meet me in Corona as soon as possible. Highest priority.”
Jordan glanced at Chris. What could be going down in Corona that was so important the Assistant Director would pull them away from an active murder investigation, much less one as high profile as the Rosenfeld case? Chris shrugged and pointed in the opposite direction as if to say, let’s go.
“We’re on our way.”
“I’m sending the details to your phones now. As soon as possible, Agents.” Ridgeway repeated. She hung up.
“What was that all about?” Chris asked. “Since when does Ridgeway get called out to the field?”
“Someone’s putting pressure on her.”
“So we’re just supposed to drop the Rosenfeld case and let it get cold?”
“If the boss lady wants us in Corona, we go to Corona.”
“Something’s up.”
“What a deductive mind you have.”
“Very funny,” Chris said.
“And to be clear, my abilities don’t extend to being able to suck the salt out of bodies. Nor can I speak Klingon or shape-shift for that matter.”
“Too bad. That would have been cool. But you can mind meld.”
“Well, that’s sort of true.”
“So you know what that makes you, right?”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Jordan said.
“Half-Vulcan.”
“You’re impossible.”
Chris raised his hand and splayed his fingers into a V, Spock-style. “Live long and prosper, my friend.”
“You can stop now.”
He settled back in his seat and pointed ahead. “Set a course for the Corona zone. Ahead warp factor one.”
“Don’t make me hurt you, Hanover.”
“My sodium’s been a little high, lately. Think you can help with that?”
“Last warning.”
96
UNSURE WHAT TO make of the impossible act they had just witnessed, the officers rushed Egan.
The Commander threw his arms open as the men attacked, sending them reeling across the factory floor in opposite directions from where he stood. Sergeant Brewer heard the commotion and turned around in time to witness his officers tumbling away from their prisoner. Having dispensed of his would-be assailants, Egan kicked the handcuffs aside and began walking towards Brewer and the gang. The Sergeant noticed the glowing band around his wrist.
Brewer stepped in front of the gang, drew his weapon, and trained it on Egan. “Stop right there!” he yelled.
Egan continued to advance.
“Don’t make me shoot!” Brewer warned.
“See? I told you!” Colin yelled. “Just like that! That thing on his wrist. That’s how he put us on the ceiling, man! The goddamn ceiling!”
Brewer widened his stance and gripped the gun tightly. “Last warning, son. Not one more step.”
Egan raised his hand as Brewer fired. The peal of the gunshot repeated off the factory walls.
Brewer watched the slug fall to the ground in front of Egan. He fired again, a third time, a fourth. Each of the slugs fell harmlessly to the factory floor.
Egan walked up to the senior officer. The color had drained from the man’s face. His arms were locked straight in front of him, weapon held tight, his hands shaking. The Sergeant stared at Egan in disbelief. He had fired four rounds at the man at point blank range with absolutely no effect.
“I’ll take that, Sergeant,” Egan said. He eased the gun out of his hands.
Colin and the others stepped back. Their previous experience with Egan’s uncanny abilities had left them too afraid to consider challenging him a second time.
The old cop appeared to be in shock. “It’s all right, Sergeant,” Egan said. “You can relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Sergeant Brewer heard Egan’s voice and nodded but seemed unable to process his words. He turned his head and stared at Egan.
“You okay?” Egan asked.
Brewer nodded slowly.
“You’re going to be fine,” Egan said. “But I’m going to need you and your men to do me a favor.”
Brewer nodded again. The look on his face was as though he had just learned that every impossible tale of science fiction that he had ever read about had suddenly been proven to be true and were not stories born of the imagination after all, but science fact.
The officers who had been dispatched to opposite sides of the factory floor slowly regained their senses and shuffled to their feet. He watched them raise their weapons and prepare to fire. Opening his arms, Egan cast a protective shield of energy around the ser
geant, Colin, and his gang. The policemen kept firing until their clips were empty. Each round struck the invisible wall, then fell to the floor. The officers stared first at Egan, then each other.
“I warned you before,” Egan said, “you should have played nice.” He pointed his hand at the cops and opened his fingers. Channeler glowed. The weapons in the officer’s hands suddenly became red-hot. Egan maintained the intense energy level for a few seconds, then released the men. The cops screamed, dropped their guns, and held their burned hands against their chest.
Egan made a fist and lifted the two officers several feet off the ground. They flailed helplessly in the air before he dropped them, hard.
“You,” Egan said, pointing to the cop who had been the instigator of his beating. “Dipshit number one. Handcuff yourself to dipshit number two. And lose the utility belts. Drop them on the floor. Radios, weapons, car keys, everything. You too, Sergeant.”
The officers refused to follow Egan’s instructions.
Egan raised his hand. Channeler started to glow. “You’re not gonna make me ask twice, are you? No one could be that stupid. Then again, I am talking to you two.”
Reluctantly the officers removed their belts and handcuffed themselves to each another.
“Cuff keys too,” Egan said, “Throw them on the ground.”
The sergeant turned to Egan. There was fear was in his voice. “What are you going to do to us?”
“To you, Sergeant?” Egan replied. “Absolutely nothing. You’re just doing your job. I know that. But you’re in my way. And that’s something I can’t allow.”
“Who… what… are you, son?” Brewer asked.
Egan put his hand on the veteran police officer’s shoulder. “Sergeant, I’m afraid the answer to that question is way above your pay grade.”
Egan turned to Colin Thackery and pointed in the direction of the kiln room. “Care to show them the way?”
“You have got to be friggin’ kidding me!” Colin replied.
“Do I sound like I’m kidding? Get moving.”
The officers followed Colin and his gang into the wood drying room.
Before closing the heavy kiln door, Egan spoke to Brewer. “Don’t worry, Sergeant. You and the dipshits will be fine. Someone will come for you shortly. Right now, there’s something important I need to take care of.”
Brewer crossed the threshold and stepped into the room. He had regained his composure and sense of command. He looked at Egan, spoke curtly. “Assault on police... threatening the life of an officer of the law...”
“Still racking up those charges?” Egan said.
“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, son.”
Egan stared at the policeman. “Actually, Sergeant, I’m inclined to think that applies more to you than me. Now, please step back.”
He closed the door to the wood drying room for the second time and secured the latch. Inside, the men were quiet.
Egan had to move fast. He was unsure if Sergeant Brewer had radioed for assistance while he was being dragged through the factory. He removed a police radio from one of the utility belts and clicked it on. Though unaware of the call signs of the units that had responded to the factory, he would be able to identify any chatter that sounded like it might have to do with calls relating to Brewer or his men. After removing the weapons and spare ammunition clips from the officer’s utility belts, he placed his hand over the pile of equipment and gear lying at his feet, activated Channeler, and liquefied the items.
Cal State University, Long Beach. That was the directive provided by Dr. Merrick in the neural interface transmission he received several minutes ago. The targets were there. He had to get to Long Beach as soon as possible.
First, the stolen van that had brought such undue attention to him had to be disposed of. It was still parked outside the factory, blocked in by the responding police cars.
Egan ran to the back of the factory and raised the drive-in door. Using Channeler, he levitated the van and the police cars off the ground. With the exception of one of the police units, he moved them inside the factory to the receiving area, lowered the door, sealed it shut, and started the engine of the remaining police car parked outside the factory.
Egan knew that a squad car being driven by a civilian might draw suspicion. Another police officer, not recognizing the driver, might pull him over and demand he identify himself. Egan opened the trunk of the unit and found what he was looking for. He removed the magnetic OUT OF SERVICE signs from the trunk and affixed them to the door panels, trunk and roof of the unit. Driving the car now wearing non-police attire shouldn’t ring any alarms. He would be seen as a car jockey - a police mechanic, perhaps - transporting the vehicle to the service yard for repair.
Still, it wouldn’t be long before dispatch realized they were unable to raise a radio response from not just one but three of their units. They would suspect the officers had encountered trouble at the factory. Additional units would be dispatched to the location, followed by an all-out search for the missing officers. Egan couldn’t risk another encounter, especially if police agencies from neighboring jurisdictions were called in to help locate the missing units. He would have to get rid of the police car at the earliest possible opportunity and acquire a less conspicuous mode of transportation.
At the main road leading into the abandoned factory complex, Egan stopped for an ambulance as it screamed past, lights flashing and siren blaring, then raced after it. He stayed on the vehicles bumper as it tore through one intersection after the next, down a series of side streets, and arrived at its final destination: Mercy Grace Hospital’s Emergency entrance.
Egan parked on the street outside the hospital. The road ahead was divided. Straight ahead was the route the ambulance had taken. A sign on his left read, RESTRICTED PARKING - HOSPITAL STAFF AND AUTHORIZED VEHICLES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.
A motorcycle whizzed past and zipped into the Restricted Parking area. The rider raced the engine before backing into his designated space.
Egan had an idea. He stepped out of the car, removed the OUT OF SERVICE signs from the vehicle, and returned them to the trunk. He cruised up the roadway into the Restricted Parking area and watched the motorcyclist as he removed his helmet and locked his bike. The sign on his parking spot read DR. BRIAN HARVEY, M.D.
Egan backed the squad car into a space between another police cruiser and a vintage Aston Martin. Dr. Harvey rummaged through his backpack, pulled out his hospital ID, clipped it to his belt, then strolled up the walkway and entered the building through the doors marked STAFF ONLY.
Egan walked over to Dr. Harvey’s motorcycle and placed his hand over the ignition switch of the Kawasaki Ninja. The engine came to life and thrummed impatiently. Egan slipped on the safety helmet, straddled the bike, eased it out of its parking space, then shifted it into gear and cruised out of the parking lot.
The young doctor would be on call for at least the next eight hours, probably twelve. In the meantime, he would never know that his motorcycle had been stolen.
The last place anyone would expect to find the missing police car would be in the reserved parking area of Mercy General Hospital, sitting alongside the other emergency vehicles.
Egan hit the main road and gunned the bike.
He was free of the factory.
Free of the police.
Free.
Cal State University awaited.
As did his targets.
97
THE UNMARKED SEDANS slowed as they approached the main entrance to the Corona Mews Shopping Centre. The occupants flashed Deputy Poole their ID: FBI and military. He spoke into his radio as he waved them through. “We got visitors, Chief.”
Jenkins responded. “Copy that, Jack.”
Ann Ridgeway waited as Jordan, Chris, and Colonel Hallier pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the privacy barrier and stepped out of their cars. Ridgeway introduced Jordan and Chris to Colonel Hallier. Together they walked through the a
lcove of the privacy blind and into the active crime scene.
ADC Ridgeway called out. “Chief Jenkins?”
Jenkins walked to the group. “Agent Ridgeway, I presume? Sorry we couldn’t be meeting under better circumstances.”
“I agree,” Ridgeway replied. “These are my colleagues, Special Agents Jordan Quest and Chris Hallier, and Colonel Quentin Hallier with the Department of Defense.”
“DARPA, specifically,” Hallier said.
“You’re just the man I want to talk to, Colonel,” Chief Jenkins said.
“How’s that?” Hallier replied.
“You mind telling me what’s going on at Dynamic Life Sciences? I was told you’d shut the place down.”
Hallier came straight to the point. “Sorry, Chief. DLS isn’t open for discussion. And, quite frankly, I don’t have the time or the patience to play politics with you right now. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to hand over all the evidence your people have collected to these agents who are operating under my authority. This crime scene is now the jurisdiction of the Department of Defense. From this moment on neither you nor any member of your department is permitted to discuss any element of this case under penalty of violating the Defense Secrets Act. Do you understand, Chief Jenkins?”
“I’ll tell you what I understand, Colonel,” Jenkins replied. “That’s not going to happen. This is my town, and I’ve got a situation here that poses a threat to the very people who pay me to keep them safe. If you think that I’m just going to let you waltz in here and tell my department to stand down…”
“Yes, Chief,” Hallier interrupted. “That’s precisely what you’re going to do.”
“You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
While the two men argued, Assistant Director Ridgeway motioned to Jordan. They stepped away from the group. She spoke quietly.
“Take a look around. Tell me what you find.”
Jordan nodded. She turned to Chris. “Let’s take a walk.”
Jenkins raised his hand to the two agents. “You two can stop right there. No one goes anywhere until I get some answers.”
The Jordan Quest FBI Thriller Series: Books 1-3: The Jordan Quest FBI Thriller Series Boxset Book 1 Page 39
