Tonight, though, she embraced her heritage—let it fold into who she had become.
She stepped away from the wall, stooped, and traced the patches of blood that were as yet unspilled. Shots would be fired tonight. At least three would be injured, perhaps die, before the stars came out. Then the UAVs would swoop over Roswell to disperse their death, laden with their virus.
The equation finally balanced—what she saw with what she knew. The influenza, ricin, bloodstains. Angela and UAVs. Roswell’s secret was that it had become a laboratory. Someone chronicled each death, so others could analyze the data.
And someone inside the bar prepared to pass on their plans to the terrorists. She would bet her life on it.
Lucy stood and gripped the handrail. She forced herself to watch the last of the dying light. Her faith had suffered much since Marcos had come home wounded. Watching the sun dip and darkness descend, she searched and found the small kernel of belief she had buried in her heart. Found it and offered it up.
“Dios estar con nosotros.” The prayer—simple, softly uttered, and desperate, had barely escaped her lips, when she heard the door behind her open.
She blinked, could hardly believe her eyes. Colton silhouetted against the lights of E.T.’s, his revolver firmly grasped in his hand and pointed directly at her.
“USE YOUR LEFT HAND. Put your weapon on the ground. Real slow. Now push it away with your foot.” Paul stood with his back to E.T.’s alley door.
Twilight quickly claimed the alley. The only light, near the street, hadn’t come on yet. Dean couldn’t make out Paul’s expression in the nearly complete darkness, but he didn’t care for his tone. He did as directed, pushing his gun toward the dumpster.
Paul stepped a little closer—but not close enough for Dean to lunge for the weapon though.
“What are you doing, Paul?”
“Asking some questions—questions I should have asked last night. How you answer them will decide whether I put a bullet in you or turn you over to the group back in there. The people Colton named are people I knew and respected. They didn’t deserve to die like they did.”
Dean lowered his hand, caught the faint glitter of light on Paul’s revolver as he jerked it up. “Keep them high.”
“Paul, there are some things I can’t tell you.”
“I don’t see as you have an option. Start with who you work for.”
“I can’t—”
“Leave out the alphabet soup. Give me a general idea.”
Dean drew in a deep breath. He did not want to give up his cover. Then again, with things unraveling at the rate he suspected they were, his cover wouldn’t matter much longer anyway. “I work for an agency within our government. We track and apprehend terrorists.”
“Why are you in Roswell?”
“Four weeks ago we received information that there would be a widespread release of a biological agent over the U.S. A body dumped near here proved they had the technology to do what they claimed.”
“What happened at Felix Canyon?”
“We suspect it was a test run.”
“And Jerry?” Paul asked.
“He’s been on a personal vendetta since someone murdered Angie. Jerry does not work for us.”
“But Lucy does?”
Dean nodded.
“Makes sense. Maybe a little too much sense. Pretty convenient. Lucy looks kind of green to me, impressionable. How do I know you’re not on the other side? You could be a mole they planted to use her.”
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he say to defend himself? How could he convince this man? Paul represented all the disillusionment he’d been harboring in his own heart for the last five years. No doubt Paul had seen his share of betrayal while serving in Nam.
But Dean had never needed to prove his own loyalty.
He’d always worked alone.
If Paul couldn’t tell a traitor from a man willing to give his life for his country, then things were worse than he’d thought.
Somewhere behind Paul, a weapon clicked.
“He’s not the mole, Paul. I am. Now drop the weapon, and move over beside him.”
Dean knew from the way Paul went rigid that the gun’s barrel was likely pointed at his head. He dropped his weapon, moved carefully with his hands raised.
Their attacker stepped into the last bit of light. Dean recognized her immediately. And he recognized the glint in her eyes. He’d seen it before, in other times on other faces. It meant they hadn’t long to live.
Ω
Lucy studied Colton and wondered if she would have to kill him. Had he betrayed his town? Looking up at him, it didn’t seem possible, but then tonight had been filled with the impossible.
“Hey, Lucy.” He reached behind him, stuck the gun back in his waistband.
“Things calm down in there?” She let out a shaky breath and tilted her head toward the bar.
Colton shrugged and leaned against the boardwalk railing next to her. As he stared out over the still empty street, his shoulders sagged. The gesture reminded her of how young he was.
“Shouting’s mostly done, I guess. It’s just a matter of who will go, and who will stay.”
They watched the road for the space of a few heartbeats. No cars broke the silence. Roswell had rolled up and tucked itself in for the night.
“I want you to promise me something.” Lucy waited until Colton’s eyes met hers. “Promise me, whatever you do you won’t be outside tonight. If Eaton gives you trouble, come back here and get inside. Or go to the hospital and stay there. Just don’t, don’t be out in the open. Promise.”
Colton turned toward her.
She had his complete attention now. He waited for more of an explanation.
“You don’t realize it yet, but people follow you.” Lucy stepped closer, put a hand on his chest. He could be on the wrong side, but she didn’t think so. Something told her the sand had slipped almost completely through the glass. The time had come to trust her intuition. She might not get another chance to talk to Colton this way again.
“They’ll listen to you like they did in there. Lead them, Colton. Be sure no one stays outside tonight.”
Colton glanced down at her hand, still resting near his heart, then back into her eyes.
“Do you promise?”
“But, I don’t—”
“Do you promise?”
“Yeah. All right. I promise.”
She felt a little of the weight lift off her shoulders. “Let’s go in then. See how many are with you.”
They stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Colton had just reached out to open the door to E.T.’s when they heard their names called. They spun to see someone step from the shadows at the end of the boardwalk.
Ω
Dean focused on Emily and wondered how he could have dismissed her all these weeks. He could see the bitterness in her eyes, even in the near darkness.
“Emily? What are you doing?” Paul kept his hands up, but he motioned at her semi-automatic weapon. “You can put that down. I think Dreiser’s telling the truth. He’s here to help.”
“Depends what you consider helping, Paul.” She motioned them toward the dumpster. “If you consider selling out our country to foreign powers helping—okay. He’s helping. I consider him a traitor.”
“And who do you work for, Emily? Domestic terrorists?” Dean resisted the urge to charge and break her neck with his bare hands. More than likely, she was an excellent marksman. “I guess you’re a national hero for killing innocent people?”
“Don’t get self-righteous with me, Dreiser. I’m sure you’ve done your share of killing.” She smiled, and Dean remembered how she had cried when Angie died. “Haven’t we all? Two more won’t weigh on my conscience, not that I plan on seeing the sunrise. Nor do I particularly want to.”
Dean cringed to hear the resignation in her voice. The one thing worse than a lunatic with a gun was a lunatic who had nothing to lose.
Ω
“Trouble inside?” Jazmine joined them, but stayed well away from the light spilling on the boardwalk.
“Some. Colton is taking a group to Sheriff Eaton’s. See if he can get more information on where they’ve taken the people who died.”
Lucy sized up the woman before her and wondered why she hadn’t pegged her as an agent before. She had excellent poise, eyes that seemed to absorb everything, and not an ounce of body fat. She could get a job tomorrow in a James Bond flick.
“Lucy was just telling me I should try to stay, uh, inside.” Colton looked from one woman to the other, as though sensing something he couldn’t quite grasp.
“Lucy’s right. In fact, skip the Sheriff’s office. Everyone needs to stay inside until morning.” Jazmine scanned the street, the sky, and E.T.’s patrons.
“Not going to happen,” Colton said. “They’re inside now deciding who’s going and—”
“Check your phone.” She glanced at him.
“Huh?”
“Both of you. Check your phones. You’ll find they don’t work. Nobody’s cell phone works.”
Colton started punching buttons.
Lucy slipped hers back in her pocket. “Land lines, too?”
Jazmine nodded.
“I can’t even get roaming. You can always get roaming, so they can charge you double.” Colton kept fiddling with his cell.
“You can put it up, Colton. It’s not going to work. Not tonight anyway.” Jazmine exchanged a pointed look with Lucy. “Where’s Dreiser?”
“Wait a minute.” Colton snapped his fingers. “I got it. Dreiser asked me about you this morning, before everything went south. What is the connection between you three?”
Lucy opened her mouth, but Jazmine cut her off. She pointed down the street, south, out over the Hondo.
They blazed a long way off but were coming closer—lights in the sky. Lucy’s mind flashed back to the pins in Dean’s map, the pins lined down Main. Those lights were headed directly toward the center of Roswell.
Ω
“What about Joe?” Paul asked.
“What about him? If I could, I’d put him in the middle of the street when they fly over tonight. Let him get a good dose. But he’s snuggled safely inside the house on his computer like every night. Too bad. Life isn’t fair. It never was. He can read about tomorrow’s tragedy on the net.”
“Emily, you love Joe.” Paul’s voice shook and his arms trembled, but he stood firm beside Dean. His world might have tilted, but the man was trying valiantly to right it. “I saw you two just the other night.”
“I’ll tell you what you saw—what you wanted to see. Joe and I haven’t loved each other for some time. Not since my boy came home from Afghanistan in a box. Came home from another one of their righteous oil wars. Joe is so much less than a man, he makes me sick. I’d be happy to line him up with the two of you. Three bullets, twelve hours, and I can finish my job.”
“They’ll hear you inside,” Dean reasoned.
“Above Colton’s ruckus? They’ll overlook me, like they always have. Same way both of you did.”
Dean knew Lucy would notice he was missing, if he could stall a little longer. “How did you know to follow us out here?”
“I saw you leave at the same time. I see a lot, Dean. More than most people realize.”
“People have underestimated you.”
“Yeah, they have.”
“So you came outside, then waited and listened.”
“We knew USCIS had another man in Roswell.”
“Who did you I.D. first?” Emily laughed. The sad, broken sound echoed in the night. “You’re not the one interrogating, Dreiser. But I’ll play along since you’ll be sucking dirt in another two minutes. Jazmine is the one we knew about. My men have picked her up by now. We didn’t know about Lucy, but I heard you confirm as much to Paul. Thanks. She’ll be a bonus my boss will be happy to hear about. Taking her down will be easy once I dispose of you two.”
“Killing us is one thing.” Paul’s voice had steadied. He had moved past disbelief, past fear, and stepped into the path of cold fury. “Killing thousands of people—that’s insane.”
“We are not killing thousands. Do I look insane? Don’t believe everything he says.”
“You think they won’t use the infectious form?” Dean knew he’d found the weakness in her fortress when she blinked. “They planted it on Angie. Meant for it to infect Kowlson and everyone in the autopsy room. You haven’t forgotten that, have you, Emily? Because that wasn’t accidental. If they told you the infectious strain was only for specific targets, they lied.”
“You think you know so much.” The words seethed out of her like so many poisonous snakes. “The government we have now will never change and you both know it. Paul, you’re a vet. You’ve been a pawn in their wars. If the event isn’t big, it won’t bring this government to their knees. Six large cities. Six surgical attacks, and then it’s over. We’ll rebuild with the pawns in charge. Finally a change, and a new government by the people.”
“I know you want to believe that.” Dean’s throat felt raw, as though he had screamed for hours, but his words were barely a whisper. “Lucy’s a bio-molecular scientist. They’re using influenza and ricin. Tonight’s the big test. Once unleashed, it will kill one third of the people in the United States—one hundred million people. And it won’t stop there.”
“Shut up.”
“It’ll go worldwide. Germs don’t recognize borders. You’re an intelligent woman. You must know that.”
“Shut your mouth.” Her entire body trembled, and both her hands grasped the weapon.
“If we don’t stop this now, it’ll go world wide—kill two billion people. A legacy of death to leave. Your organization might have immunized their people. Or maybe they’re psychotic enough to want to kill everyone. They—”
“They are us!” Her scream sounded like a dying animal.
Paul lost control of his fury. He attacked her with the ferocity of a hurricane hitting a coast.
Emily’s gun went off and found its target. Paul crumbled onto the alley’s pavement.
Dean dropped and rolled. His weapon still lay near the dumpster where he’d kicked it. He grabbed the gun, and came up shooting.
He fired off three rounds at Emily. She fled to the end of the alley and bolted around the corner. He glanced once at Paul’s crumpled form, made his decision, and took off into the night.
LUCY REELED TOWARD the noise from the alley—a screech followed by four pops.
Fear coursed through her system. Colton grasped the doorknob and froze. Lucy and Jazmine reached for their guns and dropped into a crouch.
Emily bolted around the corner at the far end of the boardwalk, her weapon drawn. She looked as if the hounds of hell were pursuing her. Firing off two rounds, she hit the one person still standing—Colton.
He sank to the ground as Lucy and Jazmine returned fire. Four bullets brought her down. Dean rounded the corner and Lucy holstered her piece, dropped onto the boardwalk beside Colton.
“Any others?” Jazmine remained in a shooting stance, her weapon still drawn.
“She’s it, for now.” Dean crouched beside Emily, checked for a pulse.
“She’s dead,” Lucy shouted. “I need help with Colton, or he’s going to bleed out.”
She didn’t have to check Emily’s pulse to know. She could tell from the amount of blood, as well as the unnatural angle of her body. As to why she had shot at them, Lucy realized those answers would have to wait.
Dean had covered the remaining few feet between them. He knelt beside Lucy, yanked off his shirt when Lucy indicated she needed it.
“They’re coming.” Jazmine said. She nodded at the approaching lights. “We need to get inside now.”
“We can’t move him.” Lucy knelt over Colton. She folded Dean’s shirt, held it against the hole in Colton’s chest. Blood seeped onto the boardwal
k. “He won’t make it if we move him.”
“He won’t make it if we don’t,” Jazmine said.
The patrons in E.T.’s had pressed their faces against the windows. Dean opened the door and called for Billy and Bubba. “Everyone else get as far away from the windows as you can,” Dean barked.
“Do like he says.” Sally pushed her way forward. “The world is falling apart, and you can’t tell the good guys from the bad? Listen to Dean.”
Sally’s word, Colton’s bleeding body, the UAV lights closing in, and Jazmine still holding her gun combined to convince people. Everyone began to clear a path.
“Bubba, help Jazmine and Lucy move Colton. Billy, get Emily.”
Billy gawked at Emily’s bullet-ridden body. He stopped short of the puddle of blood staining the boardwalk. “She’s dead. She’s riddled with bullets.”
Dean pulled Billy close and pointed at the UAVs. “Those planes will be here in about twenty seconds, and they’re not dropping care packages. So move her. Now.”
Lucy had one last glimpse of Dean before he took off around the building. Watching him fly into the darkness, she realized there had only been two bodies bleeding on the boardwalk. She’d expected three.
Ω
How many minutes had passed since he’d left Paul in the alley—two, three, five? Dean couldn’t remember. He needed to get Paul inside before the UAVs arrived. If he didn’t, they’d both be dead.
In the faint glow from the streetlight, he could see Paul’s still form.
Kneeling beside him, Dean wished he had time to tend the wound. With an unbound injury, moving the man might kill him. But leaving him would expose him to the UAVs, which would surely kill him.
He had no time to weigh his options. Dean hoisted Paul in his arms, feeling the man’s blood soak onto his bare skin. Paul had saved his life by attacking Emily. Now, he would do his best to return the favor.
Roswell's Secret Page 22
