“I’m not taking her anywhere right now,” Noah said. “She threw me out of her place.”
“Ah.” Zade looked puzzled. “That sucks. I’m, ah, almost afraid to ask—”
“So don’t.”
Zade didn’t, for about three seconds. Then he cleared his throat, and did. “For twelve years you’ve been kicking our asses, pushing us around. You can wrangle a bunch of crazy mutant freaks, but you can’t lay down the law with a pussycat artist? Just be the man! Tell her how it is!”
Zade had a point, but still. Pushing Caro around might keep her alive, but it would kill something else, something he treasured. But he didn’t know how to say that in a way that Zade could understand.
“I put a locator tag in her coat,” he admitted.
Zade shook his head, bewildered. “Hope she doesn’t take it to the cleaners. Did you get her story?”
“No,” he said bleakly. “None. Best I could do was guess at some of it.”
“You rock, secret agent. So did you take out the lenses and do the scary glowing eyes thing?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “All night long.”
“And she still didn’t talk? That gonzo yellow cat stare would make me confess to anything.”
He was too miserable to tell Zade to get stuffed. “Didn’t have much of an effect on her,” he said. “She wouldn’t spill a goddamn thing.”
Zade whistled. “She’s tougher than she looks. What signal did you plant?”
“The tile Sisko put on my Delaunay painting. I’ll tail her myself, today.”
“Did Mark hurt her? Can we kill him now?” Zade’s eyes gleamed.
“She wouldn’t tell me. But she has knife scars, and probably PTSD or something like it. Whatever happened, she barely got away with her life. I’m giving her some breathing room for now.”
A grin split Zade’s lean face. “You know, I’ve never seen you like this.”
Noah was irritated. “Like what?”
“All turned on. Fired up, but not AVP freak-out mode. Not deep-freeze robot-king either. This one’s new. Hey, I think maybe you annoy me a little less this way.”
Noah tapped data into his phone to monitor her locator tag. “You’re making me all soft and warm inside. Stop it, before I get confused about who I am.”
“Awww,” Zade crooned. “Am I emasculating you, Noah? I’m so sorry.”
“Get lost,” Noah said. “Go have some tacos and beer.”
“Too late, asshole. But thanks.” Zade strode away without looking back.
* * *
Mark peered through the chilly mist of the autumn morning. His phone burbled in his pocket. He checked the display. It was the leader of his Seattle team.
“Carrerra”, he said. “Give me good news.”
“You got it, boss. We’re following her. She’s on a bus. We’re behind it.”
“Good,” he said, circling the mud puddles. “Gareth Wickham gave you her address?”
“He knew her street address, but not the apartment number. Pain in the ass.”
“Did you push him hard, like I told you to?”
“We scared the living shit out of him. He would have handed over his own grandma and given us all blowjobs by the end. But he was still fucked if he knew, and the building has sixty goddamn units. But we just got lucky. She came out the front door of the building, alone, just as we were getting out of the car. So we just got back into the car and followed her to the bus stop. She’s heading downtown now. How do you want us to wrap this up?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Being forced to micromanage was annoying, and he could see his target already, barely visible through the trees.
“I don’t wanna screw up. Tell me what your comfort level is when it comes to making noise,” Carrerra said. “It’s business hours downtown, so we’ll have to—”
“Be discreet,” he snapped. “Be creative. Don’t get caught, don’t be seen, and stay away from surveillance cameras. Most of all, do not make me wait one second longer than I have already. When I get to Seattle, I want her waiting for me. I don’t want problems. That’s why I pay so well. Do we understand each other?”
“OK, boss. Got it.”
Mark cut the connection, enjoying the hot buzz of pleased anticipation as his target approached. His first prototype slave soldier, and he could finally activate him now that he’d retrieved the freq wand from Kitteridge’s vault. R-Gen, serial number 57-878, who went by the name Brenner Jameson to the outside world. Once entirely human and now . . . not. Six foot four, two hundred forty pounds of enhanced muscle and super-dense bone, sprinting through the morning drizzle with the speed of a pro athlete.
When Brenner was done with his workout, which he was programmed never to miss, he showered, ate a huge high-protein meal, and went to his job in a local big box appliance store, humping stoves and refrigerators. Working super hard. Lacking the slightest idea of the specialized knowledge and training hidden inside his highly compartmentalized brain.
In his research, Mark had noticed that Brenner had bucked his programming in the past two years, to the extent of getting romantically involved with a woman in the town where he lived. He’d even had a child with her. The woman had since died, but the liaison should never have happened. Probably a programming design issue.
He was ten yards away when Mark stepped out of the trees. “Brenner Jameson?”
The young man turned to look at him as he ran. “Yes?”
Mark pushed the button on the small freq wand he had taken from Kitteridge’s safe, activating the silent shriek, a coded pulsation of an ultrasound frequency, designed to tear down firewalls inside Brenner’s barricaded brain.
The younger man stopped, staggering. His momentum drove him to his knees in the mud with a grunt. His energy sig exploded in a chaotic burst of wheeling color as energy was released, suppressed memories liberated. What an incredible sensation it must be for him. And painful, perhaps. Always entertaining to watch.
“Your real work just began,” Mark told him. “I’m your controller now, Brenner. You have to do anything I tell you.”
Brenner stared up at him, his hand at his throat. Struggling to speak.
“I heard you got involved with a local girl,” Mark said. “Started a family.”
Brenner staggered to his feet, swaying. “Callie,” he said thickly.
Callie. That had been the name of the child. He wondered if he should eliminate her, just to simplify things. Might attract too much attention, though.
“That’s all finished for you now,” Mark said. “You’ll never see Callie again. Forget her and everyone else. Starting right now. Never think about her again.”
Brenner’s eyes narrowed. “Callie,” he blurted out, more fiercely this time.
“Forget her,” Mark snarled. “You’re mine, now.”
Brenner just stared at him. His breath was sharp and panting, his face shiny with sweat. His hands kept clenching into fists. He looked like he wanted to kill Mark.
Mark was pissed. The guy didn’t even look happy to be activated. He should be thrilled, to finally be able to use the power inside him. It was a gift that Mark had given him. He should be fucking grateful.
Brenner’s brow furrowed. He was trying to resist the programming.
Eight more iterations of brain stim research after Mark’s time at Midlands, and subjects were still rebellious? Was that the best the researchers could do?
It took ruthlessness to get results. He had no problems being ruthless. He adjusted the wand, pointed it at Brenner’s head and activated a suitable punishment.
The effect was instant. Brenner screamed, arching back and writhing in the mud. Mark watched the spectacle for a few minutes with enjoyment.
“Get up,” he ordered Brenner. “Come back to the truck with me.”
Brenner obeyed, haltingly. He was a sorry sight, all soaked in mud.
At the truck, Mark dug his keys out of his jacket pocket, and flung them at Brenner, who caught them one-h
anded. “You drive,” he directed.
Brenner climbed into the driver’s seat without a word.
Mark used his time to access all the road maps of the state stored in his database. Seeking the perfect out-of-the-way place. Brenner’s punishment had restored his good mood.
He was jonesing to play with his new toy.
Chapter 16
The door clicked shut. Caro leaned her forehead against it and sobbed.
The only way to get him out the door was to be an icy-hearted bitch. She’d had her fun and now she was done. Goodbye and fuck you, too.
It killed her to play that role. She was starving for more of him. Pushing him away made her so fucking angry, she wanted to scream and break things.
Such a goddamn stupid waste.
Don’t be needy. You don’t have the luxury. Grow . . . the fuck . . . up.
She forced herself to think about what happened to Tim. He’d been a tough guy by anyone’s standards: martial arts, military training, concealed weapons permit. He’d tried so hard to help her.
Mark and his thugs had tortured him to death.
She got into the tiny shower. The trickle of tepid water soon turned ice cold, but she barely noticed. She dressed mechanically. Packed fast, to be ready to blast out of there the second she got back. Ditched anything that would not fit in her roller bag.
Travel light. Leave no trace. Those were the rules of her current life. She’d broken one of them bigtime. Now she had to pay for it in blood.
A city bus got her downtown and to the coffee shop half hour earlier than the appointment. Not too smart, wandering around in the open, but she was too exhausted and pissed off to care. She didn’t even bother with the disguise. Just shoved stuff into her coat pocket. Walked around with rain misting her bare face, her real hair. Fuck it all.
Nine o’clock came and went. No Bea. The crowd in the café changed. Someone switched the music from the cheerful Vivaldi to a melancholy adagio for strings. Violins sobbed in agonizing pathos. She hated it.
Minutes ticked on. Nine twelve. Nine-nineteen. Nine twenty-eight.
At nine forty-one, she saw the slight figure huddled in the entrance wearing a drab raincoat. She was shrouded by her big hood, but Caro caught a glimpse of a pale, anxious face and lank black hair. Caro waved and the woman approached warily.
“Were you followed?” Bea demanded.
“Not as far as I could see,” Caro replied. “Thanks for coming.”
“I was across the street for a while,” Bea said. “Wasn’t sure if it was a trap.”
“It isn’t. Want some coffee? Something to eat? The cinnamon rolls look good.”
“No. I can’t seem to eat much,” Bea said. “Not since . . . you know. Luke.”
“I know,” Caro said. “Me, neither. There’s a brick wall in my stomach.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Bea slid into the chair, perching on the edge. Her nervous gaze darted around the room. “Todd keeps asking me about you,” she muttered. “I think he’s afraid I’m into drugs or that I embezzled money. I wish it was that simple.”
“Tell me,” Caro urged. “Tell me about the footage. Please.”
Bea pressed her lips together for a second. “I haven’t talked about it to anyone.”
“You mentioned video footage yesterday evening, before Todd interrupted us,” Caro said. “Tell me more about that.”
Bea rubbed her mouth and took a moment to gather her thoughts. She looked like she was struggling to concentrate. “Luke was doing security in Chicago,” she said in a low voice. “His boss had a meeting that got changed to a new hotel at the last minute. I remember Luke bitching about that over breakfast, saying it wasn’t safe. He brought a wireless camera to record the meeting, like he always did. He’d given me a fresh password that would give me access to his remote server if anything happened to him.”
She let out a bitter laugh. Caro tried to stay calm.
“I remember thinking how silly and paranoid that was,” Bea went on. “He changed the password every day, and I was supposed to give the latest one to his brother if anything happened to him. Then he disappeared, and they found his boss’s body with a bullet in his head. So I retrieved the video.”
“Did you watch it?”
“Yes.” Bea pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her nose, her gaze still darting around. She was clearly reluctant to go on. “I never believed in supernatural bullshit in my life,” she said under her breath. “Thought it was total crap. But I saw that guy say a few words and freeze Luke. As if it were a spell. He couldn’t move.”
Caro pondered that. “Could he have been drugged?”
Bea shook her head. “I know what I saw. This guy shot Luke’s boss right in front of his face. Taunted him. Some guys came in, put Luke in a box and carried him off. Luke knew every kind of martial art there is, and he couldn’t even move.”
“You never gave that last password to his brother?”
“No. I didn’t have the nerve. His brother might have given it to the cops.” Bea’s tone was defensive. “That would be like begging for that guy to catch me and kill me. He has to be watching Luke’s family.”
“But this video proves that Luke is innocent and Mark is guilty, right? Why the hell not take it to the police? Let them stop him.”
Bea shook her head. “I’m telling you. It would be suicide. My apartment was robbed a few days after, and my electronics were taken, so I know he’s looking for that video. I just happened to have the flash drive in my purse that day because I was afraid to leave it.” She stared around the room again. “I’ve been hiding ever since. But if you can find me, he can, too. Maybe you led him right to me.”
Caro ignored that. No need to feed the woman’s paranoia. “Can I copy what’s on it?”
“I don’t carry it around with me,” Bea snapped. “I sent it to the lake.”
“The lake? What lake?” Frustration put an edge in Caro’s voice.
Bea shook her head. “I can’t help you. I’m having a hard enough time as it is.”
“We could work together,” Caro urged. “He killed my friends. I want justice for them. I need help. So do you. Let’s help each other.”
Bea rubbed her mouth. “You don’t understand. There’s something, I don’t know, almost supernatural about that guy. Prison can’t hold him. We would never be safe.”
“Maybe not.” Caro hesitated for a long moment. “So let’s kill him.”
Bea’s fidgeting suddenly stilled. She was dead silent for a long moment.
“Seriously?” she whispered. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Nope,” Caro said. “Just tired of being afraid. I want him gone. If this is the only way . . .” She shrugged. “Do we really have that much to lose?”
The other woman edged back in her chair. “Are you crazy?”
“Maybe,” Caro said. “I don’t much care, at this point. Are you in?”
Bea’s shadowed eyes were full of fear and reluctant longing. “I think you’re fucking nuts, and you’re going to get me killed.”
“We’ve both survived this long,” Caro said. “Give yourself credit.”
“Do you have a plan?” Bea demanded.
“Not yet,” she admitted.
“Oh. Well, that’s inspiring,” Bea snapped. She craned her neck to scan the coffee shop and the street outside again. “Oh fuck. We’re being watched.”
Carol looked around. A young mother was feeding chunks of poppyseed muffin to a toddler in a stroller. A chubby guy in a goatee was tapping into a laptop. Two lovers were forehead to forehead over their lattes, giggling. An old man read a paper.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Tell me more about this lake.”
“Not here. We can’t stay here.” Bea leaped up. “Meet me outside. I’ll head east.”
Caro cursed under her breath and hurried out after her, catching up with Bea halfway down the block. “What lake, Bea?” she panted. “Just tell me.”
Bea sp
un around. “Do not say that name,” she hissed. “I am Marika.”
“OK, fine. Marika. Just tell me what you mean by lake.”
“Shut up.” Bea looked over Caro’s shoulder. “Those guys are following us.”
Caro started to turn, but Bea swatted her arm. “Don’t look now, you stupid cow! You were followed! Oh fuck, oh fuck . . .”
Bea took off like a gazelle. Caro glanced back over her shoulder, looking for Ponytail. He was nowhere around, but she saw two guys about twenty yards away. They wore earpieces, and both moved toward her, a stony, purposeful look in their eyes.
She took off running as fast as she could. Bea was already some distance ahead, veering into a busy intersection—
Brakes and tires squealed. There was a horrible thud.
Bea’s body rose high above an SUV, turning in a somersault, suspended in air for several moments.
Caro skidded to a stop when she heard the windshield shatter. Bea’s tumbling body hit the ground a second before another car braked. Not fast enough. The SUV got slammed forward. More broken glass. Shouts, screams. Horns blared.
A crowd began to gather. Caro ran faster, shoving, weaving around stalled cars, until she could see Bea, sprawled on the street, arms wide, staring at nothing. The hair on the side of her head was a dark mass of blood.
Caro fought to get closer, a scream of denial shredding her throat—
An arm caught her around the waist. She flailed, scratching and twisting—
“It’s me. Calm down.” Noah’s voice. Noah’s arm, Noah’s big, powerful body.
She went limp, utterly confused. “What? You? Why? What are you doing—”
“Not now. Not with those two after us.” He set her on her feet. “Run!”
“But what about Bea?”
“She’s dead, Caro.” He scanned the crowd as they wove through it, dragging her alongside him. As soon as they were clear, he gave her a hard push. “Go!”
His command worked like the crack of a starting gun. Caro dashed in a frenzied sprint on a zig-zag course through streets, alleys, parking lots. He herded her behind one of the bigger buildings under renovation. Scaffolding was still up. It was a mess. Dumpsters heaped with trash, piles of bricks and rebar.
Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) Page 17
