Viable Threat

by Julie Rowe

  She studied him, her gaze flicking across his face and uniform. Covered in dirt, debris, and blood, he looked like a walking nightmare. “You look like a soldier on a mission.”

  “That’s true, but not all of it.” He whispered, “I’ve got another mission. A personal one. You.”

  Her breath hitched. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Damned straight, and…”— he shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze on hers—“I don’t intend to start now.”

  She dropped her gaze, then looked at him from beneath her lashes. “So, what do you want me to do, exactly?”

  He let both his eyebrows rise, and she rolled her eyes. “I mean about catching the bad guy.”

  “Two things. First, don’t mention the drill sergeant.”

  The DS grunted, but didn’t say anything as he drove.

  “I want everyone to think I drew the terrorists out and captured them one by one.”

  “Okay.”

  “Second, no matter what you say, be certain. Confident. I suspect there are going to be people who’ll try to undermine your account of events or marginalize your opinions.”

  “That, I’m used to. I’ve worked in many countries where a woman’s opinion isn’t usually worth much. I’ve had to reinforce my status and position many times.”

  “What do you want me to do, Snowflake?” DS asked. “Besides keep these boys out of the way and alive?”

  “What do you mean, keep us alive?” Broken Arm asked from the back of the bus. “The cops wouldn’t…shoot us, would they?”

  River turned and looked at them. “Someone has been pulling your strings all along. Someone used you like ammunition. You weren’t supposed to survive the bomb that just exploded, and I think when that someone discovers you four aren’t dead, they’re going to panic. Try to kill you. Make a mistake.” He gave them a grim smile. “The drill sergeant is going to keep you out of harm’s way, so I suggest you cooperate.”

  He turned to talk to the DS. “Be ready for anything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  2:00 p.m.

  “I can’t believe we’re driving this car wreck to the hospital,” Ava said, her entire body one big ache. Her head and neck hurt worse than everything else, but she didn’t know if the pain was due to physical bruising or as a result of being infected. They’d dropped Mr. Sturgis and the merry band of terrorists off at a transit authority garage, to wait for River’s call.

  “Think of the statement this ride will make,” River said in a tone that was almost insufferably upbeat. His uniform, torn and dirty, made him look like a walking nightmare.

  The ludicrousness of their situation made her laugh. “That we need medical attention?”

  “Hah hah.” He tossed a wink over his shoulder at her. “That we’re badass.”

  Men are so weird. “We’ll be lucky if Dr. Rodrigues doesn’t fire us both before we open our mouths.”

  “What did I say about negativity?”

  “I’m not being negative, I’m being realistic.”

  His response, “Bullshit,” came out sounding lighthearted, except for a deep, dark thread of anger. She took him in—tense shoulders, clenched fists, and eyes as hard and flat as stone—and realized anger was too tame a description. He was filled with rage.

  Ahead were numerous police and emergency lights. Enough that the road wouldn’t be passable.

  “Hmm, roadblock ahead? Might not be able to make that badass impression.”

  “You’re harshing my mellow, Mouse.” The threat implicit in his tone made her reckless. She wasn’t going to allow fury to poison him.

  “That’s too bad,” she whispered in his ear. “I was looking forward to doing more than that to your mellow.”

  “You shouldn’t tease a predator,” he growled, the sound sending a pleasurable shiver up her spine. “It might get you eaten for lunch.”

  She had never been this forthright, this brave with her sexuality in her life. Despite the pain she was in and the possibility she might die of meningitis, she was having the most fun. “I certainly hope so.”

  River growled again.

  Police weren’t the only people waiting for them. A number of news vans and reporters were parked haphazardly along the street leading to the hospital. As their worse for wear bus approached, the reporters ran toward them.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” River said. “This is perfect.” He brought the bus to a stop about twenty feet from the barricade of police cars. The reporters and camera men hurried over to the door, shouting questions at them even though he hadn’t opened it.

  “Do we let them in?” she asked.

  “I think I’ll wait until Dozer comes to get us.”

  “You think it’ll be him or one of his agents?”

  “It’ll be him. He’s going to want to know what the fuck we’re doing.”

  “He’s not the only one,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Hey, have a little confidence in me. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “You mean you’ve been blown up four times, shot, stolen a transit bus, and robbed a pharmacy in less than twenty-four hours before?”

  “Geez, when you put it like that, I sound like an escapee from a mental asylum.”

  One of the reporters banged on the bus door. “Exact change only,” River shouted at him.

  Ava rolled her eyes. “That isn’t going to help.”

  He shrugged. “But fun. Here comes Dozer.”

  The Homeland agent was accompanied by a couple of uniformed police officers and several armed national guardsmen who pushed the reporters and cameramen away from the bus. Once the squawking horde had been cleared away, River opened the door.

  Dozer strode up the two stairs, then stopped. Stared. Whistled. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  Ava and River exchanged glances. “Didn’t Dr. Rodrigues mention that we’d been blown up?” she asked him.

  Both of Dozer’s eyebrows rose. “Which time?”

  A police officer stepped onto the bus behind Dozer. “Are they okay?”

  “Hello, Officer Palmer,” Ava said, giving the man a tired smile. “We’re not okay, but we’re alive.”

  He stared at her. “You’re not wearing a mask.”

  “No, mine was…” Ripped off her face, removed by force? There was no short way to describe what had happened. “Destroyed.”

  “This last explosion was pretty significant,” River said, after clearing his throat and giving Dozer a raised eyebrow. “Our number-one priority right now is getting Ava some medical attention.”

  She glared at River. “I’m not the only one.”

  Dozer’s lips twitched. “Yeah, you both need help. Come on.”

  Ava leaned toward River and whispered, “Does he mean help for our injuries or help for our mental problems?”

  “Probably both,” River whispered back.

  “Fantastic,” she muttered as she got to her feet. “Our credibility is obviously in the toilet.”

  “It could be worse,” River said in a too cheerful voice.

  “Really,” she asked. “How?”

  He stopped, stared at nothing for a moment. Finally, he said, “We could be dead.”

  Dozer and Palmer led them off the bus. As soon as they were on the pavement, the soldiers formed up around them, sometimes having to shove the reporters away as they walked toward the hospital.

  “Where did you get the bus?” Palmer asked.

  “We, uh,” River seemed to be searching for an answer. “Borrowed it.”

  “You stole a transit bus?”

  River gave Palmer a wince. “Can I plead the fifth?”

  Dozer chuckled. “This is going to be an entertaining report.”

  “If you mean shocking, amazing, and stunning that either one of them is still alive?” the police officer asked in a tone that was all of those things. “Yeah, I agree with you.”

  Ava glanced at River and found him staring at her. He winked.
/>   She rolled her eyes and shook her head. If the cell leader was someone peripherally involved in the investigation and observing them, River’s attitude was going to be highly irritating.

  He was going to get her dead yet.

  Soldiers who thought they had nothing to lose were dangerous partners to have. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it would have yesterday, but she was too tired and in too much pain to consider why.

  The walk to the hospital was certainly entertaining. The number of uniformed police and EMS personnel equaled the number of civilians. Those civilians were being divided into two groups. One, who appeared to be the obviously sick, and two, who seemed to be everyone else.

  A lot of people were taking video with their phones. This disaster was probably all over the internet, which meant no one was in control of the information being put on social media.

  That was a problem. The bad guy, whoever he was, could be watching the situation from a distance just by monitoring his laptop.

  Dozer led them to a deserted staff entrance and inside. Silence muffled all sound like someone had pulled a funeral shroud over the building. They followed him to a stairwell and up a flight. When he opened the door, noise slapped her across the face. The change in sensory information disoriented her, and she listed to one side. The only thing keeping her on her feet was River’s grip on her arm.

  They ended up in one of the patient conference rooms off the ER. All the furniture had been removed except for several chairs and a table. Dr. Rodrigues sat behind the table talking with a man who was reviewing something on a tablet with her. A half dozen other people, some in uniform—police, Army, and CDC. A couple wore suits and had the air about them that Dozer had.

  Their boss glanced up, saw them, and her eyes went wide. “Get me a trauma doctor,” she ordered as she got to her feet. “Now.”

  Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at them.

  “I’ll get one,” Palmer offered, disappearing from the doorway.

  “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Ava tried to explain.

  “No,” River corrected. “It is as bad as it looks.” He hooked his thumb in her direction. “She needs stitches for that cut on her neck.”

  Tattletale. “You need your head examined,” she murmured.

  “You’re the one with the concussion,” he said, then glanced at her face. “Oh, you meant that as an insult.” He turned a smile on the rest of the room. “Never mind.”

  “Dr. Lloyd,” her boss said in a no-nonsense tone. “Sit down.” She looked at River. “Sergeant, sit next to her. You both need to be assessed by the trauma doc when he gets here.”

  “We have a rather long report, ma’am,” River said, suddenly behaving like the professional soldier he was. The jerk.

  “You can give it while being treated.” Rodrigues signaled someone at the door to come in. “A couple more people who need to hear your report are still on their way.” She pointed at Ava. “Her first.”

  A physician wearing a full hazmat suit and carrying a large tray of medical supplies approached her. He put the tray down and studied her neck.

  “What happened?”

  She explained briefly about the explosion and bus. He peeled the bandage off that River had put on it and nodded when he saw the butterfly bandages. It oozed blood.

  “It needs stitches.”

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  He injected a local anesthetic around the site, cleaned it with several swabs, and sewed it closed. By the time he put a new bandage over it, Dr. Rodrigues was greeting two more people who had come into the room. He cleaned and re-bandaged several other cuts on her shoulder, back, and arm.

  The trauma doc checked both her pupils and pronounced her concussion free, but cautioned her against any more injuries.

  He gave River a quick once-over, cleaned and bandaged a few of his cuts, then pronounced him good enough and left the room.

  “Excellent,” Dr. Rodrigues said. “Officer Palmer, come in and shut the door. Don’t let anyone in unless you’ve checked with me first.”

  It took River several minutes to give his portion of the report, mostly because he had to answer several questions along the way. Finally, he got to the point where Ava had to take over. The news about the big bomb from their last explosion did not go over well.

  “Oh my God,” her boss whispered.

  “That was when the shouting match started.” She looked at River. “Did you plan what to say in advance?”

  “No, I just went with the flow.” River shook his head. “This Sam wasn’t much of a leader. Too busy flapping his gums.”

  “Wait. I thought the terrorists left you behind?” one of the suits asked.

  “Oh, they did, but I called Dozer here, who got me a vehicle, then helped me track Dr. Lloyd’s cell phone back to the university. I was maybe twenty minutes behind them.” River grinned. “That’s when the fun started.”

  Chapter Thirty

  2:28 p.m.

  River had to work at not reacting when Ava rolled her eyes at him. Respirator or not, his expression would give his amusement away. So far, the report she’d given was damn near perfect. Delivered with the correct amount of disdain and disrespect to make any leader of a cause want to do violence.

  “Once River got me out,” she said, “we both knew it wouldn’t be long before Sam set off that bomb, so we raced out of there, got the bus started, and were leaving the area when the bomb went off.”

  She touched her neck. “I was standing at the time and got hit by flying debris.”

  “That’s how we know Sam was only middle-management in the cell.”

  “It could have been anyone calling,” Dozer observed.

  “No, whoever it was, their ringtone was set to the Darth Vader theme song. The same ringtone used to tell Roger Squires it was time to blow up his bomb at the coffee shop. There’s still one guy out there, one guy who’s responsible for all this shit.”

  “You can’t know that,” the suit protested.

  “You think there’s more than one?” River asked. “I suppose it’s possible. Someone murdered your client.” He gave the man a slanted look. “Or is it your client’s son? Who are you representing?”

  The lawyer took a moment to answer. “Senator Harris.”

  “I’m sure Senator Harris is very concerned about apprehending the person responsible for his son’s death,” Dr. Rodrigues said in a soothing tone. “I will update him as soon as I know something more.” She gestured for the lawyer to leave.

  “But…” he sputtered.

  “The remainder of this meeting is for law enforcement only,” Dozer told him as he signaled Palmer.

  The police officer took the lawyer by the arm and walked the guy out.

  Once Palmer was back and the door was closed, Dozer gave River a glare. “Okay, what did you leave out?”

  He grinned at the agent. “We’ve got four surviving terrorists to question, and at least one of them swears he knows how to get a hold of their mysterious leader.”

  “How?”

  “He wants a deal before he’ll say anything. Complete immunity and a new identity.”

  “A deal?” Dozer sneered. “We don’t give terrorists deals.”

  “He says when you find out who it is, you’ll kiss his feet.” River flashed a palm at the agent. “His words, not mine.”

  “How can we trust this traitor?” Palmer asked, his fists clenched so tight the knuckles were white. “He could be fabricating an accomplice just to get himself off.”

  “He could be.” River could admit that much. He wasn’t going to belittle Palmer’s question. It was a valid concern. “He says he has proof, some kind of insurance.”

  Dozer crossed his arms over his chest. “Kiss his feet, huh?”

  “I need this situation under control,” Dr. Rodrigues said. “Bring all of them in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where are these terrorists?” one of the FBI agents asked.
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br />   “I stashed them in a safe place until I could find out what she wanted to do with them.” He angled a thumb at Rodrigues.

  “Where are they?” FBI asked. “I’ll send a team to retrieve them.”

  River looked at Dozer. “I still don’t think bringing them here is a good idea.”

  “What about city lock-up?” Palmer asked. “With most officers helping with the emergency, there aren’t that many people in the building.”

  “Clear it with your captain,” Rodrigues ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He left, closing the door behind him.

  “So, where are they?” Dozer asked.

  “Actually, they’re with a friend.”

  Dozer stared at him. “You left them with…our mutual friend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Makes for a pretty shitty chain of custody,” one of the FBI agents said.

  “As soon as Officer Palmer gets back with confirmation that the city lockup is a go, make the arrangements to get those men into official custody as soon as possible.”

  Someone banged on the door.

  One of the FBI agents opened it and said something to the person outside.

  “Get the fuck out of my way.” The man’s voice was a tired growl. “And if you flash that gun at me again, I’m going to shove it up your ass.”

  “Henry,” Rodrigues said, her tone one of strained patience. “Please stop threatening the FBI.”

  “I will if they will.”

  The agent glanced at Rodrigues, then stepped aside and let Henry Lee in.

  “Please,” Rodrigues said in a tired voice. “Give me some good news.”

  “I figured it out.”

  For a couple of seconds, no one moved.

  “You…found a treatment?” Rodrigues asked.

  “I found an antibiotic that works. Of course, I had to Sherlock it first, but once I figured that out, I knew what to use to eradicate that shit.”

  “Be specific.”

  “A beta-lactamase inhibitor.”

  “I thought those worked with Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus? This is a Neisseria.”

  “If they used MRSA to make the Neisseria resistant, why not use what makes MRSA sensitive?”