by Barber, Tom
‘Great.’
Archer saw the look on his face. 'You had no choice, sir.’
'There's always a choice.' Shepherd shook his head angrily. 'Stupid kid.'
'He tried to kill Josh. He tried to kill the doctor and me at the lab. He wasn't a kid.'
Jorgensen walked over. Shepherd saw him approaching.
‘Where are we with Finn Sway?’ he asked.
‘Rach can’t find him in the city,’ Jorgensen said. ‘But taxi and bus services have been informed as well as State borders. Dispatch is putting out his description. We’ll find him.'
Behind Jorgensen some news teams had just pitched up, hoping for a scoop after a headline-packed day. Shepherd glanced at them. 'I’m going to put the word out. Let’s get every New Yorker searching for this scumbag.’
The two detectives nodded. Shepherd rose and stepped towards to the waiting press, thinking of the dead boy.
Stupid kid.
Eleven miles to the west, Finn Sway had just arrived at Kearny Medical in New Jersey having taken a taxi. He’d considered using one of the cars left in the parking lot from the dead scientists upstairs, but decided he didn’t need the hassle and wanted to be able to jump into a vehicle at a moment’s notice. He stepped out and shut the door, paid the fare, then watched the guy leave. When the car was gone, Finn walked over to the lab complex and pulled open the door.
Rourke was standing inside behind the reception desk. Wicks and Drexler were sitting across the lobby, talking. All three of them turned and looked at Finn as he walked in.
‘Jacobs is dead,’ Finn said. ‘It was a set-up.’
Rourke nodded. ‘I heard.’
‘You finished?’
Rourke nodded again, slowly. ‘Van’s loaded. I’ll be done upstairs in a few minutes.’
‘We need to get out of here right now,’ said Finn. He suddenly paused and looked at Rourke. ‘What’s up with you?’
Rourke didn’t answer. Finn looked around.
‘Where the hell is Reese?’
Rourke glanced over his shoulder. From where he was standing, Finn could see an NY ONE report playing on the screen. The sound was low, but he could make out what the reporter was saying. ‘…were given no option but to shoot. The deceased has been officially named as Reese Sway.’ Finn froze. The shot flipped to a dark-haired cop standing on the street, flashing lights and a lot of activity behind him. Sergeant Matt Shepherd, NYPD Counter Terrorism Bureau was on the text block below. He started speaking to the reporter.
‘We cornered the man. I ordered him to drop his weapon but he ignored me and was about to shoot another of my detectives. We are still looking for another man, the deceased’s brother, Finn Sway. We ask all city residents to keep a lookout for this man and to report any sightings immediately.’
Finn’s prison mug-shot appeared on the screen.
‘I’m sorry,’ Rourke said.
Finn ignored him. He kept staring at the screen instead. At the image of the man who had killed his brother.
‘That son of a bitch,’ he said quietly. ‘I saw that asshole earlier. He had me in handcuffs.’
‘Stay cool. We need to get the hell out of here now.’
‘Sergeant Matt Shepherd,’ Finn Sway repeated to himself quietly, ignoring Rourke. He turned and pointed at a computer on the desk in front of Rourke. 'Search him.'
Rourke looked at him for a moment, then decided not to argue and pulled up Google, typing in the man’s name.
Finn moved around the counter and watched the screen as Rourke scrolled down.
'Wait,’ he said, pointing at one of the first links. ‘Here.'
It was a small acknowledgement from the New York Post. Rourke clicked on it.
‘Hoboken High School wishes to acknowledge the generous donation to the new music department from Sergeant Matt Shepherd and his wife Beth in memory of their son Ricky Shepherd, who was recently killed in a tragic accident.’
It continued onto a second paragraph and Finn struck gold.
It gave the family’s home address.
Without another word, Finn grabbed a pad and scribbled it down, tearing the sheet off the page and stuffing it in his pocket. Then he pulled Rourke's modified Glock from the holster on his hip and turned to Wicks. 'Keys.'
Wicks nodded, tossing his set to him. Finn swung round and walked to the doors.
‘Where are you going?’ Rourke asked. ‘It’s open season on you right now!’
Sway ignored him, pushing open the doors and walking out into the parking lot. He pulled the mag from the Glock, checked the clip was loaded, then slotted it back inside the weapon. He pushed the button on the keys and the lights on a BMW flashed as the car unlocked. He ripped open the door and climbed inside as Rourke ran out of the building after him.
‘Finn!’
Firing the engine, Finn swung the car out of the lot and the tyres screeched as it roared off into the night. Cursing, Rourke turned and walked back into the building.
'We're leaving,' he said to his hit-team, who rose. He pulled another set of keys from his pocket and threw them to Wicks. 'You’re driving the hot van. All the canisters are inside. Go to the campsite and tell everyone to pack up.'
Wicks looked out into the lot. There were two white vans out there, parked side by side.
‘Which van?’
‘The one on the left.’
'What about you?'
He nodded to Drexler. 'We'll be right behind. I need to finish arming the gear upstairs.'
Wicks nodded. ‘See you soon.’
He pushed open the door and walked out into the parking lot.
On West 35th, Shepherd had just wrapped up the report he’d given the news teams when Marquez came running up the street.
'Sir!' He turned. 'Taxi company got in touch. One of their drivers told dispatch he took a man matching Sway's description out of the city. He dropped him off less than ten minutes ago.'
'Where to?'
'Kearny Medical Institute. It’s a lab complex out in New Jersey fifteen minutes from here.'
‘You’re driving,’ Shepherd said, running to the Ford Explorer containing Maddy Flood and Kruger and pulling open the door. Marquez jumped in beside him and fired the engine.
Jorgensen and Archer were right on their heels, then both stopped and looked at each other. There was one car left. And the two of them.
Which meant they’d be riding together.
FORTY TWOTo say conversation inside the Ford Explorer was minimal would be an understatement. The two men rode in total silence, Jorgensen behind the wheel, Archer in the passenger seat to his right. This was the closest the two of them had ever been for any length of time and neither was enjoying the experience.
Archer suddenly lifted his head and sniffed. He looked over his shoulder into the back.
'Is that weed?'
Jorgensen didn't respond.
Archer rolled his eyes and turning back, looked out into the night.
Silence.
'Shame Josh was the first to the roof,' Jorgensen suddenly said. 'We're down a good cop and here I am stuck with you. Do me a favour and step in front of the bullet next time.'
With that, Archer snapped.
He turned to him. ‘You know what? I’m getting really sick and tired of your shit.'
Jorgensen looked over and glared.
‘You want to make something of it?’ he replied.
‘I get it, college boy. You don’t like me because I’m foreign. You don’t like me because your friend didn’t make the squad and I did. But get over yourself. Every person in the entire Bureau thinks you’re an asshole.’
‘You think that’s why I hate you?’
‘You want to tell me otherwise?’
‘My brother was a cop too,’ Jorgensen said, his hands tight on the wheel.
‘So?’
‘He was five years older than me. He was the reason I joined. He put his time in then joined the ESU. He was one of the best guys they had.’
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He paused, shaking his head.
‘Then last summer, he takes a response call at Flushing Corona Park on a Sunday night in September. Three bank robbers had held up a money truck on its way from the US Open to Long Island.’
Archer froze.
‘They tried to take them on but the thieves pulled flash bangs. The whole team was stunned, disorientated. Then one of the robbers drilled him with an M16, right between the eyes. Killed him instantly.’
He paused.
‘I have a good friend in the New York FBI Office. He told me this crew had been running the city ragged the entire year. He said someone was put undercover in their group but hadn't stopped them in time.’
He looked at Archer, his jaw clenched.
‘Turned out that person was you.’
Archer stared at him.
‘I don’t know how you ended up in it. I don’t want to know. But you could have taken those people down. You could have saved Tommy’s life. But you didn’t. And because of you, he died.’
Silence.
Archer was lost for words. He hadn't been expecting that.
Jorgensen put his foot down harder, relieving some frustration.
And they sped on through the night.
As they approached Kearny Medical, Shepherd called Jorgensen in the car behind and told him that they’d be moving in straight away. As the two cars swung into the lot, the team saw that there were a number of vehicles parked outside the building. The two Ford Explorers pulled up quietly, the engines were switched off and the entire group stepped out, Shepherd’s team minus Josh but plus the two doctors. Archer climbed out, his mood rock bottom. The combination of Jorgensen’s revelation, Josh taking a round and spending half an hour in a freezer had left him feeling like complete shit.
The group stood there for a moment. Beside them, the building was dark, the lights switched off. The entire place had a stillness that only a complete lack of human activity could emit.
‘Looks like we missed him,’ Jorgensen said.
‘Not necessarily,’ Shepherd said quietly, pointing to all the cars parked in the lot. He pulled his Sig and the other three detectives did the same.
Together, they approached the dark building. Shepherd tried the front handle; the door was open. He pushed it back and they all entered the lobby. The place was deserted. To the right was a reception desk. Straight ahead was a glass panel to prevent unauthorised access. It was open. Stepping through one by one, the group followed Shepherd as he moved forward to the stairwell quickly and silently.
There was no sign of activity on 1 or 2. But when they got to 3, it was immediately clear that someone had been here recently.
It looked as if it was the main floor of the building. Up ahead was a large laboratory with smaller rooms and offices placed around the level. There were signs of occupation. Food wrappers and an empty pizza box had been dumped on the ground. A long smeared bloodstain was running along the polished tiled floor, leading from the main lab and almost drawing an arrow to an office to the right. The door to the room was closed. Archer turned and headed towards it.
The others walked forward. Suddenly, Maddy gasped and covered her mouth, stifling a scream.
A dead body was slumped inside the main lab. It was immediately clear that the virus had killed him, judging by the blood and pieces of tissue surrounding him and sprayed onto the glass walls.
‘It’s Frankie,’ she whispered from behind her hand to Shepherd, silent tears streaming down her face. ‘Dr Glover. What the hell is he doing here?’
Marquez, Shepherd and Jorgensen stared at the dead man as Kruger put his arm around Maddy. From behind them, there was a whistle. They all turned and saw Archer standing by the office, the door pushed back. Shepherd walked over with the two doctors and Marquez to see what he was looking at.
There was a heap of dead bodies in the room, eight or nine of them. They’d been dumped in a pile, limp and lifeless. Blood had pooled and caked on the floor underneath them.
‘Jesus,’ Shepherd whispered. ‘What the hell was going on here?’
Behind them, Jorgensen hadn’t joined the group, mostly out of wanting to stay away from Archer. He was moving towards the main lab instead, walking slowly but purposefully. Shepherd glanced over his shoulder and saw him heading towards the lab doors.
'Careful, Dave,’ he warned. ‘The air’s probably still contaminated.'
'Wait,' Kruger said, moving over to a terminal to the right. He tapped a few buttons and suddenly the air purification system started blasting, filtering the air inside the lab.
'It'll take ten seconds.'
While they waited, everyone by the office looked again at the bodies dumped inside. Archer saw bullet-holes and blood on the wall to his right where they each must have been executed. In the main lab, the purification system stopped. A light turned green. Kruger looked over at Jorgensen and nodded.
'The air is clear.'
Jorgensen took point as Marquez went to follow him. Shepherd, Archer and the two doctors remained by the office containing the corpses. Jorgensen approached the door of the lab.
It slid open. He moved inside.
Marquez was a few feet behind him but before she could enter, the doors slid shut in front of her.
There was a beep.
Jorgensen swung around. 'What the hell was that?'
Marquez tried stepping towards the doors again, but they didn’t move. She started working on the keypad, but no one knew the code.
‘Shit, they locked,’ she said.
'Hang on, Jorgensen,' Shepherd said as he joined Marquez at the keypad, both of them trying to force the doors open. Inside the lab, Jorgensen nodded then turned and looked around the interior. He glanced down at Dr Glover’s body to his right. He walked straight forwards. There was equipment covering the work surfaces to his left but he didn’t know what any of it was for.
Then he heard a beeping coming from somewhere inside the room. He tried to place it. The sound seemed to be coming from a thick cabinet against the wall up ahead. He approached it. The cabinet was about the size of a large bookcase. The doors were shut. He reached forward and pulled them open.
The inside was loaded with explosives and gasoline and a timer.
00:57.
00:56.
‘Jesus Christ.’ He turned to Marquez and Shepherd outside, his eyes wide. ‘The door triggered it!'
The whole group looked at the explosives and the timer in horror. Marquez was working frantically at the keypad. But it just beeped.
'It's not working! I can’t open it!'
Shepherd grabbed a chair from behind him and swung it at the glass as hard as he could. It just bounced off. He did it twice more, then dropped it and pulled his pistol. Marquez did the same.
'Take cover, Jorgensen,’ he ordered.
Jorgensen ducked behind a far work station. Behind him the timer ticked to 00:40. The two of them fired, the weapons flashing as Maddy and Kruger covered their ears. The glass didn't smash, each round just leaving a white dent. Increasingly panicked, Marquez emptied an entire clip into it but it wouldn't give way, all the shell casings tinkling to the tiles at her feet. Staring at the still intact glass, Shepherd swung round to Archer, pointing at Maddy and Kruger.
'Get them out of here now!'
Archer nodded and hustled the two doctors towards the stairwell, the trio quickly disappearing out of sight.
Jorgensen was up by the glass, looking at Shepherd and Marquez desperately for help. The timer kept counting down over his shoulder.
00:35.
00:34.
At the glass, Jorgensen looked back at the timer.
Pause. He bowed his head, as Shepherd and Marquez looked on desperately from the other side of the glass.
'You need to go,’ he said.
‘No!’ Marquez said, hitting the glass with the butt of her pistol.
‘Go!’
‘No!’
She couldn’t stop tears filling he
r eyes, standing there looking at her partner. To the left, Shepherd was hammering the glass with the butt of his pistol but it wasn’t giving way.
00:24.
00:23.
And for the first time in a very long time, Dave Jorgensen smiled. He put his hand up to the glass. Tears rolling down her cheeks, Marquez matched it with hers. They stayed that way, palm to palm, for a long moment. He smiled again.
‘Go. And be good, Marquez.’
Openly sobbing, she stared through the glass at her partner. She nodded.
Then she turned and ran for the stairwell with Shepherd.
Alone, everyone out of the building, Jorgensen felt strangely at peace. It was just him. The rest of the team were outside.
Safe.
He sat down with his back against the glass, watching the countdown on the timer across the room. The room around him was quiet and still. There was no movement anywhere he could see save for the constant silent ticking down of the numbers on the explosives.
The timer reached 00:10.
He knew he was about to die. But he wasn’t scared or sad. He thought about his life. Everything he’d done. The best times, and the worst. He thought of his brother, Tommy, and the memories he had of their time together before he died. His time in the Department. His lack of friends.
And Marquez.
He thought back to what he’d said to Archer in the car. He didn’t like the guy but he knew deep down what happened to Tommy wasn’t his fault.
I’ve been an asshole for way too long, he thought.
The timer hit 00:05.
Sitting against the glass, he looked across the lab at the bomb and smiled, knowing all the others had escaped.
Finally, you did something right.
Then he thought of Tommy.
He pictured his big brother waiting for him. In a place without bombs, or anger, or pain.
I’ll be right there, bro.
Up ahead the countdown approached its end. He closed his eyes.
00:03.
00:02.
00:01.
I’ll be right there.
FORTY THREEBobby Rourke wasn’t a racist.
Growing up with no prospects in a small southern town, his future had been bleak. Life in Roller was just about as boring and uneventful as you could get without being six feet under. There was a saying in the area that a lot of residents hated, but most of them agreed with. The only good thing about Roller is the road leading out of it. His father had left when Bobby was a kid. He met some other woman and just took off. Bobby couldn’t remember much about him, save that he had hard fists and had a hatred of anyone not white Caucasian. Watching him as a boy Bobby had adopted those beliefs, wanting to please and impress him. But once he was gone and as Bobby grew up, he realised just how wrong his father had been. Society had changed. Equality and human rights now meant people of all colours, races and religions were able to live together, work together, have families together. And despite being the leader of a neo-Nazi hate group, Bobby had a secret.
