Rather than say anything that could possibly be of any help to anyone, Cole asked, “Who the hell are you?”
“Answer me first and things can go a lot smoother for you. Otherwise, you’ll be quarantined and I’ll just deduce the answers myself. If you fill in some of the blanks of my research, you’ll spare someone else the time and discomfort of being imprisoned.”
“Spare who?”
“Whoever is brought to us next,” Waylon replied. “Perhaps someone you know. Perhaps a stranger. Either way, you would have kept that person from going through the same ordeal you now face.” Squinting as if he was trying to get a closer look at whatever lay behind Cole’s eyes, Waylon added, “I can make it worth your while. You’re in a great deal of trouble with the law.”
“Isn’t that why I’m here? Aren’t you guys connected to the goddamn law?”
Once Chop was dragged from the cell and lifted to his feet, Cole was tossed back inside so his face skidded along the floor.
Waylon watched with the same amount of interest he might give to an ant farm. He handed a small digital recorder to the closest guard. “If he starts talking, record it with this.”
“What about him?” the guard asked as he nodded toward the cell across from Cole’s.
Fixing Lambert with a cold stare, Waylon replied, “He’s still under observation. Observe him. As for you,” he said to Cole, “you’re in our custody on a temporary basis. Whether you’re handed back to the authorities as a cop killer or allowed to slip through the cracks after you’re reported as having killed yourself while in custody is up to you.”
“That motherfucker tore my fucking throat out!” Chop roared.
Waylon, as well as the rest of the guards, locked everything back up to how it was supposed to be and left Cole with the cuffs around his wrists. The sound of the elevator doors opening mixed with the crackle of a stun gun. After that, Chop didn’t have anything else to say.
“Jesus,” Cole groaned once the hallway was clear. “This is the strangest life I’ve ever known.”
“The great James Morrison of the even greater Doors,” Lambert said. “Great music. Genius lyrics.”
“You listen to the Doors?”
“What? You think I’m just some token Mexican who only digs Santana?”
“Didn’t even know you were Mexican.”
“I’ve got true soul, man. All music flows through me.”
After Cole lowered himself onto his bunk and curled into an aching ball, he was serenaded by an off-key rendition of “L.A. Woman.” Without Chop in his cell to terrorize him, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the concert.
Chapter Six
Canadian-U.S. border
Ten miles west of Niagara Falls
After renting a cheap room in Toronto and resting there overnight with her Beretta grafted into her hand, Paige was more nervous about crossing the border than she was about stealing the car she’d used to do it. In that time, she’d cleaned up her arm well enough to find less damage than she’d been expecting. The muscle tissue was scraped and gouged, but was still solid enough to function. A few injections of healing serum from the kit strapped around her ankle did a good enough job to get her on the right track. She wasn’t one hundred percent, but could barely remember what that felt like anymore.
The vehicle she’d stolen was a little blue Toyota Tercel missing a taillight, several loops of electrical cord holding the rear bumper in place. The shabby exterior matched an engine that rattled noisily under the hood in what could very well be its last hurrah. Whoever the previous owner was, they were probably glad to be rid of the heap and collect the insurance. When she pulled up to the border crossing station, Paige was concerned that she might not be able to get the car moving again. An even bigger concern was that her friend in uniform had already met with the same lying little prick who had turned Rico against her.
“Hey, Mike, it’s me again,” she said with a tired smile.
Wearing his fifty-plus years on a face that was weather-beaten and scarred by three jagged grooves running all the way down his left cheekbone, Mike smiled and waved away the other Border Patrol officer who started to approach the car. “Back so soon? Usually you guys spend a little more time to get to know a place.”
“Things went better than normal,” Paige told him. “Just headed home.”
“Where’s Rico?”
Mike wouldn’t have made a great spy. That much was certain. On the few occasions she’d needed to get into Canada, he’d been extremely helpful in either waving her through or arranging for one of his friends to let another Skinner pass somewhere else along the border. He’d made several calls to help Gerald into the Great White North, and was the one to grease the wheels for Cole to reenter the States after Gerald and Brad were killed. None of those things made it any easier for her to tighten her grip around the Beretta hidden beneath the flap of her jacket.
“He had to stay behind,” she told him, while praying that he didn’t know anything more than a retired trucker and ex-Marine who’d been jumped by a Yeti in the Adirondacks should know. “Cleanup stuff. You know the drill.”
Mike let out a tired breath and nodded as if he was simply praising the fact that Mondays were indeed the worst. “Yeah. I hear that. Should I expect him soon?”
“Not sure.” Before his experienced eyes picked up on something that might delay her any further, she faced forward and set her sights on the gate that blocked her progress. “Should I just go ahead, then?”
Mike’s hand slapped flat against the top of the car just above her head.
He looked over his shoulder at his partner and another car that had just pulled up to the station.
He started leaning in to the window.
If he got much closer or asked too many more questions about Rico, she would have to assume he was either tainted by Kawosa or aligned with the Skinners who had rallied under Lancroft’s flag. And if that was the case, she figured she might as well shoot her buddy Mike and drive straight through the barricade. What’s the worst that could happen? The law might try to hunt her down?
In a fierce whisper he asked, “Is this trip connected to those policemen that were killed?”
“Maybe,” she replied as her thumb flicked off the Beretta’s safety. “But you’ve got to know we don’t kill innocents.”
“Can you tell me where Rico is?”
Paige shifted her eyes to look at him and angled her gun barrel so she would be sure to hit him if she started firing through the car door. “I could,” she said, “but then I’d have to kill you.”
After a few seconds Mike nodded and gave her a quick little wink. “Gotchya. Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“Just about.”
He smacked the car again as if he was swatting a football player’s shoulder pad. “If I see him, I’ll let him know you came by. You have a safe trip and keep up the good work.”
Paige waved graciously and drove beneath the barricade that was lifted and then lowered behind her before the next car in line could slip through. She sped down the road without seeing any of the beautiful scenery around her. The terrain looked as if it had been painted as an ode to approaching winter, which normally would have put her in a very good place. Now, she saw the falling leaves and brown grass as more death heaped onto an already rotting world. Cole would tell her to lighten up when she got like this, but she stopped thinking about him before her mood any worse.
After pulling off to a spot marked as a scenic overlook, she dug her phone from her pocket to dial a number she’d memorized instead of programming it into the phone’s memory. The Beretta was kept on her lap, with her free hand resting upon its grip. Just when she thought she wasn’t going to get an answer over the phone, a connection was made and a crisp voice made itself known with a simple, monosyllabic greeting.
“I need to talk to Adderson,” she said.
The person who’d answered sounded like a dispatcher from any number of taped 911 calls. He wa
s quick, sharp, and had less personality than a discount greeting card. “He’s not available. Who is this?”
“Paige Strobel. I know he’s available. Put me through to him now.”
“One moment.”
There was a series of electronic crackles, a few short buzzes, and then half a muted ring tone. Paige knew she was being recorded, but for once she was talking to people who had more right to be paranoid than she did.
“This is Adderson,” said an even sharper voice than the one that had answered the call.
“Where’s Cole? I need to know right now, dammit.”
“Paige?”
“You know it’s me. If you’re trying to trace the call, don’t bother. I had a friend of mine wire this phone good enough to screw you up for a while.” That wasn’t exactly a bluff, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that Prophet knew what he was doing. The bounty hunter had access to some good equipment through his employer, and swore it would do the job as advertised. She took very little at face value anymore and would be moving along soon enough anyway. “Things are even shittier than before, and I don’t want to leave my partner in a lurch. It was bad enough handing him over in Denver.”
“He’s safer where he is than on the outside,” Adderson replied. “Already, some of the local police units have lessened their searches for you and your people.”
“I want to see him. You said you’d keep tabs on him, and I want to know where he is.”
“Where are you?”
“New York,” Paige replied, figuring the equipment at the other man’s disposal would be good enough to find out that much anyway. “The last I heard, he was already being hauled off to a maximum security prison.”
“That’s right.”
“Just because you put that crap on TV about him getting held up in a trial is just a smokescreen, that doesn’t mean you guys can just lock him up wherever you like and keep him there. He’s supposed to be getting medical attention.”
“He’s getting the best care we can give him, Paige. Didn’t Bob tell you how we operate?”
Bob Stanze was a great cop. He was the only cop who’d tried to do something about the encroaching werewolf presence before they swarmed Kansas City. After that he’d been one of the few to survive the Full Blood siege without trying to pass it off as an urban riot that took place while a pack of wild dogs were prowling the streets.
“I went to Bob for help in tracking those Nymar in Denver before those cops were killed,” Paige said. “He told me you guys would also be able to help with what happened to Cole.”
“A lot of those Denver cops are alive because of what you and your partners did.”
“And some died. Plenty more were killed across the country. I’m starting to think we could’ve done just as well without you.”
“The IRD is in its infancy,” Adderson explained. “Like any agency, it’s not going to hit its stride right away. Considering what we’ve got to work with, I’d say we’re doing pretty well. We’d be doing even better if you were more forthcoming about the rest of the Skinners throughout the country.”
“You convinced me to hand over my partner and you still want me to help you recruit? You’ve got some set of brass under that expensive suit. Until I hear something solid about Cole, you can consider me one hell of a potential problem who’s really good at fading away when the heat’s on.”
The man at the other end of the line sighed. “Cole was supposed to be held at one of our facilities in Boulder where he would be given a preliminary hearing to keep the Justice Department off our backs. After that, as far as any official documentation goes, he was transferred to the Colorado State Penitentiary in Canon City. That was supposed to buy us some time to do what we could before anyone pressed too hard for a trial or an interview with the prisoner.”
“And?”
“And . . . he was transferred.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” she snapped.
“Maybe I should remind you that none of this has gone according to the original plan,” Adderson said in a voice that sounded like a steel cable on the verge of snapping. “The Skinners in that warehouse were all to be remanded to our custody so we could take some of the heat off of both you and us. We would do our best to help your partner, and the others would be approached with a deal that would be mutually beneficial if completed properly. Even though the others fled the scene of a crime, we have done our best to see to it that your partner gets the attention he needs.”
“You forgot the part where you promised I’d be able to see him once things settled down. That was the only way I agreed to throw in with you guys at all, and you’d better not fucking back out on that now.”
Shifting into a tone that reeked of federal authority, Adderson said, “You were in no position to threaten me when Officer Stanze brought you to us, and you’re in no better position now.”
“That’s where we differ. See, my whole life is sliding into hell. When someone doesn’t have anything else to lose, the last thing you want to do is set them off. You know what would make me feel better?”
“Talking to Cole?”
“Now there’s the smart guy Bob promised me.”
The tapping she heard at the other end of the line wasn’t a keyboard. Judging by the frustration in Adderson’s voice, it was most likely a pen being bounced off a desk or even the crackling of knuckles. “I’ll be candid with you, Paige. Things simply never settled down long enough for us to get you in to see him. Now that he’s been . . . diverted, that situation is worse.”
“Where has he been diverted to?” she asked.
“Actually, although one member of the IRD checked Cole out of Canon City, he was taken away by someone not under my jurisdiction.”
“So . . . Cole’s just gone?”
“He can’t be far,” Adderson assured her. “Our people are watching the roads and have a great number of contacts in that area. That’s why it was so vital for us to make our move in Denver as opposed to—”
Paige interrupted in a voice that was sharp enough to snip an iron post in half. “Is it possible the real cops took him from one prison and transferred him through the system?”
“We’re checking on that.”
“Yeah? Well you’d better not be waiting for our trouble with the cops to blow over. By the time that happens, Cole could be a stain on an electric chair. What do you know about what happened to him?”
“We had visual confirmation that Cole was taken into Canon City. He was put into Maximum Security Holding and was under constant surveillance. After we sent someone in to deliver the message from you, he was moved.”
“Where to?” The long silence she got was enough to answer her question. “You seriously don’t know, do you?”
When Adderson failed to respond to that, Paige gritted her teeth and prepared to unleash as many kinds of hell as she could summon. Before she could spit her first piece of brimstone, another car rolled to a stop several yards away. It was stuffed with two adults in the front seats and several bouncing little ankle biters in the back. The driver pushed open his door and staggered out, looking as if he was ready to take a dive over the guardrail just to earn a few moments of peace.
Turning her head away from that car, she said, “You guys are supposed to know what you’re doing! The only reason I agreed to let Bob set me up with you is because you had the resources to start getting this fucking mess cleaned up.”
“We’re a privately owned organization operating outside the parameters of several official agencies. Right now, it’s taking everything we’ve got to keep from being noticed.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit!” Paige snarled. “With all the contacts you’ve made and the resources you’ve got, there’s no way you could work outside every government agency. Someone’s gotta know about you.”
After a pause, Adderson calmly replied, “Highly ranked officials in the Army and Marine Corps are aware of us, but not in an official capacity. Perhaps it would also m
ake you feel better knowing that one of our men in that SWAT van with Cole kept him from being shot by angry officers who lost their friends that night. And before you spout off again, I realize you Skinners had nothing to do with actually killing those men and women. You want to know what we’ve been doing? The IRD has been stretched almost beyond our limits just keeping the truth about all of this from being spread across the Internet. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to create plausible deniability regarding monsters that are showing up on everything from conspiracy blogs to national news sites?”
“Actually, yes. I do.”
“Your friend Cole did some good work with those doctored videos and pictures he circulated after the Kansas City riots. Those got a lot of people willing to write these instances off as a bad hoax in troubled times. But there’s more to it now. You people simply do not know how to lay low. It’s bad enough that my agency was forced to show itself once the Nymar started targeting innocent people and police officers. With all the attention being aimed at you, it’s that much harder for us to keep our heads out of the sights.”
“You’ve got ties to the government. Doesn’t that make anything easier?”
The sound Adderson made was barely recognizable as a laugh. “We have some funding and equipment from the military and many members with federal or state law enforcement duties. If anything, that makes things a whole lot more difficult. And before you consider threatening me with becoming a squeakier wheel, let me remind you that if you were on your own, none of you would have gotten away from that warehouse.”
Paige knew he had a point, but there was no way she was about to give him that much slack. “Is that how you’d react if one of your men disappeared?”
“We haven’t abandoned Cole. We’re still trying to find out what’s going on in Colorado.”
“I want to go there. Send a chopper for me.”
After a short pause he asked, “After all of that spiteful talk, you want us to be the ones to pick you up? What’s wrong? Is there a search being conducted with your name attached to it?”
The Breaking Page 9
