Two Evils

by Christina Moore

  “The lieutenant you can cuff in front, she’s no threat to us,” he said with a malicious grin, holding his gun ready to shoot if either she or Rebecca made a wrong move. “But this bitch you’d better cuff behind her back—the general says she’s pretty lethal with her hands, even when they’re bound.”

  The second private eyed her in disbelief. “Doesn’t look like much to me,” he said as he grabbed her arm and roughly threw her into the side of the Humvee. Billie winced but refused to utter a sound, not even when he pressed himself into her as he brought her arms behind her back and put a pair of handcuffs tightly around her wrists.

  “To me, she looks no more dangerous than the whores we see every night,” Number Two said.

  “They call her She-Devil, Stan,” Malone said, revealing his buddy’s name at last. “She’s got the highest number of kills of any woman in the history of the military, so don’t be a stupid dick—do not let your guard down, even for a second, around this woman. It ain’t just being smart, either. General’s orders.”

  Billie felt Stan shrug, then he moved to put a pair of handcuffs on Rebecca. She turned her head to look at the other woman and found her staring at Malone with hate in her eyes. She wondered what she was thinking to have so volatile an emotion so clearly on display. After Rebecca’s hands were bound, the two of them were quickly shoved into the back seat of the Humvee. Stan climbed into the front passenger seat and immediately turned to face them, holding his gun on her. Only then did Malone holster his own weapon, quickly making his way around the front end to climb in behind the wheel. Within just two minutes of getting out of the water, they were back on the road, burning rubber on asphalt as Malone made a U-turn and headed the wrong way up the Ohio Drive exit ramp.

  Not that it mattered—there were no cars on the ramp to get in their way, as many appeared to have stopped on the bridge due to the accident. Those still trying to get into the westbound lanes were quick to move as the large military vehicle roared down on them, swerving out of the way with inches to spare, their drivers laying into their horns uselessly. Clearly they were headed back to Virginia, but where could Malone take the Humvee, damaged as it was, that it wouldn’t be noticed?

  TWENTY-ONE

  When John pulled into the driveway of the safe house, he was once again stopped by the M16-toting Agent Green. When Green looked into the car and saw Teddy, he shook his head.

  “Agent Courtney, I have to ask—you do know what the purpose of a safe house is, do you not?” Green asked. “Because I’m beginning to wonder with all the new faces you keep bringing here.”

  Shutting off the engine right there in the middle of the driveway, John pushed the door open and got out, forcing Green back a few steps. “Do you have a vehicle on the premises, Agent Green?” he asked as Teddy got out as well.

  “Of course we do, how do you think Presley and I got here with the doctor the other night?”

  “Good, we’re going to need it,” John said, turning for the house and leaving a confused Green to follow.

  He found the guys, including Wayne and Agent Presley, in the living room watching a movie—obviously on DVD, given the film in question. The fifth Die Hard, his mind told him absently, the one where Bruce Willis’ character was in Russia fighting bad guys alongside his grown son.

  Wayne looked up at their entrance, took in the presence of Teddy beside him, and immediately used the remote to turn off the TV. This action got the attention of the other three, and each man stood in succession after Wayne did.

  “What happened?” he asked at the same time Gabe demanded to know where Billie was.

  John directed his words to Wayne, the team leader, and explained Billie’s account of what Rebecca had found on General Wainright’s computer. He explained about being forced to listen helplessly as they were assaulted on the road and then pushed off of Memorial Bridge into the Potomac. He told them about the mad dash from the hospital to the river, where they learned that the two women had been taken hostage.

  Then he told them about the phone call that had led him to be there with Billie’s brother at his side, and he looked Wayne Scofield straight in the eye and asked him, “Are you solid, Colonel? I have a feeling we need all hands on deck, but if you can’t deal, you tell me now. I’m not willing to risk Billie’s or Rebecca’s safety just because you want to be there.”

  “I won’t lie and say I’m a hundred percent, but I’m getting there,” Wayne replied. “Dr. Stone’s given me a couple different withdrawal meds in low doses, not being sure if either would work since she doesn’t know exactly what’s in IQ-56. Still get the shakes every once in a while, but I haven’t had a full episode all day. I can deal.”

  John glanced at the others and they nodded. He decided to take them at their word. “We need to get to the marina and scope it out, see if we can’t take advantage of the extra time allotted to us.”

  “What we need to do is call this in, Agent Courtney,” Green stated plainly.

  “Fuck that!” Gabe retorted hotly. “What we need to do is get our asses moving.”

  Presley stepped forward. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have to agree with the hotheaded Marine,” he said. “Best we do this ourselves, clean and quick, where the prospective number of casualties is kept to a minimum. We call in backup and they’ll shut down the marina, alerting the suspects and putting the lives of the women at risk.”

  “Here’s my question,” Teddy spoke up. “There’s seven of us, but only three guns. Is that going to be enough?”

  Billie’s brother or not, John refused to put a gun in Teddy’s hands, not even to save his sister. He refused to put him in the position of having to take another man’s life to save anyone—Billie would probably never forgive him. A surreptitious glance at the team told him they all felt the same. Bad enough she was going to be pissed about his coming along in the first place, but he knew there was no way in hell they were going to make him stay behind unless they knocked him out.

  “You forget, Ted, that three of us are Marines,” said Gabe. “Our hands are registered weapons. Besides that, you’re wrong—we each have a gun.”

  “I was relieved of my weapon for security purposes, remember?” Wayne pointed out.

  Presley turned and left the living room. John could hear him moving around in the back of the house, from which he came a moment later and walked up to Wayne, holding out the military-issue pistol that had been taken off of him the night he’d been brought in. That he was offering it to him showed how much Presley had come to trust in Wayne’s ability to control himself.

  “Your sidearm, Colonel,” Presley said.

  Wayne stared at the gun for a moment, then took it and checked the chamber, popping out the magazine for a look and then shoving it back in with a quick slap of his palm. He then looked to John and said, “Let’s get this party started.”

  

  That they hadn’t been blindfolded as well as restrained told Billie one very simple thing: that their abductors planned to kill them, so it didn’t matter if they knew where they were going. Of course, she wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, so she took advantage of the freedom to see to check out where they were headed. In minutes, they were across Memorial Bridge and skirting the southwest roundabout onto South Washington Boulevard, from which they soon merged onto George Washington Memorial Parkway. Billie suspected that the trek onto Columbia Island would lead them to the marina, and she was soon proved correct.

  Of course, the marina meant a boat. Which meant there was a distinct possibility that she and Rebecca were soon to be taken out to open water only to face drowning again—and this time, their pursuers would likely succeed.

  Rebecca had remained silent throughout the trip, her eyes boring into the back of Malone’s head. It occurred to Billie that Malone, perhaps, had been the MP following her around all afternoon. Would certainly explain why she’s staring daggers at the asshole, Billie mused. Beyond the fact that he’s kidnapped us, of course.


  Malone drove to one of the docks farthest from the Columbia Island Marina café, where he parked in an open space and ordered Stan to help him “…remove the girls and get them on the boat. The general is waiting.”

  Well gee, if she was too blonde to figure it out before, she sure as hell knew Wainright was involved now. Billie scowled as she was pulled roughly out of the Humvee and led down the dock with Stan’s gun sticking into her ribs. They walked all the way to the end and hooked a left, coming to a small yacht that could be no less than 50 feet long. There was a smaller power boat sitting on a small deck at the vessel’s stern, which Billie made note of in case needing it became necessary.

  Malone holstered his gun and climbed over the boat’s chrome railing, then reached a hand out to Billie. “Don’t try anything funny, or the lieutenant will be shot,” he said sternly. “Just come closer so I can haul your ass up here.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just uncuff me so I can climb onboard myself?” she asked.

  Malone snorted. “I’ve read your jacket. I’m not stupid enough to free those lethal hands of yours—now get over here.”

  He didn’t know her as well as he thought. With Rebecca at risk, she wouldn’t be trying anything—at least not until she had a full grasp of what was going on and how many assholes she was dealing with here. So she did as directed, stepping as close to the side of the boat and offering up her fiercest scowl. Malone only smirked, grabbed her under the arms, and effortlessly lifted her high enough to swing her legs over the railing.

  As soon as her feet were on the deck, she turned to him and quipped, her tone full of sarcasm, “Far be it for me to compliment a criminal, but I have to say I’m impressed, Malone.”

  He raised an eyebrow even as he was leaning over the side to pick up Rebecca. “Just for shits and giggles, tell me why.”

  “I’m impressed because I wouldn’t have figured a skinny little twig-thin bastard like you could lift a finger, let alone a 130-pound woman.”

  Malone looked over his shoulder at her with a sneer. He then grabbed Rebecca roughly by the throat in his left hand and slapped her with his right. The latter caused her to make the first sound since emerging from the river, a cry of pain, and infuriated Billie enough to risk kicking him hard in the back of his knee. Malone grunted loudly but didn’t go down. Pushing Rebecca back to Stan he stood, whirled, and backhanded her viciously, sending her crashing to the shiny wooden deck. He then bent and reached for the lapels of her open jacket, picked her up, and slammed her into the side of the cabin.

  He had drawn his fist back to punch her when a familiar voice barked, “That’s enough!”

  Billie turned to find General Wainright leaning over the side of the open-air control deck. She glared up at him as he said, “Get them inside—now.”

  Malone nodded, then turned and hauled Rebecca over the railing. Stan quickly followed, and the two women were herded around the corner to the back of the boat. Wainright greeted them there, saying, “Oh, Miss Ryan… How I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

  “Your third mistake was in not giving all four of the team the serum, Wainright,” Billie spat angrily. “Had you done that, you might just have solved all your problems by killing all four of them at once. I don’t get it—why the control study, hmm? Why only give two of them that fucked up shit instead of all of them?”

  Wainright nodded his head toward the open cabin door, and Malone pushed her through it. Billie stumbled down the short flight of steps but managed to keep from falling. She walked to the opposite end of the opulent sitting room and turned as Rebecca was coming to join her.

  “As you said, Miss Ryan, it was a control study,” Wainright said. “I was curious to see how those who were on the drug and those who thought they were reacted to it. Simple as that. Had Scofield, Peck, and Lincoln followed orders and continued with the program, I’d have seen to it that they all got it, eventually.”

  “Why did you cover up Eddie Lamacek’s death? Why doesn’t his family know he’s dead?” Rebecca asked. “What about the people whose lives ended needlessly while he was under the influence of that crap?”

  Billie glanced at her, wondering what she was trying to do—surely she was smart enough to know that Wainright knew who she was.

  In fact, Wainright was giving Billie a look that plainly said: Is she for real? “Lieutenant, the simple truth of the matter is this,” he began, stepping around the low table to stand next to her. “I’m too close to scoring a big, fat, early retirement deal, and I was not about to let an investigation into the death of a couple of medical personnel at the hands of your brother—” Rebecca’s eyes widened when he made it clear he’d seen right through her. “—put a hold on my plans. Needless to say—though the two ventures are entirely unrelated—I simply couldn’t allow myself to be so deeply scrutinized.”

  Rebecca’s expression turned to anger, and she shocked Billie by spitting in the general’s face. “You make me sick!” she spewed venomously. “You do not deserve to wear that uniform!”

  Wainright pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, then his arm snapped up and he grabbed Rebecca by the throat. Billie lunged for him but was grabbed from behind by Stan. Eddie’s sister clasped desperately at the fingers squeezing her windpipe.

  “Young lady, you are a guest on my boat,” Wainright said with a sneer. “I would advise you to treat me with more respect, or I may find myself less inclined to be so courteous to you.”

  Rebecca continued to choke, her face turning red, as he looked to Billie and said, “Tell my young associate Malone where your friends are, Miss Ryan, as well as how to get in touch with your CIA boyfriend—or she dies before she hits the floor.”

  Billie could see that he was not joking, so told him that the team was holed up in a safe house about an hour away and rattled off Teddy’s cell phone number.

  “Give him two hours—one to get there and one to get back here. No more,” Wainright instructed.

  Malone nodded and headed out of the cabin, pulling a cell phone from the pocket of his fatigues as he went. Wainright released Rebecca at last and the younger woman collapsed to the sofa, her hands going to the deep red finger marks on her neck as she gasped for air. Billie wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but she was still in Stan’s strong grip.

  Her eyes as they flew back to Wainright, were full of hate. “Where are the bodies, General? How did you keep the deaths silent? Surely someone at Bolling saw something.”

  Wainright chuckled. “In the morgue at Bolling as you guessed before—under different names, of course. As for the rest, you would be amazed at how easy it is to fake a few personnel records and staff a small section of the base—isolated for just this purpose from the rest of the facility—with a few carefully chosen people. Everyone involved in the experiment was hand-picked by me for their loyalty to me. Some of them were clients.”

  The last he said with a smile that turned her stomach, and her eyes narrowed. “What about Dr. Hernandez? How did you even find out about his serum?” she asked. “Did you know what IQ-56 was capable of?”

  “Dr. Hernandez was one of our finest DOD geneticists,” Wainright replied. “When he initially conceived of IQ-56, mixing this amino acid and that one together, he had no idea the compound would have such drastic effects. That didn’t come out until the animal testing phase. Oh, you should see the videos of the chimpanzees going—dare I say it Stan—apeshit!”

  Wainright, Stan, and the returning Malone laughed uproariously. Billie knew then that she and Rebecca were in deep trouble—if these three could find the pitiful suffering of defenseless animals humorous, there was no telling what they’d do with two handcuffed women. Hell, she realized, she already knew: if they weren’t killed outright, more than likely they’d end up being sold to the highest bidder.

  “Hernandez was assigned to me, believe it or not, by SecNav,” the general continued. “I was told to check up on him, to see what his progress was on the serum. He
admitted that it was an unfortunate failure, that while it would likely make subjects stronger and smarter in the short run, chances were likely that they would all, at some point, succumb to psychosis. But I still saw such potential in it! If we could only distribute IQ-56 to our enemies, they’d end up going nuts and taking each other out, and all we’d have to do is wait it out until they’d annihilated one another on their own.”

  Billie was having a hard time believing the gall of the man, he was so far out of it. Purposely wanting to drive other human beings insane just so they’d kill each other off was in itself pure madness. And though she suspected she already knew the answer to her next question as well, she asked anyway, “Where is Hernandez now?”

  “He didn’t want to go through with the human testing trials, but I talked him into doing it as a control study by lauding the scientific aspects of such a test. Of course, when the signs clearly indicated that Maj. Lamacek was starting to lose it, he called it all off. Then he threatened to go over my head to SecNav directly and claim he’d been coerced, so I talked him into giving me a little more time to prepare my final report…and made sure he was the first to attempt to restrain your little friend’s brother when he finally flipped his switch. That took care of that problem.”

  “What about the women?” Rebecca rasped as she pushed to her feet. “What about the children that you sell for sex, General?”

  He snorted. “Oh, that one’s easy. I was invited to a…shall we say, private…facility by one of my foreign associates. Had quite a bit of fun with this fresh little piece of fourteen-year-old pussy that night—a virgin, she was. Damn she was tight. Of course, right away I saw the potential for a rather lucrative business empire, and so with a few phone calls to the right people… Pleasures was born.”