Deadly Rumors

by Jeanne Foguth

  Quinn made a sound of intense appreciation and began softly whistle. Now, all they needed was footage of him with Ling or something else incriminating and they had the bastard so good that no jury would let him off.

  When the door closed, Doran scanned the area, then silently moved to the elevator and checked the panel. When the elevator stopped at B, he entered the stairwell. Concrete block walls covered with thick chrome yellow enamel paint encased the windowless stairwell, while the metal railings and concrete floor had been left in their natural state.

  Doran peaked through the mesh-embedded window at the basement level. A bobbing light illuminated a large fenced in an area containing racks and racks of old files. There was about a ten-foot wide corridor between the stairwell and elevator. Frederickson hunched over, with his back to Doran and appeared to be doing something to the fence.

  “Can you zoom in the video?” Quinn whispered over the headset. Doran turned a dial. “There. A little lower and to your right. Good, that has it." Triumphant sounds of appreciation emanated from the earpiece. "Got a good tape of our friend dialing in the combination for the gate. Just how do you suppose such an upstanding citizen came by that?”

  “Beats me.” Doran whispered, ”You’d think with his taste for quality, he’d stay up with the marble and carpet instead of come down here to play with indoor fences and files.” Frederickson propped the gate open, the vanished into the tall, long file-racks.

  “What’s this? A gold-plated invite?” Quinn made an unhappy sound. “Dev, I don’t like open gates.”

  Doran didn’t either. He drew his gun and inched the stairwell door open.

  Deep within the file storage area, he heard the muffled sound of footsteps. Doran darted across the entrance area and through the gate. His spine prickled and he prayed he hadn’t just entered a trap. On soundless shoes, he dashed to the end of the bank of racks where Frederickson had vanished. He leaned back and counted to ten, as his heart calmed, then he peered around the rack.

  Frederickson was about a hundred feet down the bank of files and moving with the same casual confidence he’d shown on the main level. When he reached the end of the row, he turned to his left.

  Doran mirrored his movement at the top end of the line of open racks. The fifth row down, Frederickson opened a door marked NO ADMITTANCE. Bright white light and hip-hop music streamed into the aisle.

  Doran ducked back out of sight, then moved down the previous walkway.

  “About time you got here,” someone said from inside the room.

  The door started to swing shut. “Marvin,” Kelsey said. Doran’s heart slammed to full alert. “Somehow I knew you were Botts' puppet master.”

  There was the sound of slap, before the door clicked shut.

  “Dev, see if you can slide the optic lens under the door.” Doran forced his frozen muscles forward and threaded the spaghetti-thin tube under the door. “Hmmmm. Interesting selection of shoes. Can you rotate it?" Quinn hummed an annoyingly happy tune. "There!”

  “Is Kelsey all right?”

  Quinn's tune changed to a non-committal monotone. Doran drew his handgun and clicked off the safety. “Looks like Kelsey is tied to a chair.” Quinn snorted. “How cliché can these idiots get?" There was a pause. Doran gritted his teeth and willed his partner to clue him in on how many were in the room and the dimensions. "Botts is there." Big surprise. "He’s got a handgun, probably a 38. Three unknowns, they look like lab-rats. I’m getting wonderful resolution on the picture. This’ll play great for a jury.”

  “I’m glad for you,” Doran breathed. “Can you confirm five bogeys plus Kelsey?” While Doran was relatively confident that the other room was soundproof because of the music had only been noticeable with the door open, he didn't know what sort of heat, sound or motion technology the racks might hide. “Are Frederickson and the three rats are armed?” There was a beep in the background.

  “Looks like more company just arrived,” Quinn said, after a moment’s silence. Quinn inhaled sharply. “It’s Ling.” His whispered tone crackled with excitement. “Dev, get out of there.” When he didn’t immediately retract the mini-cam, Quinn snarled, “Now. I’m phoning our friends. They'll love to join our party.” Doran extracted the optics. Though he wanted to barge into the room, gun blazing, he knew better than to put himself and Kelsey in the middle. Over the headphone, Quinn whistled softly as the sound of digital tones played in the background. “Ling brought a couple of our friends for the party.”

  “Surely you didn’t think Ling would go anywhere without Merek and Cedric. That would be equivalent to a bride showing up for her wedding naked.”

  “Brad, this is Quinn … yeah, I know it’s late, but you’re gonna want in on this.”

  Various strains of the conversation were repeated three more times. “Dev, Trent will be here to back you up in ten minutes. Do not do anything stupid before then.”

  Doran finished removing the video feed and melted into the shadows of the racks. When he arrived near the front of the racks, he readjusted the video feed and focused the tiny camera on the elevator doors. After a few tense moments, there was a ping and the doors opened, discharging a rectangle of light into the basement. The three people standing on the elevator were illuminated to perfection. Cedric stepped into the basement and peered into the gloom, his Uzi ready for anything. When Cedric was satisfied that all was well, he’d moved halfway to the gate, Ling stepped off the elevator with confidence, Merek came two paces behind him, his Uzi only a little less vigilant than Cedric’s.

  God, but he hated those two mercenaries. Doran’s fingers itched for the comforting feel of his gun and he knew that if he was certain which of them had shot Quinn, he'd take the scum out right then and there. Instead, he let training rule his emotions and kept his weapon holstered.

  When Cedric entered the racks, Doran pocketed the transmitter and palmed an anesthetic syringe in one hand, a thick cloth in the other. Ling moved into the file section, as if he didn't have a fear in the world. Merek imitated Ling's arrogant posture. When the elevator doors closed, Doran slipped on his night-vision goggles and silently moved in behind Merek. In one swift, coordinated movement he clamped his fabric-protected hand over Merek’s mouth and stabbed him with the tranquilizer. The thug whirled, but Doran expected the move. He held him quiet for the count of ten. Then he soundlessly shifted Merek to the floor and grabbed his Uzi. Doran caught up with Ling as he entered the lab.

  “Son of a B. Dev!” Quinn’s panic sounded palatable. “Get out of there!”

  Instead of retreating, Doran ducked behind a stack of packing crates. He laid the video feed on top of some boxes so Quinn could get a visual of the room.

  “Frederickson is bowing to Ling as if honoring royalty,” Quinn said.

  “He’d probably kiss Hitler’s feet,” Doran murmured.

  “Yeah. Can you rotate the view left?” After tweaking the video angle, Doran placed the backup audio receiver near the camera. “Good, now get the hell out of there.”

  “No. You make your evidence file, I’ve got something else to do.” Doran crouched below table height and began working his way across the room toward Kelsey, while Quinn ordered him to retreat.

  “Ah, my dear friend,” Frederickson said. If Quinn hadn't been so busy howling for him to flee, he would realize that the footage he was getting was priceless and start cheering over the implications.

  Doran crept behind a bottle-covered table and plotted his next move. Frederickson gestured toward Kelsey, who was wiggling against the tie wraps that bound her to a cheap chair. “In honor of our ten years together, I have a gift for you,” Frederickson said.

  Ling smiled. Doran shivered. “I recognize her.” His laugh sounded supernatural. “Clever of you to eliminate your opposition and call it my gift.” He looked around the room then frowned and turned to Cedric. “What’s detaining Merek?”

  Cedric gave a slight shrug, then leveled his Uzi at the door and inched toward it. Damn, he’d h
oped for more time before the shit hit the fan. Botts wagged his finger at Cedric. “Don’t make another ‘suicide’ look like murder.”

  Cedric leveled his Uzi at Botts’ stomach in a silent threat. “I not shoot friend. You friend?” Botts laughed like it was a joke and raised his hands, but sweat beaded on his forehead. Point made, Cedric grinned and went out the door.

  "So, my dear buddy," Ling said, "what else do you have for me? You mentioned a new formula that would make shipping easier."

  Frederickson ushered him toward a pimply-faced looking, tattoo-covered nerd. "Thomas developed the process. He should have the honor of presenting it to you."

  As the nerd nervously pointed and gesticulated, Doran caught Kelsey’s attention. Her only reaction was a slight dilation of her pupils when she saw him. He motioned for her to be quiet, but suspected she would have, no matter what. When everyone focused on Thomas’ method, Doran moved behind a stack of dusty boxes and sawed one of Kelsey’s hands free. Unable to stay in such an exposed position, he handed her his knife.

  Without acknowledging him, she eagerly began slicing into the thick plastic securing her other wrist. A thin streak of blood bloomed on the blade, but her only reaction was to tilt the cutting edge. With a faint pop, the binding dropped away. She held her breath and stared at the others, but when they didn’t look back, she carefully bent over and began freeing her feet.

  Knowing that he only moments remained to get into position, Doran ducked back behind the table, clutched the Uzi and waited.

  The door burst open.

  Botts leveled his 38 a fraction of a minute before Frederickson aimed his handgun. Cedric burst into the room, his Uzi leveled. “Merek hurt. Think hit head. No wake.”

  Ling turned to Frederickson, fury in his expression. “It seems your operation has been compromised.”

  Frederickson shook his head. Ling nodded, then glanced at Cedric.

  With an ear-splitting roar, blood gushed from the chest of first one, then two lab workers. Ling grabbed Frederickson by the ear and hustled him toward the door.

  The pimply-faced Thomas screamed and dove under the table where Doran was hiding. He shrieked louder when he saw him. Doran gave him a swift upper cut, but didn’t wait to make certain he was unconscious as he surged to his feet and started firing. His first slug hit Botts in the upper arm.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kelsey yank her foot free and dive behind a stack of boxes. A second later, bullets shattered her chair.

  Doran roared with rage and peppered Cedric’s chest with lead. Though he fell backwards, no blood appeared. Botts lunged at him; Doran gave him a high kick in the solar plexus. Botts staggered. When Doran turned back to Cedric, he’d vanished.

  Frederickson fired at Ling, but Ling whirled away. Frederickson fell backward into a lab table. The table overturned and bottles of chemicals smashed over the floor.

  Kelsey darted toward the door, but Ling grabbed her wrist and hauled her up short. She kicked at him, but he moved aside with the ease of a highly skilled martial arts master.

  Botts moaned and tried to stand. Doran kicked his groin.

  Kelsey tried to stab Ling with the knife, she still held, as if it were life itself.

  Frederickson fired. The slug grazed his thigh; he fell next to moaning Botts. Botts struggled to his feet, but before he straightened, Frederickson’s gun roared, again. Botts fell, a fist-sized hole in the back of his head.

  Doran rolled under a table and tried to get a bead on Frederickson.

  He saw the blow coming out of his peripheral vision and rolled out of the way. Cedric roared with rage and dove after him, landing hard on his arm. Hand numb, Doran’s Uzi fell to the floor. As it hit, it fired. Someone screamed in pain.

  Cedric began pummeling him with a vengeance.

  Doran hit back putting every bit of training and rage he’d ever felt into each blow.

  They rolled against the table legs; it tipped over. More chemicals crashed to the floor. Flames leaped upward. Thomas, the lab tech staggered toward the door.

  Cedric boxed Doran’s ear, knocking his head to the left. Through the flames, he saw Ling holding Kelsey by the nape of her neck as he pushed her toward the door, while using her as a shield.

  The fire flared.

  Frederickson turned toward them, aimed and shot. Doran flipped Cedric into the line of fire too late; it felt like a freight train had hit his side.

  ooo

  Kelsey knew how helpless puppies and kittens felt with jaws gripping the back of their neck. The small oriental man grasped the tender flesh and tendons with such power that she knew it would take days for the bruise to heal. Still, she watched for a way to break free and an opportunity to use Doran’s knife on something softer than plastic.

  As Ling shoved her through PBCO’s front door, she tried to kick and stab, but the old man swiftly evaded her foot and snatched the knife. Then, in an amazingly nimble move, he wrapped one arm around her waist. Suddenly she felt a knife at her throat and knew it was Doran’s.

  “Keep fighting and you die,” his peanut-scented breath wafted over her cheek. Pain radiated as a hot droplet rolled downward. She gasped and went limp. “That’s more like it.” Ling's chuckle would make a demon smile. She shuddered. He released her waist, but before she could think of a way to escape, he had her by the collar of her shirt. Only then, did he ease the knife’s pressure.

  Another droplet trickled down her neck.

  Afraid to swallow, Kelsey waited to see what he’d do next.

  “Move toward the van.” She took a step. The knife connected with flesh. “Not so fast.”

  What was he worried about? Did he think the shadows were filled with sharp shooters?

  Step by painful baby-step, they moved toward the dark van. When they stepped into the parking lot. An unseen man said, “Long time on see, Ling.”

  Ling jerked; the knife bit into her neck. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man sitting in a wheelchair, a rifle aimed in her direction. Martha had said Doran’s partner was crippled. She hoped this was Quinn and not some long-time friend of Ling’s, as the tone had suggested.

  “I thought you were dead.” Ling looked Quinn up and down then chuckled. “Well, at least half of you is.”

  Kelsey’s skin crawled.

  Quinn made a tiny gesture with the gun. “The rest of me is fully operational.”

  “Shoot me and the bitch dies.”

  “Whatever you do with her isn’t my concern. One way or the other, I’m going to get you.”

  Ling laughed as if Quinn had made a joke, but he repositioned her to cover his side, then forced her to begin sidestepping toward the van. “How naïve of you to believe that.”

  The rifle didn’t waver. “I don’t see either of your gorillas.”

  “Not all protection is visible.”

  “Neither the sheriff nor the senator is here, either.”

  Ling smiled. “Always so short sighted.”

  Though the man behind her looked old and wiry, his grip felt like a steel trap. She struggled to break free or at least give Quinn a clear shot, but no matter what she did, the old man with the too-sweet breath kept her between him and Quinn’s steady aim. No matter what Quinn had said about not valuing her life, he hadn’t fired, so he must have bluffed. As they neared the van, Kelsey realized no amount of wiggling would free her, so she sought another solution.

  Quinn’s aim followed them the entire way. Kelsey half wished he would shoot. One way or the other, she’d be out of her misery. Devlin Doran had already paid a terrible price for attempting to rescue her; she couldn’t expect anyone to rescue her if she didn’t make the effort to save herself. Kelsey took a steadying breath and stealthily unbuttoned the bottom button of her shirt. Quinn grinned when her fingers worked the next button free.

  She only had the top button to go when they reached the van. Ling’s grip changed when they got to the driver’s door. “Open it.”

  She pulled on the handle
. “It’s locked.”

  He dropped Doran’s knife, but kept hold of her collar.

  As the hinge squeaked open, Kelsey undid the button, slammed her arms backward and dove headfirst out of her shirt. Something snagged the back pocket of her jeans. For a moment, she was caught, then the fabric ripped and she was falling, again. A shot rang out. She tucked her chin and somersaulted forward over the rough asphalt in a maneuver she hadn’t done since she’d played leapfrog in grade school.

  She scrambled to her feet and glanced back as she sprinted away. Ling slammed the van’s door. Quinn’s second shot impacted against the window.

  “Damn, it’s bulletproof.”

  The next shot took out the front tire. Kelsey slowed her pace and stared at the all-too-real drama. Ling gunned the engine. Tires screaming, the van roared toward her. She leaped out of the way moments before it surged past her. The rifle roared, again.

  Panting for breath, Kelsey sat down on the dank asphalt, but watched the receding van as if half-expected the van to back and try another run. Instead, it kept going and Quinn kept his weapon trained on it, as he looked for something vulnerable.

  Brakes squealed as another car entered the parking lot. Headlights spotlighted her shirt and the photo that had been in its pocket. Kelsey sprinted back and snatched them and jammed her arms into the shirt. She had half the buttons secured before her hands started shaking too much to line up the buttons and the holes. She looked down, and noticed a trail of blood glistening against the parking lot’s tarry surface.

  Quinn rolled up to her and calmly finished fastening her shirt. “Brilliant move with the buttons.”

  “Th-thank you,” Kelsey said. Her knees began quaking.

  Quinn gently pulled her onto his lap, then patted her back and made soothing sounds, as if she was a baby. “You did great.” She clutched the photo to her heart.

  More vehicles arrived. A slim dark figure leaped from one and ran toward them, but when Quinn pointed behind them and made an odd motion with his hand, the ninja-type silhouette changed direction. A News van skidded into the parking lot. Dear Lord, not the paparazzi circus. No doubt a platoon of cameras had been hidden in the shadows, and footage of her half-naked would flood the networks for several days. The last thing her dignity needed was a picture of her cozying up on the lap of a cripple’s emaciated legs. She must be hurting him. Kelsey stood up, holding onto his wheelchair for support.