Fournier was forcing Scott to make a split decision: drag the injured man along with them, creating a burden they could really do without, or leave him here. After finally catching the Bestia Butcher, the last thing he wanted to do was lose sight of him. Then again, trapped here on Poppy’s Pier, in Fournier’s weakened state, he wouldn’t get far if he tried to run. Scott looked around for Dundee, but at some point, Fournier’s new lieutenant had slunk away.
The deep boom of an explosion made his decision for him. He pointed in Fournier’s face. “Stay here.”
Maddy and her people had already started running. Scott gripped the submachine gun in both hands and set off after them. He’d sprinted maybe fifty yards when the second boom sounded. He caught up just before they entered the structure surrounding the pier. Those in the lead met up with some of the scouts and were directed to a hole in the wall – the same one Alton had led him through earlier.
Scott was the only one with a gun, so Maddy and her men waited inside as he stole out onto the dock. With no cover to be had, he dropped flat and crawled to the edge where he could hold the barrel of the submachine gun out over the river. At some point, Maddy’s yacht had slipped off the dock and was low in the water not far downstream. On Singh’s yacht, the helicopter was burning, providing enough light for him to see that the bow of his vessel had already dipped towards the water. It would be interesting to see whether Singh had enough power to summon a rescue from the overwhelmed authorities before it sank to the bottom of the Hudson. Scott and the others were banking on his SOS being ignored just like everyone else’s.
The helicopter lost traction and with a groan of protesting metal, slid into the back of the yacht’s cockpit. With a wicked grin, Scott watched two men leap overboard.
“Inflatable being lowered,” Lo said.
Scott didn’t see anything, so he assumed it was on the other side of the yacht. After a few more tense minutes, Alton said, “Target confirmed. Repeat, Singh is aboard the inflatable.”
“Should we take it out?” Boardman asked.
“Wait to see if they head for the pier,” Scott said.
A moment later, he heard, “That’s a negative on the pier. Looks like they’re making a break for the Jersey side. Too bad they’re about to spring a leak.”
The crack of a rifle rang out and Alton chuckled. “Target has changed course. Be advised he is headed your way.”
“Copy that,” Scott said.
He released the trigger and held his hand to his mouth, breathing warmth onto his frozen fingers while he waited. The inflatable rounded the sinking yacht, its orange skin sagging as it struggled to stay afloat. From the sound of it, the pilot had opened up the little outboard motor, but it began to sputter as water flooded it. Some seconds later, it stopped altogether. Scott watched impassively as the three passengers took to the water about a hundred yards from the dock and began swimming, unaware of what awaited them.
The two men who’d jumped overboard were also swimming in, but they didn’t have the benefit of life jackets like the men from the inflatable. Scott waited impatiently, trying not to sympathize with any of them.
It was quieter now. With food and water to pacify the detainees, they weren’t as unruly. The gentle sound of water lapping against the underside of the pier was almost hypnotic. On the yacht, the helicopter fire had spread to the cockpit and was quickly becoming a conflagration. A bright streak of orange light reflected off the surface of the water. Scott’s attention was caught by a trail of bubbles and he suddenly remembered there were divers in the water.
Chapter Fifty-one
“A little tied up?” Bryn hissed at Esmie.
“Okay. A lot tied up,” Esmie replied.
Bryn stood indecisively near the door, eyes slowly adjusting to the sparse light coming in from the exterior chamber. There were exactly five people laid out on the floor of the little room. Bryn had a gun and a stun gun, but no knife to cut their bindings. Something told her Shasta wouldn’t be lying there bound and gagged if the ropes around her wrists and ankles could have been untied.
A sound from outside warned her just in time; she flattened herself against the wall as the big man returned. Esmie hadn’t moved though, and the man saw her instantly.
“What are you doing here, hag?”
The old woman squinted up at him. “Esmie is distracting you.”
“What?” he snapped.
With a jolt, Bryn realized she was sending her a message. Bryn licked her lips and fit her finger to the trigger of the stun gun. It activated with a crackle that alerted the man. He twisted around and she thrust it against his chest, wincing away as the electrical charge overwhelmed his nervous system. He made a choking sound before crumpling to the ground. Esmie immediately bent over him, patting his pockets and pulling things out. “No knife.”
Of course he didn’t have a knife, Bryn thought. The National Guard would have ensured none of the detainees arrived armed, and the men from the prison buses would have nothing on them.
Shasta started making noises, so Bryn hurried over and worked the rag out of her mouth. There wasn’t enough light to see her face clearly, but just from feel, Bryn could tell it was battered and bloody. Shasta nodded towards the back wall. “Picture.”
Bryn looked over her shoulder. A framed photograph hung low on the wall at an odd angle. She stepped over the other captives and took it down. The frame was black plastic, and it had been hung with string. The glass over the undistinguishable photo had a big crack running from top to bottom. She went back and knelt next to Shasta, who’d rolled onto her side. Bryn turned the picture over, and after twisting the clips to remove the backing, carefully removed a sliver of glass. She began sawing at Shasta’s bindings. It wasn’t rope; whoever had done this must have torn up an item of clothing and used the strips to tie her up.
“Where’re my agents?” Shasta’s voice was hoarse.
Bryn had a feeling Shasta wasn’t going to like the truth, but she told her anyway. “Um, right about now they’re attacking Philip Singh’s yacht.”
Shasta surprised her by laughing softly. “Of course they are.”
A few slices at the material around Shasta’s wrists, and Bryn was able to tear the rest away. After the material parted, Shasta sat up and reached for another shard of glass to start in on her ankles. “Get the others.”
The gag on the first man was too tight to pull down; Bryn had to cut it. When it came free and he spoke, she recognized him as Deputy Director Unger.
“Help Congressman Abbott.”
There were two other men. Bryn had never seen the congressman, but figured it was the white-haired man whose black suit didn’t disguise the huge belly underneath it, rather than the thin man dressed casually. The congressman was lying ominously still, his gag soaked with what smelled like vomit. She was afraid he’d choked to death on it, but then felt his breath blow faintly against her hand. The stench was overwhelming; she held her own breath as she sawed at the moist material. He didn’t respond when she peeled it away from his face.
“He’s unconscious,” she whispered.
“Surprised he’s not dead,” Unger said. “Bastards.”
He retrieved Abbott’s discarded gag and stalked over to their guard, who was moaning and attempting to lever himself into a sitting position.
“You like to beat up on women and old men?” Unger punched the guard in the face, and then forcibly stuffed Abbott’s stinking gag into his mouth. While Shasta helped tie him up with the remnants of their bindings, Bryn cut the thin man free. She’d never seen him before either, but the fifth and last person was very familiar to her. Even in the low light, she recognized her mother’s pale face.
“Thank you,” Nicola Fournier said quietly.
Unger returned to the congressman’s side and shook him gently. “Darrell…come on man, wake up.” He pointed to the man standing with Nicola. “You. Help me with him.”
Between them, Unger and the other man managed to rai
se Abbott’s torso off the ground, but he was so grossly overweight they couldn’t lift him. Unger muttered, “Damn it. Set him down.”
Shasta went to the doorway and peered out. She turned to Bryn, gesturing to the guard lying on the ground. “Stun gun?”
“Yeah,” Bryn replied.
“How’d you get it past the army? They took my weapon, guns, keys…”
“We came by boat. I also have a gun.”
“Thank God,” Shasta breathed, holding her hand out.
Bryn passed it to her and watched as Shasta popped the cartridge out to examine it.
“Fully loaded,” she murmured. “Don’t suppose you have a phone?”
Bryn nodded. She entered Mia’s passcode and handed the holophone over.
Shasta didn’t have a chance to call anyone, however. Footsteps warned them that someone was coming. The man who entered stopped cold when a gun appeared at his temple.
“Thaaat’s right,” Shasta drawled. “It’s payback time.”
Chapter Fifty-two
Scott stared at the water as the trail of bubbles got closer and then ended directly below him.
“How many divers were there?” he asked.
“Four,” Lo said. “Why?”
“I think one of them swam under me. Under the pier.”
“Makes sense. Bodies would get caught under there.”
Something about the divers bothered him, but he didn’t reply because Singh and his men had almost made it to the pier and he didn’t want them to hear him. Of the other two men, the ones who’d been forced to leap overboard, one was maybe twenty feet out, but the other was floundering. Scott didn’t want to watch him drown, but there was nothing he could do to help. The UAAV was nearby, but still in stealth mode, waiting to assist if Singh and his men resisted. It occurred to him that the divers might assist the men, but it was dark and the water no doubt murky. He didn’t know if they were even aware of what was going on at the surface.
He got to his feet as Singh reached the dock and struggled to climb out about ten feet to the left of him. Scott couldn’t see Maddy, but knew she was watching. Having been in the water himself, he didn’t think Singh’s men would give him any trouble, but he didn’t relax his grip on the submachine gun as he approached them.
All three lay gasping on the dock like fish out of water. One of them caught sight of Scott and fumbled at his life vest.
“Don’t,” Scott said.
The man hesitated only briefly before holding his hands up in surrender. He couldn’t sustain the pose, however, as cold-induced muscle spasms forced his fingers to curl into his palms and his forearms shook uncontrollably. It was clear he was no threat in his condition, so Scott bent to unfasten his vest and frisk him. He found a shoulder holster under the man’s left arm and removed the pistol.
The man in the water closest to the pier called out a garbled, “Help!”
Scott yanked the life vest off the man he’d disarmed and hurled it out over the water before getting back to the business of securing the prisoners. The second man’s holster was tucked into the back of his pants. Singh wasn’t carrying.
Scott stepped back and waited impatiently for the last man to reach him; the one who’d been floundering was nowhere to be seen. The straggler had reached the life vest he’d tossed him and was kicking listlessly towards the pier.
Maddy tromped out onto the dock, followed by four of her men.
“Hello, Father,” she said. “Have a nice swim?”
Between the heavy accent and the chattering of Singh’s teeth, it was hard to understand his response, but Scott picked out a profanity or two. Maddy sighed and looked at Scott. “What are we waiting for?”
Scott lifted his chin towards the last man in the water.
“If you’re not planning on shooting him, just leave him with the others,” Maddy said. “He’ll either make it or he won’t.”
“Just want to see if he’s armed.”
“Oh, right. Heaven forbid one of my people might get hold of a gun.”
“Would you feel the same if one of Fournier’s people got hold of it?”
She crossed her arms and made a ‘humph’ sound.
The man did make it a few minutes later. One of Maddy’s men hauled him out of the water and Scott checked him for weapons.
“All clear,” he said, and then for Lo’s benefit, “Targets secured.”
“Roger that. We’re coming in.”
Maddy directed two of her men to lift her father.
“Where are we going to do this?” she asked.
Scott considered it for a moment. “Someplace warm and private.”
They left Singh’s men to fend for themselves and headed straight for the bus. Scott wasn’t sure the guardsmen would even let them back in, but Bastida cautiously opened the door.
“Just you three,” he said, indicating Scott, Maddy and Singh. Maddy’s men deposited Singh in a seat and left, grumbling a bit among themselves as they exited the warm bus.
The first thing Scott noticed was the guardsmen had moved Malone’s body to the back seat. They didn’t have anything to mop the blood up with, however, and gravity had spread it in a long, thin rivulet to the front of the bus.
“Saw the supply drop,” Bastida said. “Don’t suppose you brought us anything to eat?”
“Nah, brought something better.” Scott gestured to the pathetically shivering Singh. “Meet the man who tried to kill us.”
Chapter Fifty-three
Shasta gestured for the other guard to come farther inside and ordered him to strip.
With obvious reluctance, the man took off his jacket. Esmie moved in and patted him down, finding a shiv made out of a rusty nail attached to a stick that she tucked into her pocket.
“Shirt,” Shasta said.
The man pulled his shirt off and Unger yanked it out of his hand before tearing it into strips that they used to tie him up with.
“There are a lot of xenos out there,” Bryn said. “We can’t tie them up one by one.”
Unger knelt next to the congressman. “And we can’t leave without him. He needs medical attention.”
Shasta lifted Mia’s holophone. “Let’s hope my agents are free.”
Lo answered on the first ring. “Shasta! Thank goodness. Where are you?”
“Cornered in the Northwest section of the pier. Did you get Singh?”
“Uh, yeah. That okay?”
“What’s done is done, but don’t interrogate him. And for God’s sake, don’t release him, whatever you do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lo said. “You should know we were forced to make some unusual alliances. Maddy Singh and Nicolas Fournier were in our custody, but at the moment, we’re all sort of…working together.”
Shasta sighed, but said, “I hear you. It’s desperate times. I’ll debrief you later. Right now, I’m sending our exact coordinates. We could really use an extraction here.”
“On our way, but it’ll take at least ten minutes.”
“Bring a stretcher, a sturdy one.”
“Roger that.”
Shasta disconnected. From the darkness, Nicola asked, “What are you going to do with Mr. Singh?”
“That’s XIA business,” Shasta replied shortly.
“No. It’s everyone’s business.”
“She’s actually got a point.” Unger’s voice was harsh. “Singh won’t talk, and since our only witness is practically comatose, we won’t be able to hold him. He’ll crucify the entire Agency. We can’t keep what we know close to the vest anymore.”
“You mean go public?” Shasta sounded resigned.
“Daddy did,” Nicola said. “He said it was the only way.”
Shasta frowned. “Your father’s a psychopath.”
“He is not! Stop saying that!”
Bryn put a hand on Shasta’s arm. “Did you get Mia’s message?”
“No. They took my phone. Why?”
“Fournier…you know how my father told us he want
ed xeno regulation enacted to pave the way for human cloning? Well, there’s more to it than that. A lot more.”
“You can’t believe anything he told you,” Unger said. “The man’s got a pathological God complex.”
Bryn nodded. “Yes, he does. And I didn’t say I believed him, just that he told me some stuff you need to hear.”
“Go on.”
She told them what Fournier had said about one man owning not only all of the government mandated bioengineering labs, but the donor waste disposal company, too. When she got to the part about how that company was selling the leftover parts on the black market instead of incinerating them, Unger snorted.
“We don’t care that he’s got competition.”
“That’s what Mia – I mean Doctor Padilla – said. Then he told her this man’s bioengineers figured out how xeno immunity works, and they fixed it so it doesn’t anymore.”
Shasta’s chin lifted in understanding. “Is that man Philip Singh?”
“I think so.”
“Of course it’s Mr. Singh,” Nicola said. “You think my dad’s crazy? At least he doesn’t keep people sick so he can make money off them.”
“But he does kill innocent people,” Shasta snapped.
A voice came from the doorway. “Not deliberately.”
Shasta swung around with the gun, but Dundee’s hands were already in the air. “I’m not armed.”
“Stay where you are.”
He kept his hands where Shasta could see them. “I want you to know Fournier didn’t order any of it. He had nothing to do with those people I infected at the bank. We didn’t know the typhoid would kill anyone at that point. He never asked me to infect anyone except other xenos, and he only did that because he wanted to figure out who would become carriers.”
“What about Robert Cruise?” Shasta asked. “He infected all those people at the courthouse.”
“Who?”
“Junk,” Bryn said.
Dundee shrugged. “Junk was a moron. He was pissed because he got a traffic ticket. Went there on his own for some payback.”
Xenofreak Nation, Book Three: XIA Page 20
