A bouquet of flowers rose in the air behind Hagstedt.
Then I saw Ai.
Ai was gripping the clear glass vase from the coffee table in her small pale hands.
She swung the vase and flowers at the side of Hagstedt’s head.
The vase shattered against his face.
He screamed as glass sliced into the right side of his model-fine features, flaying open that side of his face. Skin flapped from his temple, down his cheek, all the way to his chin.
Blood flowed onto his once spotless starched white shirt and down his black tux. The right side of his upper lip was also torn, his eyelid shut tight and bloody. The top of his right ear was gone.
Hagstedt’s handsome face was ruined.
Water and blood covered him and his tux. Flowers tumbled onto his shoulders and the carpet around his feet.
He gave something between a howl and a scream. I started toward him again.
Hagstedt moved faster than I expected for a man who had just been mutilated by a glass vase.
He whirled and grabbed Ai, wrapping his arm around her neck and jerking her against his chest.
Ai gasped and coughed as she fought him with her fists and landed kicks to his ankles. Water and his blood dripped onto her hair, face, and clothing.
“I’ll snap her neck.” His face was hideous, his voice menacing as he stepped back from me. He was moving toward the door.
Ai let out a strangled sound as he gripped her tighter by her neck. Her fair skin started to turn purple. She grabbed at his arm, but he held on to her.
I heard a single chime as he slid one hand inside of his tux. My heart jerked. He was drawing another gun.
Instead he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He continued to hold Ai by her neck and keep his gaze on me.
He brought the phone to his left ear, which was on the side of his face without wounded flesh, the side not covered in blood.
“Are you here?” he said in a guttural, furious voice. A single pause before he added, “Stay on the pad. I’ll be there shortly.
“Grab a towel and give it to me,” Hagstedt shouted at Ning.
She hesitated only a moment before she rushed into the bathroom. He took position so that he could see both me and the bathroom and was out of reach of any more surprises.
Hagstedt still had a tight grip on Ai, but her chest rose and fell in short pants, which told me she could still breathe.
I wanted to go for his Sig, which was maybe five feet from me, but I didn’t dare. He’d follow through in a heartbeat with his threat to break Ai’s neck, and then he’d go after Ning.
Ning rushed back with a thick white bath towel but didn’t get close to Hagstedt. She tossed the towel to him and it landed on the arm with the broken hand. His ruined right hand, ruined like the right side of his face.
Hagstedt cursed then shoved Ai so that he now held her with his right arm. His hand might hurt like a sonofabitch, but he still had her in a tight stranglehold in the crook of his elbow. He held her firmly and she couldn’t struggle. She looked so close to passing out that I didn’t think she could move.
Hagstedt made guttural sounds like a wounded animal as he used his good hand to wrap the towel around his bloody face, leaving only his nose and his left eye open. What I could see of his face was almost the same snow blue as his eyes. Blood stained the towel in bright red blotches as it seeped through the cloth.
When he finished, Hagstedt started dragging Ai past me to the door. Her face was so purple, I was positive she was close to asphyxiation.
“Open the door, bitch,” he said to Ning. His voice was muffled by the reddening towel, but I still heard the fury in his voice.
To me he said, “Don’t follow. You know I do not care if this girl lives or dies.”
My breath caught in my chest and I remained motionless as Hagstedt jerked Ai past Ning and through the doorway.
The door slammed shut behind Hagstedt.
I heard the ding of one of the nearby elevators that must have just opened along the bank of elevators.
Shit. I hoped it was one filled with RED agents.
I heard another elevator ding as I scooped Hagstedt’s gun from the carpet. I dodged glass as I ran barefoot toward the closed door.
Wood and debris flew in every direction as the door frame splintered and the door exploded inward.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Exit stage left
The crash echoed in the suite like an iron ball shot from a cannon.
My heart leaped into my throat as I stopped in my tracks. I trained Hagstedt’s Sig Sauer on the doorway.
Ning whimpered.
Relief rushed through me as Donovan tore into the room. He charged through the shattered doorway after the battering ram that had been used was jerked out of the way.
I lowered the Sig. Donovan’s expression was furious, his face contorted into primal rage.
He came to a halt as he saw me and Ning. He swept his gaze over the room and took in the broken vase, the blood, the flowers, and the dead girl, then me and Ning again.
He gave me a swift look-over and seemed satisfied that I wasn’t hurt. “Was the man Hagstedt?” Donovan said in a low, menacing voice. “Where’s the bastard?”
RED agents in raid gear were with him, but I couldn’t tell how many. I didn’t recognize the agents and knew they had to be from the local RED branch. We never brought in any other law enforcement agencies. Never.
Our raid gear always had POLICE on everything—it’s the universal word for law enforcement. What would the bad guys think if you were on a raid and started yelling, “RED! This is RED! Put your hands up!” They’d probably laugh their asses off.
Not to mention, RED didn’t officially exist.
“Hagstedt called someone and said something about a pad.” I reached Donovan at the shattered doorway. “I’m betting he has a helicopter landing on the pad at the top of the condominium part of the tower. And Hagstedt has a hostage.”
“Fuck.” Donovan whirled to face the agents. “Hancock, contact victims’ response unit, scene control, and cleanup.”
There must have been quite a few agents because Donovan then shouted in a booming voice, “Everyone else get to the lobby then to the condominium elevators. Head to the roof. Suspect has a copter and a hostage.”
Several agents responded that they were on their way.
“Hold the elevator for me, Donovan,” I called out as I started following.
A young agent, apparently Hancock, hurried through the doorway after the other agents rushed out. The young man stopped just inside the door, holding his FN A2 RED standard-issue rifle with the barrel pointed toward the carpet.
“Stay here,” I said to Ning as I headed out of the doorway, still gripping Hagstedt’s Sig. “This police officer will help you.”
No time to see if Ning acknowledged my order as I bolted out of the suite. One door in the bank of elevators was being held open by Donovan as he growled, “Hurry, Steele.”
Several apparently very wealthy civilians, outfitted in what was no doubt thousands of dollars’ worth of clothing, were backed up against one wall. They stared at the elevators with jaws dropped, eyes wide. They’d probably been jerked off elevators that had been headed down so that RED agents could pile in.
I ignored the people and dodged spots of blood on the rich carpeting as I ran in my bare feet to the elevator. Donovan grabbed my wrist and yanked me inside. He, along with New York branch RED agents wearing black raid gear, crowded the small space.
No doubt more RED agents were already headed to the lobby, then to the bank of private elevators that take residents to the condominiums. Guest rooms only went as high as the seventeenth floor, the condos taking up the eighteenth through the fifty-second stories.
“How about Kerrison, the girls, and Jenika?” I looked up at Donovan. “Are they okay?”
“I hope to hell they are.” Donovan’s expression was grim.
“Our team should be there now.”
My stomach tightened into a knot at the thought of what could be happening over at the Elite.
Focus on this part of the op, Steele. Trust your agents.
Deep breath.We should be reaching the lobby soon.
Considering that we were a bunch of agents, most dressed in full raid gear and all handling guns—it wasn’t going to be pleasant running through a lobby full of guests.
I could already hear the imagined screams in my ears.
The eight agents in the elevator, including me and Donovan, were so pumped to go after Hagstedt that we could barely contain ourselves. I was practically bouncing on my bare feet with impatience.
The air felt heavy and thick, charged with adrenaline and testosterone as the elevator seemed to take freaking forever to get to the lobby. I realized my glove of a dress was hiked up to my ass and tugged it down with the hand not holding the Sig.
I almost screamed—with frustration—the three times the elevator stopped at floors for guests who had wanted to head down to the lobby. Each time the people were smart enough to take one look at us and back off.
On the ride down, Donovan stuffed the little Rohrbaugh R-9 into his boot. One of the agents holding a rifle handed him a Glock G22 .40-caliber handgun.
That was more like it. Big man. Big gun.
Me, I’d be happy to shoot Hagstedt with his own Sig. Yes, that would feel really good. Of course I wouldn’t kill him with it—that would be too easy. Injure him then go after him with my bare hands. Yeah, that was the ticket.
“We need Hagstedt for questioning to bring down his organization.” Donovan looked at me as if reading my mind. “You can’t kill him, Steele. Yet.”
“Damn.” I scowled. “You took long enough. Did you have a hard time finding me?”
“Yeah. Too fucking long.” Donovan’s jaw was tight. “We had a difficult time homing in on what floor you were on. Once we did, it was no problem locating the exact room he had you in,” Donovan said.
I gave him a quick run-down on what had happened in the suite with Hagstedt. “I didn’t learn crap about him.” My voice rose with my anger. “All I know is what his face looks like. Well, that was before Ai tore him up with that glass vase.”
Donovan frowned. “Did she get his entire face?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But with the extent of the damage on the one side, I wouldn’t doubt that he’ll be getting some serious plastic surgery. At his level, after a face-to-face with a law enforcement agent out to get him, he’ll probably change his features altogether while he’s at it.” I gritted my teeth. “But he won’t get the chance because we’re not going to let him get away.”
“He’s probably got one hell of a lead on us.” Donovan banged his fist on the closed metal elevator door. The sound was loud and vibrated in the cramped space. “Fuck,” he said in a growl.
“Word of the operation,” I said.
Finally the elevator came to a stop at the lobby. Yup. It was already a madhouse thanks to the first elevator full of RED agents who had charged out. The guests had probably been unnerved to begin with after seeing a man with a bloody towel wrapped around his head and face as he dragged a nearly unconscious girl toward the condominium elevators.
Add a second bunch of agents with guns and we have an episode of Cops come to life.
The screams were louder than I’d imagined as we bolted through the crowded lobby. Donovan was shouting, “Police! Move!” as we ran.
People moved. I imagine that getting a good look at the wicked FN A2 special police rifles was a big incentive. Somewhere ahead, the other group of agents was shouting at people to get out of the way. Damn. Their elevator ride down had apparently been slow, too.
Hopefully Hagstedt’s had been equally so and we’d catch him before he hopped on a resident elevator.
My heart pounded like a battering ram as I bolted through the maze of people. Being petite, barefoot, and not weighted down by a heavy rifle or raid gear made it easier for me to dodge and weave around people.
I might be small, but I have a hell of a voice when I need it, and you bet I could be heard just about as well as Donovan as I shouted, “Get down! Police!”
Despite all of the screaming and freaked-out people, we didn’t have to worry about the NYPD or any other law enforcement organization crashing our party. All calls to LE—law enforcement—regarding this situation would instantly be rerouted to RED. All cell phone calls from anyone from anywhere within the building, even people who were calling family or friends, would hear constant “call failed” messages.
I was getting closer to the other elevators. Shouts of the RED agents ahead of us sounded louder now.
Despite being clandestine—as in, RED didn’t exist beyond the knowledge of a certain handful of people—RED had grown pretty damned powerful.
It was well backed by Very Important People, which included the President of the United States, one influential U.S. Senator, and the Director of the NSA. With that kind of leverage behind us, RED easily arranged for any and all other LE agencies to back off.
The Vice President and members of the President’s cabinet, as well as all LE agencies, were in the dark when it came to RED. No other way to be as clandestine as RED had been designed.
Shoving our way through crowds of shrieking and screaming people made the run to the condo bank of elevators seem to take forever and a day.
Condo residents had their own private elevator code. I reached a desk close to the condo elevators. The desk had RESIDENT CONCIERGE imprinted in gold in the rich wood. “Police! Give me the code for the elevator that goes to the top-floor penthouse.” I pointed my Sig at the flustered-looking man behind the concierge desk. “And the code for the stairs to the rooftop.”
The concierge’s face looked waxy and his whole body trembled as he fumbled behind the desk with a pen that probably cost three digits. He wrote down two sets of numbers on a sheet of paper with gold-foil lettering.
The shocked and even terrified expression on the concierge’s face probably came from having a man with a bloody towel and a hostage demanding the codes from him, then the first group of RED agents—no doubt at gunpoint like I had him.
Maybe Hagstedt hadn’t thought to ask for a code to the rooftop.
“Hurry!” My voice was nearly a scream. “Christ. Come on.”
The concierge almost dropped the sheet of paper before he thrust it into my outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” I said as I bolted away from him without looking back.
It didn’t hurt to be nice to the poor guy. He was obviously paid to cater exclusively to the Tower’s condo tenants. If I were him, I’d be thinking about asking for a raise.
When we reached the small bank of luxurious elevators, stunned residents had already backed away. A set of doors was just about to close behind agents in black raid gear.
Only one elevator went up to the fifty-second floor. Blood was smeared on the wall beside it and partially on the code pad.
“Hold that fucking door,” Donovan’s voice boomed out. One of the agents stopped the pair of doors from closing by stepping between them.
Shit. They’d probably had to wait for the elevator to come back down after Hagstedt took it up. He could be in the helicopter by now.
There had to be ten agents crowded into that one little elevator. Donovan and I stuffed ourselves inside, too. They’d had to have used a code just to get into this elevator, too, so I didn’t need the paper I was carrying anymore.
“Got the rooftop codes?” I asked the agents in the elevator.
One of the agents beside me said, “Right here.”
I handed my own sheet of paper with the codes to an agent right behind me who couldn’t fit on the elevator. He and the others in no way could cram in with the twelve of us already packed inside.
As the doors closed, I said to the agent who had it, “Give me the roof top codes.”
He handed me a paper that ma
tched the one the concierge had given me. Shaky handwriting and all. The paper crumpled some in my fingers as I gripped it.
I thought about the blood on the wall beside the elevator. If we didn’t get Hagstedt this time, we’d at least have his DNA. Maybe we’d get a hit if he had any priors.
It wasn’t likely at his level, but the DNA record would go into all law enforcement data banks. If a match popped up in the future, RED would be alerted immediately.
But we’re going to get him, now. We have to get him.
I was practically trampled by the other agents in the elevator who were all, of course, six feet or more taller than me.
“Back off,” I shouted with a serious pissed-off note in my voice. “You’re crowding me.” The agents moved.
If I thought the last elevator had been overcharged with adrenalized agents, it was nothing compared with how we felt on a fifty-two-floor elevator ride. Personally I was ready to yank out the speakers that were playing highbrow elevator music.
“Christ.” I wanted to kick one of the twin metal doors, but I also didn’t want to break any of my bare toes. “Can this elevator go any slower?”
“Don’t jinx us,” one of the NY RED agents said.
I squeezed the grip of the Sig. Maybe I’d shoot him just to relieve some of the stress.
As soon as the elevator door opened, I bolted out into an incredibly luxurious penthouse foyer that would leave most people gaping. Whoa. I cataloged the foyer in one sweep of my gaze.
A glittering crystal chandelier hung from a twenty-foot-high ceiling, and blue light glowed upward on the walls from hidden lighting in the floor. Real trees were strategically placed in front of the blue lighting. The paintings on the wall were probably authentic and famous. A large crystal vase with an incredible floral bouquet rested on a circular table with gold-leaf designs. Even the door that would open into the penthouse was amazing.
I would have stopped to stare but I had a man to kill.
Priorities.
“Try to take him alive, Steele,” Donovan said. The man was a damned mind reader.
Cheyenne McCray - [Lexi Steele 02] Page 22
