Hardbingers rj-10

by F. Paul Wilson

  Abe stared at it for a few seconds, then picked it up for a closer inspection. An instant later he stiffened, his head snapped up, and he stared at Jack with wide eyes.

  "LaGuardia? These yeniceri schmucks did LaGuardia?"

  Jack nodded. "That's where all the signs are pointing."

  "But it's meshuggehV

  "No. It's pragmatic."

  God, he'd come to hate that word.

  "The Ally has worked all this circumspectly, so much so that I still don't know how it managed Kate's and Tom's deaths. The Ladies know. I wish I could sit down with one of them for a couple of hours and find out."

  "How would that help?"

  "I guess you're right. The how doesn't really matter. It's the what that counts. And what the Ally has done is backfiring. Now I want to get back at it. Now I hate it more than the Otherness. I'm crazy mad enough to sign up with the Otherness."

  "No."

  "I need to get back at it, Abe. But how?"

  Abe shrugged. "I should know how to take revenge on an amorphous cosmic entity? Like fighting air already. Besides, the rest of us need the Ally to keep out the Otherness."

  Jack knew he was right.

  "It's really got me, hasn't it."

  "Yes. You can't join the other side, you can't even declare yourself a non-combatant, because you're not the type to sit idly by and watch everyone and everything you know destroyed."

  Trapped. He wanted to scream, throw things, break things. But he held back. For Abe's sake. Not fair to decimate his stock.

  "We may not like this farkuckt Ally, but we need it. And it needs you."

  It needs you… that struck a chord in Jack. He'd been thinking along similar lines…

  He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Abe.

  "How much of these can you get me?"

  Abe scanned the list, nodding. "Some I have here, some I can get without too much trouble." He looked up at Jack. "You planning on starting a war already?"

  "Yeah."

  "You think you can beat this Ally?"

  "No. But I need to get its attention."

  "For what?"

  "To make a deal."

  3

  Miller surprised Cal. He'd expected a wild outburst, but instead he handed the paper to Geraci and stared into space. He remained that way as the papers circulated among the others.

  Cal heard cries of rage and alarm from the other yenigeri, but nothing from Miller.

  Cal found that unsettling. He'd have preferred a foot-stomping, arm-swinging rage. This was kind of scary.

  The uproar from the yenigeri escalated, and still Miller remained silent.

  Cal walked to one of the big windows and stared out at the harbor. The safe house's design was what the locals called "upside down." Unlike most two-story houses which have the living room, dining room, and kitchen on the first floor and the bedrooms on the second, upside-down houses reversed that. The living area was up and the bedrooms down.

  It made sense in a location like this. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor offered magnificent views of the surging, gray Atlantic to the east, and the harbor—mostly frozen at this end—to the west. A huge great room, including the kitchen and a dining area, dominated the center of the level. The master bedroom—given to Diana—occupied the south end, while a sunroom filled the north.

  The whole deal sat on pilings to protect it from storm flooding. Wouldn't help in something like a tsunami, of course. The place would be washed away with most of the rest of the island. But though an Atlantic tsunami was supposedly possible, Cal wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.

  Cal gave his brother yeniceri some time for venting, then turned and raised his hands.

  "All right, everybody. Let's settle down."

  It took them a while but eventually the room was silent.

  He cleared his throat. "From the nature of the note and since we haven't heard a word from Zeklos, I think it's obvious to everyone that he's the dead man."

  More rumblings.

  "What's less obvious—to me, at least—is who killed him." He held up his hands again to cut off any outcry. "Yeah, I know the note is signed by 'The Heir,' but anyone could write that. Could have been the Adversary himself, for all we know, trying to turn us against the Heir."

  "And the Heir could have been the Adversary," Portman said.

  "I'm not denying that possibility, but think about it: The 0 sensed his identity. And then we had to drag him into the Home. He fought like a tiger, as some of you well know."

  He nodded toward Jolliff.

  "So what?" Jolliff said and rubbed his still-swollen nose.

  "So, whoever could kill the 0 and our brothers, without them firing a shot, has powers way beyond human. Anyone or anything with that kind of power didn't need to trick us."

  "Maybe he's like a vampire and has to be invited in," Novak said.

  "Let's be serious. I think even Miller would agree: We know from the time we spent with him Sunday night that the guy is very human."

  "Maybe you do," Miller said. "I don't. Told you from the start I thought the guy was playing us."

  "Yeah, you did. But step back and look at the situation. We sent Zek in to finish the job. Only we knew about that. But he winds up dead—before he completes his mission."

  Geraci frowned. "How do you know that?"

  "Because two comatose patients being hit in a major New York hospital would have pushed everything else off the front pages. But just to be sure, I called the hospital soon as I got back. They're listed as no change: still critical."

  "What the hell's going on?" Hursey said.

  "I don't know any more than any of you, but I think what's gone down is a pretty good sign that this woman and child are very important to the Adversary and the Otherness. The Ally wants them gone, and the Adversary is protecting them."

  Silence as they absorbed this. No one could argue the logic.

  "So Zek walked into a trap," Hursey said.

  Call nodded. "Yeah. And we sent him."

  "What about this Heir guy?" Grell said. "Where does he fit in?"

  "As far as I can see, he's a wild card. He's got no connection to the woman and the girl—"

  "None you know of," Miller said.

  "Right—none any of us has even a hint of. So despite what the note said, I don't see how he's got any reason to off Zek and cut out his heart."

  Miller said, "Does if he's working for the enemy."

  Cal turned to him. "Makes no sense if you remember what Zek said yesterday. The Heir had dropped in on him. They were talking, then he ran out. If he had Zek on a hit list, why wouldn't he do it then and there?"

  Miller shook his head. "Poor Zek."

  Everyone in the room stared at him, a few with dropped jaws.

  '"Poor Zek'?" Cal said. "You couldn't stand the guy. You made his life hell."

  Miller looked at him. Was that a hint of sadness in those cold eyes?

  "Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe I shouldn't have let it get so personal with him. But none of that matters now. What does matter is he's dead, killed in the line of duty. That can't go unanswered."

  Cal didn't like the sound of this.

  "You're not thinking—"

  Miller nodded. "We go in and finish the job. We owe it to Zek." He looked around.

  The surrounding yeniceri nodded, their expressions grim.

  "You mean go back to the city? And leave this place unguarded? That's crazy!" Cal closed his eyes for a couple of seconds to compose his thoughts. "Doesn't it strike you as odd for whoever killed Zek to taunt us by leaving that kind of note? Like maybe it's an attempt to get us so riled up we do something stupid—like what you're suggesting."

  "I'm not saying we all go. Just me and a few others."

  "We're shorthanded as it is!"

  "I'll do it alone if I have to, but some extra eyes and legs would help shorten the trip."

  Hursey said, "I'm in."

  Jolliff: "Me too.
"

  Miller's buddies—no surprise there.

  "Count me in too," said Gold.

  "Oh no," Cal said, pointing at Gold. "I've got to draw the line there. We need you for the computers."

  With Kenlo's death, Gold had taken over the computer chores.

  "Portman knows as much as I do. I'm going."

  Discipline… organization… chain of command… all gone to hell. No wonder the Otherness was winning. But Cal could see from Gold's set features that he'd be wasting his time arguing.

  "All right then, but absolutely no more. As it is, this leaves us with only eight."

  "But only for a little while." Miller glanced at his watch. "We catch the noon ferry, we can be in the city by seven, eight o'clock. We'll hit the hospital in the wee hours and be back in time for the first ferry out in the morning. Besides, this place is a cinch to guard. It's a security wet dream."

  "And if you're ambushed like Zek?"

  Miller's steely eyes hardened further. "Let him try. In fact, I hope he does. Taking down Zek is one thing. Taking me and these guys down is something else entirely. Best-case scenario: We finish the job and get some payback for Zek along the way. Hurt one of us, you hurt us all. Blood demands blood, right?"

  Cal shook his head. "And worst case: You end up like those guys back in the Home and—"

  "Speaking of our fallen brothers, what did that note mean by 'the collection is eight and growing'?"

  "Shit!" Hursey said. "He went back and got the hearts!"

  Miller nodded. "First thing we do we get to the city is check." He slammed a fist down on an end table, almost upsetting it. "Knew we shouldn't have left them!"

  Cal looked around at Hursey, Jolliff, and Gold. "You realize, don't you, that some of you won't be coming back."

  "You don't know that," Miller said.

  "If you get out of the hospital after you've done your work—and to do that you'll probably have to kill a few innocent security folks who're only doing their jobs—you'll be the target of a citywide manhunt."

  "We'll run the getaway just like we ran it yesterday. After we do the car switches, we can be out of the city and on Ninety-five in no time. No problem."

  Cal didn't buy that for a nanosecond, but the message was clear: He'd been overruled.

  Still, something didn't sit right. Killing Zeklos… cutting out his heart… pinning the note to him… it almost seemed specifically designed to set Miller off. Was someone setting a trap for him?

  The uneasiness nagged at him.

  4

  Jack knew the yeniceri would send someone—more than one someone, most likely—to take up where Zeklos had failed. Knew he'd have to face them but didn't want to do it in the hospital.

  So he'd done what he could to draw them to the warehouse first. It made sense for them to stop off in Red Hook to get their act together and wait until the wee hours before making their move anyway. But he'd used Zeklos to give them added impetus to check the place out.

  He still needed a little insurance at the hospital end, so he'd called the chief of security. He told him a terrorist group had targeted someone in the trauma unit and he'd better pass everybody heading that way through a metal detector. The terrorists would be wearing sunglasses—sunglasses, at night, indoors, during the winter. Got it? Stop anyone wearing sunglasses in the hospital.

  And then he'd hung up.

  On the off chance the yeniceri tried the hospital first, the heightened security would chase them back Home to work out another plan of attack.

  Just where he wanted them. Because he'd made some alterations in the warehouse.

  So now he was back in his old spot down around the corner and next to the park, sitting in the dark, watching, waiting, and having trouble keeping his eyes open.

  He got out, walked through the park and back again. The frigid air revived him a little. He woke up the laptop Russ Tuit had lent him. It had some sort of little card with an antenna plugged into its side. Three windows lit on the screen, each taking a video feed from one of the warehouse levels. Nothing to see yet since all the lights were out, but it still amazed him how easy this had been to set up.

  Russ had told him what software and hardware he needed, then he'd rigged the computer to receive signals from the wireless spy eyes Jack had bought. After that, Jack let himself into the warehouse and installed the eyes in upper corners of the first and third levels, plus the O's office.

  Using the materials he'd secured from Abe, he made a few other modifications while he was there.

  Now the waiting.

  At 7:52 a black Suburban rolled to a stop in front of the warehouse. When Jack recognized Miller's hulking form step out, he tightened his fists.

  Yes!

  He'd worked hard on the Zeklos note, phrasing it so that Miller would have to respond. The big guy had sent someone less competent to clean up after him, and now that guy was dead. The note and missing heart had left Miller no choice but to come back and finish the job himself.

  Then three more men stepped out. The glow from the nearby streetlight glinted off their sunglasses.

  Four yeniceri in all. Looked like they weren't taking any chances this time. No problem. He'd prepared for a crowd.

  Jack felt his pulse pick up.

  Show time.

  He grabbed the small, battery-powered FM transmitter, lowered his window, and placed it on the car roof. He closed the window on the wire of the attached microphone and readied himself to start talking.

  5

  Miller brought up the rear as the group approached the Home door—check that: former Home.

  He wasn't looking forward to seeing the remains of his fallen brothers again, especially with their hearts missing, but even without the Heir's note they'd have been stopping here—the team needed a break from the road before they began hunting up cars to steal.

  They'd made good time on 95, and during the long trip they'd batted around various ways to get this done.

  The timing was clear: halfway through the late shift—say, two or three a.m.—when patients were quiet and staff was minimal.

  The big question was how. Miller had decided on a direct approach and, since nobody could come up with anything better, that was the way it would go down. He'd pose as a family member and learn the location of the trauma unit. When he was allowed in for a visit he'd use his silenced H-K and put one cyanide-tipped nine into each. Then he'd run like mad.

  He'd be on his own getting out of the hospital, but after that—what?

  They kept coming back to their tried-and-true escape sequence—same as they'd used after the hit on the woman and the kid. Gold would have a car idling outside the ER. Miller would jump in, Hursey and Jolliff would run interference in their wake. A few minutes later they'd all be back in the Suburban and on their way to Hyannis.

  Miller took a deep breath and let it puff his cheeks as it escaped. The getting-out part would be dicey. He could count on up to a minute of shock and confusion before the staff would realize what had happened. Their first concern would be their patients and they'd start resuscitation before doing anything else. But someone would eventually make a call, and then security would be mobilized.

  Nobody had promised him an easy time in the MV. The risks came with the territory.

  "Hey," said Gold. He stood in the doorway with his keys in his hand. "Didn't we lock this before we left?"

  Miller's pistol seemed to jump into his hands with a life of its own. Nerve ends jangling with alarm, he pushed to the front of the group.

  "Damn right we did."

  The fucker had been here and stolen the hearts. Miller wanted to scream.

  Gold gripped the knob and jiggled the door without opening it. Even in the poor light Miller could see that it wasn't latched. Whoever had killed Zeklos had no doubt stolen his keys.

  Big question: Was he waiting inside?

  Jolliff was on his wavelength. "Think he's in there?"

  Miller thought not.

  He said, "
If you had an ambush set up inside, would you leave the door open?"

  Jolliff shook his head. "No way. Fd've relocked it. That way we'd walk in thinking the place was as empty as we'd left it. We'd be sitting ducks."

  "Okay, but why leave it unlocked? It's like a neon sign saying someone was here."

  "Because that's just what it is. He wants us to know he was here. He's thumbing his nose at us, just like he did with that note on Zeklos. He's taken the hearts."

  "Bastard," Gold said.

  Miller's sentiments exactly. Still… nose thumbing or not, in a case like this it never hurt to be too careful.

  "Okay. We need someone to go in low and slow and find the light switches. We'll stack up here; soon as the lights go on we'll ease in and secure the first floor. Anybody want to volunteer?"

  "I'll go," Gold said. "Haven't seen any action in a while."

  Miller took one side of the door, Hursey and Jolliff the other. Gold eased it open and entered in a crouch. Miller tensed to respond at the first hint of trouble, but none came.

  Light flared from within, then he heard Gold say, "So far so good. Except for the bunk area, this level looks clear."

  Miller entered in a crouch, pistol held before him in a two-handed grip. He found Gold squatting by the monitoring console.

  Gold said, "I'll check the bunk area. Cover me."

  They did just that as he zigzagged toward the open doorway. He reached inside and the lights came on. After a quick peek he entered, then came out a minute later.

  "Nobody home," he said. His breath steamed in the cold air.

  Miller relaxed, but not completely. He lowered his pistol but did not holster it. He couldn't see anything wrong, but some extra sense was on high alert.

  He walked over to the far wall where they'd left the fallen brothers. He pulled the sheet off the closest. The heart was where they'd left it. No signs of further desecration, no notes.

  The good news—if any good news about this scene could be called good—was that the cold appeared to have stalled decomposition.

  Then why that note about a "collection"?

  Miller did a slow turn. The other three, pistols in hand, had spread out, checking the nooks and crannies. The place looked exactly as they'd left it. What had the intruder wanted here?