“Cut the crap, I know all about your task force. Whatever you tell me won’t leave this room, I swear.” Kirk made the sign of the cross and nudged Carson.
Carson sighed as he grabbed a pretzel from a bowl on the bar. A football game was on and he looked at it for a few moments before deciding how to answer. He wondered what Kirk Weston was running. He was a good cop, back when he was a cop. And he was a digger; he would never give up. Carson didn’t know how Kirk knew he was on the task force, but at this point, it would do no good to lie to him about it. Weighing his options, he decided to take a risk and maybe in turn, Kirk would give him some information that might help him with his own investigation.
“Okay, I can’t tell you much, but what I do know is that they are in a lot of trouble. This recent bombing was the last straw. Up until now, they have done things that the FBI could look the other way on, but they’re growing in power, and now they’re killing innocent people.”
“What bombing? You mean the Day bombing?” Kirk cursed under his breath and took a big gulp from his Bud.
“Yeah. I won’t even ask how you know that we suspected them. We have a note from them admitting they did it. I have worked up a profile on the leader and we think we might be close to getting a name soon. You understand, I will be in a load of trouble if anyone finds out I’m talking about this.”
“Look, they didn’t bomb that town, it wasn’t them. Think about it. The other things they have done have been specific and calculated. No innocents killed—ever. Not this bombing, it doesn’t fit the profile. It was all Chaos.” Kirk wanted to let it all out, but first he needed to feel out Carson. How much did he really know? Could he trust him?
“That is one thing that’s been bothering me. It’s out of character. But by the way you’re talking, I think you might know more than I do about them.” Carson leaned back on his bar stool and crunched on another pretzel.
Kirk grunted, tipped back his beer, and slammed it on the counter in frustration. “I’m involved with them. I know where they’re located, how they work, even who the leaders are. My plan was to infiltrate them, then bring them down on my own.” He stopped and looked at Carson. “Look, they may be misguided and going about this in all the wrong ways, but they’re the only ones who can defeat Chaos. Which is why I need you to do me a favor.”
Carson just nodded because he was too shocked to answer.
“I need you to turn the investigation in a different direction. I can feed you information on her and lead you to solving this case. But you’ve got to give me more time.”
“Her? Chaos is a woman? How do you know that? Is she here in New York? How do I know you won’t turn on me and disappear?”
Kirk held up a hand and shook his head. “Yo, hold up. I will tell you what you want to know, but you’ve got to stall them. Turn the focus to Chaos and work the profile. They wouldn’t—and didn’t—bomb that town or the mall. They have nothing to do with this Chaos person.”
The conversation went on for twenty minutes more, then ended with a handshake. Kirk had known that Carson was an honest guy and that he would do the right thing. But Carson was also a goody two-shoes, so when he waved at him from the cab, he hoped he’d made the right decision.
* * *
EMILY DOBSON SAT IN front of five monitors with four computers humming like a small engine on an aircraft. Two monitors played surveillance of the White House and Pentagon she’d accessed by hacking into a satellite marking the movement of key people in power. She liked having the world at her fingertips, and she used it like a game.
The underground room, where she’d created her command center, was attached to a main house that sat on the ocean, overlooking beautiful palm trees and crashing waves. It was a three-story house with a white painted porch wrapping all the way around it. The porch swing moved back and forth on its own as the sea breeze slipped by.
Emily liked to be hands on, and in most cases, she worked alone. She had hundreds in her company, but she only trusted them about as far as she could throw them. Hence the cameras, alarms, tremor alerts, and self-destruct emergency button that would turn the coastal house into a ball of fire.
The company was running at full speed and everyone and everything was falling into place. She thought over her plan. How sweet it would be to have her revenge. She had waited years for this day, and now it was finally here. Mark Appleton was on his way to the meeting place she’d dictated. He was so predictable. Put one of his loved ones in danger and he’d run to them blindly. That’s why she liked to work alone—no loved ones to blind her.
The other three monitors had different scenes splashed on their screens. One showed an aerial view of a construction site. The other was flipping through the stock market and running a program that her top analyst had created. With each scare tactic she initiated, she cashed in like no other company could. The water scare forced people to boil water and even cut down on showering or watering their lawns. Her water-bottling company and her water-cleaning device, which could be used in city water mains, was making even more money than her original calculations had predicted. The bacteria was unknown, and since she was the only one who knew the antidote, she was an instant billionaire.
Cause a need, and then fill it. Instant billionaire. What could be simpler? However, it was not just the money that appealed to her. It was the control. She wanted to be in charge. Women had been pushed down for far too long, and even in the new age of women’s rights, she still couldn’t get as far in business as a man. As if they were so much better than her!
Her big plan would knock the socks off everything she had done so far. It was risky, and in the end, it would be a bloodbath. But if she pulled it off, it would make her powerful beyond her wildest dreams.
After going over a few last-minute details, she walked up the narrow hallway leading to the main house. The room was sealed off and, without a retinal scan and fingerprint identification, it was impossible to get in. Mark would be at the cave in less than an hour. She was only a few miles from it and had time to grab a bite to eat.
Solomon would be dead, or close to it, by the time Mark made it to the cave entrance. She would watch his face and enjoy his pain. She knew all about pain, what it felt like to lose a loved one. Now it was his turn.
Ready or not, here I come!
* * *
AT THIS POINT IN the evening, the taxi driver had forgotten all about the fifty thousand dollars. He didn’t care if it was a million dollars. He was splattered with blood and the madman who sat in the back of his cab didn’t seem like he would be stopping his killing spree anytime soon.
The third woman was only nineteen. Taras Karjanski had made her stab herself, forcing her hand, over and over before he tired of the game and ended it himself. The inside of the cab looked like it had been painted red, and each time Taras slipped on the bloody seat he would laugh so hard that he would fall over holding his side. He’s going to kill me, too—I just know it. This man—this monster—wouldn’t let him live. Not after what he’d witnessed tonight. He had to think of a way out of this horrible situation, but nothing came to him. He was shaking so badly he could hardly hold onto the steering wheel, and he had soiled himself on top of everything else.
“What are you looking at?” The madman screamed at him and kicked the back of the seat. “You just drive and mind your own business and you might live. Now, for the main event. Take me to Central Park. I hear there is a Red Dog on the loose tonight.” His eyes were wild and bloodshot, and he was panting like…like a dog. He was red from all the blood, and as the driver looked in his rear view mirror, the crazy man was now on his back with his shirt off, rolling around on the blood-soaked seat like a pig in a muddy pigpen.
The Red Dog was back.
* * *
TARAS KARJANSKI STUMBLED FROM the cab like a drunk. It was like he was in a dream, yet he could control the story. The cabby squealed the tires and left without the money that Taras was waving at him. Fine, don’t take the mon
ey! You were a crappy cab driver anyway.
He held the sharp, curved knife in one hand and balled his other fist, cutting into his palm with his long fingernails. He noticed he had cut his leg and blood was oozing from the wound. After seeing the blood, he cut the other leg so he could rub more of it on his body. He was dripping with sweat and blood as he scrambled into the bushes and got down on all fours. He waited.
Looking at the knife, he tossed it away and tore his pants off. Drool dripped from his chin as he crawled through the woods and hunted his next victim. He could hear the sirens of the NYPD and wondered what they were looking for. Maybe for me?
Sniffing the air, he could smell the faint perfume of a woman. He picked up his pace and saw what he was looking for. On a park bench under a streetlight sat two lovebirds kissing in the lamplight. He licked his lips and looked at the pair with pure hate in his eyes.
Kissy, kissy! Nice night to die!
He studied the pair for a few minutes. Looking down the paved trail and into the woods, he saw that he was alone with them. This time, it was not the woman he was watching. He’d had his fill of them tonight. Now he wanted a fight. He wanted to feel the surge of power as he clawed with a man for the prize of the fine female. The wolf inside growled, and he bounded for the couple like a rabid dog.
The two stopped and looked at the thing coming toward them on all fours. It took them a second to realize the danger they were in, and by the time they did, it was too late. The Red Dog jumped on the man, knocking him off the bench, and they tumbled to the ground. The woman screamed and ran for cover as her boyfriend hit the pavement. The Red Dog bit the man’s arm and could feel the skin break as his teeth sank in. Blood ran through his teeth.
The man cried out and, stronger than Taras had expected, threw Taras off. He scrambled to his feet but he didn’t run. Getting in a football stance, the two hundred-pound man charged the crazy dog-man, and hit him with both fists in the chest, sending him flying through the air. Righting himself, the Red Dog smiled at his opponent and jumped on his prey with everything he could muster. He dug his nails deep into the man’s eye sockets and could feel the eyeballs rolling around his fingers like marbles.
Screams came from somewhere behind him, and he looked around for the woman. She was sprinting for the street, yelling for help. He had a few minutes to enjoy the fight before he finished off the pathetic man. A blow to his head brought the Red Dog’s full attention back to the match at hand. The man punched the side of his head, but Taras didn’t let his grip on the man’s eye sockets loosen. With a quick movement, he moved to the man’s back, wrapped his arms around his neck, and grabbed his head. Just as he’d done it so many times, he sharply twisted the man’s neck. There was a loud snap and the man buckled, and then fell to the ground.
The Red Dog howled up at the half-moon. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own heartbeat and the faint screams of a woman in the background. Each time he killed he became stronger. He lived off their fear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ISIS FOUND SOME INFORMATION from the fingerprint of Emily Dobson that was recovered off of a glass in Mooch’s kitchen. I was a little surprised to find that Emily was her real name. One thing Taras Karjanski and Emily Dobson had in common was their lack of fear of being caught. Emily used her real name, left fingerprints, and didn’t wear a disguise. Taras killed without caring what DNA he left behind, or who witnessed it. I hoped it would lead to his downfall, and that I would be the one to bring him in.
Isis handed me the file that covered all the information on Emily Dobson. “She has been linked to multiple bombings. In 2006, she set off a bomb in Moscow in a crowded train station, killing forty-three people. Then again in 2007, with a much bigger bomb. This time she picked a school in Egypt and blew up every bus in front of the school as the kids were loading. Seventy-two killed. The FBI believes she has been behind many more bombings, but can only find circumstantial evidence, so they cannot arrest her. The FBI had her in custody in 1997 on a drug trafficking charge, but didn’t have enough evidence to hold her. She was released that same day.”
I flipped through the file and noticed that her husband had been involved, but had since been killed in an accident involving a bomb. “So she disappeared for three years and resurfaced as Chaos. Does the FBI know that Emily and Chaos are one and the same?”
“I do not believe so. I found the information on Mooch’s hard drive. The FBI database didn’t have much on her outside of her arrest in ‘97 and possible connections to bombings, but no proof.”
“What was Mooch doing with a file on Emily? If he knew who she was, why was she his girlfriend?”
Isis shook her head as we walked toward my office. “I have no idea. Maybe that’s why she killed him. But Mark—” Isis stopped, and looked very grave. “She isn’t our regular uneducated terrorist. She’s smart, influential, physical, and ruthless. When you come up against her…” she trailed off.
I knew what Isis was trying to say. There was only a small chance I’d make it. I put a hand on her arm. There wasn’t anything to say, so I just gave her a small smile.
Isis excused herself and met up with Kirk, who was waiting for her to set up the tracking program to find out where Taras was. I tucked the folder under my arm, and after closing up my office, took the elevator down to the parking garage where my silver Mustang waited.
Big B was down in the main control room where Jamison had pulled up a satellite link with a live feed on my location. I was in contact with Emily Dobson via a cell phone that I’d found left on the dashboard in my car. How original.
Emily gave me a location on the coast, so I expected to be spending some time in the car. I gave Big B the location and he entered it in his computer. “Looks like a deserted house.”
“That means it’s the right one. Do you have a fix on the tracking device in the car?”
“Yup, but if she’s as smart as I think she is, it will be worthless. I have a feeling the house is in a dead zone, so we will try to track you via satellite.”
“Sounds good. Keep me up to date as much as you can on what Kirk and Isis are doing.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks, and don’t worry about me. I’ve seen the ending,” I lied.
“Ha, lucky you.” Something in Big B’s eyes made me think he knew I’d lied.
I handed him a small envelope. “Will you give this to K if anything happen to me?” I’d composed the letter so many times in my head while involved in dangerous situations but this was the first time I actually wrote it down. Big B nodded solemnly and put the letter in his briefcase.
But before I left, I had to hear their voices. I called K and talked to Sam for a few minutes. She was excited about her new school, and in the few minutes we had she told me everything that went on in her chirpy little voice.
“And Billy told me to ‘shut up,’ so I told the teacher, Mrs. Johnson, and she made him sit in the corner.”
I laughed, and K came on after she pried the phone from Sam’s Kung Fu grip. “You won’t be home for dinner, I take it.”
“No, I have an out-of-town meeting, and it is very important. I might be a week or longer, but I will call you as soon as I can.” I could hear K sigh and the line was silent for a full minute.
“I am worried about you, Mark, more worried than I’ve ever been. Please tell me that what you are doing is worth it.”
“K, I know it is hard not knowing, but it has to be this way, for your own safety.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful?” K sounded scared.
“I promise. I love you, K.”
“Love you, too.”
The conversation ended too soon, but if I talked any longer, I would end up with a sobbing wife, and then I would lose it.
The trip to the coast would take a few hours. It would give me some time to think and prepare myself. I hoped that Solomon would still be alive when I got there. It had been forty-six hours, and I knew he wouldn’t last much l
onger without medical attention.
I knew from my glimpse that there was only one way in or out. She would be waiting for me, and Solomon would be on his own if I was captured or killed. I played the glimpse over and over again in my mind, trying to see if I’d missed anything. The room, the items on the table, the items on the walls, anything that would help me. Emily made it clear that if I was not completely alone—no undercover microphones, no hidden cameras, nothing—that she would kill Solomon.
It still haunted me to not know why. Why was she after me?
The sky was getting darker as the sun made its way down, making the orange and pink clouds look like a painting. The city outline in my rearview mirror was breathtaking, but all I could think about was my friend lying on that table bleeding to death. I was going up against someone who would blow up a whole town just to kidnap one man. What would she do next?
* * *
KIRK AND ISIS LISTENED in shock as a special news bulletin interrupted the radio playing in their cab. The cab driver turned it up and everyone listened as the horror of the previous night hit the airways.
“They are calling him the Red Dog,” the news caster said. “An eyewitness says he looked like a wild dog, covered in blood and cuts, raging naked through Central Park. Four are dead, and the police are coming up empty. The killing spree started late last night at The Posh Club when a woman who had left twenty minutes earlier with a man was dumped in front of the club—dead. The doorman tells us what he saw.”
“This is Cindy Winters reporting from The Posh Club here in the heart of the city. I am here with Ben Washington, who is the bouncer here at Posh. Can you tell us what happened last night?”
“Yeah, man, it was crazy. This dude paid me to get in the club, and then left a little bit later with this woman. Then they drove off in a cab, which was weird because the guy had tons of cash! Then, like ten minutes later, he pulled up in the same cab…I—uh…”
DREAM ON (Mark Appleton #2) Page 15
