Secrets of the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  The boy who pulled the door open was no more than five. He stood there surveying them silently with solemn brown eyes. “Is your mother home?”

  At Kell’s question he screeched, “Mama!” without turning his head. A young woman hurried into the room. “Jaden, how many times do I have to tell you not to open the door to strangers?”

  “How do I know they’re strangers if I don’t open the door?” the boy asked reasonably. The woman was holding another child, not more than two, who looked like he’d be a carbon copy of the older boy still staring at them.

  “Ma’am, do you recognize this man?”

  She peered at the photo Declan held out, made a grimace of recognition. “He lives in the next apartment. He is a pig. The kind of pig who thinks women are nothing, you know? But he is not here much. And when he is, at least he is quiet. I never hear a TV or music coming from there.”

  “We understand he was here last night.”

  She nodded with enough enthusiasm to have the topknot she’d pulled her hair into shifting precariously. “Him. And another man too. Taller with a dark beard. First they were here. Then they left. They came back very late last night. I heard them talking when I was up with this one.” She jerked her head toward the child she held. “Then this afternoon, they left again. He has not come back.”

  Declan felt his earlier adrenaline fading. “You’ve been here all day?”

  “Where am I going to go, hauling two kids around? Yeah, I was here all day. I’m here most days. It’s my own little piece of paradise.”

  Kellan asked other questions but it was plain the woman had told them all she knew. As they went to the door Declan found himself hoping the search warrant would arrive with record speed.

  Whatever else they found inside 406, it was a sure bet they weren’t going to find Malsovic. But they might find a clue about where he’d gone next.

  _______

  “Time for bed.”

  “Ten more minutes,” Royce wheedled his mother, never taking his eyes off the video game. “We’re only in the fifth of our seven game series. If I win this one I beat Rick.”

  “That’s what you think, oh short one.” Rick Sorenson was bent over the controllers, his gaze as avid as the boy’s. “I have my best batters in the lineup next round, and you’re not doing so hot against Valenzuela’s curve…oh!”

  “Eat your words, Sorenson,” the boy chortled as his onscreen player got two RBIs on a double. “Your pitcher’s so tired he’s throwing meatballs. I knew his arm would never last…no, Mom, don’t turn it off!” Royce paused the game. Looked at his mother’s face and sighed. “At least give me a chance to save it so we can continue tomorrow.”

  Rick Sorenson straightened and picked up his water bottle, tapped it against Royce’s in a light toast before downing the rest of it. “You’re a good strategist. I’m going to spend the rest of the night figuring out how to outwit you.”

  Much to Sorenson’s satisfaction, the boy guzzled the rest of his water, too. “You can try. But I’m a master at this game.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The man rose lazily as Royce said, “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

  “Not yet, but it will be by the time you’re done dragging your feet and get in bed.” The two started from the room.

  “Look at it this way,” Sorenson called out as he picked up the controllers and put them in the basket beneath the game system. “You stayed up a half hour later than your grandma.” The old lady had turned in early, citing exhaustion. He was the one who should be complaining about exhaustion. Ten hours of Patricia Marlowe ordering him around had been enough to have him reconsidering his agreement for this job.

  But yeah, when she was asleep the thought of the five thousand Sergei had paid him was more than enough to convince him the next couple days would be worth it.

  He picked up the TV remote and dropped into a leather chair. Clicked the television on. This place was sweet. Like a mansion on a movie set. He hadn’t been through the whole thing. Likely wouldn’t get the chance. During the day he’d stayed close to the old lady’s side. But his stint here would be short. When it was over he’d go home only long enough to pack before buying a plane ticket to San Diego. Settling on a Bulls game, he kicked back in the recliner and prepared to relax.

  This gig wasn’t so tough. Slipping that device into the lining of one of the old lady’s bags had been a piece of cake. Dropping the tablet Sergei had given him into the kid’s water bottle had required a bit more sleight of hand. The place was brimming with security. Every time he turned around it seemed like a guard was standing there. Or the mother.

  “I thought Jaid would be in here.”

  Rick looked up, then brought the recliner upright in a single rapid motion. “No, sir. She’s putting Royce to bed.”

  “Ah.” The guy looked at his watch. “I lost track of time.” He nodded toward the TV, which had cut to a commercial break. “Is that the Bulls game? What’s the score?”

  “Heat’s up by six, thirty-five twenty-nine. But it’s not even mid-way through the first half.”

  The man gave him something that might pass for a smile. “Maybe I’ll be able to catch the end of it.” He withdrew from the room, maybe going after his wife and kid and Sorenson breathed a little easier. The guards were bad enough, but this guy was spooky, with that eye patch and those scars and that voice. He looked like he’d been through a war. The truth was, the guy creeped him out, even more than Sergei did, and Sergei put out some serious dangerous vibes of his own.

  The game came back on but Rick was too distracted to pay much attention to it. Just a couple more things to do and he’d be free and clear. Taking that device out of the old woman’s luggage and getting rid of it would be first on the list. Rick didn’t know a reason in the world why he couldn’t just flush the thing. It was small enough.

  He was in and out of the old lady’s room all the time, so that wouldn’t be a problem. He’d filched the pill bottle he’d stuck with her things while she was getting ready for bed. Took out the two capsules he’d carefully buried in her medication. If this thing weren’t going down tonight, he’d need to get his hands on the woman’s cell phone, so he could send Sergei a message.

  His nerves jittered, and he longed for a joint to settle them. Just another day or two, he promised himself, focusing on the TV screen. This would all be over and he’d be on a beach. Was it warm enough in California to go to the beach in the winter? If it wasn’t, maybe he’d head to Mexico. Plenty of opportunities there for an enterprising guy.

  The Bulls had pulled within two when he heard a scream from several rooms away. “Royce!”

  Rick came upright in his chair, adrenaline spiking as he ran in the direction of the voice. No need to sneak into the old lady’s room for that phone call.

  This was going down tonight.

  Rick came to the fringe of the circle of people surrounding the kid on the floor. Shit, it looked like the real thing. The boy was on the floor shaking violently, his eyes rolling in the back of his head, drool coming from his mouth. Whatever Sergei had given him to slip in the kid’s water had either really given him a seizure or stimulated a damn good imitation.

  Belatedly remembering the pretense he was engaged in, he shouldered through the security guards to where Raiker and his wife were kneeling on the floor next to the boy. “Roll him to his side,” Rick said, but the woman was already doing so. “Lift up his chin.” He squatted and raised the boy’s chin slightly. “It will help his breathing.” He looked at Raiker. Almost quelled under the ferocious expression on the man’s face. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Two minutes?” He glanced at his wife for corroboration.

  “About that.” She threw a wild glance at Rick. “What else should we do?”

  He reached for the reassuring tone that was so useful at the nursing home. “You’re doing it. He�
��s fine. He’s not going to swallow his tongue, that’s a myth. We just have to wait this out. Did he have a fall today?”

  “I…” Her gaze never left her son’s face. “No, not that I know of.”

  “Has he run a high fever recently?”

  “No. He’s been fine. Perfectly healthy. Should I call 911?”

  “Only if the seizure lasts longer than five minutes.” He knew that because Sergei had told him. It had seemed imperative to him that the kid be out longer than that. But shit, it showed no signs of stopping, and Rick was getting a bit queasy. What the hell had been in that capsule he’d opened and dumped in the kid’s water? Whatever it was, it had triggered one hell of a reaction, and he was worried now that Sergei had lied his ass off about it not harming the boy. What if he died?

  Mentally scrambling to remember his part, he asked, “Does he have a history of epilepsy?”

  “No.” It was Raiker who answered. “This is his first seizure, isn’t it, Jaid?”

  She shook her head. “But he was confused before he went down. I thought he was just messing with me. To draw out bedtime, you know? He put hand soap on his toothbrush and looked at me so oddly when I asked him what he was doing. Then he just…he dropped the toothbrush. Tried to talk, but he wasn’t making sense.” She stared at him, fright visible on her face. “What is wrong with him? God, hasn’t he been through enough?”

  “Four minutes.” Adam’s tone was quiet. “I’m calling 911.”

  Rick didn’t argue with him. What the parents did at this point wasn’t part of his deal. He’d done what he’d been paid for. His gaze went to the kid again. Was the shaking letting up a little? The boy didn’t seem to be conscious, and Rick knew that wasn’t a good thing, especially if he didn’t come to after the seizure was over. “You may not require an ambulance, but you should definitely get him to an emergency room when he comes to,” he said to Jaid in a quiet voice. “I don’t want you to worry too much. Ten percent of kids have one seizure and never have another one.” That would be a lot easier to believe if Royce’s showed any signs of stopping. “But you’ll want to get him checked out. They’ll do an EEG.”

  She nodded jerkily and he heard Raiker say, “Well it’s been over five minutes now. Yes, we’ve timed it. You’re sending an ambulance?” He had the kind of voice that people listened to, even though it was low and gravelly. He sounded like a man used to giving commands and having them obeyed.

  “His eyelids are fluttering. He might be coming to.” Rick wished he would. Five thousand dollars wasn’t going to be enough money if he ended up killing the kid. He swallowed hard, watching the boy he’d just played video games with shaking and shuddering involuntarily. No amount of cash would be enough for being responsible for the boy’s death.

  _______

  The ambulance’s siren was off, but the strobe was still flashing as it rumbled down the road away from the estate. It was closely followed by another vehicle, a dark SUV. More than that Malsovic could not make out. “One vehicle following the ambulance,” he whispered into his radio. “Get in position.”

  “We know what to do” came the disembodied response, and he grimaced. Hiring near strangers for such a job was its own kind of danger. He could not be certain of their competency once it started. But he also wouldn’t need to worry about them when the operation was over.

  He was at the end of a private road that ran in front of the property. It was heavily wooded, but the trees and bushes were winter bare. His men’s vehicles were pulled deeper in the woods, motors running. Had it been daylight, they would have been visible. As it was they would not be seen until it was too late.

  The ambulance rolled by, blocking Malsovic’s view. He couldn’t see the first of his men’s vehicles pull out to stop crossways in the road, but the ambulance slowed, so it must have. Before the SUV behind it could respond, the men crouched behind the second vehicle opened fire on it.

  The barrage of gunfire was deafening in the night. Zupan would be waiting with the panel truck a mile west of here. Malsovic ran through the woods, in front of the car that protected the gunmen. Beyond, toward the ambulance, which was now stopped with both front doors hanging open.

  The SUV slowed to a halt to avoid running into the emergency vehicle. A moment later those inside it began to return fire. They would be no match for the machine guns his people were armed with. Malsovic knew weapons. And those he’d rented—the men he’d rented—were killers.

  The pumping of his heart filled his ears. He ran faster, until he was past the shooting. Only then did he dare cross out of the woods, toward the emergency vehicle. Shouting filled the air. And a sound that shouldn’t be there. Gunfire from inside the vehicle.

  “Don’t harm the boy!” He shouted it in Serbian and again in English.

  “The woman’s armed!” One of the men shouted back. “Filip is shot.”

  He changed course and ran around to the back of the vehicle, jumping over the body of one of the medics, drew his gun to shoot repeatedly at the handle of the locked double back doors. He pulled one open and dove inside, bullets pinging as they lodged in the door. There was a body on the floor. The woman was on the gurney with the boy, spraying bullets. Her attention was now diverted. She swung her weapon from the sliding window separating the cab of the vehicle from the back. Malsovic fired. Saw her body jerk. Then jerk again when his man from the front shot her, too.

  “Mom!” The boy was trying to scrabble off the side of the gurney, but his movements were slow. Clumsy. “Mom!”

  “Drive!” Malsovic bellowed. He caught the kid around the neck and brought the gun down on his head in a quick vicious move. When his body went limp he dumped him on the gurney and went to the woman bleeding out on the floor. Dragging her to the rear of the vehicle, he heaved her body out of the ambulance as it lurched forward. His men would soon leave in the other car. For the next couple of minutes he was tossed about the back area before the vehicle slowed. Malsovic raised his weapon when the door opened.

  Seeing it was Zupan, he lowered the gun. “Get the boy.” He lifted the kid and passed him to the other man who ran with him to the vehicle. Placed him in the panel truck. Malsovic got in after him. He hadn’t forgotten what the kid was capable of. The little fuck had ruined everything in the last abduction attempt. He reached immediately for the roll of duct tape and went to work securing him while Zupan got in the driver’s seat and took off.

  Once the boy was bound Malsovic made his way to the front and climbed into the passenger seat. He looked in the rear view mirror. No one was following. The man who’d driven the ambulance had run in the opposite direction, where he’d join the others as they made their escape. And the people in the SUV would waste valuable time checking on the woman.

  A feeling of euphoria filled him and he smiled broadly, settling back into his seat. Pulled on his seatbelt. “Obey the speed limit. No sharp turns. I don’t want him bruised from rolling around.” It wouldn’t do to handle the kid carelessly at this point.

  The boy was going to make him rich.

  Chapter 12

  “Jaid Raiker is undergoing emergency surgery at this moment.” Paulie Samuels’ pudgy expression on the video call held an uncustomary grimness. He was Raiker’s right hand man and closest friend, his normal ebullience frequently at odds with his employer’s fiercer attitude. He loved gambling, fast horses and cards. But today he was as solemn as Declan had ever seen him.

  “Adam is, of course, at the hospital. The SUV he and the security detail were in was fully armored, with bullet-proof glass and run flat tires. Two of the men were winged, because they had the windows down to return fire. Three of the gunmen were captured, but haven’t revealed any further details about who hired them.” Paulie cleared his throat, seemed to struggle to push aside emotion before going on. “Jaid took out one of the men who ambushed the ambulance. It’s thought that she wounded at lea
st one more. Since she has gunshot wounds in the front and back, it appears she was hit by two different gunmen.”

  "Bastards." Declan's voice was bitter. Eve's hand reached for his. Clutched it.

  “Her condition is critical.” The other man’s jaw squared. “And so is the situation with Royce. While Jaid fights for her life, we’re going to bring Royce back to her. Because I don’t want to have to be the one to tell her when she wakes up that she’s lost her son.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said fiercely. There was a fire in his gut, one burning for retribution. “It was Malsovic. Had to be. Adam has a file on him, if you haven’t already seen it. He was already gone when the hotel raid went down. But for something of this size…he had help.”

  “Two vehicles filled with gunmen worth of help.” Paulie’s gaze was steely. “And maybe someone on the inside, as well. We’re running tests on everything Royce ate and drank in the past twenty-four hours, and right now no one in the compound has been cleared, with the exception of family. We’re looking hard at the CNA who accompanied Jaid’s mother to where they were staying. We’ve got a warrant to get a look at his bank records first thing in the morning. If he was paid off, we’ll find out. And then we’ll discover the rest. I’m taking care of that myself.”

  “Adam said you’d be the one with the best prediction of where the kidnapper would take Royce. That’s why I’m talking to you first, before I do a conference call with the other agents.”

  He slanted a gaze at Eve in the seat next to his. She was pale but stoic, with no sign of the tears she’d wept when she’d heard the news hours earlier. “One of the masterminds behind the first attempt to kidnap Royce was scooped up in a raid last night. With twenty-nine counts of human trafficking against her, it’s doubtful she’ll see the light of day any time soon. Our translator on this case, Eve Lassiter,” he nodded in her direction, “has gone over all the communications retrieved from computers seized last night.” He gave her a gentle nudge. She’d discovered the rest. The news was hers to share.