That very reason was why Zall had kept him on after the move from New York to the islands. As instrumental as Danilo had been in the preceding months, the entire three years before that he did nothing that Zall could not have hired done locally at a steep discount. The main difference between Danilo and anybody else though was the complete devotion Danilo had always shown to his son.
A pang of sorrow, of guilt, passed through Zall as he watched the scene play out beneath him. No matter how many street walkers and passport mothers they were able to hide, there was never going to be a chance for them to get away with murdering police officers. Danilo should have known, should have recognized that for what it was. No amount of money could make that go away, and William was not yet in any state to be moved again.
The moment the fool had opened fire on them, his fate was sealed. Even if he had somehow survived the ordeal, Zall would have had no choice but to deny involvement, feeding them Danilo while at the same time trying to win back some tiny shred of favor by making a hefty contribution to the HPD Survivor’s Fund.
In some perverse way, Danilo allowing himself to be mowed down on the front drive was the best thing that could have happened to him. A man like him would have never survived life in prison, an inevitability given everything he had done in the preceding months.
Shaking his head, Zall turned away from the window, his hands still folded behind his back. Opposite him Dr. Saiki returned the empty vials to the steel valise, the enormous syringes piled up beside them. He worked as if unaware of anything going on outside, his movements slow and particular.
“Danilo is gone,” Zall said, his tone flat, not a trace of anything to be gleaned from it.
Without so much as looking up Saiki continued moving his wares. “Where did he go?”
“No,” Zall said, shaking his head. “He is gone.”
“Oh,” Saiki replied, for the first time stopping, raising his head to look out into the hallway before him. “That is a shame.” Just like that he went back to work, loading the last of his items and closing the case, clasping it together at the top. “Does that mean they are coming for us now?”
In slow, measured steps Zall went to the foot of the bed and paused, looking down at his son.
The years had not been kind to him. Gone was most of the muscle mass that had adorned him in his youth, his size withered to a fraction of his former self. His face, once full and smooth, was now gaunt and hollow, his skin chalky and greying.
It wasn’t supposed to have been this way. Coming to Hawaii was supposed to have been a revelation for them both. The research program at the university was rumored to be doing great things, would be able to heal the damage done to William’s brain, bring him back into the world. Once they were reunited they could pick back up where they had left off, father teaching his son the family business, lining up his heir to take over when he was gone. All he had to do was be patient, waiting for the needed advances to come available.
Things had started to fall apart months before, when the first budget of the year was released. Gone was the funding needed to keep the project going, to push it the last little bit towards completion. Even when he had tried to cut a check to finish the work, there were too many strictures in place to allow it to happen. The entire thing, all the progress that had been made, all the hope he’d had for the future was gone, cast aside by the whim of one man.
When trying to get a forum with the governor had failed despite many hefty campaign contributions, desperation had set in. Zall knew that then, just as he knew it now. Day after day of watching his son waste away had left him with precious few options.
The first spark of anything had come about when he met with Dr. Watari, a last ditch effort to try and save the program. She explained to him that all research was bound and confidential, held in the archives until the state revived the project. It was in that meeting that she mentioned a couple of other places in the world attempting such experiments, and the hunt for Dr. Saiki ensued.
The plan, as it were, was two pronged. On one hand, he needed to lure Saiki to Hawaii and do whatever it took to create the stem cell therapy that would bring his son back to life. On the other, he needed to do everything he could to ensure that Dwight Randle never held public office again.
The first part of it was surprisingly easy, Saiki almost jumping at the opportunity to come aboard and work without the confinement of a regulated lab. Within days of first contact they had a contract worked out and the basic requirements outlined for the workspace that would be needed. A month later they were off and running, the kind of thing that evolves quickly when aided by exorbitant amounts of money.
The second part had been a little slower to come together, not until Saiki began asking for human samples did a method for bringing Randle down come about.
Or so he had thought.
“How is he responding?” Zall asked, watching the green line of the heart rate monitor attached to his son as it passed by one time after another on the screen. Each time it began anew it emitted a low beep, keeping in rhythm with the steady rise and fall of the breathing machine beside him.
“It is still too early to tell,” Saiki said, turning back from the work table and folding his arms across his chest, staring down at his patient. “This being the first dose administered, it might be a while before there is any noticeable difference.”
“I don’t think we have that kind of time,” Zall said, glancing over his shoulder, watching as the female officer moved about down below, making repeated trips between her Jeep and her partner.
A handful of contingency plans ran through his head, each one dismissed as fast as the one before it. As easy as it might be to disappear into the night, there was no point in it. The police clearly knew who he was, had managed to trace him back to both his properties in the city. If he ran now he would always be doing so, an impossible task with William in the state he was in.
Instead he turned and looked back at his son, his mind just barely registering the heart rate monitor as the beeping faded, the space between rises on the line spreading incrementally. His world seemed to slow as the gaps between them grew further apart, his breath catching in his chest.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his mind fighting to compute what he was seeing, his voice sounding far away, even in his own ears.
“I don’t know,” Saiki replied, standing still, arms folded across himself, staring at the monitors. “He must be having some sort of reaction.”
“Reaction?” Zall asked, reaching forward and grasping the end of the bed, using it for support to keep himself from toppling over. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel adrenaline pulsing through his body. “Why’s his heartbeat slowing down?”
Saiki stood and watched the monitor a long moment, the spikes slowing even more, a single blip flashing on the screen before leveling out, the sound receding to a steady tone. Not until a flat bar stretched the length of the monitor did he go into action, circling around the foot of the bed, shoving Zall to the side.
Starting with the medical cart beside the bed he withdrew a vial and jammed a syringe into it, pulling out five cc’s of epinephrine. Moving to the IV mainlined into William’s femoral, he jabbed the needle into the moist rubber stopper and depressed the plunger. Once the drug was expelled he jerked it away and cast it away, the used implement bouncing across the floor and slamming into the window behind him.
At the foot of the bed, Zall watched in horror as the scene unfolded, his son’s skin receding into pale blue, the readout behind him continuing to flash no signs of life.
“What’s happening? Why isn’t it working?” Zall said, his voice rising, terror seeping in around the edges. He could feel moisture forming in the corners of his eyes, sweat soaking his back.
Without responding Saiki bent and slid a defibrillator case from beneath the bed, snapping it open and pressing it to activate. Across the top a series of lights came on, starting with red, shifting towards orange.
While it charged Saiki stripped back the covers on the top half of the bed, William’s bare chest exposed, little more than skin stretched across bone, his ribs jutted out, his stomach sunken beneath his hips.
“What are you waiting for? Do it already!” Zall screamed, inching his way up the side of the bed, taking William’s hand in his own.
“It’s not charged yet!” Saiki yelled back. “If I go now it could electrocute him.”
Time seemed to stand still as Zall turned to again look at the heart rate monitor, an even line registering no activity. He watched as Saiki waited with the paddles, the lights switching from yellow to green, giving him the go ahead. Pressing them flat against William’s chest, the doctor shoved a massive jolt of electricity through his body, the machine behind him emitting a loud coughing sound.
Staring in horror, Zall saw his son’s frail body lurch, the line beside him remaining flat.
In that moment, there was no doubt. Everything Thomas Zall had done, had tried to accomplish in the previous months, in the previous decades, was over. There would be no legacy to pass down, nobody to receive it even if there was. His last gasp at achieving immortality, of having any sort of life beyond his own, was gone.
He still held his son’s hand in his own, but already he knew he was gone, just as he knew his own life was gone.
“Thomas Zall!” a woman’s voice yelled from below, followed by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. “Thomas Zall, I’m with the HPD. Are you in here?”
Turning towards the open hallway behind him, Zall paused a long moment before shifting back to look at the monitor beside him. No matter how many times Saiki depressed the paddles, no matter how far his son’s body bounced off the bed, there was no bringing him back. A fight that had begun years before was finally over. His son had done everything he could to hang on, to stall while his father figured out a way to bring him back, but in the end he was unable to do so.
For the first time in his life, Thomas Zall had failed.
One last time Zall raised his son’s hand to his lips, feeling his clammy skin against his cheek, before releasing it and stepping back, watching as the doctor he had hired to save him fought to do just that. The sound of electricity pulsating in the air filled his ears as the defibrillator tried time and again, each attempt achieving the same result.
Inch by inch Zall retreated until the backs of his thighs were against the steel table behind him, the metal valise bumping into his spine. Only vaguely did he even notice it was there, his momentum stopping, his senses dulled as he tried to process what he was seeing.
“Thomas Zall,” the woman called again, her voice close, just inches outside the door. Zall watched as she moved inside the frame, a gun extended in front of her, the barrel of it aimed at him.
Turning towards the sound of her voice, Zall moved his hands back, allowing them to rest on the table behind him. On his right was nothing but empty table, his fingers sliding over smooth steel.
To his left were the Heckler & Koch P7’s Danilo had left behind.
“Thomas Zall, you are under arrest for the murders of four women and the attempted murders of two police officers. Raise your hands above your head where I can see them.”
Just as Zall had known that prison was no place for Danilo, he knew just as surely that it was no place for a man like him. No amount of money would cover up what he had done, and without William by his side there was no point in even trying to do so.
Ignoring the commands of the woman beside him, he wrapped his left hand around the base of a P7 and raised it. Again he could hear her voice ordering him to stop, could see the fear splay itself across Saiki’s face across from him, but none of those things registered in the slightest.
In that moment all he saw was his son, not the shrunken form before him, but the young man he had been standing on the deck that afternoon years before. Laughing, the sun on his face, the wind pushing his hair atop his head, he was young and free, without a care in the world. He and his father were going to conquer Wall Street, would no doubt move on to take down countless other conquests before they were done.
It was that image that he focused on his eyes glazed over, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kalani was not happy about the summons, and had no problem letting Tseng know it. Across the street at Queen’s Medical Center her partner was lying on the operating table, having the connective tissue between his neck and shoulder repaired. At the moment he was just a half hour into what the doctors told her would be a four hour surgery. Despite there being not one thing she could do in the meantime, she still had no intention of leaving the waiting area right outside, not for a shower or a change of clothes or even a cup of coffee.
Damn sure not to speak with the governor.
The first time Tseng had called and told her to meet him, Kalani had hung up on him. With Rip’s bloody prints still smudging the phone in her hand, she wanted no part of Tseng or whatever asinine request he was about to make.
The second time, she stayed on the line long enough to tell him to leave her alone until at least morning.
The third and final time, he was smart enough to make the entreaty in person.
Rip’s blood lined the rims of her fingernails and spotted her shirt as she paced through the tiny waiting room, making lap after lap around the arrangement of chairs spread across the tile floor. For the first couple of trips Kimo, seated in the corner, his own face twisted up in concern, had followed her every move. After a while he conceded, content to let her pace, sensing it wasn’t the time to force anything from her.
The day had been hell itself, but that wasn’t what drove Kalani as she walked in an unending circle, afraid that if she sat down she might not start moving again. Instead, the same three minute loop played over and over again in her mind. It started with Rip taking the bullet, his body dropping backwards, framed against the sky behind it. The scene continued as the bullet exited him, blood spatter hitting the ground below, seeping from his chest.
Unlike the previous scene, the one that had haunted her for so long, this one didn’t end there though. It went on. It continued to his lying in wait, playing possum on their shooter, drawing him near so Kalani could get a clear shot. It encompassed her doing something she was never able to do for Ben, taking down the man that shot him, helping him in his time of need.
She was midway through her fifteenth lap of the waiting area when Tseng walked in, looking every bit as disheveled as she did. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, heavy sweat rings lined his underarms and upper back, his hair in a twisted mop. Bits of dirt and blood speckled his jeans as he walked in, his face relaying the exhaustion they all felt.
His appearance stopped Kalani where she stood, a tangle of chairs separating them. In the corner Kimo looked on, sitting up straighter, running his hands down the front of his shorts.
“What are you doing here?” Tseng asked, opening the dialogue with a question directed at the reporter.
“Uh,” Kimo replied, his mouth dropping open, his head shifting to look at Kalani.
“Rip called him,” Kalani said. There was no hesitation in her voice, no trace of the deference she had shown to the chief just hours before. Replacing those feelings within her was deep resentment, at the events of the last week, of her being the reason Rip was now undergoing surgery. “For whatever reason, as he was lying there shot and bleeding, he felt the need to honor whatever you and the governor’s little game is instead of calling for an ambulance. Kimo came and drove him here.”
The edge in her tone was palpable, though Tseng did nothing to acknowledge it. Instead he again looked to Kimo. “Thank you.”
The comment was met with a silent nod as Tseng moved his attention to Kalani. “The governor has requested us in his office.”
Indignation rose within Kalani as she stared at Tseng a long moment. A snort lifted her head a bit as she glared, contempt obvious on her face. “Tell the governor to go to he
ll.”
A weary sigh passed through Tseng’s nostrils as he shook his head, already moving towards the door. “Feel free to tell him yourself. I know I might.”
Like that he was gone, headed down the hall, making his way for the exit. Kalani stood and watched a long moment before flicking her attention to Kimo, her eyes flashing.
“Just go,” Kimo said, meeting her gaze. “I’m not moving, you’ll be back before he gets out.”
The combined force of not wanting to honor anything the governor requested and not wanting to leave Rip pulsated within Kalani, threatening to burst from her. She looked at Kimo a long moment before finally nodding her head, wagging the phone in her hand at him. “If anything at all happens, you let me know. I don’t care who it pisses off.”
The faintest whiff of a smile crossed Kimo’s face as he nodded, Kalani setting off fast down the hall. The soles of her shoes squeaked against the polished tile as she jogged out through the front door, catching up with Tseng on the corner, the darkened outline of the capitol building looming directly in front of them.
“Just so you know,” Kalani said, falling in step beside him as they crossed the street, both walking fast, a pair of overhead street lamps dumping orange light all around them. “I can’t promise I’m going to play nice in here.”
“How’s he doing?” Tseng asked, offering no comment on the previous statement.
The question caught Kalani off guard for a moment, interrupting the string of vitriol flowing through her mind, stopping the words that were already cued up, ready to spill out. “He’s going to be okay. The wound wasn’t life threatening, but the bullet did some damage.”
“That’s a tough place to get hit,” Tseng said, his mouth drawn into a tight line. “Whatever the VA doesn’t take care of for his therapy and such, the department will.”
Kalani couldn’t tell if Tseng was saying these things out of respect to Rip and the situation, or as a means to make her calm down. Either way, she was going to hold him to his words, intent that they ensure Rip was made whole again. In the meantime, it would be her job to help his as much as possible, making sure that his life returned to the peaceful, retired existence it was before she showed up on the North Shore a week before.
Motive Page 30