Night Watch--A Novel

by Iris Johansen

  Yep.

  But the entire floor appeared to be empty. Just like the entire building, for that matter.

  Someone was yanking her chain.

  But why? Why in the hell would anyone—?

  Footsteps echoed behind her.

  She turned. They were coming up the stairs. Good. Maybe she could get some answers.

  The footsteps suddenly stopped.

  Then a moment later, they resumed. But slower. And quieter. It was like …

  Like someone who was trying not to be heard as they approached this floor.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  They were getting closer.

  Tap. Tap.

  Kendra spun around.

  These were coming from the other side of the hall.

  Tap. Tap.

  Another person trying not to be heard.

  Whispers behind her.

  Then in front of her.

  They were talking to each other.

  She wasn’t just being paranoid. She was sure they were on their phones or some other devices engaged in a hushed conversation.

  And they were both still moving toward her.

  She could feel her heart start to pound.

  Tap. Tap.

  Shit!

  The lights had shut off. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

  That was okay. More than okay.

  Did they even know who they were dealing with here? She was at home in the dark.

  She crouched low against one of the closed office doors.

  Stay calm. Focus.

  Neither of these people, whoever they were, knew that exactly twenty-six steps separated her from the stairs. They weren’t aware of the two cartons of molding, box of nails, and the large fire extinguisher in their path. She could make the darkness work for her.

  She looked up. Two green eyes glowed at the end of the hallway.

  Her heart sank. Oh, no.

  Night-vision goggles.

  She turned back. Another pair of goggles glowing in the darkness. They could see everything clear as day.

  And they were moving toward her.

  Her eyes flicked between the two. Judging from the height of the goggles, she was dealing with two large men between six feet and six-foot-two. If she waited, it would be two against one.

  Can’t let that happen.

  She leaped to her feet and ran back toward the stairs, zeroing in on the glowing eyes.

  Gotta do this just right …

  The assailant appeared to be frozen in place, stunned by her frontal assault.

  Or had he just stopped to aim a weapon at her?

  Can’t think about that. Play it smart …

  She ducked and weaved at the last moment, never breaking stride as she reached out with her outstretched hand.

  She clawed upward and ripped the goggles from his face.

  She felt his skin fly beneath her fingernails. She whirled around and landed a direct kick to what she thought were his kidneys. The man grunted and fell to the floor.

  She spun around and ran for the stairs. Just another few—

  Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain between her shoulder blades.

  Can’t breathe. Can’t move.

  Her legs weakened, and she felt the floor rushing toward her. Two strong arms grabbed her before she landed. She looked up.

  Two glowing green eyes. The other man now had her in his grip. He dragged her to one of the offices and threw open the door. The early-evening twilight flooded in through the bare windows.

  At last she could see, but the only sight that greeted her was a nightmare. There, in the middle of the bare office, was a roll of duct tape, a large fifty-five gallon drum, a handcart, and a hypodermic needle.

  Great. A psychopath’s standard-issue abduction kit.

  She could feel her legs again, but they were weak. Rubbery. She was in no condition to fight this man, but if she didn’t do something fast, she knew she was going into that damn barrel. She dug her nails into his hand, but that was the only resistance she could summon.

  The other man moaned in the hallway as she found herself dragged toward the hypodermic needle.

  In an instant, the man’s low moan gave way to a shriek.

  Then silence.

  The man holding her called out to his partner. “She’s not easy. Stop whining and get in here. Now!”

  Silence.

  The man grunted a curse word and threw her to the ground. He placed a knee on her back and picked up the needle.

  Kendra’s eyes darted around the room. She couldn’t move, but there had to be some way, somehow that …

  Zzzzot!

  She heard an electrified crackling, and in the next instant, her attacker was facedown next to her.

  What the hell?

  She rolled over. The man was twitching and gurgling, and the sudden acrid odor let her know that he was wetting his pants. Then a familiar pair of boots strode into view.

  SIDI Fusion Lei motorcycle riding boots. Size seven or eight.

  She looked up. A woman stood over her, wearing a motorcycle helmet with tinted visor so as to entirely obscure her face. She wore tight jeans and a brown leather jacket, and she held a still-sparking Taser before her.

  “You’re hurt. Can you stand?” The woman’s voice echoed from behind the visor.

  Kendra shook her head to clear it. “I think so … yes.”

  “Then get the hell out of here. You have about three minutes before this wears off.” The woman placed the Taser on the back of the man’s neck and hit him with another blast of electricity. He screamed and twitched again.

  The woman turned to Kendra and shrugged. “Maybe a little longer than three minutes.”

  “Who—Who are you?”

  She ignored the question. “Let me see you stand.”

  Slowly and gingerly, Kendra pulled herself up. She struggled to maintain her balance.

  “Walk.” She nodded as Kendra took a faltering step. “Now go. Don’t waste time.”

  “Who are you,” she repeated.

  “For God’s sake.” She was plainly disgusted. “You sound like someone from a Marvel comic book. I’ve heard a lot about you, but nobody told me you were stupid. Well, I may be awesome, but I’m no superhero. I just want to get you the hell out of here before I have to stick around to give this guy another zot. Get moving.”

  “I want to know—”

  But the woman was already out the door. She paused only long enough to hit the man in the hallway with another jolt from her Taser.

  Kendra tried to run to catch up with her, but her wobbly legs and back weren’t allowing it. “Wait!”

  The woman was gone.

  Kendra looked back at the still-twitching thug in the hall. Probably not a good idea to stick around. She could still remember the sense of panic she had felt when she had been helpless, unable to move.

  She moved toward the stairs, gripped the railing, and moved down one step at a time. By the time she reached the second floor, she felt herself getting stronger.

  She heard a motorcycle rev outside and roar down the street. Thank you, whoever you are. You may be rude as hell, but I owe you big-time.

  She looked up.

  There was a sound above her. Her attackers were obviously recovering …

  Get out!

  She hurried down the rest of the stairs and moved quickly out the front door. She glanced around the parking lot. No one else there as far as she could tell.

  She slid into her car and started it.

  She could still hear the woman’s voice ringing in her ears. Get the hell out of here …

  She got the hell out of there.

  She drove a few blocks, and when she was sure that she wasn’t being followed, she voice-dialed Lynch. He answered immediately.

  “What’s up?”

  She drew a deep breath. “More than I’d like. Two guys just tried to grab me.”

  “What?”

  “My afternoon consult wa
s a total setup. It was an empty building. They came prepared, complete with hypodermic and barrel for removal.”

  Lynch muttered a curse. “Dammit, you could have been killed.”

  “They didn’t want to kill me. That would have been easy for them. They wanted to drug me and carry me out of there. I’m telling you, they had it all set up.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “You’re not going to believe this. I had help from our motorcycle-riding friend from Big Bear.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m still having a tough time believing it myself. Though it was a dose of cold reality when she accused me of being stupid when I started asking her questions instead of doing what she told me to do. She came out of nowhere and laid them out with a stun gun.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “Okay, I’m calling Griffin and the cops and have them go there. Give me the address.”

  Kendra gave him the building’s street address. “It was the third floor. I’ll meet them there when they—”

  “No. Get someplace safe. Maybe your mother’s house.”

  That sounded exactly like what she wanted to do, she thought. And then maybe curl up in bed and put her head under the covers. She couldn’t do it. “I’m going back there.”

  “The hell you are.”

  “I was there. It happened to me. I can help.” Kendra turned down a side street and pulled up to the curb. “I just pulled over. I’ll wait fifteen minutes before I go back. I’ll hang back from a safe distance, and I won’t go in until I see the squad cars.”

  “Just this once, I wish you would—”

  “I’ll see you there, Lynch.”

  She cut the connection.

  * * *

  “I’M NOT SURE ALL THIS WAS really necessary,” Kendra said as she eyed the four cruisers and two unmarked police cars in the office-building parking lot. She stepped toward Special Agent Roland Metcalf who was waiting for her in the parking lot.

  Metcalf smiled. “When Kendra Michaels snaps her fingers…”

  “Not funny. Cut the sarcasm. Anybody inside?”

  “No. Two uniformed officers were first on the scene. They did a sweep, but the men who attacked you had already left.” He shrugged. “Dancing with the Stars is on tonight. How could you compete? Can’t really blame ’em.”

  She managed a smile. She could always count on Metcalf to try to defuse any tense situation. He was a tall, good-looking man in his midtwenties, and Lynch was sure he had a major crush on her.

  Metcalf didn’t return her smile. “Hey, you look pretty rough. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Fine. One of the guys got a solid punch between my shoulders and literally struck a nerve, but I’m feeling better now.”

  He nodded. “Good. Adam Lynch filled us in, but I’m going to need a full statement from you. San Diego PD will want one, too.”

  “No problem. As soon as I get a look up there.”

  Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. Kendra jumped and let out a startled yelp.

  She turned to see that it was Lynch and drew a relieved breath. She backed away from him with her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Guess I’m still jumpy.”

  “Shit.” Lynch shook his head. “I’m an ass. I’m the one who should apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking after what you’ve just gone through. I saw you standing there and I just wanted to—” He repeated, “I’m an ass. I’m sorry, Kendra.”

  “That’s okay.” She was as much surprised by Lynch’s action as her own case of nerves. Lynch was always cool and contained and seldom displayed any emotion but mockery. “It might not have been your fault. My back took a hit.”

  “Did it?” His lips tightened. “I’ll have to remember…”

  “Do you still want to go up?” Metcalf was frowning. He was obviously surprised and uneasy with Lynch’s show of protectiveness. “Maybe you should—”

  “I want to go,” she interrupted. “Let’s do it.”

  Kendra led them into the building and up the stairs, giving them a step-by-step description of her visit there only minutes before. As she drew closer to the scene of her confrontation, she found her slight nervousness giving away to anger.

  Anger at those bastards for making her feel helpless and unsafe.

  Anger at herself for showing fear in front of Metcalf, Lynch, and those cops in the parking lot.

  She was practically steaming by the time she stepped onto the third floor.

  Lynch squeezed her arm. “I’m sensing a bit of tension or more likely gale-force winds. Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She clenched her jaw. “I’m sure as hell not letting them get into my head.”

  “Good.”

  She pointed ahead. “I put one of them down right there, but the other struck me in the middle of the back and dragged me into that office.” She led them through the open door, where three uniformed officers were standing around the green fifty-five-gallon drum.

  Kendra glanced around. “This is all you found?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” one of the officers replied. “Not sure what this barrel is for.”

  “It was for me.” She gestured to the floor. “There was duct tape, a hypodermic needle, and a gray handcart, but they obviously picked those up on the way out. They also took the night-vision goggles that I knocked off the man in the hallway. I guess they were in too much of a hurry to take this thing.”

  Metcalf crouched next to the drum. “They knew it would have been a giant marker identifying them as the people we’re looking for. We might be able to get some prints off it.”

  “Well, we do have DNA for both of them.”

  Lynch slanted a glance toward her. “How do you figure that?”

  Kendra stepped toward the uniformed cops. “Officers, I need two plastic, evidence-collection bags. Can you help me out?”

  The police officers pulled clear plastic bags from their pockets and gave them to Kendra. She placed her hands inside each one and pulled the adhesive seal taut around her wrists.

  She held up her plastic-wrapped hands. “I scratched the hell out of both of those guys. I have their skin under my fingernails. Attacker A with the right hand, attacker B with the left.”

  Metcalf nodded approvingly. “If either of them has been in jail in the last decade or so, their DNA should be in the CODIS database.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “Well done,” Lynch said quietly.

  She grimaced. “Not pleasant. But my options were limited. I was feeling pretty helpless. It’s all I had.”

  Metcalf pulled out his phone. “Tell you what. Suppose I get some forensics people out here so that you won’t have to walk around with those bags on your hands for the rest of the evening.”

  “Great idea,” Kendra said grimly. “I don’t need any reminders. I have more than enough.”

  * * *

  AS PROMISED, A CRIME-SCENE tech arrived within thirty minutes and scraped the skin from Kendra’s fingernails. After giving a statement to Metcalf and the police officers on the scene, Kendra left with Lynch.

  Metcalf appeared clearly disappointed when she refused his offer of a lift to her home. But he smiled back at Kendra and waved as they walked away from him.

  “See?” Lynch said as they walked across the parking lot. “The guy has a major crush on you. Even you can’t be so socially impaired that you don’t see it.”

  She smiled. “Okay, you may be right about him.”

  “Of course I’m right. The only question is, what are you going to do with that information?”

  “Nothing. Metcalf is intelligent and handsome, and I’m sure he has his choice of women.”

  “Not the one he wants.” Lynch leaned closer to her as they reached their cars. “So what are you waiting for? Who are you waiting for?”

  The heat of his body was radia
ting, touching her own. She had to hold her ground against his sudden intrusion into her personal space. She wouldn’t let him know it disturbed her. “What business is it of yours?”

  “Consider me a concerned bystander.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question. It’s your business because—?”

  “I care. Isn’t that enough?”

  That could be a barbed or enigmatic question coming from Lynch. But she wasn’t going to be anything but honest. “Sure it’s a good reason. Fine. Those years after I got my sight, the wild days, I was with a lot of guys just because I cared enough about them to do it.”

  “Even with our funny-looking noses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just out of curiosity, what would constitute ‘a lot’?”

  She gazed at him in disbelief. “If you really think I’m giving you numbers…”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “I was so determined to experience everything and everyone I could that I don’t think I ever stopped to truly appreciate any of it. Then, somewhere along the way, I realized it’s important to have a good reason to experience the things in my life. Not just because they’re there.”

  “It was good enough for Sir Edmund Hillary.”

  “It’s not good enough for me. Not anymore.”

  “Makes sense. Come home with me.”

  “What?”

  He leaned even closer. “It’s the one place you can be safe. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to lure you out here and try to grab you. They’re not going to just give up. Especially when it’s painfully easy to find out where you live and work.”

  “You’re inviting me to your house for my personal safety?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kind of an abrupt segue.”

  “Was it?”

  “By design, I suspect. In any case, I’m not going to your house.”

  “It worked for you before.”

  “I can’t run to your suburban fortress every time things get a little dicey.”

  He chuckled. “You would classify attempted kidnapping as a little dicey?”

  “No, it was flat-out terrifying. Which makes me even more determined not to run away.”

  “Sometimes running is the smartest thing to do. Running, regrouping, plotting your next move…”

  “I’m going home. My home.”

  “Fine. Then I’m going with you.”

  “Like hell.”