Patrick checked his phone. The last text message he received was still from Liam just a couple hours ago, right before he came into this restaurant to eat.
He dialed Liam’s phone number.
The phone rang. And rang. On the fourth ring, he expected it to go to voicemail. His heart pounded in his ears.
Liam answered. “Hello? Patrick?” He sounded tense. Patrick could hear it in his voice.
“You’re okay,” Patrick said. He blew out a breath. “What happened?”
Liam sat quiet on the phone for a long while, not saying anything even though Patrick could hear him breathing, and his nerves twisted again.
“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.
“How did you know to call me?” Liam asked.
“The TV. I’m eating breakfast. It’s all over the news.”
“And you thought to call me?”
He was hasty in that decision, Patrick knew. Reacting without a plan or thought, reacting too much on a gut led to aroused suspicions. He should have thought it through. But, even in the two days since Patrick met Liam—and since he experienced that weird connection with him that he was still at a loss to explain—he realized there wasn’t a lot of rational thinking where Liam was concerned. He still struggled with the idea that Liam had him second-guessing his mission the previous night, his mission to save his team members.
“I just knew you were on that campus and that you were going to class. I had to make sure you were okay,” Patrick said.
There was another long pause where Patrick thought he’d lost Liam, but then Liam spoke. “I’m not okay,” he said. He sounded as if he was crying.
Patrick cradled the phone against his shoulder, and he pulled his wallet out to throw some money on the table as he scooted out of the booth. “Where are you now?”
“I’m in my dorm room. Somebody tried to kill me.”
Patrick was already on his way out of the restaurant. “What do you mean? Tell me what happened.”
“I was walking to class when I saw this guy watching me. He followed me to class. He was really weirding me out, so I tried to leave and get away from him. Somehow I—” Liam paused again.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m not hurt. I…I killed him.”
Patrick stopped. “You killed him?”
“The stone,” Liam said.
“Stone? What stone?”
“I think it made me kill him. It shot some kind of laser. I don’t know. All I do know is that a guy is dead because of something that I did. He was attacking me, and I felt this need to grab the stone when it fell out of my bag. There was a blue light that stabbed the guy in the chest.”
None of this was making sense. Patrick assumed Liam was hysterical. “Listen, Liam. I’m going to come to you. Where are you?”
“You can’t,” Liam said. “There are police everywhere.”
He was right. He wouldn’t be able to get onto campus with all the police surrounding the place. “Can you get off campus?”
“I think so. I can take a back exit from my dorm and get to a main road.”
“Okay. Give me a place where you can get to safely.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Halsted and Lincoln. There’s a three-road intersection that’s close to campus.”
Patrick took a moment to consider. They couldn’t go to Patrick’s hotel room. The appearance of the woman in his room last night was clear evidence of that. He’d have to make arrangements at a place where it would be harder to find him. “Get there. I’ll send a car to meet you.”
“Can you meet me?” Liam’s voice sounded panicked.
“I’ll meet you,” Patrick said. “I need set something up, a place where we can be safe.” Patrick stopped walking, and he made sure this next statement was very clear: “Pay strict attention to your surroundings. Watch for anyone who might be following you, and you see anybody, get someplace with lots of people around. Even standing next to the cops is better than letting them get you, is that clear?”
“Yes,” Liam said.
“I’m going to keep you safe,” Patrick said. “I mean it.”
There was silence for a bit, then, “Thank you.” Then Liam hung up.
What was he doing? Patrick was going against everything he was in the city for, the three remaining guys on his team. Obviously they wanted Liam, whoever they were, Thaddeus and Cyril. Liam was important to them. And Liam was also the only key to freeing his teammates.
And yet, now he was doing everything he could to keep Liam from their hands.
But, as he searched through his phone for a location to keep Liam safe, he knew in his gut that it was the right decision. And maybe he could figure something else out, a way to keep Liam safe while also freeing his team. There had to be a way.
Eleven
Chicago, IL - Lincoln Park
Liam finished his phone call with Patrick feeling much better than he had even a few moments ago. He’d changed clothes into something less blood spattered, and he threw the clothes he wore into a pile in the corner of his closet. He hurried around his room, though, trying to plan methodically yet quickly. It was silly to think that coming back to his dorm room was safe. Obviously, whoever was after him knew his name. Why wouldn’t they also have a good idea where he lived? Patrick was right. He needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere out of sight where people like scar face couldn’t find him so easily.
He left his room carrying his backpack with a few articles of clothing hastily thrown in.
And the stone. He kept the stone in his hand. People might wonder why he carried a stone around on the streets of Chicago, but honestly, he didn’t give a shit what they thought. There was much more at stake than looking sane at the moment. Besides, maybe carrying a stone down a city street would be enough to keep some people away.
Out on the street, the noise and mayhem had only gotten worse. Helicopters flew overhead, and the police moved as if in a herd. Further down the street, there was a mobile command center of sorts—a trailer emblazoned with the CPD logo on the side. They were searching hard for someone.
They were searching for him. They were there because somebody was killed in a classroom building. It didn’t take a crack detective to figure out the cops were worried that a crazy killer was on the loose on campus, one brazen enough to kill somebody in the hallway of a busy classroom building.
And maybe they weren’t wrong, about the crazy part, that is. His whole world had gone crazy.
Liam walked on the sidewalk then stopped. Up ahead at the intersection, cop cars blocked the road with their lights flashing, and the police were standing, one to each side of the road on the sidewalk. They stood in front of police tape and appeared to stop people who were walking on the sidewalk.
They were obviously questioning people and not letting anyone pass. Liam panicked, and he searched for another way. He stood at a corner of his dorm and there was a paved pathway that led to a side door and a gate that opened up to the soccer fields. He turned down that direction and crossed the wide expanse of the field. As he walked, he couldn’t help but feel exposed. On one end of the field, a soccer team practiced, kicking a ball around. Every time one of the players paused to look in his direction, he worried. It was utterly irrational, but then everything that had happened that morning had been irrational. There really was no way to reason with the events of the day.
On the other side of the field, the gates opened to a parking area beneath the train tracks of the Chicago’s Red and Brown-Line trains. At least beneath the tracks, he wasn’t as exposed, but Patrick’s words rang in his ears, that it was best to stay in populated places.
A train rumbled overhead. The Fullerton train stop was nearby. It was usually flooded with commuters at all times of the day, so he hurried in that direction.
As he neared the street, a police officer turned onto the path where Liam walked.
Liam’s heartbeat pounded. He was sure he sweat. A guilty kind of sweat. But he did
his best to keep his head down and not make eye contact.
“Hey,” the officer said.
Liam froze. He turned slowly to face the police officer.
“You a DePaul student?” the officer asked.
“Yes…yes sir,” Liam said.
“Campus is on lockdown.”
“I saw that.” Liam gulped. “W-what’s going on?” He decided it was best to play stupid.
“There may be a threat in the area,” the officer said. “You need to be vigilant.”
Liam nodded. “Of course. Thank you, officer. I will.” The officer continued to look at him. He glanced down at the stone that Liam carried like he was worried for his safety. He had a hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Archaeology class,” Liam said, quickly, holding the stone up so the officer could see. “It’s a fake, but my professor wants us to note the features for some stupid lab assignment.” He swallowed. “That’s where I’m headed now.”
The officer nodded his head, but didn’t say anything.
Liam shifted, unsure if he should turn and go or if the officer had something else to say to him. “I should probably…” Liam pointed over his shoulder toward the main roadway.
When the officer nodded again, a man of very few words, Liam didn’t wait around to see if there was anything else. He turned quickly on his heel and headed for Fullerton Avenue.
Once on the street, there was some comfort in a crowd. Patrick was right. It meant more people to watch, but, as Patrick said, the people who were after him were much less likely to try something if he was in a public place. He stayed with the flow of commuters walking in the same direction. He followed closely without invading their personal space.
He kept watch of the people around him, both on his side of the street and on the far side. Scar face had watched him like a crazed stalker. The best he could hope for was that whoever he ran into next—there would be a next time, Liam was fairly certain—would do the same and lead with their intentions. But scar face was probably an exception, not the rule. Scar face had been overconfident. And up until the light shot out of Liam’s hand from the stone, there really was no reason for scar face not to be overconfident. But Liam was somewhat prepared now. He knew they were after him. And now they, whoever they were, believed Liam could handle himself.
Be vigilant, as the police officer told him. And vigilant was what he was.
The intersection wasn’t far away, and he crossed the street to where Halsted, Lincoln, and Fullerton all met. It was a busy intersection with several restaurants nearby and a Walgreens. There were, of course, more cop cars than he was used to seeing, but he sort of expected that.
Now he waited. He leaned against the front windows of a McDonald’s full of people eating lunch, and even sat on the thin window sill. The odor of greasy food was thick, almost stomach turning.
He looked at his watch. It was going into the eleven o’clock hour. But even with people on all sides and hurrying by, most of them not even paying him any attention, he still felt exposed, standing in one place as he was. Someone somewhere had eyes on him, someone with bad intentions. He wasn’t sure if that was just more nerves or if he was really feeling them watching him.
A car squealed to a stop in front of him and caused Liam to stand again. It was a decent car, black. Not necessarily a luxury vehicle, but one that could pass. The higher end of a typical consumer vehicle like a Nissan or a Toyota, though Liam couldn’t really tell the difference between the two.
The passenger side window rolled down, and the driver bent down at the steering wheel like he was trying to get a better look at him.
“You Liam?” the driver asked him.
Liam hesitated. He looked at the front window of the car for some sign it was a hired car or one of those phone app ride-sharing services. He didn’t see a sticker, so he checked out the back window. There, he saw a sticker that indicated it was a car from one of the phone apps. Liam let out a quick sigh. “Yes, I’m Liam.” He moved to the car and opened the rear passenger door and got in. He tossed his backpack into the far side of the back seat. “Did Patrick send you?” he asked as he pulled the door closed.
The driver didn’t say anything as they pulled away from the curb. The doors in the back locked. It caused him to jump. Probably automatic, he reasoned. Child safety.
He decided to call Patrick again to let him know he was safe in the car, and he dug his phone out of his pocket and tried to dial out, but it beeped at him, a sound he hadn’t heard before.
The screen of his phone indicated there was no signal.
Now Liam started to feel even more nervous.
Patrick worked quickly. He found a room at a place called The Traveler Inn. It was a downgrade from his hotel room at The Drake, but it was a place with less standards, fewer questions. That’s what mattered most. This motel was cheap, the type of place that may have charged hourly at one time but without all the sexy theme rooms.
The room contained two queen-sized beds with gaudy gold-paisley bed spreads and questionable stains on one of them. Next to the thick-curtained window, a round table stood in one corner with plastic chairs, and there was no minibar as there had been in his other room. But this room was a necessity. He paid cash for it.
He’d returned to the other hotel room only briefly, long enough to retrieve his few belongings and the extra clips of ammo he’d tossed into the wall safe after restocking at his Union Station stash the previous night. He’d retrieved a second handgun after the strange woman left him alone last night.
Before he could leave to meet Liam, Patrick received two messages on the new phone as he stood in the grungy entryway of the room.
The first message was from a car service app he’d installed and paid for with a prepaid credit card.
The message was to notify him that the car was waiting at the pre-arranged spot. He assumed Liam was already on his way by now.
The second message was more curious, however. It was from a nondescript phone number, probably a burner phone like his own. He clicked it open.
Your progress is moving along very well, the message said.
Attached to it was another video.
He sat down on one of the beds. The paused image in the small frame was of the room he’d been looking at in the hours before, studying it to see if he could figure anything else out. Confused, he clicked on the play button.
At first, he thought he was, in fact, seeing the same video he’d been watching of Hollis’s release. It was the same angle of the frame and, presumably, the same two Taliban guards moving in to release the bonds of one of the prisoners.
But he noticed that the first post was empty, the post where Hollis had been hanging.
They were releasing another prisoner. The guards went through the same motions to help the prisoner to his feet, offer him water, and move him to face the camera in the corner of the room. Pepper this time. Then they moved him from the scene.
Patrick was glad that they released another one of his team members, but he was still confused.
Why?
That was the question burning in his mind at the moment. He hadn’t done anything else. In fact, he believed he was going against their wishes by helping Liam get to safety…
Patrick stood up again.
Unless…
He dialed Liam’s number and waited with the phone to his ear.
Voice mail without a ring.
He dialed again. Same outcome.
Patrick’s stomach sank and worry snaked its way up and down his spine.
They had Liam.
Twelve
Seattle, WA
It was surprisingly easy. They caught the guy.
Zach and Glenda burst in with a group of Seattle law enforcement officers, and they found him sitting on the bed of his hotel room, a ritzy hotel in the middle of downtown Seattle with a premium view of the Space Needle and the water of Elliot Bay beyond. He was watching television and eating a package of nuts from the minibar in the room,
a youngish man, probably in his mid-30s with dark hair and a day’s growth of scruff on his chin. Clean cut, the type of guy that probably turned a lot of heads. He was an attractive, fit man who looked like he took care of himself.
He wore a pair of Etiquette Clothier’s Black Label boxer shorts and an open button down shirt and nothing else underneath. A drink sat over ice on the bedside table. The whole look about him, even in his half-dressed state was one of refinement, a guy who spent a long day at the office and was winding down in front of the evening news.
No one would suspect this man of having killed at least nine people. Maybe more if the timelines fit and they could locate the video room in the house in La Jolla. So far, San Diego PD had no luck finding such a room.
The man’s name was Stephen Penrose—Penrose like one of the names on a picture in the secret stairwells.
This whole arrest scenario was like a surreal sort of dream. Mr. Penrose calmly brushed off his hands when the police were in his room, their guns aimed at him, and he finished chewing as he sat the small can of mixed nuts on the table.
“ON THE GROUND!”
Even that was taken with a leisurely response, no words spoken, no questions as to why eight police officers and two federal agents were standing in his room, as he swung his bare feet off the bedside. Zach thought he might take a drink of his beverage, but instead, he did as he was told and dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. Officers rushed in and slammed him to the carpeted floor, and they put cuffs on him with a knee shoved into the small of the man’s back. The only sound he made was a grunt when one of the officers put his full weight on the man.
When they questioned him once he was brought to his feet, he simply smiled and said, “yes, I am responsible for their deaths.”
That was all they needed to take him into custody. He was read his rights, and the police officers led him down to a squad car still in his underwear.
The room was searched. They found three expensive tailored suits, Alexander Amosu, a William Westmancott, and a Boss, and plenty of other clothes that matched the taste level of the suits. The Boss suit was the cheapest one on the rack. In that room, the clothes alone were enough to finance a nice house in the suburbs of most large cities.
The Stone (Lockstone Book 1) Page 16
