Betrayal: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 2)

by Blou Bryant

  Faint footsteps were the only evidence he’d accepted his charge. Wyatt took a deep breath and quickened his pace. There were seven doors between him and his target. Then there were six. He heard Hannah take a breath, as if she was going to say something. To stop her, he said, “When we get in there, heal Patterson. Do it fast. No talking, no delay, we won’t have much time.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied snarkily. “Anything else, sir?” Four doors.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Trust me. No matter what happens, trust me. It’ll all be clear soon.” That was the most he could do, enough to keep her on his side, he hoped.

  Wyatt watched closely and saw the latch on the second guards holster flip up. The boy was still walking towards them, now only two doors away from his target. Wyatt looked at the squares on the floor. A foot each, ten between rooms. He was taking three-foot strides, every half second. The boy was going at half that pace, less even. They’d reach the guards at the same time.

  Damn it. Wyatt wanted the gun pointed in the opposite direction from the boy. He lengthened his stride, taking five squares at a time and covered the distance before the boy had reached the officers. “Now,” he said to the shimmer beside the second officer.

  Wyatt put his left hand out, palm towards the boy. “Stop. Turn back,” he said in as commanding a voice as he could muster and then spoke to the officers, who had both got out of their chairs as he approached. “I’m Wyatt Millar. The man you’re guarding is accused of working for me. I’m here for him.”

  The first guard put his hand on his weapon. He stopped at the sound of a hammer click behind him. Both turned and gaped at the second gun hanging in the air, pointed at them. The boy had stepped back a few feet but wasn’t moving, also transfixed.

  Wyatt took advantage of their confusion and put a hand up, as if he was holding the floating gun. “In the room,” he said and waved to the right. Timo took his lead and waved the gun towards the room.

  Wyatt opened 314. The two officers hesitated. Wyatt pantomimed moving the gun higher, and Timo followed, pointing at one officer and then at the other. With a quick glance at each other, they stepped in.

  Once inside, Hannah now with them, Wyatt pointed down. “On the ground and you’ll be fine. Nobody gets hurt unless someone tries to be a hero. Don’t be heroes.”

  He shut the door as both followed his direction, warily watching the still floating gun. Wyatt looked around the room. No cameras, none visible at least.

  “Hands behind your backs, please,” he said. “Timo, cuff both of them.” With the two officers behind him, he approached the bed. Custer had been sitting in a chair, holding his friend’s hand. At their entrance, he stood up, incredulous. Patterson was unconscious, wires and tubes connecting him to a machine that ticked away his heartbeats.

  Hannah walked to the bed, with a look to Custer for permission. He nodded, even though he clearly had no clue what was going on. She asked, “How is he?”

  Custer paused, glancing from the police to Wyatt, to Hannah and then he took a long confused look at the floating weapon. “What… They won’t say. I don’t think he’s doing well. He looks so… weak.”

  Wyatt gestured to Patterson. To Hannah, he said, “Hurry,” he said. “We only have moments.”

  Custer simply stared at them, confused, unsure what to say. That, thought Wyatt, was understandable, and perhaps the best to hope for. There wasn’t time to make up some story and he had to hope that healing Patterson wouldn’t make them even more of a target for Jessica.

  Hannah opened Patterson’s shirt, revealing a large gauze bandage and two electrodes connected to his chest. On the monitor, his heartbeat increased. Wyatt tapped it out with a finger on his left leg, and did the math. Almost a hundred beats per second.

  Wyatt sensed Hannah’s work, there was a faint electricity in the room and Patterson’s heart rate increased. One-ten. One-twenty. One-thirty, he held his breath as the pulse reached almost one hundred and fifty beats per minute.

  “What are you doing,” repeated Custer, his face flush and afraid. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Wyatt took him by the arm. “Don’t worry, she’s helping him.”

  “How, I don’t understand, what…” he trailed off, his eyes on his friend. Wyatt held him, both to comfort and to prevent him from intervening.

  Hannah’s face was flush as well. A bead of sweat dripped off her forehead. Her eyes closed, Hannah was focused on her work and the connection with the man. The monitor ticked away beats of Patterson’s heart and Wyatt kept track. One-twenty, one-ten.

  Eventually, she opened her eyes and took her hands off Patterson’s chest. “He’ll be fine,” she said. He took a sudden, deep breath, he coughed and his eyes flickered. His breathing returned to normal and the monitor tracked his heart returning to normal.

  Wyatt wanted to smile, to jump for joy, but held his stern countenance. The men couldn’t be involved in his plans for the night, and this wasn’t the time to congratulate himself. “Let’s go,” he said to Hannah and Timo.

  He picked up his phone, looked at the display and wanted to choke when he saw they’d been in the room for almost seven minutes. Two minutes too long, he thought. “That’s it, we won’t bother you again,” he said to Custer, hoping that would keep Jessica away from them. With that, Wyatt stepped cautiously through the door.

  To the left was the counter, two nurses working away, relaxed and not alerted to the drama that had taken place not fifty feet away. To his right, the boy he’d seen before was still one door down, he hadn’t moved.

  “Kid, you didn’t call anyone?”

  The boy shook his head.

  Wyatt wanted to stop and ask why, to understand why a child would be so untrusting of authority that he’d let two police officers be taken, but he didn’t have time. They hurried down the hall as fast as possible without attracting the attention of the nurses. Attention would come soon enough.

  He let his breath out when the door to the empty corridor closed behind him. Outside the operating room, Oscar stood with the other large guard that Wyatt had met on their last visit. “Boss will see you now,” he said. “Where’s the other guy?”

  Oh yes, Timo was hidden. “Gone,” said Wyatt and entered the room. “Seymour,” he said, wondering how the man would respond to the note.

  He got his answer as Seymour barked, “You son of a bitch.”

  “What?” asked Wyatt, stupidly.

  “I told you not to come here, I told you I wanted no part of your bullshit, and yet, here you are. My man protected you, saved your life and this is how you repay me?”

  The note had worked. “Repay?” said Wyatt, recovering enough to play his part. Seymour was more convincing than he’d expected. “I’ve been on the run, chased by an evil psychopath, by crooked cops, by drug dealers, and all you do is whine about how hard your life is. Fine, I’ll get out, tell me what floor Jessica is on. Tell me how to disable her security.”

  “Are you insane? I’m not going up against her, I told you that already.”

  “What’s with the lawyers, the guards? You’re already in up to your neck. Do you think she’ll let you off the hook now?”

  “I’m protecting a friend, not you. I’m done with you and your crusade.”

  “Fine, give me the floor she’s on, that’s all, give me that and quit, I don’t care.”

  “Screw you,” said Seymour, angry, yelling. “Screw you, get out of here.” He turned to Oscar, “Throw them out,” he said.

  The big guard leveled a gun at Wyatt and Hannah. “Do it.”

  In his ear, Wyatt heard a whispered, “Take them?” from Timo.

  Wyatt shook his head and whispered a ‘no’ in reply. To Seymour, he said, “Whatever. We’ll leave, but only because we don’t give a crap about rich people like you. Go back to your video games, go back to living off of money you hardly earned. You’re a waste of blood and oxygen.”

  Oscar grabbed him, pulled him towards the door. Once through, Wyatt was
thrown roughly against the far wall and the fat Mafioso leaned against him from behind. “I ever see you again, you’re dead, you got me?” He pulled Wyatt’s shirt, lifting him partially off the ground, the other hand around his belt.

  Wyatt pushed back and was shoved again against the wall, the man was stronger than he looked. There was muscle under the flab. “Ya, same back, fat man,” he said. Over his shoulder, he saw Hannah’s horrified face. Good, he thought.

  Oscar laughed and stepped back, a gun in his hand. “Move it, boy.” They ran down the hall, escaping to the elevator. Once in, he pulled out the keys and gave them to Timo. “Worth it,” he said. “I stole his keys, we’ve got a ride. Let’s motor.”

  Chapter 27

  As they walked back to the car, Wyatt let Timo lead and maneuvered so he was ahead of Hannah. As he walked, he pulled the front of his shirt out of his pants. There, at the bottom was a ripped piece of paper that Oscar had shoved down his top while roughing him up. Two addresses, exactly as he’d requested. Under those, one word. “Yes.” Seymour, you glorious bastard, he thought and attempted to keep the joy off his face.

  “How’d you get the keys?” asked Timo as they reached the car. Wyatt pointed to the front door and he jumped in.

  “I lifted them when he grabbed me, why else let him get away with that?” Wyatt said as he joined Hannah in the backseat.

  “What’s next, boss?” asked Timo.

  Wyatt checked his watch and calculated. There was an hour before the next appointment, assuming the twins had succeeded. That should be enough time. It’d have to be enough time. He told Timo to head to the first address that Seymour had given him.

  “So, where’s this?”

  “A cop I met, he’s dirty, a real piece of crap, but I need someone on this inside to make sure that Jessica’s cops don’t show up at her headquarters until we’re done. I’ll lie to get him to help out and to find out where her pet cop is.”

  Hannah had lapsed into silence but interjected at this. “You mean Vincent? You can’t use him, he’ll arrest you.”

  “He can try, but if he does, I’ll run back to the car and that’ll make sure he shows up at Jessica’s. If he doesn’t, we have an ally, either way, it works out for us.”

  “You’ve got this planned out.” Timo nodded with respect and programmed the address into the car navigation.

  “Damned right,” said Wyatt, but he was sweating. Everything was so tight, so close. One mistake, one misstep could ruin the entire plan and put the remaining Dogs in harm’s way. “You, me and the twins, we’ll have to be enough,” he said, the worry plain in his voice.

  “What about me?” said Hannah.

  Wyatt dismissed her with a quick question. “I thought you didn’t want to be involved?”

  “We’re not killers,” she responded quietly.

  “Exactly. That’s why you’re not coming to the HUC. I can’t have any hesitation. We’re going to drop you back off with the others.” He wanted her to remain with the Dogs, just in case things didn’t work out. They’d need her healing ability if they ended up on the run. He couldn’t bring them into this until he was sure the plan would work.

  Timo piped up from the front, “We’ll be fine, the twins can handle ten men, and with me sneaking ahead, we’ll have the advantage. Can I have a gun?”

  “Once we hit Jessica’s place, yes, but not until then. The first guy we take down, take his. We’re not getting out of this without blood.”

  “Are we shooting our way in?”

  “Not at first, we’ll use the girls and you to take out the guards in the entry. Once we’ve got to her floor, we’ll use their weapons and our guns to kill anyone between us and her.”

  “And you’re going… to kill her?” asked Timo, in awe. This wasn’t the Dogs way, but he was clearly in favor of it.

  “She’s hunted us. No, she’s hunted me, for three years, and has been willing to kill to get what she wants. We don’t have a choice, this is the only way to be safe, to live a normal life. Are you able to handle that?” he asked.

  Timo nodded. “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, right?”

  The last minutes passed in silence and they arrived at the address soon after, the evening traffic light. It was nine-thirty, he had fifty-four minutes until the next step. Would everything be in place? He’d find out soon. “Stay in the car, keep it running,” he said.

  “I should go in with you,” said Timo. “In case protection is needed. I can go invis and keep an eye on things. Hannah can watch the car.”

  Wyatt shook his head. He’d kept Hannah with them for this but it wasn’t the car he wanted her to watch.

  “Na, I won’t be more than a minute. Stay here, together,” Wyatt said.

  The bar was hardly a bar. It had a cafeteria vibe to it. Small plastic tables and green patio chairs were the only furniture. The decorations were beer posters, one tattered mounted deer head and not much else. In a corner was Frank Vincent, his only company a quart of beer and a small glass.

  Wyatt looked around and identified two surveillance cameras. He sat down so that his back was to them and put his phone on the table.

  Vincent looked at him with evident surprise. “You. The cleaner.”

  “Ya, the cleaner.”

  “I checked, you were fired on your first shift.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Also found out the uncle who got you the job never heard of you.”

  Wyatt shrugged. “He’s not my uncle, but you already know that.”

  “I suppose I do. Do you want to tell me who the hell are you? How’d you find me? Hey, and how about telling me why you’re here,” he said in measured tones. “But I suppose I’ll find out the soon enough. What do you have to say?”

  “You’re a curious guy,” Wyatt said and reached into his back pocket for the third piece of toilet paper. “We don’t have time. If you help me, you can bring me in and ask me questions for as long as you like.”

  “Why don’t I take you in right now?”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Not drunk enough,” Vincent said bitterly.

  He’d have to do. Wyatt didn’t have a backup plan. “Tell me where your partner is tonight.”

  “And why exactly would I do that?”

  “I’m going after the woman he works for and need him out of the way.”

  The cop laughed.

  “He’s dirty, you know that.”

  “Perhaps I do, but doesn’t mean I’ll tell you where he is. Cops stand together.”

  “Even if he’s laundering drug money?”

  “We deal with our own.”

  “What about murder?” Wyatt slipped the piece of paper across the table as unobtrusively as possible. “I’m not joking. Tell me where he is and I’ll give you evidence of murder.”

  Vincent stared at the piece of paper, not moving to take it. He downed his glass, looked up to Wyatt and down at the note again. Wyatt held his breath, staring at the man, silently begging him, pleading, please take it, read it. Vincent downed his drink again and said, “I’m not giving you information about where he is. If you have evidence, bring it forward and we’ll deal with it.”

  Wyatt looked at the note and back at the cop. Vincent let out a sigh and picked up his quart. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

  “If you arrest me, it’ll ruin your night.” Wyatt nodded to the paper.

  Vincent filled the little glass, then took a long drink directly from the bottle. With a tired sigh, he picked up the note and read it. He gave a brief nod, folded and put it in his shirt pocket. “Why not, you want to ruin my night anyway.”

  Was that a yes? Did he need a push? Wyatt said, “You’re sick of dirty cops, of a rigged system, of leaders who throw you under the bus anytime the going gets rough.”

  Vincent stared back at him with dead eyes.

  Had he agreed? Wyatt wondered. He wished he could say more, but Jessica might be listening. “You think you c
an help us?” he said and stared at the pocket that held the note.

  “You’re an idiot, hell, an idealist, worse than an idiot,” he said. “If you want to get arrested, go find someone on the job, I’ve got half a beer left. Unless you’re buying, get out and leave me be.”

  “Fine. I’m reporting a future crime. Jessica Golde, a rich and famous city leader will be murdered by me tonight. You can stop it if you’re there in a little under an hour.”

  “Let me know when you’re done. I’ll arrest you, but right now, I got beer. How many ways do I need to refuse?”

  “I’ll report you,” threatened Wyatt, “For not doing your job and not protecting her.”

  Another shot down, Vincent laughed and refilled the little glass. “You think it’ll be the first report? They don’t want me, but I’m easier to keep around then get rid of. Your report will be filed and forgotten, and I’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

  “So, if it’s that bad, do something useful. If life sucks, it might as well suck on your terms.”

  “You’re an annoying little pissant.”

  It was Wyatt’s turn to laugh. “You think you’re the only one who’s said that? Anyhow, takes one to know one, jackass.” He swiped the phone to show the time. Forty-nine minutes.

  Vincent reached out, took the phone and turned it over. “Get lost.” When Wyatt didn’t move, the officer let out a long sigh. He nodded and tapped on his pocket. “Leave me to my beer.”

  That would have to do. Wyatt picked up his phone and returned to the car.

  “How’d it go?” asked Timo.

  “Dunno, at least he didn’t turn against me, he’s likely too far into the booze to do anything either way. We’ll find out, but for now, let’s head back.”

  Timo fiddled with the controls, found the map display, and set it to retrace their route.

  Wyatt pulled the piece of paper Oscar had given him out of a pocket. He’d done what he could, now to get the Dogs in motion. Hannah looked at it and at him, but said nothing. Shielding the paper from her, he ripped the paper in half and wrote “Everybody, 11:30,” on the front of the second piece. He crossed off the street number of the address and changed it – subtracting four.