Ken Kellen was here. Now.
The thought made no sense to him. None of it did. Why were the ones at the pier going into the Community Center?
Were they staying safe when the others were out of the way? Maybe they didn’t all have bombs. Maybe they were just decoys to use the Bureau’s time and resources. To take critical agents out of the loop at just the right moment.
He couldn’t hold his breath, not at this speed, but if he could have, he would. The world might blow up in front of him at any moment. He kept his head low and his speed high. A few times he lost scent, veered off track, and wasted precious time getting back on it. When he did find what he needed it wasn’t because of his skill. It was because of the noise.
The slap of skin on leather was the first thing he heard, followed by a grunt, a hit, a stumble. Then he ran fast enough, changing his course to find the two men locked in a struggle.
Cooper Rollins expertly removed himself from a chokehold and whirled around to face Ken Kellen. Both men stood forward on the balls of their feet, ready for anything. Hands out, they circled each other, both knowing that movement was a better starting point than standstill if you wanted a good hit.
“What the fuck, Kellen?”
“Give me the bag.” Though the men mirrored each other, Kellen held out his hand, the lift of his arm making Donovan nearly flinch at the stinging scent of fear that came on the air. Why would Ken Kellen be afraid?
“You know what’s in it.”
“I told you to trust me, and you’ve been communicating with them. They’ll fuck it all up.” He made a move, feinted left, and Rollins expertly dodged it.
“And I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have to.” Kellen spoke, his eyes angry now. “I shorted the systems. They can’t find you.”
So that’s what had happened to the comms. It also meant Marina and Walter could no longer track Cooper. They’d have only a last known transmission point to help locate the three of them. As he watched in abject horror knowing the bomb could go at any time, the two men circled each other. Sounds of other people came through the woods to him. Eleri crashing through the trees and dry brush on the other side of the men, a dirt bike coming closer, a lone hiker coming up behind them, someone in the distance closing ground.
Kellen made an offer, his hand still out. “All my journals. The whole thing. You always wanted them. They’re in the closet in my apartment. Usual way. Is that enough?”
Cooper didn’t answer.
The dirt bike came to a stop and Ken Kellen heard it. The sound only made him get more desperate. His look, his voice, even his smell, told the same story: he was about to crack. His tone was a harsh whisper to the wolf no one had noticed. Yet.
“I have a remote for all twenty bombs. If you don’t give me the pack, you’ll die. I will set them off. I have to.” He spat the words low, held his hand out, waiting, despite the fact that Cooper wasn’t responding.
Only then did his eyes flick to a spot behind Cooper, and though Cooper didn’t fall for it, Kellen took advantage. In a piece of a moment, he was on Rollins with a punch to the face.
Rollins defended, but Kellen used it to get the backpack.
Donovan hung back, ready to jump into the fight, but not sure what he could do in the midst of two trained warriors such as these.
The backpack was bulky, and it was Rollins’ downfall. Kellen grabbed it, using the momentum of the weight inside to pull Rollins to one side and trap his arm. He took advantage of the opening with a quick blow to the side of the head that dropped Rollins like a rock.
Kellen peeled the backpack from his fallen teammate and took off like a rocket in the direction of the bike.
Donovan heard the hiker coming up quickly behind him and Eleri on the far side. He made a decision, giving Rollins one quick tug on his arm. When the man didn’t respond, Donovan took a firmer bite and dragged him as far back as he could. There was every likelihood something was going to blow up.
Once he had Cooper hopefully safely out of the way, Donovan took off after Ken Kellen. But he quickly came to a stop when he saw Kellen slow his pace and come face to face with the man who’d likely gotten here from the dirt bike, given the looks of him and his direction of approach.
Donovan recognized him from the Calabasas cell.
“Sir. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Kellen offered a comforting smile. “I told you, I’m in this with you.”
“Are we ready?”
“Sir?” A new voice, female. Donovan looked up as a hiker came out of the woods, her bag slung cross body. She seemed as confused as the Calabasas man.
Kellen nodded to her. “Avital.”
“What’s going on?” she asked him, clutching at the bag, snaking her hand inside, presumably to go for the remote. She started to lift the strap over her head, her movements nervous.
Donovan felt his heart kick up.
Kellen put his hand out flat, palm toward her. “Wait, Avital. All is according to plan. We need one more.”
His words held the tremor of fear and Donovan wondered if the others could hear it.
The hiker came up to his left, but he saw the people, now standing in a small circle and didn’t seem to notice the very large wolf he’d walked within ten feet of. A rustle came behind Donovan, but he kept his eyes forward.
“Ken?”
The hiker came angry, not ready to be calmed or surprised like the others. “What the hell is this?”
Turning, Donovan saw a man of Indian origin. One of each. With Kellen replacing Rollins as the representative of the Downtown cell. The click of a bullet being chambered turned all their attention back to the center of the circle, where the Calabasas man had drawn his gun.
The Jewish girl was reaching for hers, and the rustles beside him turned into human movement.
Cooper Rollins was less than eight feet away. He must have come to and snuck up. Donovan kept his eyes on Ken Kellen.
He addressed the small circle. “This is the mission. It always was.”
He reached into his pocket and Cooper Rollins turned on a dime beside Donovan.
It was the only clue Donovan got, but he, too, turned and took off after Rollins. He hadn’t turned as fast as he should have. He’d kept watching. The only advantage he had was that no matter how fast a man was, the dog was faster. Donovan laid himself low and stretched for each leap, but it still wasn’t enough.
He didn’t hear the sound.
He only felt the shockwave lift him into the air and send him flying somehow faster than he’d been running. It was the last thing he remembered.
44
Eleri woke to ringing in her ears and the slow creak of unused muscles. She rolled her shoulder, and tried to pop her neck before she felt the rub of her face against the dust of red clay.
She tried to sit up, but her back burned, and the just the thought of it snapped her back into reality.
She’d heard Kellen say something and she’d run, even though she couldn’t see them, something about his tone told her to get the hell out. But she hadn’t been fast enough. She’d been thrown to the ground, or the ground had been slammed at her, she wasn’t sure which, but she knew it was because of the blast. She was confident that Ken Kellen, still holding Cooper Rollins’ back pack, had set it off.
Her right knee ached and she was pretty sure she’d cracked her kneecap on a rock jutting out of the ground for seemingly that exact purpose. Below that, her shin was bleeding from a cut she couldn’t quite see through the dirt and blood and the tatters of her jeans.
When she rolled her shoulders, she felt the pull of the skin on her back again, and a deep cold seeped into her heart at the thought that she was maybe severely injured. When she reached up, the back of her jacket felt wet. If it had been burned onto her, attempting to remove it was the last thing she should do. But the feeling of fear crawling under her skin, the desperate need to be rid of the jacket overruled any medical sense she had, and
Eleri peeled it. Part of her was relieved and the other part prayed she hadn’t removed a layer of skin with it.
Pulling it around, she saw that the back was coated with debris. It was bloody in a few spots, so she had some nicks and cuts there. Eleri looked around, realizing there was a good chance that large splinters had flown into her back, thus giving her the cuts and maybe even the feeling of the burn. But the fabric didn’t appear scorched and her breath wheezed out of her in exhausted relief.
She patted at her gun, still blinking away the dust in the air, still trying to hear anything beyond the ringing sound. She was just getting to her feet as she felt the first sharp stabbing in her knee. Eleri almost tumbled back down, but she fought the feeling and took another step.
“Eames. Eames, are you on?” The ringing in her ears was the comm.
Ken Kellen had jammed it, and he was gone now. She hadn’t seen it actually, but he couldn’t have survived that. Could he?
Donovan!
Her heart kicked up and she ran to where she’d seen him last, wondering why he hadn’t been her first thought.
“Eames, if you don’t respond I’m handing command to Decker.”
Who the fuck was Decker?
“I’m here.” Honestly, she had a damn fuzzy definition of ‘here’ right now and she probably shouldn’t be in charge if she didn’t remember who the hell Decker even was. But she wasn’t handing it over. So shoot her. It wouldn’t be the worst that happened today.
“We’re ready to raid the militia. Is it a go?”
“I’ve been out. How many blasts?” She was still running, still trying to account for the people she needed. In her peripheral vision she saw an arm in the dirt. At least that’s what she thought it was. Ahead of her, there looked to be a man lying face down. That was more important and she didn’t check on the other.
“Five blasts. Shockingly simultaneous.”
“Raid the militia. It’s a go.” She gave a firm command. It didn’t matter that children in the Rose Bowl were likely dead on a sunny if slightly chilly afternoon. She didn’t know how much of the UCLA med center was still standing. She could get that later. She couldn’t bring those people back.
But she could stop the next wave. The militia had been prepping this morning. None had left. Agents that could have been on the Fracture Five case were assigned to storm the compound. Let them get to it. At least they’d had months to plan their attack. She’d had minutes.
At the home base, messages were barked, orders relayed from her to the men and women waiting just over an hour away in Fontana. Within seconds they’d be on the move, coming out of the woods surrounding the compound. They’d come from far back, staying out of sight of the hidden cameras they knew were there. If they were lucky, they would be done in a matter of minutes.
Eleri was not certain the day would be lucky.
Despite the stabbing sensation in her knee, she made her way to the prone man, even as she still looked around for Donovan. The man was not Donovan. But friend or foe, she didn’t know, and Eleri pulled her gun, bracing it in two hands she was surprised to find were shaking.
She stood to one side of him and nudged him with her toe. Nothing happened. He didn’t wake, he didn’t seem to respond, but he did move like he was alive. Despite being out, despite the number of ways a brain could lie and believe someone was alive when they weren’t, there was almost always a distinct shift in the way the body moved when still inhabited. This one was.
She nudged it again and it moaned.
Still aiming her gun at the back of his head, Eleri scanned the area.
Where was Donovan? Because he was out here as the wolf. Unless he’d gotten away already. She had no idea how long she’d been down, but what if he’d been hurt? Who would help him and how could they?
“Who are you?” She barked it when she really should have been quieter. She had no clue who was still out here.
“Eames.” He frowned up at her.
No, she thought, I’m Eames.
But it was just recognition. Cooper Rollins was rolling to get up. He’d said her name, and he was moving with a fluid ease that she was extremely envious of right now. Just standing felt like having a two-foot straight pin shoved up the middle of her shin. But she didn’t flinch. “Are you okay?”
“I’d feel better if you weren’t aiming that gun at me.” He reached up to wipe dirt from his face, his movements slow enough to show her he wasn’t going to do anything that might make her want to pull the trigger and deliberate enough to tell her he didn’t give two shits about her trigger.
“Are you okay?” She asked again as he got to his knees. Eleri considered taking a safe step back, but this was Cooper Rollins, their informant. He wouldn’t—
He did.
Faster than she could blink, he was on his feet, his hands grasping hers, one in front of the other, right around the gun. He rocked the slide back, stopping a bullet from leaving the chamber, just like the skilled professional he was. It was a risk, but he knew how to take it.
He twisted her hands around, forcing her to let go of the gun, and Eleri cried out with the pain of having her freshly bruised wrists forced to drop her only real security. He’d grabbed her the right way, with her smaller hands encased in his, she couldn’t get out of it, so she gave up the gun.
For a split second, she imagined Donovan, leaping into the fray, twelve-hundred psi jaws clamping around Cooper Rollins’ arm and pushing him sideways. But the assistance didn’t come and Eleri stood before Rollins as his victim.
She was afraid.
He was a big man, definitely bigger than her, and far better trained than she. He’d been aiding and abetting terrorists the whole time he’d been helping the FBI. Two minutes ago, she hadn’t known what side he was on, and right now she still didn’t, but she knew one extra thing: it wasn’t her side.
Donovan was still out there, possibly hurt. She hadn’t heard a single sound that might be him, what she did hear was the sound of agents and SWAT teams. The dry bushes and near-dead trees rustling with every movement, making whispers of the coming plague of agents. Well, enough to get her out of this.
Rollins’ heard it too, looked over her shoulder and grabbed her hands to drag her along and finally triggered her ‘pissed off’ button.
As he pulled at her still clasped together hands, she pushed. When he adjusted, she pulled and then pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. He’d hold one, but she’d gain one. Only he didn’t.
Cooper Rollins took one look at her and reared back.
“Get the fuck off of me!” she yelled and took immediate advantage. She roared out her anger at him, her hands coming up to attack even as he raised his to defend his face. She faked a punch to his midsection and kicked him in the balls with everything she had.
His hands dropped like stones as he started to crumple. Eleri caught one and spun him around, tugging his arm up behind him until she felt his shoulders give, then she planted a foot in the middle of his back and pushed him back to where he started—face down in the dust.
She pulled her cuffs and ratcheted those suckers down, hoping she caused him pain. Then she leaned over and whispered harshly at him. “Do not fuck with me, asshole.”
He didn’t respond, didn’t look at her, just watched the people in full black gear approaching with rifles raised, as he sucked in air through flared nostrils. If she didn’t know his background better, she’d say she actually scared him.
“Ma’am!” One of the Bureau agents called out to her. “Drop the gun and surrender.”
“You have to be shitting me.” She muttered under her breath, but she knew how this worked. Loud enough for them to hear, she said, “I’m Agent Eames with the Bureau.”
“You don’t match the picture we have, ma’am.” He hollered out, so she raised her gun, holding it by one finger through the trigger. And thought, that’s because my Bureau ID doesn’t show me after I’ve been coated in bomb resin, tree blast, and red clay. But
hey, you do what you gotta do.
She wanted to move her foot, plant it on Cooper Rollins’ back and keep him down. So help her God, if he moved one muscle she would shoot him dead. “Reaching for my badge.”
Her heart pounded triple time from all the rifles aimed at her, though her movements were like cold molasses. Eventually, she got the wallet out and flipped it open in a slower version of her practiced wrist flick.
By then, two of the team members had scoot-stepped their way up to where they could see it, and her, better. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry. Orders?”
Just like that she was on top again. No time to be pissy about nearly being taken down as one of the terrorists she’d spearheaded catching. “This is Cooper Rollins—informant and maybe terrorist. Take him in.”
Two agents were reaching to pull him up and haul him in and she was getting ready to speak again, but she was puzzled by the way he scrambled to go with them. Eleri shook her head.
“This is the blast site.” She pointed behind her, trying to be careful about saying what she knew. Donovan had smelled Ken Kellen, and she’d heard what she thought was him, but . . . “I heard people, several of them, just prior to the blast, then I was knocked out. How long was I out?”
She changed tacks without warning, but they turned with her. “Blast was about four minutes ago, Agent. We held back just a minute waiting to see if there would be another one. We got satellite confirmation of no movement and then we came in formation.”
She nodded at him. That was as it should be. Eleri set them to checking the clearing, to calling forensics to be sure there were enough parts or DNA to confirm four people had died in the blast. She needed more information on the other blasts. But more than that, she needed Donovan.
Eleri turned to the man, “My partner is still missing, but I think I know where he is. I’m off to get him.”
“We’ll help.”
“No.” She barked it. “You’re needed here. We have no idea if there are more terrorists around.” Eleri spoke even as she pulled the jacket from her waist and put it back on. It was disgusting, but her t-shirt had been chosen for blending in. She needed to be a beacon now. She pointed to it, looking from one agent to another. “Don’t shoot. I’ll wear this. Tell everyone. I’m out searching, I’ll call in backup anywhere I need it.”
The NightShade Forensic Files: Fracture Five (Book 2) Page 39
