“What is your game, Reddington?” Keen growled. “You’re the one who got us into this in the first place. You brought the tributylamine to the Beekeeper and started this mess. Why would you do that?”
“Elizabeth,” Mala said, “we need to leave. Now. The Beekeeper will—”
“I only intercepted a shipment that was already on its way,” Reddington protested. “If I had done nothing, the chemical in question would still have arrived and I’d be the Beekeeper’s enemy. This way, I’m inside and the Beekeeper thinks he’s my friend. What could be better?”
“Elizabeth,” Mala said, “come on!”
Keen glared at Reddington, not sure if she should be worried, exasperated, furious, or all three. Then she pulled the stupid mask back on and hurried from the room with Aram and Mala close behind.
They were almost outside when the Beekeeper’s voice thundered behind them, “Grab them! They took the key!”
They bolted for the mouth of the tunnel. Shots cracked behind them, but Keen was already outside the cave and in the fresh air beyond. She dove right, yanking Mala with her. Behind her, Aram yelped, but he kept running. The sky was lightening and a few birds were calling among the trees. Keen yanked off the mask so she could see better and ran for the cover of the thicker wood. Unfortunately, Hive drones were pouring out of the cavern in an angry hornet swarm. Adrenaline thrilled through Keen’s veins and plucked at her nerves. Mala had ripped off her own mask, and her face was tight and white-lipped. Bullets snapped and pinged off the trees as the two women flung themselves into the undergrowth. Aram came with them, his own expression drawn. Automatic gunfire rattled, then voices shouted.
“Come out! We just want the key!”
“They went that way!”
“Don’t stand there—grab them!”
“Come on!” Mala hissed. “This way!”
Keen followed her, keeping low. Aram did as well, though he was limping.
“What’s wrong?” Keen asked.
“Leg was grazed,” he grunted. “It’s not bad, but it hurts like hell, and it’s going to slow me down.”
“Damn it. Let me see.”
They stopped for a moment and she sank to her knees to check Aram’s leg. His upper thigh was bleeding. Keen bit her lip. Not only was Aram wounded, he was leaving a trail.
“We should get you to Reddington’s safe house,” Keen said.
“Safe house?” Mala said. “What kind of safe house?”
Aram poked his head around a tree.
“They’re fanning out,” he reported. “They’ll find us soon if we don’t move. I don’t think we have time for the safe house.”
“Why not?” Keen said.
“Very soon the Beekeeper will find those bodies in the guest room and realize that Reddington isn’t a friend. When he does, he’ll search Reddington and find the duplicate key. Once that happens, he’ll launch the helicopter drones and all those people will die. We have to stop him. Now.”
“Yeah,” Keen said. “Puts us in a bind. Let’s find a better spot to hide so we can—”
“Here they are!” A rifle muzzle poked into Keen’s shoulder from behind. “Don’t move, bitch. You’ve been stung.”
“You did not just say that,” Keen said.
“Get up.” There were three drones behind them. Masked, of course. Keen was getting truly tired of masks. “The only reason you aren’t dead right now is that the Beekeeper is afraid you’ve hidden his key somewhere.”
Keen got to her feet and made a fist. “You want the key? It’s right here.” She made a throwing motion and opened her hand. “Go get it, bee boy.”
As she expected, the drone turned his head to watch where she had “thrown” the key. Keen moved. She shoved the rifle barrel upward, moved in and under the weapon, and elbowed the drone in the solar plexus. He collapsed with an outrush of air. Keen wrenched the rifle away from him.
Aram wasn’t still either. He turned halfway around, wrenching the second drone’s gun barrel so it was pointing away from him. He grabbed the gun stock and the scope and yanked. The rifle barrel whipped around and cracked the drone across the side of the head. The man went down to one knee, dazed.
The third drone swung his rifle away from aiming at Mala and aimed at Aram. Keen snapped her new weapon up.
“Freeze, asshole!” she barked.
“Paul,” Mala said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“You know him?” Keen said.
“Of course I know him,” Mala snapped. “We’re all Hive. Paul, come on! The Beekeeper wants to kill all those people.”
“That’s the whole point,” Paul said inside his mask. “The others are them.”
Keen licked dry lips. Shouts and calls came from the woods around them. Other drones were getting closer.
“Paul, I wanted to be here, too,” Mala said. “I wanted to join, just like you. I got the Bodysnatcher to bring me here and wipe all traces of me. I thought I could hide here forever, but my dad found me. You can’t hide here forever, Paul. They find you. Them, not them. There is no them.” She held out her hand. “Paul, please. Put down the rifle and help us. All those people don’t deserve to die.”
Paul hesitated. His breath sounded harsh from inside his mask. Keen held her breath.
“Your friend is dead,” Paul snarled. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Keen shot him. A bloody flower blossomed on his chest. He stood there a moment, as if uncertain about what had just happened. Then he dropped. Mala gave a low cry.
“No!” she moaned. “Paul!”
“I’m sorry, Mala,” Keen said, meaning it. “He didn’t give me a choice.”
“He came in with me,” Mala said. “The Bodysnatcher helped him disappear, too. I—”
“Over here!” bellowed a voice, disturbingly close.
“The shot gave away our location,” Aram whispered. “We have to run!”
Mala gave Paul’s body one last look, and they ran. Keen felt a heavy weight of guilt settle over her. At least now they had rifles.
Twigs and leaves whipped past Keen’s face as they shoved through the woods. She prayed the drones weren’t talented trackers. Her chest burned. Days of enforced inactivity had sapped her fitness. Aram was also short of breath. The rough terrain and the slope of the hill made running much harder. The shouts of the drones were behind and to their left now, and Keen tried to figure out where they were.
Just keep running, she told herself. Run until you can’t run another step, then run some more.
They burst into a clearing. The sweet smell of burning, charred flesh reached Keen’s nose, and she jerked to a halt, her breathing hard. Blood slicked the grass and sprayed the damaged trees. Bloody camping equipment was scattered everywhere. A tall truck stood to one side, spattered with blood and dirt. And interspersed were the bodies. Chopped and charred and shredded bodies.
Coming to a halt beside her, Aram and Mala both gasped. Mala retched.
“What in holy hell happened here?” Aram said.
“I’d guess a bomb with shrapnel in it,” Keen said. “One of the explosions we heard underground. But who are these guys?”
“They work for my father.” Mala’s hand was over her mouth. “Team Green Alpha.”
“Wow,” Aram breathed. “The Hive ate them alive.”
The truck door banged open. Keen snapped her rifle up. Aram took a second longer. Roberta clambered down.
“Elizabeth?” she called. “Oh my god! Is it you?”
It took Keen a second to recognize her from the nursery, and she was surprised at how relieved she felt to see the other woman.
“Are you all right?” she called. “Where’s Sally?”
In answer, Sally cautiously emerged from the back of the truck. “The children fell asleep. They’re exhausted. What happened?”
Keen trotted closer. “I was going to ask you the same question. The last I saw you, Mrs. Griffin and… the other guy were evacuating you.”
Roberta caught Keen up in a hug. “I was so worried! And scared! We’ve been in that truck for hours! After those… men put us in there, everything just went up. The children were terrified, but at least they weren’t hurt. We didn’t dare bring them outside, and now we don’t know what to do.”
Keen thought fast. “Can you drive the truck?”
“No keys.”
The distant shouts and yells seemed to grow closer again. Keen turned to Aram. “Can you hotwire this thing?”
“I’m computers, not cars,” Aram protested. “I don’t know a thing about engines.”
“Let me.” Mala pushed them both aside and vanished underneath the truck’s dashboard with the knife from her belt.
More shouts, more yells. Brush cracked.
“What’s happening?” Sally demanded. “Is there an attack going on?”
“There will be soon,” Keen said. “That’s why we have to get the kids to safety. Do you understand? Even though it means taking them out of the park.”
“Away from the Hive?” Roberta protested.
“The Beekeeper’s orders.” Keen brandished the satellite phone, as if the Beekeeper had just called. “Their safety above all. When they attack again, he doesn’t want the children caught in the crossfire.”
“The patrols are coming,” Aram said casually.
“Almost done, Mala?” Keen asked through clenched teeth.
“Nearly… got it…” Mala said. “Ha!”
The truck cranked to life. Sharp-smelling exhaust fumes puffed from the tailpipe. Keen could make out individual voices among the patrollers now.
“Get the kids out of the park,” she ordered with steel in her voice. “Drive! Before they get here. We are the Hive!”
“We are the Hive!” Roberta said, and jumped into the driver’s seat while Sally got into the back with the kids. Aram closed the rear door. The truck lumbered away, down the rutted road.
“Why didn’t we go with them?” Aram said.
“Ressler, Reddington, and Dembe are still in the Hive,” Keen replied tersely. “So is Stuart. Come on!”
They fled back into the woods. The sky was fully light now, and Keen had her bearings, but that also meant the patrollers would have an easier time spotting them. Howls of surprise came from behind them as someone found the gory scene. Maybe it would slow them down.
“Where are we going?” Aram said.
“Elizabeth Keen!” crackled the Beekeeper’s voice over a distant bullhorn. “I know you can hear me. You have my key. I have your friend Donald. Come to the main entrance within ten minutes or I will shoot him in the head.”
Shit.
Keen wanted to throw up. Hadn’t they been through enough? Why was the Beekeeper always a step ahead, no matter what?
The Beekeeper repeated his announcement.
“Have I said lately how much I hate that voice?” Keen asked.
“What do we do?” Mala asked in hushed tones. “The Beekeeper wants us to come back, and if we don’t, he’ll be angry.”
“He’s already pretty pissed off,” Aram pointed out. They were still following Keen through the woods and trying to watch in all directions at once. “It would take a couple pounds of Valium to calm him down now.”
“There’s a vantage point up here,” Keen said. “We’ll go up there to get a look at the situation. I just hope Ressler’s okay. And what the hell is Reddington doing?”
It was the same rocky outcropping Keen and Dembe had used to spy on the Hive. The trio hid themselves under some bushes, and Keen used the scope on her rifle to sweep the area. The first thing she saw was the set of boxy beehives under the trees near one of the side exits not far from the main entrance. With those to orient herself, she quickly found the front of the cave, which was perhaps thirty yards below them, down the slight incline of the hill. The Beekeeper and, oddly, Mrs. Griffin were standing near the cave entrance with a couple of drones—and Reddington. Ressler was on his knees in front of them, looking defiant, and the Beekeeper was pointing a gun at his head from behind. Two drones brandished machetes. Pug held a bullhorn for Dr. Griffin.
“I have to call Cooper,” Keen said, drawing out the satellite phone again. “This is the first chance we’ve had since we got out of the caves.”
Aram checked his watch. “We don’t have long before the ten minutes is up.”
As if in response to this, Pug held the bullhorn in front of the Beekeeper’s mouth.
“Elizabeth Keen, you have two minutes to bring me the key, or Donald Ressler dies.”
Keen called up the satellite phone’s screen with chilly fingers. One of the contacts caught her eye.
“This phone contains a listing for Dr. Griffin,” she said. “What the hell?” She made a disgusted noise. “Reddington!”
“Just call Cooper!” Aram hissed. He had torn part of his shirt away and Mala was helping him use it to bandage his bleeding thigh.
Keen punched in the number from memory, praying the signal would get through. She held the phone so the others could hear, but didn’t activate the speaker in case it carried downhill.
Cooper answered on the first ring.
“It’s me,” she said.
“Elizabeth!” Cooper’s husky voice sagged with relief. “Are you all right? Where are you?”
“I don’t have much time,” Keen said. “The Beekeeper is going to execute Ressler if I don’t give him the key to launching a chemical attack on—”
“I know all about it,” Cooper interrupted crisply. “We’re almost there. The helicopters should be on site in less than an hour.”
“We need help now,” she said. “The Beekeeper wants the drone key, or Ressler’s dead.”
Cooper hesitated a fraction.
“He can’t have that key, Elizabeth. No matter what, he can’t have that key. Do you get me?”
She did. If it came to a choice between a thousand people and one FBI agent who had sworn to protect them, there was no choice.
“Understood,” she said hoarsely.
“The team is coming. Hold tight.”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I don’t usually pray,” Aram said. “But maybe now would be the time to start.”
“Can’t you shoot him?” Mala asked.
“I’m a profiler, not a sharpshooter,” Keen said. “And Ressler’s right there. Miss and I might hit him.”
“Why isn’t Reddington doing anything?” Aram moaned.
“Your time is up, Elizabeth Keen!” boomed the Beekeeper. “Watch as your friend pays the price. I’ll count three. One… two…”
A ringing sound came from the Beekeeper’s pocket. It sounded tinny at this distance. Surprised, the Beekeeper looked down. He holstered his pistol and pulled a satellite phone from his pocket.
“Elizabeth?” he asked, and his voice came from the phone in Keen’s hand.
“Dr. Griffin,” she replied, digging into her memory for her hostage negotiation training and forcing a note of respect into her voice. “Let Ressler go, and we’ll talk about arrangements.”
“Where are you, Elizabeth?” His voice was calm and flat, like the psych patients she had observed during her residency, the ones who set fire to puppies and tried to bite the fingers off their nurses. “I’d rather talk about this in person. Where I can see you.”
“I’m too far away for that,” Keen said. He had put the phone on speaker, and she double-heard the faint echo of her voice in the distance. “I’m almost out of the park.”
“That’s a lie,” the Beekeeper said. “You fooled me once, and it was spectacular. You used your memory of your baby to make me think you had converted to my cause. I have to admit you did a fine job. Lots of my captive drones have tried to fool me into thinking they were coming along for the buzz, but their attempts were obvious, and every one of them shared the fate of drones from my beehives every autumn. Do you know what happens to the drones in a hive of bees when autumn comes, Elizabeth?”
Aram and Mala exchanged nervous glances.
Keep him talking, Keen thought. “I don’t know.”
“The female workers drag them to the entrance of the hive and slice their heads off.”
One of the masked drones, a tall woman, waved her machete, and Mrs. Griffin nodded. Ressler glanced behind himself. Keen knew he was calculating his chances of grabbing either the machete or the Beekeeper’s pistol, but both Beekeeper and drone had wisely put themselves out of arm’s reach.
“Decapitation might be more fitting than shooting, don’t you think?” the Beekeeper said.
“Ohhh, I don’t like that,” moaned Pug. “Please come down, Elizabeth!”
“Pug, you don’t have to do what he says,” Keen said. “You can do whatever you want. If you don’t like a head getting chopped off, you can stop it.”
Pug wavered for a tiny second, then said, “No! The Beekeeper knows what is right.”
“Don’t do that again, Elizabeth,” the Beekeeper warned.
“Let me talk to Reddington,” Keen said, switching tactics.
“Oh, no, no, no.” The Beekeeper shook a finger. “You are not in charge here. Mr. Reddington is not in charge here. He is, in fact, hostage number two.”
“Reddington’s a hostage?” Keen repeated around the growing pit in her stomach. “Does he know that?”
The Beekeeper shook his head. “You need to think, Elizabeth, and try to remember some of the things you babbled in the Circle. I know you very well, and I’m sure you were about to say that if Ressler dies, I lose my leverage. But I don’t. I have Mr. Reddington. And his cabana boy Mr. Dembe awaits just inside the mouth of this cave. Hostage number three. I know you’re watching me, Elizabeth. The only question is, from where? And how fast will my drones find you?”
Reddington stood stock still to one side. He had to have heard the Beekeeper. How could he not? But he wasn’t reacting in the slightest. Mrs. Griffin watched them both primly. Keen stared at her for a moment and chewed the inside of one cheek. A bomb had destroyed Rudenko’s hired mercenaries. Who had set it off? She hadn’t had time to think about that. Roberta and Sally hadn’t done it—they wouldn’t have spent hours cowering in the truck with the children if they had, and in any case, where would they have gotten explosives? The mercenaries might have set off a bomb by accident, but that didn’t seem likely. The timing on the explosion had been too convenient. That left Ressler and Mrs. Griffin. Ressler certainly didn’t have access to any explosives. That left Mrs. Griffin. And her big handbag. Now that Keen thought about it, who carried a handbag in the middle of a forest? Another chill slipped through her blood.
The Blacklist--The Beekeeper No. 159 Page 24
