10 Fatal Strike

by Shannon McKenna

  Then it hit him. Of course. They were art pieces. Images generated by Lara had a sort of poetry to them. Even the ugly ones.

  The photo of Hu made Miles uncomfortable. He had no business feeling sorry for the guy, since he might or might not have to kill him. But Jesus, what kind of asshole employer wouldn’t let a man stay at his wife’s side during a dangerous operation?

  The same asshole who would lock a girl in a dark cell for months and do sick, sadistic experiments on her. Duh.

  No, Hu was a bully and a dickhead. He had chosen the wrong side, and he was ripe for an ass-kicking. That gave him the first useful idea he’d had so far, and he was elaborating on it when Lara’s presence exploded into his head, with a blast of terrified energy.

  He almost skidded into a guardrail. He righted the car, set himself to multitask. wtf?

  cant stay was her reply. greaves. got loose but not 4 long he uses electroshock to pull me back

  He was aghast. coming 4 u stay sharp

  no no dont risk urslf. pls ur the only thing that keeps me alive dont come pls dont let them take u from me

  He corrected a swerve. Hu’s turn signal winked, far ahead.

  Electroshock? Fuck that! He grabbed the phone, called Connor.

  “Goddamnit, Miles!” was Con’s greeting. “Why haven’t you—”

  “I’m going in,” he announced.

  “No! We’re still forty miles behind you, and you can’t—”

  “They’re hurting her, Con. Right now, in real time. I’ll talk to you when I can. If you see my truck, bring it along with you. I’ll leave the keys under the seat. Listen up, these are the coordinates of the complex.” He recited them swiftly. “Point two miles before the bridge, offroading through the woods will get you to the river bank, or close to it. A couple hundred meters downstream, and you can see the building, up on the hill. That’s where she is. I’ll tell you more when I can.”

  He hung up on Con’s sputtering. He was driving through Mary Creek Canyon, a subdivision of Kolita Springs that petered out into scattered orchards, and beyond that, dry, scrubby hills. Lara? Lara!

  She was still gone, but her desperation lingered in his body, tightening it into knots. Fine, then. Fuck it. Show time.

  Headlights off. He speeded up, closing the distance between himself and Hu, his eyes fixed on the guy’s taillights. Five hundred meters, Tam had said.

  He stabbed the detonator on Tam’s ring.

  Not possible. Jason Hu hung onto the wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he shrieked, as the car bounced off the guardrail, spun, and ended up nose down in the ditch on the opposite side of the road.

  Of all times to blow a tire. As wrong as the date of Leah’s surgery, but the doctors had terrified her, and she hadn’t wanted to wait. No way could he slip into Karstow unobserved now. Not that he’d held up much hope to begin with.

  He got out and peered at the damage. He was not a man who prided himself on being capable of changing a tire. He’d put in thousands of hours studying chemistry and pharmacology so that he could pay some hairy-knuckled schmuck to change tires for him.

  He wrestled the jack out. Fought with lug nuts, wrenches, grease, and dirt in the darkness, the flashlight on his keychain clamped between his teeth for light. He got the bastard on, somehow, more or less. Now to see if his life was still worth something, or if he should just swallow bleach and be done with it.

  It only took ten minutes to drive the rest of the way to the Karstow facility. Ten minutes too long. The guard at the gatehouse gave him a bleary-eyed once-over, scanned Hu’s card and waved him through. He accelerated up the hill to the car-park, pulling into his designated slot.

  He shoved open the door, and yelped when the door slammed back on him, trapping him against the frame of the car like jaws snapping closed. A cold circle of metal jammed itself under his ear.

  “Don’t move,” a low voice rasped.

  He gasped for air. “Who . . . who are—”

  “Shut up,” the voice growled. “Give me your cell phone.”

  Hu struggled to breathe against those squeezing fingers, and pulled out his phone. His assailant took it. His larynx could barely move. “Who are—”

  “None of your business. What’s more important is what I can do to Leah.”

  Fresh, acid fear made his stomach lurch. “What do you know about Leah?”

  “Shhh.” The gun barrel jabbed harder. “Dr. Prateek Singh, Dr. Giuseppe Bonelli. Good team you have there.”

  That was Leah’s surgical team. Hu’s legs wobbled. “Who are you?”

  “In a few minutes, Dr. Paige Sereno, the anesthesiologist, will come in to do her thing. Quite a tumor Leah’s got. Gonna be touch and go. Lots of chemo in her future. Fucking drag.”

  “How do you . . .” His voice quivered. “Who told you—”

  “But the one thing I know, but you don’t, nor does Leah’s team at Good Sam, is this glitch in the database.” The low voice took on a taunting tone. “There’s a bug that lets me in to look at your wife from every angle. I’ve seen her bloodwork, the inside of her stomach, sonograms of her liver, her lungs, MRIs of her brain—”

  “Shut up! You sick bastard!”

  His assailant slammed the door against Hu’s shoulder with bruising strength. “Too bad, about the results of that sentinel lymph node biopsy ten days ago, huh?” he taunted. “Things look bad. Leah’s tough, though. She’ll fight the good fight—if she’s allowed to.”

  Hu clenched wet, clammy hands. “What are you talking about?”

  “That bug lets me change things in the system. Like that note about the genetic disorder that she inherited from her father. Malignant hypothermia, remember? I did some creative editing in the hospital database, see.”

  Hu could barely speak, his voice vibrated so much. “What . . . what—”

  “All records of Lea’s malignant hypothermia are gone from her chart. Poor Dr. Sereno has no idea. I fixed it days ago, see. Sereno’s all good to go with routine administration of suxamethonium. Poison, for Leah. They’ll put her under any minute. Soon, her muscles will go rigid. Her temperature will soar. Then heart attack. Circulatory collapse. And finally, death. So sad. But we all gotta die someday, right?”

  Hu struggled, wildly. “What the fuck—”

  “Shhh,” the voice crooned. “They will only be able to administer an antidote if you are in a position to call them and warn them in time.”

  Hu could barely get the words out, his voice shook so hard. “What d-do you w-want from me?”

  His assailant dragged his head back, until he could see the hideously white teeth grinning through the mouth hole of the ski mask.

  “We make a deal,” the dark figue said. “Your wife . . . for Lara Kirk.”

  Mean, mean motherfucker. Miles had tangled with more than his fair share of them. He had the vibe nailed. Now he just had to ooze it, like slime. A tall order, after that claustophobic ten minutes spent huddled in the trunk of the Accura. Utter blackness, mitigated only by the hole made by the shoved down central seat console. He was thankful to whoever decided that car trunks should open from the inside. And thankful, too, for the fact that there appeared to be no security cameras mounted in here. At least none that he could see.

  Miles glared at the guy through the ski mask. Mean as a snake. The vibe seemed to be working. Hu’s eyes darted, frantic and terrified.

  “What do you want with Lara Kirk?” Hu quavered.

  “Focus on Leah,” Miles said. “Tick tock, tick tock. Take me to her, Hu. Right now.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Hu burst out. “You’re bluffing.”

  Miles shrugged. “You can bet that way if you want.”

  “I can’t,” Hu whined. “You’re just going to have to kill me.”

  “I’m fine with that. I’ll still find Lara, but Leah will die, because you’re a fucking coward and a loser. But hey, she knows that already. What did she say when you ran out on her? Was she nice? Did she, you know . . . understand
?”

  Hu’s body arched convulsively against his. “Shut up! You asshole!”

  “Leah’s going to die today,” Miles said. “Or not. Up to you.”

  “I can’t do what you’re asking. They’d kill me!”

  “Your problem, not mine. It’s the company you keep, man. Chances are you’d get a call in to Good Sam before they slit your throat, to give them a heads-up. One last good deed for the woman you love.”

  Hu’s forehead shone. Miles pulled out his cell, and began texting, without moving his gun hand.

  inside compound with hu.

  “Who are you texting?” Hu’s voice had a hysterical edge.

  “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about,” Miles said.

  The phone burped softly. Con’s reply. u crazy bastard

  “Who is that?” Hu shrieked.

  “That’s my contact at Good Sam,” Miles said. “Bonelli and Singh just walked by in their scrubs, all coffeed up. So, Jason. Is the fence electrified?”

  Hu’s mouth worked for a moment. “Ah, yes.”

  “Infrared, motion sensors?”

  “Just infrared.”

  “Where is the control center?” Hu did not respond.

  Miles jerked him out from behind the door and jammed the gun up against the guy’s groin. “Maybe you haven’t grasped how committed I am to hurting you, assbag. I’m turning your genitals into pink paste right . . . about . . . now.”

  “No! Stop! They’ll hear you, and they’ll kill you!”

  “I don’t give a fuck. On three. You ready? One . . . two . . .”

  “Security is on the ground floor! Entrance on the left side!”

  “That’s better,” Miles said. “How many on security staff? How many people in total?”

  Hu’s throat bobbed. “Three at the gate,” he said, sullenly. “Three inside. Ten more on staff. Counting me.”

  Sixteen people. God help him. “Let’s move,” he said.

  “You don’t understand,” Hu moaned. “You can’t use me as a shield. They don’t give a shit about me. They’ll shoot right through me.”

  “Then make sure they don’t see me, Hu.”

  Miles shoved Hu in front of him, one arm clamping Hu’s neck, the Glock pressed to the man’s nape. He pulled out his knife, and dragging Hu with him, lunged low to stab both back tires of the Accura.

  He gave the other cars in the structure the same swift and savage treatment as they passed each one.

  “Take me to the security center.” Miles made his voice a harsh, gravely hiss. “One eyelash flicker that I don’t like, and I drop you. And Leah gets suxamethonium pumped into her. Any minute now, Hu.”

  “Let me make the call,” Hu begged. “I swear, I’ll—”

  “Fuck, no. Move.”

  They kept in the shadows of the towering pines as they moved toward the main building, which was perched on the edge of a cliff.

  They approached a side entrance. Miles shoved the other man close enough to the door to lift his key card, swipe it. It flashed green.

  This had to snake fast. Hand-to-hand or knife work. A gunshot, even suppressed, would bring the cavalry down on him. Miles followed Hu down the dim hallway, paneled with cedar, floored with hardwood planks. Hu stopped at the first door. His eyes darted, panicked.

  “You first,” Miles said. He held Hu in front of him while Hu swiped his card. When the door popped open, he shoved Hu inside.

  Hu shrieked a warning. The one nearest the door turned—

  Front kick to the jaw, crunch. The man stumbled back with a grunt. His sandwich flew into the air. Miles followed up swiftly on the ground with a side-hand chop to the nose, and leaped to face the guy coming out of the adjacent bathroom, buttoning up his pants.

  The guy’s eyes barely had time to widen before Miles slammed the toe of his boot into the man’s groin. He folded and went down. Miles leaped to intercept Hu, who was diving for the door. Hu shrieked as Miles torqued his arm back. Snap.

  Hu sagged, whimpering. Miles slammed his boot into the sneaky little bastard’s side, crunch. Harder to scream for help with broken ribs.

  Guy One lay unconscious. Guy Two writhed, in the fetal position. There was a work station for a Guy Three, who could appear at any moment. Miles pulled plastic cuffs from his side pockets and took a couple of precious moments to cuff Guy Two.

  Hu rolled on his side, breath bubbling in tears and snot. “Please, please let me make that call—”

  “Shut up, you piece of shit.” Miles leaned over one of the keyboards. Unlocked. God was kind. He checked in the favorites, found the camera control app. Identified the cone of visibility that covered the escape route he meant to take. Disabled the panning function, memorized the direction of the camera’s new blind spot.

  He hated leaving those guys lying there, but the conscious one was restrained, and he didn’t have the stomach to kill them. And if he wasn’t out of here in a couple minutes flat, he was fucked anyhow.

  He texted. will come down gully cd use a diversion

  Hu twisted to stare up at him, eyes rolling. “Who are you texting?”

  Miles smiled evilly. “They’re starting, Hu. Say a prayer for Leah.” He grabbed Hu by his injured arm, jerked him to his feet and shoved him out the door. “Take me to her.”

  Hu staggered down the corridor ahead of him, and swiped his card in the electronic lock of a heavy door. It opened into a cinderblock stairwell. Partway down the second flight, a stairwell door flew open.

  The guy who walked through looked up as Miles’ boot connected with his nose. He bounced off the wall, and toppled.

  Hu’s breath rasped as he gestured at the door the man had just come through. They entered a corridor, which was lit with sickly fluorescent light. Hu stopped at a door, pulled out a bunch of keys.

  The door behind them opened, and Miles felt a painfully familiar eye-popping squeeze in his head. Anabel. He spun.

  “Help!” Hu shrieked.

  Thpptt. His bullet hit her in the thigh. The scrabbling, squeezing sensation ceased. Shit, that was loud, even with the suppressor.

  But the cinder block walls might have muffled the sound for the people above them, or at least obscured its source. If he was lucky.

  Anabel sagged, clutching her quadricep with reddening fingers. “You idiot! You dickhead!” she spat, to Hu. “You brought him in?”

  Miles slammed an uppercut to her jaw that she was in no shape to block, bashing her head against the cinder block wall.

  She thudded to the ground.

  Miles jammed the barrel to the nape of Hu’s neck. “Open the door, asswipe.”

  Hu’s hands fumbled and shook for an agonizingly long time. When the door finally opened, Miles flung Hu into the cell in front of him. He saw a narrow cot, an opening for a tiny bathroom.

  A girl crouched, huddled in the corner. Barefoot, naked to the waist, wearing only loose white drawstring pants. She had long, tangled, frizzy, dark hair. Huge eyes gazed up at him. Terrified.

  And this was so not the time to gawk at a pair of perfect tits.

  “Uh . . . hi,” he said. “I’m Miles. Your ride. Let’s go.”

  9

  He couldn’t be real. Her drug trips always took her elsewhere. The people she saw in her visions never appeared in her physical prison. Even the Lord of the Citadel had never come to her. He did not belong in this hellish place. She always went to him.

  And this being couldn’t be a man. A ghost demon rising up from the depths of her subconscious mind, maybe. Looming, black-clad, ski-masked. The wild, hot blast of his aggressive energy zinged through her nerves, like lightning stabbing. A hallucination, an archetype, a myth.

  A god.

  It must be the formula. Maybe because they’d maxed out the dose. She was crumbling into her component parts. No way could someone have found her. Who would bother to look for her? Mother and Dad were the only two people in the world who might have cared enough to risk their lives for her, and they were both go
ne. Murdered.

  But this wasn’t a wishful fantasy, either, because she hadn’t been wishing for rescue. She’d just been hoping for her Lord of the Citadel to sweep her away into heaven. Eternal erotic bliss. It would be nice.

  Hu was huddled on the ground at the ghost demon’s feet. He lifted his bloodied face. “Please!”

  “Move!” The dark figure’s voice was brusque. He wrenched his leg free of Hu’s clutching hand. “Get up! Hurry!” He was directing the words at her. He pulled a phone from his pocket, and swiftly texted into it. That prosaic gesture was hardly that of a demon or a god.

  She stared. “But I . . . ah, but you—”

  “I’m the guy you text when you trip on psi-max,” he cut in. “You’ve been camping out in my head.”

  She gaped, blinking. “You? That’s you?”

  “Me. On your feet. This is your chance, so take it!”

  Hu hoisted himself higher, rolling up to grab the guy’s leg. “You said I could call the hospital if I brought you here!” Hu’s voice was thin and wobbly. “You said you’d—”

  “That was before you fucked me over, douchebag. Twice. Too bad for Leah. Better luck in the next life.”

  “No! Please. Leah never hurt you!” Hu babbled. “Let me call them and tell them about her reaction to suxamethonium before they start the surgery! Then do anything to me that you want!”

  “Correction. I can do anything I want now.”

  “But you promised—”

  “I lied.” Whack. The ghost demon slammed the pistol into the back of Hu’s head. Hu thudded onto the concrete, face down.

  Lara pulled herself tighter into a ball.

  “Lara.” The edge in his voice got sharper. “Do you have a shirt?”

  She somehow forced the words out. “If I did, I’d be wearing it.”

  “Great,” he muttered. “Are you hurt? Or just stoned?”

  “I . . . I . . .” Nothing came out. The circuits were disconnected.

  She stared at him, arms up high to protect her face, legs folded to protect her belly. It was a reflex she could no longer control.

  “Shit,” the guy muttered. “It’s the mask, right? Creeps you out?” He looked up at the camera pointed down at them from the opposite wall, crouched down before her with his back to it, and wrenched it off.