The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9

by Jonas Saul

  “You have all this manpower, all these leads and yet we don’t know where Sarah is and we’re no further ahead in locating the serial killer. What are you going to do if Sarah doesn’t show tonight?”

  Lyson slammed his hands down on his desk calendar. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to the hospital,” Aaron said as he got out of his chair.

  “Why there?”

  “To see if that FBI agent … what was his name?”

  “Kierian.”

  “To see if Kierian has woken up yet. If not, maybe they can wake him. He saw the people who took Sarah. Maybe he’ll have a description.”

  “Look at you. Mister Detective now. You are not going anywhere near that hospital.”

  “And why not? I can do what the hell I want to.”

  “Not without me you’re not.”

  Lyson got out of his chair and walked around his desk. “Let’s go.” He grabbed his jacket on the way out.

  The late afternoon sun was dropping as they drove in silence the few blocks to the hospital.

  Seven hours to showtime and still no Sarah. Aaron figured that Lyson was more worried they would miss their opportunity to nab the Leap Year Killer than he was whether Sarah would show or not.

  A man in a suit sat outside Kierian’s room reading a newspaper. The FBI had sent up a couple of men after Clint’s body was transported south of the border.

  The agent examined their ID, nodded and said they could go in. They entered Kierian’s room quietly. When they did, he turned his bandaged head slightly to look at them. Two other men in suits sat by the window, talking quietly.

  They’re really protecting this guy, Aaron thought.

  He stayed back while Lyson moved to the edge of Kierian’s bed.

  “No one told me you were awake,” Lyson said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay … considering.” His mouth barely moved when he talked. “Sarah?”

  Lyson shook his head and pursed his lips. “Nothing. No word.”

  “I gave my men … a brief statement.” Kierian swallowed. “It was AOV who took her. They were watching us. Said something about retribution.”

  “We figured. Sarah shot one of theirs at the massage studio.”

  “Do you have any leads?” Kierian asked.

  Lyson shook his head. “None.”

  Aaron stepped closer. “What about that guy at the warehouse?”

  “What guy?” Kierian asked. “Warehouse?”

  “Long story but we have a lead on one of the AOV members.”

  Kierian’s eyes watered. “Don’t let my partner die for nothing.” He gripped Aaron’s hand, probably thinking it was Lyson’s. “Tell me you’ll nail those bastards.”

  “We’re doing our best,” Lyson said. “I assure you. We’ll get them.” He looked at Aaron and then back at Kierian. “We have to go now. When we have anything new, we’ll let you know.”

  “Wait,” Kierian said just loud enough to be heard. “At the airport, Sarah said something about a dog for sniffing out bombs or explosives. I was supposed to get her one. I didn’t. Been tied up in here.”

  “We took care of that,” Lyson said. “There’s a meeting at a warehouse tonight that Sarah’s supposed to be at. Four days ago, I ordered the place swept. We’ve been watching it since. C-4 had been hidden in the building but it was removed by the bomb squad. Nothing is going to blow up tonight, that’s for sure. Sarah won’t need bomb-sniffing dogs.”

  Chapter 30

  All Sarah needed was a safe place to land in the snow when Death threw her from the roof, if he made it that far. Better to fall three stories into a couple of feet of snow than stay in the building during the explosion or fire. The fact that all Death’s AOV members would be inside the building when something happened to it would hopefully rid the world of people that deserved to die for the horrors they had committed.

  She had asked Kierian to get a bomb-sniffing dog, but now that Clint was dead and Kierian was probably still hospitalized, she had little hope that the bombs had been taken care of.

  Being tied up the way they had her, she had hoped Death’s trip to the warehouse went well. If he came back angry because he saw a random cop or worse, and thought she’d sent him to a trap, she shuddered at the thought of what he might do.

  But when he returned an hour ago and said the building would work perfectly for their little party for Juan, she couldn’t believe it. She only had to figure a way out of the building or onto the roof in time.

  Her internal clock told her it was at least ten at night. Her wrists ached from constantly having metal wrapped around them. They were red and chafing, raised up and swelling. She couldn’t wait to have them removed. Her face wasn’t as sore anymore and her fat lip had started to heal nicely.

  Her energy was high. They had fed her better than she expected. These past few days she had rested well under Death’s protection with no one bothering her.

  Most of the gang had left early in the afternoon to pick up Juan, and only Death had returned an hour ago. But she was sure he had left again. The house was quiet. Even the sentry had been pulled from the door.

  “Hello?” she called.

  No one responded.

  What the fuck?

  Where would they have gone?

  Tonight’s meal had been fast food. She wondered what Aaron was going through having not heard from her for so long. What were the police doing? She had been kidnapped from two federal agents, one of them killed during the process, the other almost killed. Every cop in the country was probably scouring Toronto for the people responsible. If that were the case, then why hadn’t they found this place yet?

  Death had mentioned this was a backwoods hideout. She wondered how far they were from Toronto. Strategically, it made sense they would maintain a clubhouse out of the city. Sometimes it was too dangerous to stay on the streets.

  A door slammed down the hall. Her stomach twisted.

  They’re here. This is it.

  Someone walked up the hallway slowly, their footfalls heavy, more pronounced.

  It didn’t sound like Death or any of his men. Too heavy. Unless they changed into winter boots.

  A dark shadow filled the doorway. She could see a silhouette of a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Liquid dripped from the knife.

  “Hello Sarah,” the man said. “I’m a friend of Detective Alan Lyson. He sent me to come pick you up.”

  Relief swept through her. “What happened to the men guarding me?”

  “They’re sleeping. They’ll be out for a few hours. Enough time for Lyson’s men to come and pick them up.”

  The man entered the dark room and pulled what looked like a key out of his pocket. “I found this on the crazy looking guy with tattoos on his face.” He shook his head. “Tats on the face. Insane if you ask me.”

  This close up, she could see his gentle face and graying hair. He was in shape and deft with a knife as he spun it around in his hand and slipped it in a sheath. Dark spots covered the cutting edge, but she wasn’t sure if it was blood because she didn’t get a good enough look in the dim light.

  The man dropped down beside her and gently undid her restraints.

  “There,” he said. “That’s better.” He stood and stepped back. “Can you walk?”

  “Damn right I can.” She got to her feet, both legs shaky from lack of use and followed him from the room. She hadn’t been awake when they brought her here. Walking down the hall to the front door revealed how large the house was. And how wrecked. Holes in the walls, more garbage scattered here and there. The house was completely unkempt.

  The front door sat open, light coming in from the headlights of an SUV.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “I was informed those two FBI agents you were with had been jumped by AOV gang members. I spotted one checking out a warehouse earlier today and followed him here. I waited until most of them were gone and here we are.”

  Th
ey stepped outside the front door cautiously, the man going first. He had his gun out, pointed at the ground.

  “I didn’t get your name,” Sarah whispered.

  “Just call me Bruce.”

  She nodded, leaning on the wall for support.

  “All clear,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He walked out onto the porch and down the steps. Sarah followed.

  Two AOV men were lying on the fresh snow. They appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

  “What did you do to them?”

  “Chloroform.”

  “Chloroform? Where would you get that?”

  “You’d be surprised what the police department has access to.”

  He walked her to the passenger side and opened the door for her. Once she was inside and secure, he walked around to his side and got in.

  He started backing down a long driveway. It looked like the AOV gang had broken into a farmhouse lost to bankruptcy or something and used it as a base for a while.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “Lyson wants to see you.”

  Something bothered her. Her instinct told her to be careful here.

  “Where’s your backup?” she asked.

  “You’ve heard of surgical insurgence?”

  “I can guess what it means.”

  “That’s what this was. More men would’ve complicated things.”

  “Those AOV men back there in the snow weren’t sleeping off chloroform, were they?”

  He stopped backing up and spun the vehicle around. The headlights shined on a snow-covered road.

  “I used chloroform. They were sleeping. The only difference is, they will never wake up. I might have used too much.” The dash’s glow offered enough light to reveal a sinister smile. He looked sideways at her. “Don’t worry, Sarah. I’ll get you safely to Lyson. You have my word.”

  She turned in her seat and looked in the back. Two large metal cases took up most of the backseat.

  “What’s in those?”

  “Lyson searched the warehouse where I saw the AOV member earlier today. When he did this search a few days back, he removed a quantity of C-4.”

  “And what’s it doing here?”

  “After I drop you off, I’m taking it to be disposed of.”

  They wouldn’t transport it this way.

  Her cousin Russell had called the house to warn her. And now bombs were in the backseat. Lyson would’ve had the bomb squad dispose of them. He wouldn’t have them riding around in an SUV, especially not in the vehicle of the man dispatched to free her.

  She was free from the street gang, but with someone called Bruce.

  Something about Bruce told her he wasn’t on her side.

  She opened the glove box looking for a weapon. It was empty.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Who are you really? Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to Lyson.” He smiled.

  She shut the glove box. The words Range Rover were printed on the little door.

  She sat back and waited to see what was coming. Vivian gave her the address with tonight’s date and time on it. This man was driving her to Lyson or the warehouse with the explosives in the back.

  Could he be the man Lyson was hunting? Too many things didn’t make sense. What was waiting for her at the warehouse on Keele Street?

  She only hoped they didn’t get into a car accident on the way there.

  Then none of her questions would get answered and Russell would’ve been correct again.

  Sarah would be dead.

  Chapter 31

  Death stepped into the room where the party was in full swing. Juan was drunk, his girlfriend already passed out on the couch. He had arranged to borrow the clubhouse of a friendly gang that owed him a favor. The MS 13 were a seriously violent gang also. They were larger and better connected than AOV. Recently, Death had arranged a couple of drug mules for them as they were connected to large cartels south of the border. Along with payment, he had asked for the use of the clubhouse for the evening.

  When asked why, he told his contact what he needed to do. They loved the idea.

  The time had come to finish up here and head over to the prearranged carpool lot where he was to meet the two men who were guarding Sarah. They were to bring her to him so he could take her downtown for her own violent death. He had a plan worked out and everything was already in place.

  Juan stumbled on his feet, his thigh still wrapped in bandages. After correcting himself with a wooden crutch under his right arm, he hobbled the few feet to the wall where he leaned on it for support.

  “Where’s that bitch, Sarah?” Juan asked. “Aren’t we all going to take a turn on her? She dies tonight, right?”

  “Oh yes, Sarah dies tonight.”

  “That bitch shot me!”

  “We know. But there’s something else we have to deal with first.”

  Death had ordered his driver to refrain from having more than one alcoholic beverage. Once they were done here, he was to go with him to meet the two men he left behind with Sarah.

  What she didn’t know was that the warehouse wasn’t high enough. The roof of the Royal York Hotel downtown Toronto was much better. The splat would be quite a sight. He smiled to himself as he stared at Juan who tried to stay upright.

  The music blared from the speakers. He had an hour to get to the prearranged spot to pick Sarah up.

  It was time to teach Juan what his disloyalty bought him.

  Without pause, Death stepped forward, balled his fist, pulled back and before Juan saw him coming, drove his knuckles into Juan’s cheek hard enough to snap his head back.

  Juan crumpled to the floor and writhed back and forth, holding his cheek.

  “Wha’ya do that for?” Juan mumbled.

  The music died. Everyone knew what was coming, but only five men Death had picked previously were to be involved.

  Two of them lifted him up as he shouted for answers and carried him into one of the back rooms. The room where the plastic sheet had already been set up.

  The other three grabbed Juan’s unconscious girlfriend.

  “Hook him up,” Death ordered.

  Chains hung from the ceiling. Juan resisted, but in his drunken state he was no match for the strength of Death’s strongest men. When they were done, Juan was suspended in the air, his arms stretched out, his legs opened as well, forming a human X. He hung two feet off the plastic-covered floor.

  “Bring the buckets over,” Death ordered. “I want to catch as much blood as we can.”

  Juan wept. “Why are you doing this, man?” he asked. “Please, what did I do?”

  “You turned on us.”

  “No, I never. You know I would never do that. I didn’t say shit when they had me in that cell.”

  “When your whore was doing her initiation, she wanted it to stop.”

  “That’s on her. Do it again, then. Kill her if you have to.”

  Death moved in close. He pulled a long blade out of a sheath attached to his belt. He placed the tip to Juan’s face and pushed it against his skin. “You helped stop her initiation. You got in the way. That’s disloyal to the rite and to AOV members everywhere. Then you ran after her.”

  Juan leaned away from the knife, keeping his eyes on Death. “I was just helping a member …”

  “She wasn’t a member yet!” Death roared and slashed downward.

  The knife cut easily from the bottom of Juan’s cheek to under his jaw. He wailed and thrashed in the chains as blood ran down his face.

  “Cut his clothes off,” Death ordered. Juan’s girlfriend stirred at the sound of Juan’s scream. “Make sure she doesn’t wake yet. If she does, knock her out.”

  Juan breathed in and out heavily, his face red. Two men stepped up with knives in their hands and slashed at Juan’s jeans. As they cut and yanked his clothes from his body, they paid no attention to the bandages on his thigh.

  Hanging naked before them, Ju
an pleaded again. “Please, let me make it right. I’ll fix it. Tell me what to do.”

  “We are fixing it. You’re playing your part already. Don’t irritate me or I’ll cut your eyes out first and not last.”