He’d expected to be discovered at any time. But now, just a few days later, he was standing on a busy city street. Scores of people were passing by and no one gave him so much as a second glance. Of course he didn’t look quite the same. Sunglasses hid his eyes and a baseball cap covered his hair. Also, the news of Barry’s murder wasn’t as big in Austin as it had been in Houston. He wasn’t exactly on the street either. The courtyard was far enough off the sidewalk to be discreet. The bank’s main doors were behind him and the ATM machine was off to the side.
It was a Wednesday and the bank was closed, so this area was a small oasis in the hectic city. Still, he was out in the open and no one noticed. He was starting to feel invisible again.
They had killed Barry. Ramon was sure of that. It was to force him out in the open. If he were easily recognized, there would be no place to hide. But the plan hadn’t worked. It seemed almost an act of desperation on their part. If they really thought they were close to catching him, they wouldn’t have made the search so public.
Ramon examined the faces of the people walking by on the street—nothing unusual. Was it really possible he was close to being home free? He hoped Lena was right. She was sure the Star would be able to protect them. And once the story was public, they’d be safe. They wouldn’t dare do anything when the truth was out in the open. He still wasn’t completely convinced, but he’d agreed. There was no turning back now.
Ramon checked his watch. It had been nearly twenty minutes since they parked and Lena went the long way around the block to find the editor. Ramon insisted they meet outside of the Star offices. He felt safer now, but it was better to be cautious. He knew what they were capable of. Twenty minutes. Lena had been gone longer than expected. Ramon felt a nervous sensation in his stomach. What if something had gone wrong? What if she walked into a trap? If something happened, it was his fault. He hoped she’d return soon.
Ramon continued to look at the faces of the people going by. It wasn’t long before he saw her. He let his breath escape slowly. She looked good in her navy skirt and white top, her long legs striding purposefully. Her ash blonde hair was cut short in a serious business style, but there was a softness in her face. Ramon was surprised how good it felt to see her again.
Lena glanced behind her as she led the editor in to meet Ramon. The editor looked different than Ramon had expected. He was a tall, older man who looked like he’d seen too many Cowboy movies. Ramon checked the faces of the people behind them. It looked clear. No one was following them.
“Ramon, this is Jack Van Russell. Jack, Ramon Willis.” Lena made the introductions as if it were a normal encounter.
Ramon took off his sunglasses and nodded acknowledgment to the editor. “Lena’s told you what’s been going on?”
“She’s told me what you’re claiming. But, I don’t know, son. That’s quite a tale you’re spinning.”
“I know how it sounds. But it’s true. You can check it out.”
“I guess we will. But if you think you’re going to make any money off of this, you’re mistaken…”
“Wait, Jack,” Lena tried to interrupt.
“If this is some kind of hoax, you’ve picked the wrong guy. You’re not dealing with fools here. I’ve been around long enough to know a put-on when I see one.”
Ramon looked Van Russell straight in the eyes. He knew the story sounded crazy, but it hurt to be called a liar. “I’m not looking for no money…”
Lena cut in again. “Jack, I told you, his story checks out. At least part of it. We need to do a lot more investigating, but…”
“If we print this story, we’ll be the laughing stock of the whole damn country. If this isn’t a scam, then I’m Teddy Roosevelt.”
Lena reached down to pick up the canvas bag at Ramon’s feet. “We’re nowhere near putting together the story yet, Jack. But there’s some documentation in here. And we have a computer tape that may have the proof we need. I know how outrageous this sounds. But if it checks out, this is as big a story as there’s ever been. And I’ve promised him, Jack, I’ve promised that we can keep him safe...”
As Lena continued talking, Ramon noticed a tall man in a business suit and mirrored sunglasses approach from the street. He walked past the ATM machine and toward the entrance to the closed bank. He moved forward several paces, when suddenly, he turned and stepped in their direction.
Ramon knew something was wrong before he saw the gun in the man’s hand. But his reaction too slow. It all happened in an instant. The man quickly stepped behind Van Russell, the closest to him, and pulled the trigger two times. Lena screamed. The gun made a soft smack—not the explosion a gun should make—but Van Russell’s chest exploded in a haze of red. The bullets seemed to burst after impact, leaving a gaping hole as they exited. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Ramon didn’t wait to see the results. He was already moving. He launched himself at the attacker and connected—a diving tackle that drove his shoulder into the man’s midsection and knocked the man’s gun arm to the side, just as he was aiming at Ramon. The man fired again. There was a small smacking sound and the bullet ricocheted off the brick wall.
Ramon’s momentum carried him through. He knocked the attacker off his feet. The man grabbed at Ramon’s throat with one hand while trying to swing the gun around with the other. Hands engaged, there was nothing to break the fall. They hit the ground hard, the attacker taking the brunt of the impact. His head bounced off of the concrete with a sickening thud.
That should have been enough, but as Ramon pushed himself up from the ground, the assassin unsteadily moved his gun arm up and into position. Ramon kicked his wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand.
Ramon kicked again, connecting hard with the attacker’s ribs. There was a crack of breaking bones. He quickly bent over and picked up the gun. His heart was ready to explode. The sound of rushing blood roared in his ears. He extended his arm and aimed the gun at the attacker’s face. His finger tensed on the trigger, a slight pressure—just a little more and the gun would respond, and it would all be over.
Ramon stared down at the man. The attacker’s face remained stoic. Giving no sign of pain, fear or anger. The mirrored glasses covered his eyes, reflecting back Ramon’s image. Ramon and the gun. He stared down for a long moment. He didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he used the gun as a club, lashing it across the attacker’s nose—blood spurted out like a fountain.
Lena was in shock, kneeling over Van Russell’s body and clutching the canvas bag. Ramon turned to her and grabbed her wrist. “Let’s go!”
He tugged and she responded. They ran. They were passing the ATM machine when the attacker managed to yell.
“Stop him! He has a gun. He just killed a man!”
Ramon turned back, gun ready. The attacker was struggling, trying to get to his feet. Pulling Lena along, Ramon ran out of the courtyard, around the corner, and toward their waiting car.
That night, each of the three local newscasts led with the same story. Jack Van Russell, the longtime editor of the Austin Star, was murdered that day. Shot down in cold blood on a downtown street. The suspect in this murder matched the description of the suspect in the killing of a prominent Houston attorney just days ago. The suspect, going by the name of Hector Ramerez, was accompanied by an allegedly disgruntled former employee of the Star, who had been observed arguing with the victim earlier.
The most intriguing element of the story was the video footage. The ATM machine outside the bank had a security camera. It operated by a motion detector, which was set off when the suspects fled the scene. The tape was short and the image grainy, but when slowed down to a frame-by-frame study, it was compelling. One frame showed the suspect, his gun in one hand and holding his accomplice’s hand with the other, turning back and looking directly into the camera.
The combination of a possible serial killer and video footage from the scene of the crime guaranteed publicity. The story went viral immediately.
16
The room was nearly dark. A pole lamp beside the desk cast a pale yellow glow that reflected off the colonel’s glasses, making them appear as if they were floating, disembodied. The air was cold. The office was chilled to a constant sixty-six degrees, a full six degrees cooler than the outside rooms of the complex. With the dim lighting and the chill in the air, it reminded Major Durmo of a cave. And if the room was like a cave, its occupant was surely a bear—a huge and lethal black bear.
Behind his desk, Colonel Pope stirred slightly. “I’m disappointed, Parker. I expected more of you.” He spoke clearly, enunciating each word.
Durmo sat across the room from the colonel, separated by the large mahogany desk. He turned slightly in his seat to have a better look at the other occupant of the room. Captain Parker Cain sat in the chair next to him, looking unnaturally humble. His nose was taped down. A spot on the back of his head was newly shaved, highlighting the gash with its fine stitches. Cain sat up even straighter than normal. A result, Durmo was sure, of the tape that held his cracked ribs together.
“It was a freak deal, sir. I was sure I had him. You replay the same situation a hundred more times and I’d be the only one walkin’ away,” Cain replied softly.
“The only time that matters, Parker, is the opportunity that you had and wasted.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me, Parker. Your men had left their positions in the buildings and were coming down to assist you on the street. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your targets were contained in an area with only one escape route, which you had covered. Was that not the situation?”
“Yes, sir. That’s how it was.”
“Understanding the importance of silencing these targets, why did you choose to attempt this action by yourself?”
“Well, sir, I’d just found out that they had the documentation with them. I thought I could clean up the whole mess at one time. At the time, I thought waiting for backups would be counterproductive.”
“That was a grave error in judgment, Parker.”
Cain stoically stared straight ahead. “It was a freak thing, sir. The rabbit got lucky.”
Colonel Pope leaned forward, exposing his dark face to the light. His voice was still steady, his words precise, but his features were contorted with anger. “We could have finished this sorry spectacle once and for all. It should have been over.” He pounded the desk with his huge fist, and his voice came out in a growl. “They’re still out there and we are dangerously exposed.”
“Yes, sir. I fucked up, sir.”
Durmo leaned back in his chair. This was one for the records. Normally, Cain was difficult to be around. Arrogant and cocksure, he always acted like he knew the score. Though Durmo outranked him, Cain had never deferred to him as a superior officer. In fact, it had seemed that Cain would go out of his way to subvert Durmo’s authority. And he’d gotten away with it because he was the colonel’s favorite. Durmo fantasized about something like this happening, something that would put Cain back in his place. Now that it had, he almost felt sorry for Cain.
“This situation has already cost us dearly.” Colonel Pope regained his composure. He sat back in his chair heavily. “Now we have two subjects to chase. With the addition of this reporter, our troubles have multiplied. I’m relieving you of your assignment, Parker.”
“No, please, sir!”
“We need to prepare for the worst. Whether it is with her paper or another, this reporter is going to publish the story.”
“No, sir. I don’t think she’s goin’ to be any trouble. She’s been compromised.”
“Compromised? How so?”
“Well, sir, I admit it was a matter of luck that we got those pictures off the ATM machine. But those pictures clearly show that she’s with the rabbit. And the media’s really bought that serial killer angle. As far as anybody knows, the guy in the pictures is a killer named Hector Ramerez. The Bureau’s got a file on him now—they even have fingerprints.” Cain leaned forward in his chair. “And now she’s with him. When she tells her wild-assed story, who’s gonna believe it? She’s compromised and contained.”
Pope took a long time before he replied. “The video was extremely lucky. As bad of a situation as we are in, without it, we would be the worse.”
“The way I see it, sir. We’ve just increased our search team to the nth degree. Their pictures are all over the news. All it’ll take is a suspicious store clerk to see ‘em, she makes a call, and that’s it. Or you get some two-bit tin star with an itchy finger and it’s all over. Either way, we just go in and pick up the pieces.” Cain played his finger over the tape on the bridge of his nose as he stared intensely at the colonel.
“Surely they’ll go underground.”
“Sure, but for how long? They can’t stay down. They got no support system. They’ll have to show up somewhere, and in the meantime, they’ve been contained.” Cain leaned in further. “I know how he thinks, sir. Let me stay on him. I swear I’ll get the job done.”
The colonel took his time before answering. “Failure is not an option. We are in a vulnerable position. I expect that you will clear this matter up quickly, Parker. Continue on for now. You’re dismissed.”
Cain had the faintest of smiles as he stood up and headed for the door.
After he was gone, Pope addressed Durmo directly. “Do not underestimate the motivating power of revenge. Our captain is not accustomed to defeat. I trust he will secure positive results.” He moved forward into the light. “Now it’s your turn, Major. You have the papers I requested?”
“Yes, sir.” Durmo handed over a file folder before sitting back in his chair. “The results of this generation of vaccine are the best we’ve seen by far. There have been fourteen subjects who received this vaccine—all are still alive and so far none of them are showing any symptoms.”
“How long has it been?”
Durmo nervously tugged on his ear lobe. “The longest survivor, it’s been over a month.”
“Our runaway subject still appears to be healthy and he’s had it significantly longer.”
“Yes, sir. That’s true. There are, however, some concerns regarding the animal studies.”
“Concerns? In what way?”
“Nothing concrete, I guess. The scientists just have some concerns as to the long-term health of the subjects. A few of the animals died earlier than expected. It was more complicated than that, but that was the problem in a nutshell, I’m told. They—the scientists, that is—want some more time to make sure the vaccine is safe for humans long-term.”
Pope sat back in his chair. His voice took on a dreamy quality.
“Time is a luxury we can no longer afford, Major. This escape has forced our hand. Whether the vaccine is completely safe or not, we’ll have to make do. It’s time to ramp up to full production.”
Durmo’s breath caught in his throat; he tugged on his earlobe with renewed desperation.
“Full production, sir?”
“Yes, Major. We are moving into full production. It is time to prepare for our true mission.”
Colonel Pope removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. His face seemed to disappear in the darkness.
The rhythm of the wheels rolling over the rails was hypnotic, the steady music of motion. The train had been moving for hours, through the daylight and into night. The light of a half moon gave feature to the landscape rushing past. Through the open door of the freight car, there was a sense of movement, but the only colors Lena could see were the occasional flashes of red light from a railway gate as they passed.
She leaned against the side of the car. The rough wood rubbed against her back, punctuating each movement of the train. What had she gotten herself into? After getting over the shock of seeing Ramon alive, she thought a great story had fallen into her lap. It was a fantasy then, dreaming of what would happen when she broke the story. She saw herself afterwards, accepting awards and handling the acclaim.
Then it was an adventure. She knew there was danger, but it hadn’t seemed real; it was a game. That ended when Jack died. One moment they were talking. The next moment he was dead on the ground, covered with blood.
They were lucky, she supposed. Or at least she was lucky Ramon had reacted so quickly. Their assailant was obviously a professional who intended to kill the three of them. If things had been slightly different, her body would have been on the ground alongside Jack’s. Lena pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging herself tight. Ramon saved her life. While she was in shock, he subdued the gunman and showed the presence of mind to get them out of harm’s way. It was Ramon who took charge, and she’d blindly followed, going along even when he abandoned her car. She’d gone along even when he hopped into the vacant car of a northbound freight train.
Ramon saved her life. At the time, that was enough. And he was moving. He seemed to make up the plan as he went along, reacting and improvising to get by. Then, while her body was still wired with adrenaline and her mind reeling, Ramon’s plan made sense. It was a relief to have someone else to rely on. Now, after long hours with nothing to do but think, she was sure they’d made a mistake.
Why had they run? She should have thought it through. Once the gunman was neutralized, they could have called for the authorities. With Jack dead and the gunman down, the authorities would have had to do something. She could have explained how they’d been attacked and Ramon had fought back and taken away the gun. She could have just explained the whole story – surely they’d believe her. It could have ended right there.
Lena looked over to the other side of the car. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see well enough. Ramon had his legs stretched out, relaxed. He looked so calm. What was he thinking? They’d talked before but avoided the central issue. What were they going to do now? She shifted her position and cleared her throat.
Living Proof Page 18
