“An idiot cousin, otherwise he would still be alive. And it wasn’t these men who killed my people, it was two Thai Special Branch cops. No matter – ours is a symbiotic relationship, but I don’t need to know your motives, and you don’t need to know mine. All we need to know is that as long as your ridiculous, politically correct Congress keeps denying funding for your ‘special projects,’ you will continue to require my financial support.”
“And as long as you want to keep operating as safely and profitably as you have since our relationship began, you need my intel and support – don’t forget that.”
“Do you not know the meaning of the word ‘symbiotic’?” Ugolev reached for another blini. “This caviar is divine – you should try some. And the vodka goes perfectly.”
“I’m glad it’s to your taste.” McAdam’s years of experience had taught him to contain his emotions, but this smug Russian thug often tested his limits.
“Golden Ossetra is very rare and expensive, but if I’m completely honest, I prefer the less costly but more subtle complexities of the Sevruga variety. The comparison is not unlike the difference between a great French Champagne and a bold Napa Valley Chardonnay.”
McAdam smiled, forcing down the overwhelming desire to call the Russian a pretentious piece of shit. “Is there anything I can do to help with your Asian problem?”
“As I said, I’m confident it’s over now. But should it continue, I will have Vladimir take care of it.”
“I know you have a great deal of confidence in your man,” McAdam said, maintaining the ruse that he didn’t know Vladimir Petrov, “But these were special forces soldiers.”
Ugolev just smiled and took another shot of vodka.
“Well, I’d feel better if I could at least look into this group for you. Do you have their names?”
“I only got the name of their leader – Jake Riley.”
“Jake Riley? Are you certain?”
*****
Alan Beach had felt as though he’d been written into a macabre Edgar Allan Poe story, forced to watch his friend and partner fight for his life against the synthetically enhanced serial killer, Bryan Adler. Encased within his paralyzed physical shell, Beach had seen Foxx valiantly hold his own for the first few seconds of the exchange. Then in a growing horror further inflamed by his own helplessness, Beach had watched as the tide had dramatically turned against his partner.
The bigger man had fallen to his knees and was rapidly losing consciousness when the crack of a high-powered rifle had split the air. The bullet had struck Adler’s shoulder, tearing a chunk of flesh from his deltoid. The wiry psychotic killer, jolted from his brutal task, had cocked his head toward the source of the shot. Then, without uttering a sound, he’d simply turned and jumped through a paneless window, landing in the empty lot twelve feet below.
The shooter, who wore a black balaclava over his head and face, had bolted to the window to fire another shot from his light sniper rifle. He must have missed with his second shot, as Alan could hear Adler’s footfalls growing more distant. Seemingly unconcerned at losing his quarry, the sniper had taken a knee beside Foxx to check for a pulse then walked over to Beach and pulled the tranquilizer dart from the agent’s leg. “You’ll be okay in an hour. I’ll call an ambulance for your friend when I’m clear of the scene.”
Beach had tried desperately to ask about his partner’s status, but his efforts to speak were futile. The hooded man had slipped away down the stairs, and Beach had sat frozen for twenty minutes before the blaring ambulance siren had come to a halt outside the building. More anxious seconds had passed before the crew arrived upstairs, one man heading straight to where Foxx lay motionless and the other attending to Beach.
“What have you got?” Beach’s medic asked his partner.
“Pulse weak and thready, severe contusions, lacerations, facial fractures. He’s wearing an FBI jacket.”
“So’s mine, but it looks like this one’s uninjured,” he replied, examining the discarded tranquilizer dart. “Yours takes priority.” He patted Beach’s cheek. “Can you hear me, sir? You’re going to be all right. I’m going to help with your partner.”
Beach watched as the men expertly tended to his partner. They rolled Foxx onto a back board then placed his head in a neck brace, before lifting him onto the gurney. Another ten minutes passed before the medic returned to Beach from downstairs. “I’m going to undo the belt now. Are you able to hold your head up?”
Vague glimmers of feeling were beginning to return to Beach’s face. His extremities still wouldn’t respond, but the sensation of warm liquid dribbling from his mouth and down his chin became apparent. He couldn’t reply verbally, but blinked rapidly at the medic.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Holding Beach’s head in place, the medic removed the belt with his free hand then slowly released pressure from his patient’s forehead. Beach struggled to regain control of his stunned neck muscles as his head succumbed to gravity. The man placed his hands either side of Beach’s head, applying gentle pressure from side to side. The rocking helped to reawaken nerves, and, within a minute, Beach was able to prevent his head from lolling about like a newborn’s.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” the medic said as he checked Beach’s pockets for ID. Reading his FBI badge, he said, “Okay, Agent Beach – we’ve got your partner on IV fluids, but we have to move him now. The Medivac chopper’s on its way. He’s going to New York-Presbyterian – they’re prepping to receive him now.”
Tears welled in Beach’s eyes. He knew his partner’s condition must be dire for them to airlift him to New York’s famous hospital. The medic, sensing Beach’s emotions, said, “I think we can fit you in, if you can sit up.”
Beach blinked frantically. His mouth still refused to respond to his mental commands, but fortunately the medic seemed to understand the bond between the partners and understood his patient’s desperation.
“Don’t worry, Agent Beach – we’ll get you on that chopper. Just sit tight, and I’ll be back with my partner in a minute.”
*****
Jake urged his customized BMW R1200RS to startling speeds around the nearly deserted New Jersey Turnpike. His soft-compound Pirellis held the machine at absurd angles as Jake expertly threw it into corners on his way to New York-Presbyterian. Fifteen minutes earlier, Equilibrium had sent him a flash message. She’d picked up chatter about his friend, Alan Beach, and his partner being airlifted to the hospital from Connecticut. The message wasn’t clear, but one of the agents was in critical condition, so Jake was wasting no time.
He turned into Broadway then guided the bike into the emergency entrance, parking it next to a flower bed. A uniformed security guard strode toward him, calling out, “Hey, pal, you can’t park there.”
Jake pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and peered at the man’s name badge. “Keep an eye on her for me, will you, Fred? I won’t be long.” Dumfounded, the guard took the cash.
Jake marched in and asked the duty nurse for Beach’s location, but there was no record of his arrival. “There were two FBI agents choppered in from Connecticut within the last ten minutes,” he said. “You must have a record.”
“Oh, yes, but only one’s a patient,” she said, pointing down the hall to the elevators. “The other one’s in the waiting room outside trauma surgery upstairs.”
Jake followed her instructions, finally rounding the corner to see Beach pacing and shaking life back into his legs.
“Damn, you had me worried there, Grasshopper,” Jake slapped Beach on the shoulder. “You look fine – what happened?”
“Bryan Adler happened. He injected me with some kind of paralytic agent and made me… made me watch him beat my partner…” Beach’s throat tightened with emotion. “Evil bastard.”
“Have they checked you out – any lasting effects?”
“They’re running a tox screen, but I’m fine. They wanted me to stay for observation, but I need to be he
re for Foxx.”
“Will he be okay?”
“They won’t tell me. It’s bad, Jake – real bad,” Beach wiped his eyes. “I couldn’t help him – I couldn’t move.”
“There’s nothing you could have done. And there’s no point getting hung up on guilt and remorse. Just tell me what happened.”
Beach reluctantly sat down to brief Jake on their investigation. He explained their theory about Adler’s physical enhancements, and how their conjecture had been proven correct in the most heart-rending way. He described Foxx’s courageous efforts against Adler’s insurmountable strength and speed, finishing with a description of the man who’d shot Adler in the shoulder, stopping the vicious onslaught. Jake put his hand on Alan’s shoulder.
“Does your wife know where you are?”
“I called her fifteen minutes ago. She’s on her way to pick up Foxx’s family.”
“Okay, you stay here and wait for Holly.” Jake turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m pretty sure Adler’s not going to turn himself in.”
“No, you can’t go alone, Jake – he’s too dangerous.”
“Who said anything about going alone?”
Chapter 21
“I knew you’d miss us, Jakey,” Dozer said. “What’s the story?”
Jake quickly explained the monstrous nature of Bryan Adler and his recent physical upgrades. “Don’t underestimate this guy – he’s a seriously cunning little prick. And don’t be fooled by his size. He’s taken out seven armed spec ops guys, and left another hanging by a thread. And Alan Beach’s FBI partner’s a former Recon Marine, but Adler managed to beat him into a coma in hand to hand combat.”
“We got ya, Jakey – he’s a bad dude. No worries.”
“I’m not screwing around here, Dozer. Safety is mission priority, and confidentiality is priority number two. If my contact knew I was bringing outsiders in on this, there could be some serious trouble.”
“Don’t worry, mate – we’ll be all business when the time comes.” Priest gave his brother a playful slap across the head. “Won’t we, bro?”
“Yeah, what he said, Jakey,” Dozer deferred to his older brother. “Who’s going with us?”
“Mike’s following up on Ugolev, so it’s just the three of us for now. I’ve asked a few buddies to fly in from northern Kentucky, but they won’t be here for a few hours. We need to get up to a town called Windsor Locks while the trail’s still warm. If we run across Adler before my guys arrive, we tag him with a radioactive marker and keep our distance.”
“Come across him? How you reckon we gonna do that, mate? Seems to me there’s plenty of bush up there.”
“We call it forest here, Priest, but you’re right. I’m going to tell you about some top-secret DARPA technology, but don’t ask me questions – I barely understand it myself. Apparently, these synthetic chemicals they’ve been testing on Adler have some side effects, not the least of which is triggering massive and prolonged adrenalin release.”
“Sounds like a good recipe for a heart attack.”
“And that’s how we find him. His heart nearly exploded early in the test program, so they had to implant electronic nerve attenuation devices to both adrenal glands. The gizmos sense adrenalin overload and send out a small neutralizing current to put a lid on the glands’ output. When the devices are activated, they give off a specific frequency, but only while they’re active. I got the frequency from my contact at DARPA. Equilibrium’s programming it into a handheld tracking device for us.”
“Sounds like a bit of a stretch,” Priest said. “I mean, what if the bloke’s not very worked up? We’ll never get a ping.”
“I’m hoping a loose cannon will take care of that for us.”
“Ooh, Jakey, you’re a riddle wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in a–” Dozer started to say, but Jake cut him off:
“Everything’s a joke with you guys. DARPA’s recovery team leader, Robert Chow, went rogue after he lost all but one of his men. He told his commander he’s going to give Adler a dirt-nap. The guy’s a former Marine sniper, so I like his chances.”
“Why don’t we just leave him to it then? Good riddance to bad rubbish, I reckon.”
“I agree, but DARPA’s got millions invested in Adler. They need him back alive. Beach says this rogue sniper was hot on Adler’s tail, so the way I see it, he’ll be tracking him through the woods, looking for opportunities.”
“Wait a minute. If this bloke’s such a brilliant sniper, how come he hasn’t been able to take Adler out yet?”
“That’s unclear. Beach saw him tag Adler in the shoulder from forty yards out. I can only assume he wants payback and purposely didn’t kill him while he had the chance. My guess is he plans to pick his target apart slowly. But like I said, he’s a former Marine sniper, so he’s right up there with the best of the best. Hopefully, every time he gets close, Adler’s adrenaline alarm clock will go off and we’ll get a ping. All we need to do is get close enough to hit him with the radioactive tag, and we can track him on our own terms until my guys get there.”
“Righto, so in the meantime, we only need to worry about a highly trained Marine sniper who’s worked in black ops for how many years? You think this bloke’s going to like us messing with his turkey-shoot? I mean, if Adler killed all my men, I wouldn’t appreciate the interference.”
“That’s where my guys from Kentucky come in. Albrecht is a former Ranger sniper, so he knows all the same tricks this guy does. Between us, Albrecht, and the two others on their way, we should be able to neutralize the threat from Chow, and take Adler too.”
“Sounds like a plan, mate. Let’s go!”
“Not so fast, Dozer. We need to pick up a few specialized pieces of equipment from my place first.”
*****
Dr. Holly Beach gently guided Foxx’s wife into a seat in the waiting room. Then the clinical psychologist went to hug her husband. “Is there any news?” she whispered in Beach’s ear.
“Nothing yet, and it’s been almost two hours.”
“That doesn’t really mean much. They would’ve had to scrub-in, take X-rays, calculate anesthesia levels. They haven’t been operating for the full two hours.”
Alan found his wife’s knowledge and logic reassuring. She had a way of distracting him from emotional hang-ups, and he was glad she was here. Not just for him, but for Danielle Foxx. He looked up from their embrace to realize his partner’s son was absent.
“Where’s James Jr.?” he asked his wife.
“We took him to his grandma’s house. This is no place for a two-year-old. We’ll bring him in when he can see his Dad.”
Beach shook his head, and wiped his eyes.
“He’s going to be okay, honey. Your partner’s a very strong man with a lot to live for.”
“Yeah, I know, but—” he dropped his voice, “it was so brutal. I’m really worried, Holly.”
Beach went to sit beside his partner’s wife, taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Danielle.”
“How could this happen?” she said, her eyes glazed. “He’s the strongest man I know.”
Beach couldn’t explain the superhuman strength of their assailant. As far as he knew, Adler and his experimental enhancements were a matter of national security. “James is incredibly strong. That’s why he’s going to make it through this.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you for being here.”
Beach patted her hand then stood up. “I’m going for coffee. Does anyone want something?”
“I’ll come with you,” Holly said, taking her husband’s arm. “I’ve given her a Xanax. She’ll be okay on her own for a few minutes.”
As they left the waiting area, DAC Talbot approached from the elevator. Beach whispered to Holly, “This is my boss. He’ll want to debrief me.”
Holly held out her hand to greet the man as Beach introduced her.
“I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances, Mrs
. Beach.”
“You and me both. I’m going to get Alan a coffee and leave you two to talk business. Would you like one?”
Talbot shook his head, and thanked her. As she left, Talbot motioned toward the end of the hallway well beyond the waiting room. “Let’s get this out of the way, Beach. We’ll need a full report later, but just give me the highlights for now.”
Beach described the events leading up to Foxx’s confrontation with Adler and the masked gunman who’d intervened at the eleventh hour. “If only he’d arrived a couple of seconds sooner, Foxx would be okay.”
“Look, Beach, I lost a partner once. I know what you’re feeling. There’s nothing you can do, so I’m taking you off the case for now. I want you to wait here with Mrs. Foxx and see what the doctors say. I’m pulling together a special SWAT unit to bring Adler in, so you just focus on getting your head right.”
“You’ll be too late,” Beach said, staring directly behind his boss.
“What do you mean?” Talbot asked, turning to see what Beach was looking at.
Deputy Director Whyley was there, giving both men a solemn look. “He means Adler will be dead before you can get your team in the air.”
“What am I missing here?”
“I’ll take it from here, Beach. Go and be with Foxx’s wife.”
Whyley watched Beach walk to the waiting room before turning back to Talbot. “What I’m about to tell you, is highly classified information. I know you’ll respect that, just as I’m respecting you by bringing you into the loop. Do we understand each other?”
“Absolutely, sir. I hope you know me well enough by now–”
“I know you’re a good man,” Whyley interrupted, “and a damned fine agent. And when you’ve heard what I have to say, you may question my values. I know your commitment to the letter of the law, but sometimes the law just doesn’t work. This is one of those times. I can assure you, Mr. Adler will never face a jury.”
The Killing Chase (Beach & Riley Book 2) Page 16
