All the Rage rj-4

by F. Paul Wilson

  But if Jack got there first…

  He spotted a park sign and pulled into a garage. As he trotted along Thirty-fourth he put on his gloves, boonie cap, and shades, then ducked into a doorway and quickly stuck the mustache under his nose again. He'd have them all removed before he returned to the garage later.

  He passed the Bentley within a block and easily beat it to the office building. He strolled into the lobby, all geometric chrome and marble, and went directly to the jowly middle-aged Hispanic sitting in the tiny security kiosk.

  "Hi. Did Dr. Monnet arrive yet?"

  The guard shook his head. "Haven't seen him."

  Jack put on a relieved look. "Whew! That's good. I was supposed to meet him here and I'm running a little late. Traffic's murder out there."

  The guard, whose name tag said GAUDENCIO, looked at him as if to say, What would Dr. Monnet want with you?

  "I'm gonna be doing a little work in his office for him. You know, custom electronics. That's my thing."

  The guard nodded. He'd bought it. "You doing work for the other partners too?"

  "Who?"

  "Edwards and Garrison. They're up there waiting for him. Sent everybody else home."

  Jack did not have to fake it as he rubbed his palms together with relish. "No kidding? That's great! He's already bringing some other guy with him. Hey, this could turn out to be a very good day! Want me to sign in?"

  The guard pushed a pen toward Jack. "Go ahead, but I can't let you up without clearance from upstairs." He reached for the phone.

  "That's OK. I'll just wait and go up with the man himself."

  After signing in as "J. Washington," Jack turned and saw the Bentley pull up to the curb out front.

  "Here he comes now." He winked at the guard. "Don't say anything about how I just got here, OK?"

  Monnet and Dragovic pushed through the revolving door as the Bentley pulled away.

  "Evening, Dr. Monnet," the guard said.

  Monnet nodded absently. His right cheek looked swollen, and he seemed to be a little out of it.

  "How we doin' tonight, gentlemen?" Jack said with a big, vacant grin.

  When neither acknowledged his existence, he fell in a couple of steps behind them and gave the guard a Who-can-figure-these-rich-guys? shrug.

  The guard's answering shrug said he knew the type too well.

  Jack followed them into an open elevator car. Saw Dragovic press 16, reached past him and pressed 18.

  Again the urge to pull out the P-98 and finish it right here. So simple. But that wasn't going to do it, especially with the other two GEM partners waiting upstairs. One of them had to know what had happened to Nadia.

  So Jack lowered his head and leaned in a far corner of the cab, watching.

  Not a word out of either on the way up. Dragovic looked stiff with anger, Monnet almost limp with fear; the tension between the two of them flooded the cab. When they stopped on 16 and Jack saw Dragovic push Monnet out, he knew something heavy was going down.

  He sidled over to the control panel and thumbed the door open button to watch a little longer. They stood before a glass wall etched with the GEM Pharma logo. He saw Monnet run a card down a magnetic swipe reader on the right, heard a buzz; then Monnet pushed open the glass door. The receptionist desk beyond the wall was empty.

  Jack let the elevator doors close and rode up to eighteen. Once there he pressed the 16 button, and a minute later he was standing before GEM's glass wall.

  No way to bypass the swipe reader with the crude tools he'd brought along. Same for the electronic lock in the brass-trimmed door: it was set solid, and even if he did manage to jimmy it, the door was alarmed—open it without swiping a card and all hell was sure to break loose.

  That left the glass.

  The panel opposite the free end of the door was untrimmed and maybe three-eighths of an inch thick. Jack pulled out his glass cutter and knelt. Leaning into the cutter, he scored an arc into the glazed surface, starting two feet up on the free edge and running down to the floor. Worked the diamond tip back and forth half a dozen times in the same groove, hot work that sweated up his hands inside the leather gloves. Next he cut a straight score along the floor line. That done, he lay back and gave the section a quick sharp kick. Once. Twice. On the third try the quarter-round piece of glass cracked along the scores and flopped inward onto the carpet.

  Jack crawled through, then peeked into the main corridor to give it a careful twice-over. No visible security camera and no likely places to hide one. Good.

  He straightened his warm-up and went hunting the lords of Berzerkdom.

  16

  "You didn't eat," the girl squeaked.

  Nadia sat next to Doug on the cot and sized her up where she stood in the doorway of the trailer. She had a high-pitched voice and an undersized head, made smaller-looking by the tight ponytail she wore. She didn't seem too bright, and looked so frail Nadia was sure she could bowl her over and leap to freedom through the open door. But Nadia was also sure that even she and Doug together would never get by the pair of hulking dog-faced roustabouts standing a few feet outside.

  "I can't," Nadia said.

  Half an hour ago the girl had brought them each two hamburgers, two hot dogs, and large cups of fruit punch—all from the concession stand, Nadia was sure. Doug had eaten his, but Nadia could barely look at it.

  "You must. Oz says so."

  "It's too hot," Nadia said, hoping to keep her talking. The longer she lingered, the longer the door would stay open, allowing fresh air to waft through the stuffy interior. "And I'm scared."

  "Aw," the girl said with what sounded like genuine compassion. "Don't be scared. Oz is nice."

  "Who's this Oz?" Doug said, putting his hand on Nadia's thigh and leaning forward.

  "He's the boss." Her tone said, Everybody knows that.

  "But why did he kidnap us? Why is he keeping us here?"

  A shrug. "I don't know. But he's feeding you good, right? And he gave you a nice trailer."

  Nadia lowered her voice. "Can you help us out of here? Please?"

  "Oh, no!" The girl's hand flew to her mouth and she started backing away. "I could never do that! Oz would be so mad!"

  "Would he hurt you?"

  "Us? No, Oz would never hurt us. He protects us; he helps us."

  "Then help us. Please!"

  "No-no-no!" she said. She turned and jumped through the door. "No-no-no-no-no!"

  "Wait!" Nadia said, rising, but one of the roustabouts slammed the door in her face. Fighting back tears, she slumped back onto the cot and leaned against Doug. "What are we going to do?"

  "Hang in there," he said, slipping an arm around her. "We'll think of—"

  A clank from the front of the trailer cut him off. The floor tilted back a few degrees, then rocked forward. A chain rattled. Nadia rose and stumbled toward the noise.

  Pressing her eye to a crack in the board over the window allowed her a slit view of the outside world.

  She saw the rear of a pickup truck… Their trailer was hitched to it.

  Suddenly the trailer lurched forward and she fell backward. Luckily Doug was there to catch her.

  "What's happening?" he said.

  "They're moving us."

  "Where?"

  "I don't know."

  She had an awful feeling they were about to find out why they'd been abducted.

  17

  Who are they? Jack wondered. Houdinis? Where the hell did they go?

  He'd crept around, peeking in all the offices and cubicles. He'd even checked the rest rooms and the small, well-equipped kitchenette but had found no one. Only area he hadn't explored was a short corridor near the center of the space. He'd avoided it after spotting a security camera set into the ceiling at one end. Hung there for all to see. Why?

  Since the corridor was open on both ends, he was able to approach the camera from behind. Pulling a chair from one of the cubicles, he inspected the camera close up. No swivel mechanism. Aimed a
t the middle of the hallway. Interesting. Was it running? And if so, was anybody monitoring it? One way to find out…

  Jack used a roll of Scotch tape he'd borrowed from one of the desks and stretched three strips across the lens, then retreated.

  When no one came to investigate, he moved back into the corridor. As he reached the midpoint, he heard a faint thump to his left. He turned and saw a door labeled: conference room. The sign was small, the handle recessed, and the door flush with the wall. Virtually invisible unless you were on top of it.

  Conference room… of course. Where else would they be? He pressed an ear against the door and thought he heard raised voices—whether in anger or terror he couldn't be sure.

  He stepped back. Soundproofed. And situated in the center of the GEM space, which meant no windows. Good thinking. If you need an electronic- and microwave-proof room, you don't want windows. The door had buried hinges and a recessed pull instead of a knob. That meant it opened outward. Gave it a gentle pull to test it. Wouldn't budge. Probably secured by a bolt on the inside.

  Jack leaned back to consider his options. Can't kick down a door that opens out… didn't come prepared for this… have to improvise…

  So what materials did he have at hand?

  Took him about a minute to shape a rough plan.

  Slipped back to the file room and rock-walked one of the smaller cabinets down to the door; then he returned to the kitchenette and picked through the utensil drawer until he found what he wanted.

  18

  "Lies!" Dragovic screamed, pounding the table with both fists. "You think I am stupid?"

  How do I convince him? Luc thought as he cowered between Brad and Kent. Dragovic stood on the far side of the table, his back to the door, glaring at them like a maniac. He'd forced Luc to call an emergency meeting with his partners, telling them to clear both floors of all personnel.

  And now he had the three of them trapped in this stifling room.

  We are three, Luc thought. Why should we fear this one man? He may be armed, but after his arrest on multiple weapons charges last night he may be wary of carrying a pistol. The odds are on our side. If I give the word, the three of us could attack him…

  He glanced left and right at his two partners: sweat rolled off Kent in buckets, soaking his collar, spreading dark stains from his underarms; and Brad was almost in tears.

  Then again, maybe not…

  "You've got to believe us!" Brad cried.

  Dragovic's lips curled with scorn. "A strange creature gives us Loki, and now you say it's dying? I am to believe that?"

  "Christ, please, yes!" Kent said. "If we were going to make up a story, we wouldn't make up something as crazy as that!"

  Luc had hoped the unhappy truth about the creature would turn Dragovic from his paranoid fantasy, but it had only incensed him.

  "I can show you the creature," Luc said. "You can see with your own eyes."

  "Another trick!"

  "No tricks. You'll see it; then you'll believe. And then you'll understand that it was not us who plotted against you. Think: why would we be trying to steal the Loki trade from you when there will be no more Loki?"

  Dragovic stared at him for a few heartbeats, a flicker of doubt in his raging eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by a knocking sound.

  Everyone froze, listening. It came again.

  Someone was pounding on the door.

  Luc stepped away from the desk to the security console and turned on the hallway monitor. The screen lit but the image was blurred. Someone was standing outside the door but Luc could not identify him.

  Dragovic motioned Brad toward the door. "See who it is!" he said, stepping away. "And no tricks!"

  Luc noted with relief that he did not pull a weapon, a good indication that he didn't have one.

  Brad pressed the intercom button next to the door. "Wh-who is it?" His voice would play through a speaker in the hallway ceiling above the door.

  The reply was garbled… something about "security service" and "malfunction."

  On the monitor, the blurred image of the man was waving at the camera. What security service? Luc wondered. And how did he get up here?

  Dragovic pushed Brad away from the intercom and pressed the button. "Go away. We are busy. Come back tomorrow."

  Another garbled reply, but one phrase came through loud and clear: "… the room may be bugged."

  "What?" A chorus from four throats.

  "More of your tricks?" Dragovic snarled, glaring at Luc. He turned to Brad. "Open it!"

  Before Luc could protest, Brad's trembling hand fumbled the bolt back. He pushed on the door, and then things happened too fast.

  The door was violently pulled open, almost catapulting Brad into the hall; then he suddenly reversed direction, stumbling backward against the conference table as if he'd been shoved.

  And then Luc realized with a shock that he indeed had been shoved—by the odd-looking stranger who leaped into the conference room with a drawn pistol.

  "Everybody hold still!" he shouted.

  He was addressing all of them, but he kept his pistol—Luc noticed with alarm that it was fitted with a silencer—trained on Dragovic. Something familiar about him… the warm-up, the hat, the sunglasses. And then Luc recognized him: this man had shared the elevator with Dragovic and him a short while ago.

  "Thank God!" Brad cried. "I don't know who you are, but you arrived just in time!" He pointed to Dragovic. "This man—"

  "Shut up!" the stranger yelled, pushing Brad toward the end of the table. "Over there with your buddies." Then he turned to Dragovic. "You carrying?"

  Dragovic stared at him. "Do you know who I am?"

  "Yeah, now answer the question: what are you carrying?"

  Dragovic sneered. "I have no need to carry."

  "So you say. Take off your jacket and prove it."

  "Go to hell!"

  Without warning, the stranger's pistol coughed once and Dragovic fell back into a chair, his breath hissing between his teeth as he clutched his thigh. Luc saw that a splintered hole had appeared in the mahogany door of the cabinet behind him.

  "Take off your jacket," the stranger said, "or the next one will go for the bone instead of creasing you."

  Leveling a murderous glare at the stranger, Dragovic removed his suit coat, balled it in his bloody hands, and hurled it across the room at him.

  "You are a dead man."

  "You already tried that once today," the stranger said, catching the coat with his free hand. "Now it's my turn."

  Luc watched Dragovic's expression change from anger, to bafflement, then to… was that fear? Luc turned his attention to the stranger who was emptying the jacket pockets. He wished he could see the eyes behind those dark glasses. He seemed to be brimming with rage, more than Dragovic, if that were possible. What was it between these two? Luc glanced at Brad and Kent who looked as baffled and frightened as he.

  A cold band tightened around his chest. Have we traded one madman for another—this one armed?

  19

  Jack had loved shooting Dragovic—took just about all he had to keep from pulling the trigger again—but relished the mix of terror and bafflement scooting across his face right now almost as much.

  "You?" Dragovic said; then his eyes narrowed. "Yes, it is you! That mustache is fake. I have seen you!"

  Jack found only a cell phone in Dragovic's suit coat. He dropped the phone on the table and tossed the coat back.

  "No, you haven't."

  "Yes. You were at my front gate!"

  Damn security cameras, Jack thought.

  "I knew it!" Dragovic shouted, purpling with rage as he pointed to Monnet. "You work for him, don't you! He hired you to humiliate me!"

  Where'd he get that idea? Jack wondered, but decided not to straighten him out. This might work right into his plans.

  "Just sit there and be quiet while I talk to these bozos," he said, dismissing Dragovic—which had to hurt him worse than ano
ther bullet. He turned to Monnet. "Where's Nadia Radzminsky?"

  Monnet seemed jolted by the question. But maybe frightened too. Hiding something? Jack couldn't tell for sure.

  "Nadia?" Monnet gave this nifty little Gallic shrug. "Why… home, I suppose."

  "She's not. She's missing." He turned to the other two. "How about you guys? Any idea where I can find Nadia Radzminsky?"

  "How should we know?" said the heavier, sweaty one.

  "Radzminsky?" said the nervous ferret type. His eyes darted Monnet's way. "Luc, isn't that the new researcher we hired?"

  "How do you know Nadia?" Monnet said.

  Jack ignored him, concentrating on the other two. "How about Gleason—Douglas Gleason? He's another of your people who's MIA. Know anything about him?"

  Bull's-eye, Jack thought when he saw the ferret's shocked expression. Here was a guy he'd like to play poker with.

  Keeping a peripheral watch on Dragovic, Jack pointed his pistol at the ferret's head.

  "Nice haircut, but I think the part would look better on the other side, don't you?"

  The ferret clapped his hands against his scalp and ducked, crying, "Tell him, Luc! Tell him about Prather!"

  Monnet closed his eyes and Jack stared at him, stunned. The only sound in the room was ripping cloth. Jack glanced at Dragovic and saw him tearing the silk lining from his suit coat and tying it around his wounded thigh.

  'Tell him!" the ferret screamed.

  "Shut up, Brad!" Monnet said through his teeth.

  "Ozymandias Prather?" Jack said, and watched the three partners' faces go slack with shock.

  "You know him?" Monnet said.

  "I'm asking the questions."

  "No-no," Monnet said, an excited look replacing the shock. "This is important! If you know him, then you must have seen the creature he calls the Sharkman."

  "Yeah. Saw it a few hours ago." Where was this going?

  "Then please tell this man," Monnet said, pointing to Dragovic. "Tell him how the creature looks, how it's at death's door."

  "You kidding? It looks great—ready to bust out of its cage."

  Monnet looked ill as Dragovic pounded his fists on the table and shouted something about liars and traitors, but Jack wasn't following because a sickening scenario was playing out in his mind.