Spectrum

by Ethan Cross

When he booted Verbeek’s main office computer, the first thing he saw was a Microsoft Windows logo. He chuckled to himself. These people could at least try to make it a challenge for him.

  His mind tracked the digital variables, considered the underlying security mechanisms and their capabilities. Within a moment, he had full access and started digging through Verbeek’s life. The computer contained all of his financial records and security assignments.

  Burke waded into the sea of digital data like a great white shark, fins cutting through the code, drawn by the smell of blood in the water, intuitively knowing where to find his prey and how best to savor the meal.

  Within only a few minutes, he had found several strange data points. Yoshida, Loria, and K (which he assumed was a code for Kruger) had all paid large sums to Black Dog Protective Services. But Yoshida had paid far more than any of the others. Something about that seemed strange.

  The financials weren’t helpful in locating Kruger, however. So he dug deeper.

  He examined the distribution and assignments of Black Dog’s employees, most of whom were designated as security or operator. Burke assumed that the operators were the mercs with greater skill sets and weaker moral compasses.

  Reviewing the current client list and employee assignments, he discovered a strange anomaly. Black Dog had been paid to provide security for a bankrupt casino that investors had been trying to get off the ground for years. Normally, the property was only patrolled by two rent-a-cops. But over the past week, the property’s security had been upgraded to a patrol of four employees marked as operators.

  Just to be thorough, he reviewed other clients and properties, but nothing stood out like the change to the security of The Jade Dragon.

  Burke used his iPad to snap pictures of this and the strange financial data, then he melded those photos into the mural of notes for the case before informing the others.

  When he explained what he had found to Carter, the ASAC immediately said, “We can’t do this by ourselves any more. I think it’s best that HRT takes the building. And Nic and I go in right behind them.”

  Nic said, “I don’t care how this guy goes down, as long he goes down hard.” Then, referring to Constable Price, he added, “What do we do with her?”

  Carter scratched at his beard and seemed to consider the South African officer. “We clean her up and take her with us.”

  Chapter 92

  Nic sat behind the wheel of the BearCat as they headed for the Las Vegas strip. He had placed Constable Price in the front passenger seat, her arms still bound, tears still in her eyes.

  “Your friend, Kruger, killed a friend of mine today, and a bunch of other people I was responsible for,” Nic said. “We’re going to catch him. He’ll face justice.”

  She snorted derisively. “I don’t want him to live out his days in luxury inside one of your American prisons. That’s not justice. I want his head. I want to take a machete and cut off his head.”

  Nic cocked an eyebrow at the beautiful South African. “You don’t think that’s a bit harsh for justice? Sounds more like vengeance.”

  “Call it whatever you want. As long as he’s still breathing, my heart is on fire.”

  “Killing him won’t make that pain stop.”

  “You don’t know me. I heard that same crap from your Australian friend, and he ended up sticking a gun in my face.”

  “Let’s not forget who saved your life when he did. And no, I don’t know you. But I know vengeance, and I know rage, and I know bloodlust.”

  She said nothing.

  “How far would you have gone with Verbeek? Would you have started cutting him?” Nic asked. “Tearing off his fingernails? Would you have killed him?”

  Her eyes were locked on the floorboard of the BearCat, but he could see them glistening in the neon lights of Vegas.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she said. “I don’t care if I live or die. He killed my son. I’d burn down the world to make him pay for that. But … I always thought of myself as one of the good guys. My crusade was righteous. I don’t know what it is anymore. I tortured that man with a hammer, and I probably would have done much worse. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t care as long as it achieved my goal of finding Kruger.”

  They had reached the southern edge of the Las Vegas strip, passed the Harley dealership, and the famed Welcome to Las Vegas sign. The massive themed casinos loomed ahead, shining brightly despite the late hour. Las Vegas never slept.

  “I know how you feel. Sort of. I’ve tortured people before,” Nic said. “I wasn’t always a cop. My father was a notorious gangster back in New York. He had a room in the basement of his home, which was my grandfather’s before him, they called it The Slaughter Room. When I was thirteen and my brother was sixteen, he woke us up in the middle of the night and told us that it was time that we learned what it cost for us to live in a beautiful home and have nice things.”

  Before continuing, Nic considered the people in the past he had told this story to. A cop shrink once. Maybe his mother. His brother and him had discussed it once. He had told Taz one night after too many beers, but he didn’t fully understand why he wanted to share this old memory with a total stranger now. He supposed it was just some pain in her eyes, some shared hurt he saw there that made him believe she’d understand.

  “In The Slaughter Room, my brother and I found a couple of my father’s lieutenants and a man hanging from the ceiling like he was a side of beef. The guy was completely naked. A couple of cinder blocks weighted down his feet so he couldn’t kick or move his legs. My dad told me and my brother that the man had been caught skimming, and that they were going to make an example of him. He …”

  Nic could still see the look in the man’s eyes. He knew the guy. One of his father’s men who ran books down in Little Italy out of his restaurant. He had played with the man’s son. The man’s wife had kissed his cheek and given him an extra cannoli. The man cried and pleaded. His eyes looked straight into Nic’s soul and silently asked for mercy.

  “What did your father make you do to him?” Isabel said.

  Nic wiped away a tear. “My brother and I skinned him alive. It took what felt like days. But Pop wanted nothing left but a bloody mess of muscle and sinew.”

  “You didn’t try to resist?”

  “When I was a kid, my father was a god to me. Not that I worshiped him, but more that he gave life or he took it away. I loved him. I respected him, and a part of me wanted him to be proud of me. And he was. Afterward, he took Junior and me out for ice cream.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We all have a story. Mine was just a bit bloodier. And when I was old enough to think for myself, I got out of that world and decided I would do everything in my power to offset all the evil my father had done.”

  “Did he ever make you go back into The Slaughter Room?” she asked.

  “Yeah, he did. Point is, it’s never too late. The bad you did in the past is over. Question is: what good are you going to do in the future?”

  “Killing Kruger would do a whole lot of good.”

  “Maybe. But how good would it be for your soul?”

  She didn’t respond, and he didn’t have time to ask her any more questions. They had turned off the strip and arrived at The Jade Dragon, and the Hostage Rescue Team was already in place, prepared to storm the building.

  Chapter 93

  Nic watched Carter, in his element, instantly take charge of the scene. The Las Vegas FBI office’s SWAT team had discretely created a perimeter around the massive structure that was The Jade Dragon. The hotel, casino, and Chinese-themed amusement park had broken ground in 2007, as Las Vegas profits were at a high. Then the financial crisis of 2008 hit and land values plummeted. Investors wanted their money back, and many Vegas start-ups declared bankruptcy in the fallout. The Jade Dragon had been one of the largest failures, and although several companies had attempted to resurrect the failed project in the years since its demi
se, the property still sat unfinished and falling into disrepair.

  It was the perfect place for a man like Kruger to hide out until the heat died down.

  The FBI’s SWAT team had already intercepted the four two-man patrols that had been guarding the building. These men were experienced mercenaries and not mere rent-a-cops, but they also hadn’t been paid to fight law enforcement or die for Kruger, just to make sure that no homeless men or rival forces entered the building. The patrols had surrendered peacefully and had been prevented from making any communications.

  Nic was glad to be without resistance, but he questioned whether the removal of the patrols was the wisest decision. He supposed it didn’t really matter what he thought. He was merely a spectator at this show.

  The head of the FBI’s SWAT unit was a light-skinned black man who had cut his teeth in Detroit. Nic had met the man a few times over the years, and the team leader had told him, in no uncertain terms, that the son of Tommy Jewels had no business in the FBI or law enforcement in general.

  The team leader shot Nic a dirty look as he laid the blueprints of the Jade Dragon atop the hood of their black DDGMC LAV-APC Bison 8x8 light-armored vehicle. The Bison was basically a small tank capable of withstanding 7.62-mm rifle fire. It made his BearCat look like a recreational vehicle.

  “We’re fairly certain the subject and the device he stole is on site,” Carter said. “How are we handling the situation, commander?”

  The FBI’s team leader said, “We’ve discretely surrounded the building, utilizing FBI and local personnel to block all known points of egress. But the problem comes with rooting out where they could be hiding. This building is a massive structure filled with a warren of underground service tunnels, attraction halls, and over 4,000 unfinished hotel rooms. The only way to tackle this place is to sweep it floor by floor, area by area.”

  Nic noticed Carter glance over at Burke, not publicly calling him out but silently asking if there was any way to narrow the search. Burke seemed to understand and said, “Give me a moment, commander.”

  He pulled out a laptop computer from his bag along with a small satellite dish that he unfolded and affixed to the top of the Bison. All eyes were on him as his fingers flew over the keys. Apparently feeling their stares, he nervously said, “If our friend is up there, it’s likely that he has computer and communication equipment and is connected to the Internet. We could try to track power consumption, but there are a lot of inherent problems with that. Frequencies, however, are easily detectable. So now, I’m scanning for both incoming and outgoing wireless frequencies, covering both wireless Internet and secure satellite connections.”

  Burke started whistling what sounded like Enter Sandman by Metallica as he typed. Then he added, “Okay, I found two signals within the hotel section of the building. Now, I’m overlaying the schematics, since they’re obviously not floating hundreds of feet in the air and now we have … A location for the signals. Far north side of the building on the thirty-third floor.”

  The team leader seemed a bit confused by the information and the punk kid supplying the information, but he looked to Carter for orders.

  “There you have it. The target is on the thirty-third floor,” Carter said. “Take them down, commander.”

  With a curt nod, the black-clad agent said, “Okay people, listen up, we’re going to cut a path straight through the main lobby and use this stairwell to access the thirty-third floor. Keep a tight formation and your eyes open. This gentleman is smart and devious. He could have traps or motion detectors. Let’s see them before they see us. Clear.”

  The other armored operators nodded in confirmation, and the team prepared to move out.

  Nic and Carter slipped on their tactical gear to follow the team after they had swept for threats.

  “What about me? Don’t I get body armor, get to kick down some doors?” Burke asked. “I could carry the battering ram thing.”

  “Sorry, kid, someone has to stay back and guard the prisoner,” Nic replied. He nodded toward Isabel Price who still sat in the passenger seat of the BearCat. “And I’d take this job seriously if I were you. She’s a wild one. You can see it in her eyes. And she wants Kruger even worse than we do. Don’t let her get loose and screw things up for us.”

  “Do I get a gun this time?”

  Carter rolled his eyes and said to the SWAT commander, “I need an extra sidearm.”

  The commander spoke to one of his men who retrieved a Glock 23 .40-caliber from the Bison. Carter handed the weapon to Burke and said, “There’s no safety on this gun. And it’s only for emergencies, as a last resort.”

  Nic looked back toward the BearCat and added, “And don’t let her know that you have that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’ll take it from you.”

  Chapter 94

  Kruger had much to ponder as he looked out the window at the city of Las Vegas. He had always suspected that Zarina was the true culprit of the squatter camp massacre. The incident had broken a part of his soul. He had killed many people over the years, but almost all were justifiable or reasonable collateral damage. At his core, he didn’t enjoy killing. It was just a necessary evil. And most of his targets were the kinds of monsters who deserved retribution even more than himself.

  But Zarina was different.

  She took such pleasure in death. Such elation in suffering.

  He had always wondered if she had sabotaged the operation that had thrown their lives into turmoil, but he supposed it was easier to blame an arrogant stranger like Raskin. Zarina was his wife, his true family. She always had been and always would be. He supposed it didn’t really matter if she nuked a whole continent, he would love her unconditionally. Because that’s what real love was. It didn’t require a subset of actions and reactions and standards to be upheld. It held no expectations or requirements. He loved her, no matter what.

  But he still wondered … Why?

  As he watched the lights of the city, he noticed something strange. He checked his watch. The security patrol was late, and their main function was to act as a silent alarm. He waited another three minutes and then said, “Something’s wrong. They’ve found us. Initiate escape plan zulu.”

  Zarina showed little reaction. She simply began gathering her things. Raskin shot to her feet and said, “What are you talking about? What escape plan? Who’s found us?”

  “My hatred of you has ebbed, Dr. Raskin. But I’m afraid that I still need your ring.”

  Raskin’s eyes went wide. She didn’t even try to hide the significance of the emerald ring that she had claimed was her grandmother’s. She wrapped her fists around the ring and said, “You can’t have it. It was—”

  “I know what it is. And I’ve been ordered to retrieve it. I’ve been wanting to kill you slowly, but I no longer have the desire or time to do so. Hand it over.”

  “Kruger, listen. You don’t understand what is contained in these files. These are the secret records of Biopreparat, the Soviet Union’s clandestine biological weapons program. And no one realizes the terrible things they were able to create. These files could kill millions.”

  “And not retrieving those files would kill my daughter. The world could go to hell for all I care as I long as my sunshine is safe. Now, give me the ring.”

  Raskin seemed to search around for a weapon. He had already ensured that she had none at her disposal.

  “I’ll give you a choice. I can kill you swiftly with no pain,” he said. “You will simply be here one second and the next you will be in whatever is beyond this world. The second option is that I stab you in a precise surgical manner that penetrates your stomach, allowing the digestive enzymes inside to spill out onto your other organs and into your bloodstream. Keep in mind that the venom of rattlesnakes and other deadly vipers is actually quite similar to our own stomach acid. You would die amid immense suffering as your own body devours itself from the inside out.”

  Raskin’s eyes went wild, and she ra
n for the door to the hallway. Kruger closed the gap in three long strides, the knife appearing in his hand as he moved.

  He grabbed the scientist by the shoulder and spun her around. Then he penetrated her flesh, ramming the knife through her abdomen in such a way that it missed other vital organs but punctured her stomach. Then he jerked the knife to ensure that the organ’s lining wouldn’t seal and heal over the wound.

  As she slid down the wall to the floor, he ripped the ring from her clenched fists, likely breaking a few finger bones in the process, and shoved the carrier for the hidden files into his pocket.

  Raskin sat against the wall, tears in her eyes, clutching her bloody abdomen.

  “You have maybe fifteen to twenty minutes to live. Make peace with whatever you believe,” Kruger said. “I wish you good luck in the next life, doctor. Hopefully, you’ll make better choices there.”

  He noticed Zarina was at his shoulder now, rubbing his muscular arm, clearly aroused by the blood and death.

  Turning toward his wife, he said, “Did you kill all the people in that camp? Did you do it on purpose? Against orders?”

  She diverted her gaze a moment, but then Zarina nodded.

  He stroked her platinum hair and asked, “Why? Why kill all those poor people? They were like us.”

  She typed on her wrist and the electronic voice said, “That’s why I killed them. All those children. They would have grown up hated and broken. They were white children in Africa, and no one would have ever accepted them. They had no future but pain, simply because of the color of their skin. They would have been freaks. Many would have known the anguish of starvation and sickness. Just like you and me. I saved them from that pain. I protected the innocence that this terrible world would have stolen from them.”

  Tears flowed from his eyes, and he pulled his wife’s small body close to him. Then he kissed her on the forehead and said, “You will always be my golden one. You should have told me sooner, but I forgive you. Let’s finish this and go home to our little girl.”