As soon as she arrived at her apartment, Nina had gone to her bedroom to lay out her gear before taking a quick shower. With practiced efficiency, she’d laid out a black tactical shirt, pants, boots, and her FBI raid jacket on the bed beside her Glock and two extra magazines. Prepped and ready, she could be out the door in two minutes once Buxton texted.
She’d been sitting at her kitchen table while her hair dried, sipping coffee with her laptop in front of her, when Bianca’s signature knock interrupted her. Tightening the sash on her short satin robe, she padded to the door to find her young neighbor standing on the threshold. She crossed her arms. “What took you so long?”
Bianca crossed her arms right back, then upped the ante with a jutting hip. “I need an update on the investigation.”
“The investigation is my problem,” Nina said. “Not yours.”
“It’s everybody’s problem.” Bianca strode past her, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plopped herself down. “No one’s safe as long as that lunatic is out there, and from what I can tell, you guys are no closer to catching him than you were a week ago.” She traced a finger along the FBI seal on the heavy ceramic mug. “You got any more coffee?”
“Bee, now’s not a good time. I’m expecting a text from my boss. When I get it, I’ll have to leave.”
“No problem. I’ll go when you do. In the meantime, you can pour me a cup.”
Nina relented. “You’ll have to take it black, I’m all out of milk.”
“Whatevs.” Bianca waved a dismissive hand. “I just need caffeine.”
Nina turned to the counter and slid the coffeepot from the brewing machine. She opened a cabinet, scanning for a mug.
“Since when do you watch MMA cage matches?” Bianca wanted to know.
She whirled around to see Bianca peering at her open laptop. Nina darted to the table and put her hand on the back cover, pushing it shut.
Bianca raised a pierced brow. “Who’s Halberd Falk?”
Nina scrunched her eyes shut. The girl was nosy, and way too smart for her own good. “No one, Bee. Just forget you ever saw him.”
The truth would come out later, and Bianca would soon know exactly who he was. But she wasn’t going to hear it from her.
Bianca narrowed her eyes. “He’s got something to do with this case, doesn’t he?”
Bianca’s oversize brain was working the facts around like a Rubik’s Cube, and, as always, the pieces would soon fall neatly into place.
“Stay out of this, Bee.”
Bianca straightened in her chair, eyes bright. “OMG. Halberd Falk is the Cipher.” She put both hands to her mouth. “And you’re heading out to arrest him, aren’t you? That’s why you have to leave. That’s the text you’re expecting from your boss.”
Nina groaned. “I can neither confirm nor deny—”
“Yeah, right.” Bianca made a shooing motion. “Go get dressed. I want to watch the video anyway.” She opened the laptop again. “I promise I won’t say shit about this to anyone.” Bianca made a crossing-heart motion.
She could snatch the computer away and take it into her bedroom, but Bianca would just google Falk and watch it on her cell phone. Nina blew out a sigh, stalked into the bathroom, and began toweling off her hair.
“Holy shit, Nina,” Bianca called out to her from the kitchen. “You have to see this.”
Damp hair clinging to her forehead, Nina hung the towel on its rack before padding through the living room on bare feet to find Bianca wide eyed in front of the computer.
“What is it?”
“How much footage of this fight have you seen?”
“Only the first two seconds. You knocked before I could watch more.”
Bianca’s voice dropped in awe. “Look at his back.”
She dropped into the other chair and motioned for the laptop. “Let me see.”
The footage had obviously been bootlegged from someone in the audience who was sitting to one side of the metal enclosure. Bianca had stopped the video after the two opponents, who had been facing the crowd, rotated to square off. Falk’s broad back was now to the camera.
His massive upper torso displayed unique body art. The design spanned his entire back down to his waist in a skillfully rendered geometric pattern.
“Three interlocking triangles,” Nina said.
“That’s not all,” Bianca said, her voice trembling. “See what happens when I do this.” She used her thumb and forefinger on the laptop’s touch screen to expand the picture, zooming in on the tattooed shoulder blades.
Nina squinted as the picture went slightly out of focus.
Bianca tapped some keys. “Now look again.”
When the image cleared, Nina felt her jaw slacken. In between the intricate black markings of the design, she made out circular scars.
“Cigarette burns,” she breathed, unable to fully process what she was seeing. “Three of them.” She tried to fit this into the mental picture she had of the monster. He had not done that to himself. The tattoo concealed the long-healed marks of torture.
“They form a triangle on his back,” Bianca said. “The body art covers them, though.”
“What does that symbol mean?” Nina muttered.
“Already on it.” Bianca had her cell phone in hand, thumbs working the tiny keypad. “That’s Odin’s symbol. He’s a Norse god.”
“Of course,” Nina said, mind racing. “That’s why he made the shape of a triangle on my back. It’s because he sees himself as Odin, son of Borr.”
“It’s because he’s a freak.” Bianca zoomed back out to normal focus. “Watch what he does next.” She tapped the arrow icon in the center of the frame to start the video again.
Falk’s opponent launched a brutal assault, the combination attack knocking him to the floor. Falk got to his feet and stood erect, bracing himself for another onslaught.
“He doesn’t even try to avoid the hits,” Nina said, frowning. “He wants to get pummeled.”
“It’s like he’s baiting the other guy,” Bianca said. “He stands there and lets him knock him down a couple of times. Doesn’t even flinch or try to get out of the way. He just . . . takes it.”
“Like punishment,” Nina said, a theory taking shape. “When was this fight?”
“Four days ago.”
“Right after the Boston murder,” Nina said. “He was punishing himself for letting me get the drop on him. He showed weakness.”
Bianca’s eyes were still on the fight. “Now he gets up off the floor and destroys the other guy in about twenty seconds.” She shook her head. “Dude is crazy as crackers, but he’s a stone-cold badass.”
Falk allowed a less skilled opponent to hurt him before fighting back. What did that tell her about the Cipher? Wade had guessed he had been punished severely by an authority figure—probably a father figure—as a young man. Someone had certainly tortured him years ago. The burns were evidence of that. So was his desire to identify with Dr. Borr, a man he could idolize and take on as a surrogate father.
She felt like she was getting a handle on his psyche, but true understanding was just out of reach. What would the profilers make of this?
“I’ve got to get dressed.” She was suddenly anxious to get to Quantico well before the prewarrant prep. “You can stay here until I leave if you want.”
“Hell yeah. I’m going to watch some of his other fights. The guy is beyond scary.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered under her breath.
She walked back to the bathroom and turned on the blow-dryer to finish her hair. The short locks did not need much styling to achieve the tousled look she favored. She switched off the dryer and put down her brush, surveying the results in the mirror.
Voices emanated from the kitchen, catching her attention. She made out the softer notes of Bianca’s speech but could not place the male baritone conversing with her. It didn’t sound like Jaime.
“Who’s that with you, Bee?” she called out.
“Agent T
aylor,” Bianca said. “Says your boss sent him.”
Nina walked to the living room, clutching her thin robe tightly together. A tall man dressed in Hoover blues stood in the kitchen. His neatly trimmed dark hair, clean-shaven face, and black-framed glasses were classic G-man. His entire demeanor screamed government issue, all the way down to his starched white collar.
“Who sent you?” she asked him.
“SSA Buxton,” he said, pulling out his creds and flipping them open. He had an accent she couldn’t quite place.
She approached and glanced at the federal ID. He was assigned to the Washington field office, but she didn’t recognize him. Not overly surprising, since about seventeen hundred federal employees worked out of the WFO.
Still, something nagged at her. “Why wouldn’t Buxton just text me?” she asked him. “I’ve been checking my phone for messages.”
“He’s been trying to reach you,” Taylor said. “Must be something wrong with your cell. I was detailed to come and get you. There’s been a major development in the Cipher case.” He glanced at Bianca, who was too slow in concealing her look of avid interest, and added, “I’ll brief you on the way.”
“Bee, I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, then turned and extended her hand to Taylor, palm up. “Can I borrow your phone? I want to talk to Buxton.”
“I left it in my car,” Taylor said. “You can call him on the way.”
The nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. She tried to reconcile the facts. If Buxton couldn’t reach her by text or phone and needed her for a critical operation, what would he do? She had no landline number for him to call, so he might send an agent from the closest FBI field office to check on her and give her the message. But why would he have the agent drive her to their meeting point? It didn’t add up. She had to find a subtle way to test Taylor.
“I’d better get ready, then,” she said smoothly. “Can’t keep the SSA waiting. You know what they say, don’t embarrass . . .” She deliberately trailed off, giving Taylor a significant look.
“The boss,” he finished after a moment’s hesitation.
“Exactly.” She gave him a bright smile to conceal the fear that knifed into her, cutting to the bone. Every FBI agent knew the correct expression was “Don’t embarrass the Bureau.”
Taylor was an impostor.
Her focus shifted to Bianca, who still hadn’t left. Nina couldn’t let Taylor become suspicious that she was onto him, so she played along, buying time.
“Excuse me a moment while I get dressed.”
First objective, get Bianca out. Second objective, get to her gun in the bedroom. She turned to Bianca. “Go back to your apartment, Bee.”
“But I—”
“No,” Nina said, a bit sterner than she’d intended.
Should she try to communicate a distress signal to Bianca somehow? The girl was a genius, and she loved codes. Would she take the hint and call for help when she got to her apartment?
Nina discounted the idea as soon as it fully formed in her mind. If the man standing in front of her was who she believed he was, Bianca’s only chance was to leave immediately. If he suspected the girl had been tipped off, he wouldn’t let her go. Nina pointed firmly at the door when Bianca gave her a beseeching look.
Bianca pouted her way out, closing the door behind her with a bit more force than necessary.
“What’s this?” Taylor said from the kitchen.
He was bent over the open laptop on the kitchen table, staring at the screen.
“Nothing.” She hurried from the foyer, pulse pounding. She had to go through the kitchen and the living room to get to her bedroom. Taylor was directly in her path.
His whole body tensed as he straightened. “You a fan of MMA?”
“Not really.” She closed the distance between them in three long strides and snapped the computer firmly shut. “Just doing research.”
He slid the black-rimmed glasses off his nose and gazed down at her with cold blue eyes. This time, when he spoke, there was no fake accent to obscure the voice she dreaded. “Liar.”
Chapter 47
The thrill of combat sharpened Falk’s reflexes. His hand whipped out before the bitch had time to react, fingers clamping on to her slender throat. His body thrummed in anticipation of a fight. She lashed out with her bare foot, aiming for the outer edge of his quadriceps. He easily anticipated the move, shifting position before the blow connected.
“No more of that.” He squeezed, looking into her lovely brown eyes as they widened in panic. He read the terror in every jerk and spasm of her body as she thrashed.
She was no match for him, physically or mentally. She would fight him with all she had, but their dance had only one possible outcome. And they both knew it.
Ten minutes earlier, he’d come for Bianca, but fate had intervened, changing his plans. He’d accessed the Fairfax County municipal server through a back door as he had done for years, exploiting a vulnerability that gave him an avenue in from the Fire Department’s system. Finding Bianca’s address had taken him less than four minutes once he’d gotten to his home computer.
It had been obvious from Bianca’s posts that she idolized Nina Guerrera. Another FBI agent would be someone the girl would easily trust. Someone she would willingly go with, especially if he told her Nina had sent him to pick her up. He’d planned to throw in something about Shawna Jackson to help sell the story. How hard could it be to deceive a seventeen-year-old girl? He had done it countless times before.
When he knocked at Bianca’s door in his special agent disguise, Mrs. Gomez had informed him that Bianca was in the apartment next door with none other than Nina Guerrera.
Fate. Destiny. Whatever you wanted to call it. That moment had changed everything. The FBI was careful to conceal the home addresses of its agents, but Nina had dropped into his lap.
He thought about leaving to return in the middle of the night and take Nina by stealth, but he couldn’t risk Bianca hearing from Mrs. Gomez that an agent had been looking for her. She might ask Nina about it, and the game would be up. He had to act now or miss this opportunity.
His new plan had been to take them both. He could easily overpower two females whose combined total weight was less than his. And he’d learned not to let the Warrior Girl get anywhere near his balls. He would disable her first, using the element of surprise, then little Bianca would be easy prey.
Again, fate had altered the trajectory of his path. Once inside the kitchen, he’d seen that damned computer. There was only one reason Nina would be watching a video of his fight.
The FBI had figured out who he was.
The information had not gone public—of that he was certain. Which meant he had to enact one of his contingency plans before the nationwide manhunt began. No more puzzles and clues. Now, it was time for the endgame. And that meant Nina Guerrera.
He no longer cared about Bianca. By the time the FBI realized their most famous agent was missing, it would make no difference if Bianca told her story of Agent Taylor coming to pick her up. Falk would be long gone. And he would have his prize all to himself.
But first, he had to end this fight. As much as he enjoyed playing with her, he was wasting valuable time.
Nina went limp in his choke hold. He loosened his grip a fraction, allowing air to reach her oxygen-deprived brain. It would not do to kill her now. He leaned close, anxious to hear and feel her breath against his ear.
Without warning, she aimed a palm strike at his Adam’s apple. His reflexes kicked in, and he leaned back to lessen the impact of what should have been a devastating blow.
Taking full advantage of his momentary distraction, she thudded the heel of her other palm into his sternum. He lost his grip on her as she sidestepped and darted out of his reach.
He lurched after her, but she’d made it to the counter. He saw her yank a meat cleaver from the knife block and stopped in his tracks as she whirled around, swinging the blade in a wide arc around her.
“Fuck you.”
“So articulate. Exactly what I would expect from a throwaway.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits, and he knew his taunts were having the desired effect. He wanted her furious beyond reason. Cage matches had taught him that opponents who were fueled by animal rage were not capable of higher thought processes involving such things as strategy, countermoves, and proper technique. Brute force would take you a long way, but cold logic and icy control would win the match.
“Remember our time together, Warrior Girl?” he said, ducking a vicious swipe of her blade. “I think about it every night. Sometimes I watch the video.” He let a smile play across his lips. “And hearing you beg for mercy gets me off without even touching myself.”
That did it. She surged forward, metal flashing as she swung the cleaver toward his head. He waited until the last moment, then brought his right hand up to catch her forearm while his left grabbed a handful of satin robe.
He twisted her wrist, and the knife clattered to the tile floor. She whipped her arm out of his grasp and spun her slight body in a tight circle. She careened away, leaving him holding the empty robe as she raced toward the bedroom, naked.
He had no doubt she was going for her gun, which was most likely on her nightstand. He charged after her, adrenaline coursing through him.
She flung the bedroom door closed behind her, and he crashed through it without breaking his stride. She had almost reached the nightstand when he launched himself at her. Momentum carried them both to the carpeted floor in a tangled heap beside the bed. He used his bulk to pin her to the ground, trapping her beneath him. She had made a tactical error. His superior size gave him a tremendous advantage in all forms of ground fighting.
Even though her defeat was imminent, she fought like a woman possessed. She had to know what awaited her if she failed, and she refused to surrender.
He moved over her body until he lay on top of her, their faces an inch apart, both of them breathing heavily.
“This is the best foreplay I’ve ever had,” he whispered. “Thank you, Warrior Girl.”
The Cipher Page 28
