by Leigh Tudor
Mercy breathed a sigh of relief as Loren opened her eyes and lifted her head.
“That’s Sleeping Beauty, you Disney-deficient moron.”
Mercy’s heart warmed at hearing her sister morph back into her sassy self.
With one hand, she pulled Loren to her knees. “Good Lord, woman, no more Hot Pockets for you. Get up and move your fat ass. We’re going inside.” Taking quick advantage of the chaos and destruction, she pulled her toward the entrance of the Center. But not before bending down to snag the pistol still clutched in the hand of a less fortunate, twitching body.
The nutless and now hand-less boy wonder, Jasper, appeared to have hedged his bets on the sister duo and followed close behind.
Loren attempted to pull rank. “To the right,” she instructed.
Mercy waved her gun hand in the opposite direction. “Nope, this way. Follow me.”
Without allowing for an alpha female standoff, Mercy led the way and navigated through each of the corridors, pressing the code NATE into the keypad at the bottom of the first biometric device. An epiphany that came to her while roaming the halls and corridors of the annex the night before.
She smiled as she heard the nostalgic locking sound of the door behind them. The little shit had found a way to override the biometrics with a manual code word.
Loren stared at her with a mixture of awe and confusion, but there wasn’t time to explain the miniature maniacal marvel she’d met a few hours ago and his otherworldly self-preservation skills.
Instantly, she remembered Nate’s skinny arms reaching out for her and the tears streaming down his face, thinking she’d reneged on her promise.
Keep moving, Mercy.
They needed a safe place to hide until the apocalypse died down outside.
She finally reached her destination and plugged in NATE on the last door after leading them into the kitchenette/classroom area.
Jasper threw his body against the kitchen counter and gasped. “I need medical attention.”
Mercy chuckled. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“I could bleed out,” he squealed.
“Then I suggest you tighten up that belt,” she responded.
She turned to Loren, glowering at Jasper as if in one of her weird catatonic states. Instinctively, Mercy knew she was either sizing Jasper up and zoning in on areas of his body for the quick and easy kill or searching for the complete opposite.
An agonizing slow and painful one.
Jasper continued to whine, “We’re not safe in here. We need to escape out the exit door and through the surrounding woods to the highway.”
Mercy checked her leg that looked to be peppered with pellets from the grenade blast. “Must be some warring cartel coming after Amado and her army. Not to worry. Grenade launchers can’t get past those doors once they’re secured.”
“Not a warring cartel,” Loren responded, still throwing knives at Jasper with her eyes. “The feds and M2M,” she said matter-of-factly.
“The feds?” Mercy asked with wide eyes.
Loren nodded, her eyes taking on a strange, beady focus. “I arranged it.”
“You double-crossing fucking bitch,” Jasper spat.
Mercy’s concern ratcheted up a few notches as Loren slowly turned toward Jasper with a highly uncharacteristic amount of rage or delirium.
“Mercy, make sure the exit door is locked.”
Mercy knew instinctively that this was an order she needed to follow and entered her code into the keypad below the biometric screen, holding the pistol to her side.
Before Mercy could react, Loren grabbed the pistol, aiming it toward Jasper, whose eyes went wide as he panted heavily to keep from fainting.
“I wouldn’t get comfortable, Jasper, because we’re going to play a little game.”
Jasper’s beady eyes looked at Mercy for assistance.
Like that was an option.
He scanned the room for something, anything.
Loren was usually so calm in these instances, but now she was anything but. She was visibly quaking. “You can either play the game, or we open the exit door, fire a couple of shots, and leave you to Amado and her fucktards.”
“You can’t speak to me—”
The pang of the pistol caused Mercy to jump as Jasper grabbed his now bleeding kneecap with the only hand he had left.
“Loren,” Mercy said, lowering her voice. “This isn’t a mission in the wild jungles of Guatemala. The feds are outside, and we’ve got a good chance of getting out of here alive. Let’s not fuck that up with a second-degree murder charge.”
Ignoring Mercy, she sauntered closer to a sobbing Jasper. “What was that, Jasper? Did I hear you say you want ‘young girls you’ve victimized for six hundred’?”
The blood in Mercy’s veins turned ice cold. “Jesus H. Christmas, you’ve got to lay off the game shows,” she said in an attempt to pull Loren from her eerie single-minded state.
But Loren didn’t wait for an answer. “This young girl was a world-renowned pianist who you physically abused.”
Jasper’s cry was shrill. “Charlotte lied. I never touched—”
Loren fired again, missing his ear by a quarter inch and taking a large chunk of sheetrock behind him.
A couple of knocks on the exit door drew Mercy’s attention. Two knocks slow and two fast. The code she had agreed to use with Alec for the handoff of the children.
Alec and Trevor.
“Hey, sis,” Mercy cajoled, “the cavalry is here. We can stop torturing the perp now.”
Mercy opened the door, and Alec pushed his way through with Trevor close behind.
“Loren, look who’s here.”
But it was as if Loren were in another world. One with her geometric lines and odd-dimensional structures. Mercy knew that look well. But this was something else entirely.
Alec turned to Mercy with a ton of questions in his eyes. She shrugged and shook her head to say she had no idea what was going on with her sister.
Mercy all but pleaded with a light voice, “It’s your sexy neighbor, the one who has anger issues, and his sidekick, who’s hopelessly in love with me. Let’s go home and gossip about them over Häagen-Dazs and gummy bears.”
“Oh, you want another one?” Loren said theatrically, not taking her eyes off Jasper and ignoring Mercy. “This girl went looking for her sisters, and you left her in a padded cell, wearing nothing but a straitjacket with a rapist the size of a barn.”
Once again, the gun exploded, gouging Jasper in the neck.
His hand flew to the new wound, the mixture of tangy blood, flop sweat, and urine making Mercy feel more than a little nauseous. But nothing to her was more concerning than what was going on with Loren.
“Okay, okay. One more.” Loren said with a delirious laugh as if Jasper were begging for another chance to play. “For three hundred, these women are no longer able to have children. You knew about that, didn’t you? It wasn’t bad enough that you cut into their brains. Fuck that. You wanted more. You, Halstead, and Vielle made sure they would never have families. You made sure they would never have . . .”
Mercy was gutted. Surely, Loren wasn’t saying that . . .
Jasper glanced at Mercy and then looked down at the floor, resignation at his very short future written all over his face.
Chapter Ten
“And what is an authentic madman? It is a man who preferred to become mad, in the socially accepted sense of the word, rather than forfeit a certain superior idea of human honor.”
— Antonin Artaud
Alec’s heart strangled as he watched Loren’s meltdown.
She was shaking now. Sobbing uncontrollably as the pistol swayed with each hiccup and tremble.
Jasper was smart enough to remain still and keep his mouth shut.
Moving slowly so as not to cause her alarm, Alec approached Loren.
“Hey,” he coaxed, “Loren, it’s me, Alec. It’s done now. Everyone is safe and sound. You don’t hav
e to do this.”
Her head shook back and forth with the energy of a hundred hummingbird wings, tears streaming down her face. “No, he was . . . was going to hand over the children. He was going to barter for his safety with little, innocent children. He was going to give. Them. To. Her.”
Alec was now within a hairsbreadth of her, leaning down close to her ear. “The children are fine. They’re with Madame Garmond and Levi. We were able to apprehend Amado and her men. We’re all done. There’s nothing else you have to do.”
As if the words were finally soaking in, she lowered the pistol, and Alec quickly took the opportunity to lift it from her hands.
He wrapped his other arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, “You did really good, baby. Everyone is safe and sound now because of you.”
“But he needs to . . . to die,” Loren said, hiccupping.
“You’ve done enough. He’ll pay. I promise.”
She nodded, and then he gently guided her into Mercy’s arms.
Alec looked over the heads of the two warrior women to Trevor, who was opening the exit door. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Trevor led the way outside the Center and back to the parking lot that had now turned into a massive and quite impressive FBI crime scene. From a distance, he could see that the feds and his M2M team had driven trucks into the area with squad cars acting as blockades as well as several ambulances.
Mercy had her arms around a quiet Loren, who seemed to be getting her bearings with each step she took.
And then, from behind them, a single shot rang out.
Loren came to an immediate stop, halting Mercy’s stride as well, staring straight ahead.
Trevor waited as Mercy rubbed Loren’s shoulders, who was also giving Loren time to absorb the probable event.
Thankfully for Alec, the shot was far enough away that no one was the wiser except for the three people exiting the area.
For years, Trevor knew some pretty bad shit was going down in the Center. But what he heard in that room where his own daughter was held captive made his skin crawl and his heart ache. He prayed to a God that he had cursed and sworn off that Haley hadn’t suffered the same trauma.
Yet he also had a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that the one person responsible for making it impossible to gain enough intel to justify a legal raid of the facility was the genius walking before him in a nearly comatose state.
What would he have done under those same circumstances? How far would he have gone to protect what was left of his family?
He prayed that with Haley safe and sound, he’d never have to find out.
Mercy had never been more terrified.
Never in her life had she seen her older sister so . . . debilitated. Even though Loren was slowly becoming more and more lucid with each step, she was clearly mentally and physically taxed to her limit.
For once in her life, Mercy was the one holding on to her sister. She whispered words of encouragement and found Loren a cup of water to drink once they were well within the confines of the newly taped-off area.
A man wearing a rather expensive suit, who was obviously not one of the tactical players during today’s events, came up to Trevor and shook his hand.
“I want you in my office first thing Monday morning.”
“With all due respect, that’s not going to be possible, sir,” Trevor replied. “I’m going to be spending an indeterminate amount of time with my daughter, getting her . . . settled.”
“You defied orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Although the outcome was to everyone’s advantage, we will be discussing that, eventually.”
“I would expect that, sir.”
Director Birch then turned to Loren. “I believe this is also the outcome you desired.”
“With the exception of you being a little late to the party, yes.”
Mercy piped up, “You do realize we were seconds from being killed?”
Birch grimaced. “An unfortunate delay occurred. But I think we managed to meet all of our objectives.”
The director turned to Trevor. “Do we have a track on Wilder?”
Mercy turned her head. She was a terrible liar, and she didn’t want the guy in the suit to suspect anything sketchy went down inside the building.
Trevor nodded. “He’s in the Center looking for a fatally wounded Jasper Bancroft. Apparently, he was caught in the crossfire, found his way inside, and more than likely bled out from his wounds.”
Director Birch stared directly at Loren. As if deciding this wasn’t the time or place, he said, “I’ll be sure to get that on the record from all of you.”
Mercy and Loren made discreet eye contact.
Another man in a dark suit and glasses approached them. “Ms. Loren Ingalls?”
“That would be me,” Loren said with dull, tired eyes.
He lifted handcuffs that Mercy hadn’t noticed, and she sucked in. “I’ll be taking you in. My understanding is that you’re aware of this.”
Mercy jerked her head toward a resigned Loren, who responded, “I am.”
Mercy wasn’t. She wasn’t aware of any of this. “What the fuck is going on?” Loren wasn’t responding, so she turned to the older man in a suit. “She helped you. She’s responsible for you worthless jack-holes catching one of the most dangerous criminals in cartel history, and you’re going to take her away in handcuffs?”
Mercy turned to the younger suit and jerked her wrists toward the expressionless dark glasses. “Well then, you’re going to have to take me as well. And I’m not as pleasant as my sister. I’m loud, argumentative, and an obnoxious backseat driver.”
Director Birch cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you’ll be coming with me, Ms. Ingalls.”
“What?” Mercy asked, her head moving from Birch to the suit and finally landing on Loren. “Where are we going?”
She watched in horror as the younger suit began to cuff Loren.
Loren explained, “I’m just going in for questioning. You’re going to one of the top neurological surgeons in the country. He’s going to do a brain scan and correct your lesions.”
The suit began leading Loren away.
Correct her lesions? What did that mean? There were so many unanswered questions. So much about what went down and what was said today required answers.
It was Mercy’s turn to let loose the waterworks. “You’re not going with me?” She thought of Nate when he was being whisked away and knew exactly how he had felt at that moment.
Loren shook her head, biting her lip as the suit held her by the forearm. With tears in her eyes, she said, “This was the deal. It’s going to be okay, Mercy. I promise. Madame Garmond will meet you there. She’s on her way now.”
Mercy watched her sister be led away. The suit opened the car door, and Loren stopped before sliding inside. She gave Mercy a watery smile, but all Mercy could do was cry.
Yet another bout of déjà vu nearly blinded her as she helplessly watched her sister through the glass window of the sedan. Once again, Loren was the one making the ultimate sacrifice on her behalf. Loren was the one suffering the consequences while Mercy walked away unscathed.
The last thing she saw of her sister as the sedan pulled away was her mouthing the words, “It’s going to be okay.”
As her heart splintered in her chest, so did the pain in her head. Her hands flew to her temples as she bent over with a gasp, the pain making a razor’s-edge sinuous path down her spine. She barely had time to whisper, “DEFCON one,” before crumpling to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
“Even if there are instances in which it can be mistook by onlookers, never fool yourself into using misunderstood genius as an excuse to be a fool.”
— Criss Jami
Hanging up the phone in her hotel room, Loren hung her head in her hands and then rubbed her face as she took in her surroundings.
Madame Garmond had shared the latest news on Mercy’s con
dition. Basically, they knew nothing. The doctors and specialists were still running tests to confirm the lesions as the culprit for her collapse.
After a full day of questioning and walking the authorities and their personal hacking teams through the Center, she was allowed one call a day to Madame. And that was the extent to all outside communication that she was permitted.
She agreed to cooperate and speak to Madame only. And countered with her own demand regarding internal communications. That under no circumstances, other than a potential courtroom setting, would she ever have to see or speak with Alec Wilder during the entire proceedings.
During one particular antagonistic day of questioning where an amplified version of good cop, bad cop was playing out, she finally received permission to use the restroom.
Walking into the hallway with two guards at each side, she stretched her neck, exhausted from the repetitive line of questioning she was forced to endure. And then she spotted him.
Unaware of her as he looked to be unwrapping a piece of gum and approaching from the opposite end of the hallway.
He wore pressed slacks and a tie, and her blood pressure exploded at seeing his exposed forearms as he had rolled the sleeves past his elbows.
She tried to duck behind one of the guards, but Alec’s eyes homed in on her. His gaze burned into her skin, going straight to the bone as she watched his entire body light up and his gait become pronounced as he yelled her name.
“Loren, wait.”
As dutifully negotiated, two additional men came out of nowhere to stand in front of him, barring him from moving closer.
“Loren, talk to me,” he called, looking tortured and a little unstable himself. She ducked her head, muttering, “Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,” until she made it to the swinging door. She dived into the first stall, dropped to her knees, and vomited what little lunch she ate earlier in the day.
Pushing back on her haunches, she grabbed some toilet paper to wipe her mouth. Her hands shaky, and her heart ripped to shreds.