“We did it, Van, we did it.” His Irish accent was thick tonight, but then he frowned. “But all those men, dead. I didn’t like that at all. I mean, they weren’t those wanking Muslim gits taking over Belfast.”
“No, they weren’t,” she said. “They burned to death; innocent people shouldn’t have died. Too much death, Ian, too much, and we all swore we never wanted that.”
“It wasn’t your doing, Van, or mine, so don’t feel guilty. It was that maniac Darius, he’s the one who pushed Matthew into using one of his new coin bombs at Bayway. At least we now know what a tiny part of one of Matthew’s coins can do. Still, it was too close. I nearly didn’t make it out in time since that arse Darius put the bomb too near the room I was in. Nearly burned to death—now, what a thought that is. And I heard the screams.” He shook himself. “Hey, come help Andy and Matthew load the cases in the van.”
Say something, say something. “I’m very glad you made it, Ian. I’ll be out in a minute to help.”
“Listen, Van, we’ll make it to Tahoe, and maybe things will go back to the way they were before, since Darius is gone now. We’ll lay low and plan our next attack, the right kind of attack.”
Matthew came into the hallway, heard Ian, and nodded. “Yes, we need to leave, but we’re not going back to Tahoe, we’re heading south. It’s time to take this to the next level.”
Ian eyed him. “You mean you still want to do Yorktown?”
“Oh, yes.”
Ian shook his head. “I don’t know, Matthew, I don’t know. Tonight was—bad.”
“I promise you and Vanessa, no major bombing like tonight at Bayway.” Matthew pumped his fist in the air. “Life’s an adventure, Ian, our adventure. Don’t turn coward on me now.”
The power plant at Yorktown? Vanessa hadn’t known. Neither Ian nor Matthew had told her. Did Andy know?
Matthew was still pumped, thrilled with himself. “Andy is breaking down his computers, then you can help him get everything into the van. You know what he did, right, Ian?”
“I know all I need to know—he crippled the buggers. Hey, even if you explained it all to me, I wouldn’t understand it.” He grinned, clapped Mathew on the back and left him and Vanessa alone in the dim hallway.
12
PAWN TAKES C4
Vanessa turned away from him, said over her shoulder, “I’m going to shower and pack. Five minutes.”
“We need to talk.”
“Later, Matthew. We have plenty of time to talk on the road south. To Yorktown.”
She left him, already writing her text message in her head as she went into the bedroom to get clothes and her special phone she’d stashed in a tampon box, the safest place in the universe when surrounded by men. She was scared, excited, knew at last things were coming together. Yorktown? Was that where Darius had gone? But why split apart from the group?
She took the tiny phone out of the box, grabbed a towel and clothes, and went into the small bathroom. She turned on the shower, leaned into the noise, turned on the phone. She saw there was a response to her last text, the one she’d sent with Darius’s photo.
Need more information. Nothing in databases. Ghost.
She couldn’t believe it—no records at all? She knew Darius was a criminal. Surely he’d been arrested at some point, fingerprinted and photographed. He’d even once told her about a prison in Turkey—had they contacted Interpol? Of course they had.
She texted back.
911, coin bombs already perfected, Bayway test run. Darius did not return with us. Don’t know where he is. Heading south.
She hit send and waited. And waited. The signal was bad in the bathroom. Even though the phone was secure and encrypted, it still needed a decent LTE connection to go through. She couldn’t have a satellite phone on her, too suspicious if she was caught with it. This baby was a very small smartphone, beefed up by her people, all improvements under the hood. Since one of Matthew’s rules was no phones, she was very careful with it.
The text still hadn’t gone through.
“Come on, come on, come on.”
She’d started to strip down when there was a knock on the bathroom door. She was so hyped up she nearly dropped the phone. She called out, “I’m getting into the shower now. Three minutes and I’ll be out, ready to leave.”
Matthew’s voice, soft and sexy, his coaxing voice: “I want to come in, Vanessa. I think it’s time you and I finally had that talk.”
Her heart froze. What talk? He was thinking about sex now? She quickly grabbed the big bar of soap from the shower, wet it, and started working the phone into it, pressing hard. Was it still showing? She kept squeezing it into the soap, praying for time. It was inside, finally, fully covered.
The doorknob jiggled. Her heart thundered in her chest.
“Come on, Vanessa, open up. I know you’re mad at me, but I want to make it up to you. Now’s our chance, let’s—”
She had to stop this. “Now, Matthew?” She played with the bar of soap—yes, it looked harmless. She quickly set it back into the shower. “You think now’s a good time because your best friend Darius isn’t here to tell you not to talk to me?”
The door crashed inward. Matthew stood there, breathing hard, his eyes dark and hot. Then, fast as a blink, he smiled. “Hey, what’s with locking me out? You’re the one who wanted me to share, to tell you all I’m planning.”
These mood swings of his were becoming more frequent. Is it also because of Darius? He wants to talk? Now? No, he wants sex. Her shirt was open and she quickly buttoned it. “Come on, Matthew, not now. I thought we were in a hurry. Go away and let me shower in peace so we can get out of here.”
His smile never slipped, but she knew if she looked close enough, she’d see the pulse pounding in his neck.
“I didn’t come in to talk—well, not right away.”
Was he for real? He knew she was angry with him, knew she’d hated all the deaths at Bayway, so what was on that genius brain of his? Did he believe pushing her for sex was the way to get her back under control? She realized what she wanted more than anything was to kick him into oblivion. She held herself steady, even smiled at him. “No, Matthew. Go away.”
“Come on, Vanessa, we’ll have some quick fun, we deserve it, to celebrate. You’re mad at me right now, but that will change.” He wasn’t blind, he saw the contempt on her face, but he chose to ignore it. He added, his voice cajoling, “Hey, after, you and I can talk. You’re right, it’s time I told you all my plans.”
Think, think. He’d tell her all his plans? She forced herself to soften her voice. “This isn’t a good time, Matthew, you know that. We need to get out of here.”
He ignored her, unbuttoning his shirt, never looking away from her. Then his fingers were on his belt. “We can take a shower together, save some time. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
No, he can’t get in the shower, he might try to use the soap, might see that something is different.
He pulled off his belt. His fingers went to the button of his jeans, paused. “Vanessa, I’m sorry, I should have told you about Darius, what we planned together. I should have told you about everything. I do trust you, and I want you by my side when I finish this.”
He was playing her, she knew it. She watched him unzip his jeans, watched him step to her, didn’t move when he kissed her neck.
She forced herself not to kick upward, to hold perfectly still. “Finish what, Matthew? What is there to finish?”
“You didn’t think I was going to spend the rest of my life bombing small-time refineries and electrical grids, did you? Tonight was just the beginning.” He pushed her up against the wall, kissed her hard, one hand holding her head still. He slid a leg between hers.
She said into his mouth, “Come on, Matthew, what are you planning? Tell me, so I can find the best way to help you.”
He was kissing her face now, light feathering kisses. “Everything’s in motion; Darius and I have planned out every move. You are helping me, Vanessa. All the way, baby. You and me, all the way.” He kissed her hard again, whispering into her mouth, “Now it’s time for us.”
Why? Because Darius isn’t hanging around watching you? She forced herself to kiss him back, let her hand slip inside his jeans as she whispered into his mouth, “Tell me now, Matthew. I want to know. Tell me.”
He raised his head, his smile dazed, rubbed his fingers over her mouth, said between kisses, “You want to know what’s next? We’re going right to the top, Vanessa. No, wait, I’ll fill you in on all of it later. You won’t believe who we’re going to kill—”
There was a loud ding from the phone wedged into the soap. The text had gone through.
13
QUEEN TAKES C4
Hodges’s house
Bayonne, New Jersey
Mike didn’t want to believe what she saw.
Two agents were down at the kitchen table, a poker game spread between them, and now the cards were sprayed with blood. The third agent lay on his side in the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
She didn’t want to go in the master bedroom, she didn’t, but she had no choice. Richard “Dicker” Hodges lay in the middle of the bed, a beautiful plaid flannel blanket covering him, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead, another to the chest. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling.
Everything screamed surprise attack. Whoever had gotten in was quick, clean, leaving four dead, each taken down with only two shots. They hadn’t seen any brass on the floor.
Nicholas said, his voice cold as ice, “The work of a professional.”
Mike turned to him, saw the pulse slamming madly in his throat, felt the fury radiating off him. Since she felt the same mad brew, she didn’t bother to say anything.
She studied Mr. Hodges’s peaceful face. “Whoever did this knew what he was doing. As you said, this was a professional hit.”
“Have you ever seen anything similar? All four men shot once in the forehead, once in the heart?”
She looked up at the odd note in his voice.
“Executions, you mean? Yes, some Mob hits. But, Nicholas, this feels, well, cleaner. More precise. No one struggled. He shot them where they sat or stood or lay, and they didn’t even raise a hand to stop him. And the method, two fast shots? Yes, very clean.”
Nicholas said, “All Hodges did was speak to us, yet it was enough to send this killer over here to punish him, to erase him, and anyone with him.”
“To tie up loose ends.”
They left Mr. Hodges and walked back into the hallway to stand over the dead agent. Nicholas said, “What was his name?
She choked a little on the name. “Cedarson. Rex Cedarson.”
“He was in the bedroom watching over Mr. Hodges, heard the shots, or heard something that alarmed him, since the assassin may have used a suppressor, and was moving toward the kitchen when he was shot. At least he had time to get his gun out.”
Mike swallowed down grief and guilt. Rex was a good man, always up for a joke, had once even locked her in the men’s room. The other men were steady, professionals all the way, good family men.
“The other two agents were Bob Ventura and Kenneth Chantler. Though I knew Cedarson the best.” She didn’t add he had a two-year-old daughter and an eight-year-old son, a wife he loved and didn’t see enough of because he had a burning desire to move up the ladder and worked too much. The other two agents had similar lives. And they were gone, in the blink of an eye, simply gone. Their deaths were a punch to the gut. “I can’t stand this, Nicholas, I really can’t.”
He knew this was a huge blow, knew she was on the edge and might go over if he tried to comfort her, so he said matter-of-factly, “I want to show you something, but be careful. We don’t want to ruin any evidence CSI might pull from around the house.” Like Mike, though, he knew it was pointless. Whoever had done this hadn’t left a single trace of himself.
She followed Nicholas back into Mr. Hodges’s bedroom. He was staring at the dead man, then he raised his hand and mimicked shooting.
“I’d say Mr. Hodges was asleep when the shots were fired in the kitchen and Cedarson ran out of the room.”
“You think he could sleep through the shots, even suppressed?”
He didn’t, but he wanted to keep her focused. “Perhaps he took a sleeping pill. I don’t think he ever knew he was going to die. So look. The assassin stood right over him and took the two shots. I’d say he’s at least my height, maybe a bit taller. The ME won’t find gunpowder residue on Mr. Hodges, or on the others; the wounds are all clean. The killer came in hard and fast—four shots in the kitchen, two in the hallway, two in here. Mr. Hodges was the target, of course.”
“All of these men dead simply because one honest, lonely man was a good citizen and told us what he’d heard at the bar. I can’t believe that level of—what would you even call this?”
Nicholas said, “Insurance. Our assassin is really careful, believes in overkill. Is he someone from COE? Until now, COE hasn’t gone around killing people. And this was professional all the way. What would a professional assassin be doing hooked up to a small-beans anti-oil terrorist group? Why this elaborate killing? It wouldn’t have mattered. There was nothing more Mr. Hodges could have told us.”
“Remember Mr. Zachery believes someone new has been added to COE? Someone more violent? Maybe whoever this is now runs things.”
“Seems to me this level of escalation pretty well nails it. A new violent addition.”
They heard a siren. “Backup’s nearly here. Nicholas, how did the assassin find Mr. Hodges? How did COE even know he’d spoken to us?”
Nicholas said, “I think we probably led the killer right here to Mr. Hodges’s house.”
“Someone followed us? From Federal Plaza?”
His mobile rang. He glanced down—one o’clock in the morning, and the number on the screen was the main number at 26 Federal Plaza.
“Drummond here.”
“Nicholas,” Agent Gray Wharton said, “we have a huge problem.”
“Yes, Mike and I are standing in the middle of it. I’m in Bayonne, and we have four bodies, including Mr. Richard Hodges, our tipster.”
Wharton swore. “He’s dead? Our guys are down, too? Yes, of course they are. Give me a second here, Nicholas.”
Nicholas heard him draw a deep breath, could practically see him trying to get hold of himself. “Okay, listen, on top of all that, there’s more. I’m sending a file to your phone right now.”
Nicholas felt the phone vibrate slightly in his hand. “It’s here. Gray, what am I looking at?”
“Someone launched a major cyber-attack on all of the major oil companies. Everyone’s been hit—Exxon, ConocoPhillips, Occidental, all of them. Their systems are down, and so far we haven’t been able to break the encryptions. Nicholas, it’s bad. It’s very bad. Worse than the Shamoon virus attack on the Saudis in 2012, and with all the same hallmarks.”
“Who’s behind it? Russia? The Chinese?”
“I’ve been tracking it as best I can, but it’s coming from multiple international sites. I need you. You’ve got to get here as soon as you can.”
Gray was never an alarmist, which meant this was really bad. “I’m on my way.”
Mike grabbed his arm. “What is it?”
“Major cyber-attack on the oil companies. I’ve got to help Gray back at Federal Plaza.” He ran his hands through his hair, standing it on end. “What are the odds?”
“I had no idea COE had the expertise or the willingness to go in this direction.”
“If it’s them. This sounds like a very sophisticated attack. Hey, if they have a professional assassin, why not a professional hacker? Gray and I have to try and shu
t it down.”
She shooed him with her hand. “Go. I’ll stay here and handle the scene.”
He lightly touched his palm to her bruised cheek. “Thank you.”
“Nicholas?”
He turned at the front door. “What?”
“Be careful, okay? Whoever did this already killed three of our people. I’d be really pissed if you got yourself hurt. Again.”
He flashed her a smile. “Agent Caine. Worried about me?”
“Yes, lamebrain, and I’m serious.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “This isn’t good.”
He nodded. “I know it’s not. I’ll take a care. You as well, understand?”
14
PAWN TO C6
Brooklyn
Vanessa froze, but her brain didn’t. She must have accidently turned off the mute when she’d shoved the phone into the soap. Had Matthew heard it, too? He was still kissing her, and now he was sucking on her ear, his hand rubbing her breast.
Distract him.
Her hand fitted over him again, caressing.
Too late, the phone dinged again. This time it signaled an incoming text.
Matthew slowly raised his head and looked down at her.
Should she kill him? She could kick him in the groin, send him to his knees, grab him and choke him or break his neck. Or grab his head and smash him into the porcelain tub. No gun, that was in her bag in the bedroom.
Her knee came up at the same moment Matthew lunged. He went for the soap, she went for his balls. He managed to turn in time and her knee struck his thigh. He grabbed her leg and jerked up, throwing her off balance, and she fell backward, three steps, into the shower. He planted his foot on her neck, grabbed the bar of soap.
“What is this?”
She tried to push off his foot, but he only pressed down harder. She couldn’t breathe.
“Looks like a bar of soap, but I don’t think it’s just any bar of soap—maybe it’s magic soap. It rings. Isn’t that amazing, Vanessa? Ringing soap.”
The End Game Page 6