“Why didn’t you simply ignore any calls coming from his phone?”
“I wanted to protect him. He don’t know from nothin’, but he ain’t a bad guy. He’s been in prison before for less dan arm robbery, and things—bad things—happened to him dere. I took it upon myself to do what she wanted. I was surprised she didn’t ask who I was, ’cause me and Scott don’t sound nothin’ like each other.”
Because this woman, or someone working with her, had already killed your brother when he tried skipping town, Rivera assumed. How is it that you’re not dead?
“Where’s your brother’s phone? I want to check the number the call came from.”
“Can’t. It’s an unknown number.”
That came as no surprise. “You should’ve called the police. What did you think would happen to Miss Sho, leaving her vulnerable like that?”
“For all I knew, dat woman was de police,” Loy fired back. “Jesus, she somehow knew ’bout de shit my brother pulled at de gas station. Dere’s so many corrupt cops out dere, no one’s safe. Even now yooz were threatening me.”
“You said you spoke to the woman?” Rivera asked abruptly. “What did she sound like?”
Loy scratched his unshaven chin. “She sounded like a general giving orders. Y’know, assertive. She had an accent.”
“What kind of accent?”
“I dunno. It sounded Asian or somethin’.”
“And what did she say to you?”
“She didn’t say what was gonna happen to de girl,” he insisted, as if justifying what he’d done. “And she warned me not to ask. She told me to tell the cops only what I knew ’bout Sho and Crowe, and answer any other questions without giving myself away. And if I let out too much, me and Scott would be killed.”
Knox was right. This hadn’t been a simple murder committed by a heartbroken boyfriend.
“Please,” Loy pleaded. “I didn’t know she was de mayor’s daughter. I was just trying to protect Scott.”
The phone rang in Rivera’s coat pocket. “It didn’t work,” he said, bringing it out. When he read the name, he answered it quickly. “Hey, Knox … You found Crowe? … What? Okay, all right, I’m on my way.”
He ended the call and returned his attention to Loy. “You need a safe place to stay. Is there an apartment in this building that isn’t occupied?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Which one?”
“Apartment six.”
“Go there and stay.”
“Why?”
“Your apartment isn’t safe right now, even if this building is the safest place I can think of to stick your sorry ass. Stay there until I come for you. Did Knox give you his card?”
Loy said nothing, as if struggling to remember. “Yeah.”
“Good. Call if there’s any trouble.”
The man looked at him. “You’re not gonna arrest me?”
“No.” He turned for the door. “If you run, someone will kill you. I can’t bring you with me where I’m going, and I don’t have time to drive you anywhere else. We’re both going to have to trust each other.”
It was a risk. Loy was a material witness. Letting him out of sight meant he could lose him, but he had little choice. Knox needed him now.
“What did you mean when you said it didn’t work?”
Rivera paused, his expression something between serious and sympathetic. “Your brother’s dead. I saw his body at the morgue earlier this evening.”
* * * * *
The moment the door slammed shut, Nikolai was shoved against it with a gun pressed on his temple.
“You’re him,” the gunman exclaimed, gripping his collar tighter. “You’re the bastard who killed Jade!”
They stood at the top of a concrete stairwell; people at an open doorway below shined flashlights up at them.
“I … I didn’t kill her,” Nikolai stuttered. The gun against his head nearly made him pass out with fear.
“Liar,” the man accused, shoving him harder against the door. “We saw you on TV. You fuckin’ killed her, and now I’m fixin’ to blow your motherfucking head off!”
The man took a step back and aimed his Desert Eagle .50 directly in Nikolai’s face. He threw his arms over his head and turned away.
“Kip!” someone bellowed. The man snatched a flashlight from one of the bystanders and bolted up the stairs. “Put that goddamn gun away.”
The weapon shook in Kip’s hand, but didn’t lower. “He murdered her, Marko. She was a friend and he killed her.”
“He came here for a reason,” Marko disputed, stopping a step down from the top. “He didn’t just stumble on us. Now, put the gun away and let him talk.”
Nikolai raised his head as the man called Kip slowly lowered his weapon. When it was down, he let loose the breath he’d been holding.
“What are you doing here?” Marko asked.
“Before she died, Jade—”
“You mean before you killed her,” Kip interrupted bitterly.
“Shut that hole in your face, Kip,” Marko ordered.
There was a brief silence before Nikolai spoke again. He eyed Kip. “Before she died, Jade left me clues to find something.”
“What?”
“This.”
Kip kept a watchful eye on him as Nikolai’s hand sank into his pocket. When he brought it out again, Kip gaped in surprise.
“It’s an MIR card,” Nikolai explained, showing it through the plastic zip-lock bag. “Jade hid it. She wanted me to bring it to you.” He handed the card to Marko. “I didn’t kill her. I was set up. If you don’t believe me, then fucking shoot me.”
Knox reached Montgomery Hospital and went inside. The skyline building made him feel like he’d entered a five-star hotel by accident. The black tile floor reflected the lights above in little dots, giving the illusion that he was walking among a starry sky. The center of the lobby had a pond built from natural stone with live plants. A small waterfall trickled off a short drop into the shallow pool below. Gliding beneath the water in colors of silver, red, and white was a school of koi. The little area was like an oasis.
The palatial hospital served those who could afford its regal accommodations. It wore multiple hats in healthcare, providing every medical need known to man.
“Can I help you?” a nurse asked from behind a white marble Information desk.
He was so drawn in by the mystical atmosphere that he almost didn’t hear her. “Sorry? Oh, right. I’m looking for Douglas Crawford. I was told he checked in for malaria.”
She typed the name into her computer and her apple-shaped face scrunched up. “Mr. Crawford is here, but he didn’t come in to be treated for an illness.”
“Really? Where is he?”
She directed him where to go, and he left for the elevator. As he stepped off on a higher floor, he called out to someone walking by. “Excuse me, is this the recovery area?”
“Yes,” the man replied, lowering a clipboard, “but visiting hours are over.”
Knox flashed Rivera’s badge. “I’m looking for Douglas Crawford. I was told he was on this floor?”
The man used a touch pen to bring up the name on the screen of his clipboard. “He’s in Room 29.”
Knox headed in the direction the man pointed. Several thoughts waltzed through his mind as he traveled down the vacant hallway. Although he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help but feel hurt by Osborn’s betrayal. He and the chief went back many years, even worked on a few cases together when they were detectives. They’d never invited one another over on Sunday to watch the Super Bowl, but he’d saved the man’s life. Now he didn’t know whether or not his own life was in danger. Mason hadn’t taken him down, which might have forced Osborn into using another method to get him out of the way. That was his suspension.
His actions were risky. If anyone discovered that he was poking his nose where it wasn’t supposed to be, the consequences could be devastating. Even so, he felt it was still his case. He’d known from
the beginning that something big was taking place. Every step he took only confirmed that.
His thoughts switched back to the area of the hospital he was in. He reached Room 29 and slowly opened the door, uncertain what mysteries he’d uncover. Then he took out his gun and went inside.
Chapter 17
Detectives and police crowded the subway station, snapping pictures of bodies and the damage. Paramedics attended the wounded, along with some shocked passengers still in hysterics.
“Are you sure it was him?” the sergeant asked the officer who’d nearly taken Crowe into custody.
“I saw his face,” she whispered angrily to both the sergeant and another officer. “I had Crowe until those … those things came in blasting.”
Sergeant Riley understood Anderson’s anger. Both he and Freeman had had him in their grasp, only to have him slip through their fingers.
“He warned us,” Freeman put in. “He told me about the Replica. He saved our lives.”
Riley remembered what Freeman had said just before he’d re-entered the train.
“We have to stand down.”
“Why? We have him in our sights. If we get through those doors, we can take him out.”
“No, we can’t. That kid just told me it’s a fucking Replica.”
The other cops, ready to barge in after the gunman, had re-evaluated their bravado upon hearing the word Replica.
“He’s on the move,” a cop had shouted from outside. “And he’s taking a body with him!”
Through the window, Riley witnessed the Replica run over the officers it killed, then crash through the doors at the end of the cars. Dragging the bloody corpse of a Replica behind it, the thing had gone through the train and hadn’t stopped until it reached the end where it had crashed through the last door and vanished into the tunnel.
“Jesus,” one of the cops had gasped, standing by him. “He was a Replica. We could’ve been killed.”
Riley had never seen such atrocities. The slaughter left him more jaded than he could ever imagine. He turned to Freeman. “What are you saying? That if you spotted Crowe on the street now, you’d let him go?”
“Hell no! I could always use an extra four million in my checking account.”
“Should we report it?” Anderson asked.
Riley shook his head. “No. Wouldn’t be a good idea on our part. Some people have already mentioned him, but I’m not going to say anything about how we let him get away.”
“I second that,” Freeman agreed.
Five well-dressed individuals came down the escalator. Stepping off, they walked in triangular formation, moving in sync with each other. Riley immediately put on his game face.
“This is a restricted area,” he said, intercepting them. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
A woman at the front displayed her identification. He leaned in to read her badge. “Adel Terwilliger, S.H.A? What the hell does that stand for?”
“Special Human Affairs,” she answered stiffly.
“Special Human Affairs? Never heard of you. Who sent you?”
“We represent Doctor Linden,” she explained shortly. “I assume you’ve heard of him?”
He thought for a moment before the name registered. “Isn’t he the nut-job who made those damn Replicas?”
Terwilliger’s face soured. “Linden is one of the greatest geniuses of our time.”
“Yeah, well, this genius you’re so wet for has a few of his monsters loose in our city.”
She took in a deep breath before she continued. “That’s the reason why we’re here, Officer …?”
“Sergeant Omar Riley,” he answered petulantly.
“Yes, well, we need to get to the bottom of what happened.”
“What happened?” he mimicked testily, placing his hands on his hips. “What happened here, sweetheart, is one of those things busted into a subway train, shot up what we hope was another Replica, and killed some of my officers.” As he spoke, Terwilliger’s eyes glazed over. “We’re gonna hunt for the damn thing, take it out, and send it back to Linden in a hundred Tupperware containers.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she snapped. “We’ll find the model ourselves and deal with him appropriately. You and the others won’t speak a word to anyone about what’s transpired here. Not to other officers and especially not to the press. Understood?”
He was appalled. “Excuse me? You got a lotta shit witchoo. I plan to blow the whistle on Linden and bring his little lab out there on Mill Rock crashing down. That’s the least he deserves after what his creation did to those officers.”
She peered over her shoulder at the man behind her. He got on his phone, spoke briefly, and pressed END. Riley’s own phone rang in his pants pocket.
“Your chief wants to speak with you,” she said.
He considered her a moment before taking out his phone. “Riley.”
“Riley!” Osborn exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Sir, I’m sure you’ve been briefed about our situation, and now, to top it off, I have to deal with—”
“Riley,” Osborn said in a low voice, “listen very carefully to me. If word leaks about what went down, the entire city will go into a freaking meltdown. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Sir, but—”
“Don’t argue with me on this. Do you want to be knocked back down to a beat cop?”
“No, sir, but the public has the right to know what’s out there.”
“The public doesn’t need to know jack shit,” Osborn said hotly. “It won’t do them any good telling them something that will most likely never interfere in their lives anyway.”
“Sir, I don’t understand.”
“Those people who you’re giving a hard time to are there to help, so you best do what they say.” Then he added something that made Riley’s palms sweat. “You don’t want the mayor to find out that you let his daughter’s killer go, do you?”
His jaw unhinged and hit the ground. “How did you…?”
“The security footage has been sent to my computer. I watched—on the brink of vomiting—as you let Crowe leave when you had him right there. Now, I’m willing to let it slide,” he said in a reasonable tone, “on account that you didn’t know. But trust me; the mayor will be less forgiving. Got it?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get to work and keep your mouth shut.”
“Are you ready to cooperate now?” Terwilliger asked.
He stood shocked, then nodded. “What is it you need from us?”
She gave him his instructions. The passengers were told that the Replicas weren’t Replicas after all, but dangerous fugitives. The other officers were instructed to keep quiet, and the footage was erased.
Just like that, the crisis was resolved.
“We’re not going to kill you, Nikolai,” Marko assured him. “We just need to make sure you’re not on the wrong side.”
Before he could ask anything, Kip said, “What’s this?”
Kip snatched Jade’s note from his pocket. It had become partially exposed when he’d brought the MIR card out.
“Hey,” he exclaimed, reaching for it before remembering the Desert Eagle. “That’s private, asshole!”
Kip unfolded the note and started reading. After skimming through it, he handed it over to Marko. “It’s from Jade.”
Marko took the letter. “I have to read this,” he said, taking out his glasses.
With a deep sigh, Nikolai turned away and rubbed his forehead. As he did, Kip pointed at the broken handcuffs around his wrist. “Are ya sportin’ some bad boy trend with those?”
He slapped his hand away. “Fuck off.”
Marko finished the letter, slipped his glasses back inside his shirt pocket, and said, “Come with me.”
Nikolai glared at Kip, who directed him with his gun. Without a word he descended the stairs with Kip behind him. When they reached the bottom, the group parted for them.
“I know you’re loaded with questions right now, so I’m going to fill you in about us,” Marko explained as they made their way through a dark kitchen. When they reached a pair of double doors, he stopped. His dark face reflected in the dim light coming through two circular windows. “What I’m about to tell you and what you’re about to see can never be repeated to anyone, understand?”
Nikolai nodded without hesitation. Marko continued. “In the past hundred years, maybe longer, there’s been a special group of people who’ve blended into the government’s little world, exposing dark secrets to the public. They’re known only as the Organization. We’re part of this Organization.”
Nikolia snorted.
“The Organization? That’s not very original.”
“Exactly. That’s the whole idea. There’re so many organizations in existence that no one knows who’s doing what in which group.”
“What does this group do?”
“We’re suppliers of the never-ending demand for the truth.”
“All right, I’ll bite. What kind of dark secrets?”
“For example, Watergate. In 2005, it was the leak about wiretapping on calls made overseas, and in ’07, we exposed information about cloned soldiers going into the Iraqi War. The Organization’s biggest achievement came in 2023, when evidence surfaced about medical companies withholding the cure for AIDS, diabetes, and most cancers. We let the public know that they’d kept this knowledge to themselves to gain billions of dollars for treatment of those diseases.”
“That was you?”
“Wicked, huh?” Marko beamed. “Because of the Organization, people with AIDS and diabetes have been cured worldwide. But we also work on the government’s behalf to flush out spies and traitors aiming to harm the country. We’re like bugs. We bury ourselves in walls and floors to spy on the ones abusing their power.”
The Warning Page 19