Chapter
48
FOUR FACES STARED back at John Puller.
Four women.
They were young. They were professional.
And they were all dead.
He had looked at these photos before, without much success.
He leaned back in his chair in his motel room and did another search on the name Atalanta. According to mythology, Atalanta had been left on a mountaintop by her father to die. Only Atalanta was cared for by a she-bear and survived. She became an exemplary fighter and huntress and a committed virgin, spurning advances from all men and even challenging them to footraces, with death to the loser. But a clever fellow enlisted the aid of Aphrodite and beat Atalanta in a race. They married and had a son. Then Atalanta and her husband were turned into lions by a goddess who felt they had disrespected her.
Puller rubbed his eyes and wondered where any of this crap was getting him. He had never once in his life used mythology to track down a criminal, and he really didn’t want to start now.
He settled on his other possible lead. Crushing injuries. The women had all suffered crushing injuries.
He closed his eyes and thought back to the crime scene at the Grunt.
The medical examiner had used that word several times.
Crushing.
Paul the bouncer looked to be in his fifties. He had completely destroyed a group of big, strong men. Manhandled them in fact. Puller had been jumped by one, and though he had beaten the guy with his superior fighting skills, he hadn’t crushed any part of the man. And it had been a tough fight.
And Paul had clearly wanted to get out of there before the police arrived. So who, or what, was this guy? Was he the super freak that he and Knox had speculated might have come out of Building Q? Thirty years ago he would have been in his twenties. But if so, why would he be a bouncer at the Grunt? Had he remained in the area after all these years? Why? It made no sense.
Puller’s phone rang. He looked at the screen.
It was Knox.
Puller hesitated. But if he didn’t answer, he supposed she would just call back until he did.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” she said immediately.
“Why?”
“Because all hell broke loose last night in Hampton.” She paused. “What do you know about that?”
“I heard the sirens.”
“Don’t lie to me, Puller! I’m staring at a police report that has you listed as being on the scene and shooting and killing someone.”
“Well, that was quick work on your part.”
“So what do you know?” she persisted.
Puller hesitated and looked at his watch. “You have time for some breakfast?”
She didn’t respond at first. “Just like that? After kicking my ass to the curb?”
“We all have to eat.”
“Where and when?”
He told her.
He grabbed a shower, changed his clothes, and drove to the hole-in-the-wall diner he’d spotted previously. He didn’t want to do this, because he didn’t fully trust her. But another part of him realized he needed Knox’s resources if he was to have any chance of solving this case.
Knox was already seated at a booth in the back with a cup of coffee in front of her. She wore jeans, a black blazer, three-inch boots, and an expression that could have melted titanium.
He sat down across from her, ordered a coffee, and fingered the plastic menu she slid across to him.
“You look good,” he said.
She took a sip of coffee, gave him a blank stare, and said, “Don’t try to play nice. You are already on my last nerve.”
“Didn’t know that.”
“Like hell.”
He sat forward. “You eating?”
“I’m close to pulling out my gun and shooting you.”
He looked down at the menu. “Let me order first. I’d rather die on a full belly. I’m going to have the All-American. Lots of carbs and protein. From your expression I’m going to need it.”
She watched him order and then shook her head when the waitress turned to her for her order.
The waitress left and Knox sat forward. “Well? You called the meeting.”
Ten minutes passed and Puller talked the whole time, telling Knox in information-filled paragraphs almost everything he had learned since he had last seen her, including following Helen Myers to Building Q where she had met up with Josh Quentin. And the French gent who’d taken a morning train to Washington, D.C. And about Paul the bouncer and his extraordinary fighting abilities. He pulled out his camera and showed her the pictures he’d taken. When he got to the more technical frames Knox focused even more intently.
“Puller, this one has to do with cell mutation.” She forwarded the frame. “And this one looks like it’s some sort of organ regeneration concept.”
“Well, I’m glad you can make some sense of it.”
“If they were passing secrets I thought it would be dealing with the exoskeletons and liquid armor the woman told you she was working on there. This stuff isn’t military-grade material.”
The next moment his breakfast showed up.
He glanced at Knox, who was staring at him. “You look hungry all of a sudden,” he said.
“I’ll have the pancakes,” she said to the waitress.
The woman walked off and Puller dug into his meal. As he lifted his fork to his mouth, Knox put out a hand and gripped his arm.
“Okay, Quentin is passing this stuff to Myers and Myers to the French guy. It’s not military secrets, but it’s obviously something valuable.”
“Right. I wish I could have stopped the guy, but I had no grounds.”
“But you have his picture and the fact that he speaks French. That’s something. I can get his image into a facial recognition database. It’s not just criminals but also people of particular interest to our government. If the guy is on that list we’ll find out who he is.”
“Sounds like a start. And we can also lean on Myers to cooperate if the database comes up zero.”
“This bouncer guy. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. His name is Paul. We have his description. We can get a BOLO out. He wanted no part of the cops.”
“But do you really think he’s the guy who murdered those women? I mean, what are the odds?”
“Longer than I can calculate. But that still doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. People do win the lottery. Maybe this is just our turn.”
“So he killed all those guys with his bare hands?”
“Yes. He crushed them, in fact.”
Knox drew in a quick breath. “Like the murdered women?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask the people at the bar about him?”
“I intend to. Last night was a little chaotic.”
“Right, of course. But if we can get to this Paul guy.”
“Might be the tip of the iceberg. And we’re not the only ones after him.”
“What do you mean?”
“The attack on the bar? They were after Paul, I’m sure of it.”
“Why would a gang of killers target him?”
“They might have been paid to do it.” He sat forward. “And now you can tell me why you suddenly called out of the blue.”
He expected some sharp retort. He didn’t get it.
“Puller, we have a situation.”
He lowered his fork and said, “I understand we have a situation. You told me that when we last met.”
Knox drew a breath. “Right.” She said nothing else.
Puller took a bite of food and a sip of coffee, then set down his cup. “Well?”
“Not here.”
“We can go back to where I’m staying.”
They arrived there thirty minutes later.
Knox leaned against the wall while Puller sat in the one chair looking up at her.
When she said nothing he spoke up. “First you show up out of the blue. Then you
disappear. Then you show back up with a story about this friend of yours scared to death and tell me about this possible cover-up.”
“I came back to help you. And you just walked away,” she added bitterly.
“I was trying to protect you.”
She barked, “I can protect myself, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He nodded and said in a rapid-fire manner, “Okay. Agreed. So you’re back. I need your help. What can you tell me?”
She seemed about to bark at him again, but she swallowed, ran a hand through her hair, and with that movement all of the anger seemed to drain from her.
“The situation?” prompted Puller, who was watching her closely.
“Remember Mack Taubman?”
“Your friend who almost had a heart attack when you told him about what we were investigating?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
Chapter
49
PULLER ROSE AND stared at Knox.
Knox kept her gaze on the floor.
Puller said, “How?”
“They’re not sure. It could be suicide.”
“Gun?”
She shook her head. “They don’t know what exactly. But from the little I heard there was no outward wound or signs of foul play. Mack might have taken poison.”
“Or someone might have fed it to him,” countered Puller.
“I don’t know,” said Knox distractedly.
“Was he found at home?”
“Yes.”
“Did he live alone?”
“Mack’s wife had died. His kids were grown.”
“If they suspect suicide, was there a note?”
“I don’t know, Puller.”
“Did he ever strike you as suicidal?”
“No, but I hadn’t seen him in a while. And I told you this had rocked him. Maybe our conversation led him to kill himself.”
Knox slumped down and sat on the floor.
“If it did, Knox, you had no way of knowing. It was on him, not you.”
“Easy to say.”
“Yeah, it is. But it’s also the truth.”
“Mack Taubman was a tough guy, Puller. He’d seen it all. I can’t believe he would kill himself over this.”
“Did he contact anyone before he died?”
“I wish I knew. But that’s out of my hands.”
“No way to find out?” he asked.
“I’ve made calls, but the gates have already shut.”
Puller stared down at the floor for a few moments. “Okay, Knox, I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t.”
She gazed up at him. “Why?”
“Because I know how hard this has been on you. And I know you’ve told me more than you normally would. And I appreciate that.”
She wiped at her face and continued to look at him.
“It was the Vice President who got me back on the case.”
Knox stood unsteadily and placed a hand against the wall. “The VP? The VP!”
“Yeah, the guy who takes over if the President goes down.”
“Holy shit. You met him?”
“He called me over for a drink, a free ticket back on the job, and a warning.”
“But why him? Why the hell did he get involved?”
“That one’s easy. My father was his mentor. He was repaying a favor. But that’s as far as he’d go. And just so you know, he’s scared too. And he’s not privy to everything. And he will never officially acknowledge his intervention.”
Knox stared at him dumbly. “The Vice President of the United States is scared?”
“Everybody gets scared from time to time, Knox, even the Vice President. But we need to focus. Some thoughts are coming together for me. Want to hear them?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I have to tell you something first.”
She crossed the small room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I didn’t exactly show up on your doorstep for the reasons I said I did.”
“Astonishing,” replied Puller coolly.
“When the allegation came out about your father killing your mother I was called in by my boss. He obviously knew that we had worked together.”
“And was it his idea to have you try to seduce me?” asked Puller, his gaze never leaving her face.
Her face flushed. “No, that…that was on me.”
Puller looked a bit taken aback by this. “Okay. Go on.”
“I just thought they wanted me to see if the allegations were true, although I didn’t understand why it was any concern of my agency’s.”
“And did there come a time when you began to understand?” asked Puller.
“It’s why I left when I did. Things were not adding up. We were getting into areas that smacked of a black hole. Federal investigations do not get shit-canned for no reason, Puller. The FBI does not go home with its tail between its legs. A serial murder case doesn’t go up in smoke. There is a cover-up, at the highest levels. So it’s clear now that a government project did go sideways thirty years ago and it resulted in the deaths of those women.”
“Meaning Building Q?”
She nodded.
No Man's Land Page 32