Codename: UnSub (The Last Survivors Book 2)

by Declan Finn

  He ripped tape with his teeth, unrolling it with one hand, while with the other he came across something on her body—a cellular phone.

  “Clever girl,” he muttered.

  The first question was who to call. He knew quickly enough.

  “Mercenaries Guild, how may I direct your call?” That must have been the secretary with the massive chest that hid the (just-as) massive machine pistol.

  “Code Blue, emergency transmission for Major Antonio Rohaz. This is Kevin Anderson, serial number 1597, I have Nevaeh Kraft about a block from her magic store, and she’s hurt badly. I request a medevac chopper immediately.”

  Suddenly there was a click, followed by the harshly clipped voice of Rohaz. “She’ll have a fully armed escort of gunships. What happened?”

  Kevin took less than a second to think about it. Emmanuel had disappeared for over a month, vanishing into thin air without rhyme or reason, only to reemerge now. Why? He came out and attacked what was easily the most dangerous woman in San Francisco. Had he taken the time to heal or…

  Dangerous…He’s a hunter, a killer in it for fun…he was killing his way up the food chain…the gangs that were wiped out in Chinatown…what if the Tongs had nothing to do with it? That means he was hunting challenging prey…Like Kyle’s targets, but he can’t have those anymore… “He’s a well-trained serial killer, major. I think you’re also next on his list—and be careful, sir, he eats guys like you and me for breakfast.”

  There was a pause. “Has Kyle gone insane?”

  “No, but this maniac might as well have been trained by an Assassin…” He tore off more duct tape for Nevaeh, and it hit him. “Crap- I missed it the whole time. He’s been trained by an Assassin —Derek.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You said it yourself, Major. He trained whoever had the cash. Kyle probably figured it out and didn’t tell me.” Kevin looked down at Nevaeh and glowered. “I think I’ll have to pay Kyle to hurt him now.” He shook his head sharply. “I need Dr. Gabriel Seiger, you know him?”

  “The only man in San Francisco more mercenary than anyone I know? We’ve met.”

  “He owes me one.”

  To tell the truth, Gabriel owed him more than anyone could ever repay. Each day the annoyingly loud doctor survived was a day that Kevin allowed him to live. If anyone else knew about the enigmatic Doctor, Kevin didn’t know, but it wasn’t likely. Gabriel had other secrets that could get him killed, but Kevin knew the secret.

  He had actually come upon it by accident last year, when Kevin was new in town. The two had met briefly when Kyle had adopted the newly arrived spy. The Doctor was, at first glance, insane. At second and third, he wasn’t much better. Any crazier, Kevin would have expected him to wear a nine-foot long scarf and compulsively offer jellybeans to everyone who came in the front door.

  Later, Kevin came across the Doctor’s building and found the front door taken off its hinges. He followed a trail of bodies to three guys with guns, all of them attempting to break down Gabriel’s armored office door. Kevin dealt with them, and bent down to talk to the only survivor and said, “Hey there, what seems to be the problem?”

  Kevin listened, then broke the man’s neck. After a moment of silence, Gabriel opened the door, a one-shot dueling pistol leading the way. Kevin slapped it out of his hands, lest the doctor be trigger happy, and added, “We have to talk.”

  Gabriel still owed him from that escapade.

  “I’ll be there in a matter of minutes,” Rohaz told Kevin.

  Anderson nodded then hung up, not looking up from Nevaeh.

  “Look who we have here, boys, the bitch and her prince.”

  Kevin looked up. Five Burners were in front of him, circling like scavengers. “Not now,” he told them flatly.

  One of them chuckled. “I guess he didn’t like what we left in the fire extinguisher, eh?”

  Kevin didn’t even say a word. One moment he was on one knee beside Kraft, and the next, he had delivered an uppercut to the Burner’s face so hard that his head snapped back 90 degrees. Kevin twirled, a blade-hand coming down on the neck of the next Burner, breaking it with a sound like a snapping twig. Kevin’s hand kept moving toward the small of his own back, and he drew his pistol as another Burner charged forward.

  The Burner came at him, cudgel held high, and Kevin wasted no time in grabbing of the man’s wrists in his hand, jabbing the muzzle of his pistol down the Burner’s mouth, then firing. The bullet came out the back of the Burner’s head, and landed in the chest of the fourth. Anderson let his victim fall and whirled on the last, who was readying a Molotov cocktail.

  A tactical baton came down and broke the Burner’s wrist, then his knee. The newcomer wielding it wore a black shirt, pants, with a white collar around his neck.

  The man slid away the baton. “Mr. Anderson, I’m Father Kameron.”

  Kevin nodded. “You know first aid?”

  Kameron shook his head. “Not much more beyond what you’re already doing.”

  He tossed the priest the phone. “I’ll work on her. Just dial and hold the phone.”

  He dropped back on one knee, and Nevaeh was choking. If she dies because of that disturbance, I’ll kill Alek myself.

  Kevin drew a ballpoint pen, readied it, and then jabbed it into her trachea, unscrewing it. The pen’s shell would act as a tube she could breathe through.

  Kevin had the priest call Gabriel’s number first on speakerphone. Kevin had one simple message for the Doctor. “I’m sending you a patient via the Mercenaries’ Guild. If you don’t save her, Gabriel, you will wish I publicized your secret to the world, do you understand?”

  Gabriel would later tell the triplets, and Kyle, that he sounded like the Master Assassin on a really bad day.

  The spy had the priest dial another number—Kyle’s.

  Chapter 29: Almost Got Him

  Kyle had him.

  Kevin’s serial killer had wasted plenty of Kyle’s time. Taking weeks for one contract was embarrassing. Sure, there were others, but that was because clients took too long to hire him – they tried to handle the situation on their own, driving targets underground, giving them plenty of lead time. There were few targets that had given him a lot of trouble, but there had never been another hit that had this many things go so wrong.

  But now Alek was going to show up in fifteen minutes, in the middle of the Muir Woods. He was going to meet with Harris Derringer. And this annoying, frustrating, insane contract would finally be over.

  Kyle smiled at the thought.

  And then his phone vibrated against his leg.

  Kyle blinked, then ground his teeth. No. This cannot be happening. Not again. He picked up the phone, and was patient as heck when he saw whom the caller was. “I’m in the middle of something, Mr. Anderson.”

  Kevin growled. He growled. The man sounded like a feral dog. “Tough, Kyle. Emmanuel isn’t dead. He’s back, and he’s in the mood for a challenge. Nevaeh Kraft has just been hit. If you want to discuss the top ten most lethal bad-asses in town, that leaves you, Father Jack, me and Rohaz as the next major challenges. I’m having Rohaz airlift Nevaeh to Gabriel’s. Meet Jack at his church and bring him to the good doctor. You can stop this freak better than I can if he guns for them.”

  “Kevin,” Kyle said, his patience reaching the breaking point, “I told you, I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Fine, then,” Kevin spat with disdain. “Now you get to prove how much of a soulless killing machine you are. You always say you have no friends, Kyle—so go kill Alek, or help me… your non-friend.”

  There was a sharp click that even sounded angry.

  Kyle “hmph”ed and slid the phone into his pocket, then settled back into position, the butt of the rifle against his shoulder. It was nice and comfortable. No Anderson asking for help, no annoying serial killers rampaging through the city. No old enemies…

  No one to train with. No one to talk with. No problems to solve. Only the kill, one af
ter another. Nothing to do but sit at home, in a haunted building that he had emptied of corpses. No one to play with. There would be no priests to hear his confession. In fact, without Anderson, Kyle wouldn’t even be alive. He, and everyone else in San Francisco, would be dead by now.

  Anderson could have hopped on a plane six months ago and never looked back.

  ***

  Kevin Anderson had the priest hang up, and told him to call Father Jack. Whether Kyle was coming or not, Kevin didn’t want to risk Emmanuel getting to Jack anyway…

  Then again, this guy is half dead…isn’t he?

  With Nevaeh as patched up as well as Kevin could provide, he turned his mind to what had just happened.

  To start with, the entire magic shop had been trashed. The fight had taken the two combatants all over the store, and it looked like they had gone through display cases and stock. Nevaeh was fast, and she was skilled. From what he had seen of her before, her speed was almost supernatural, as though she could simply materialize and pop up again wherever she wanted. The closest he could get to describing her abilities was somewhere as a mix between himself and Kyle, and that was a pretty damn frightening prospect.

  Then again, so was Emmanuel’s own magic trick. Surviving Assassins’ neurotoxin? He would’ve needed immediate on-site care, and he didn’t call his own medevac team, and unless he carries his own doctors around with him…like I do with my medical nanites.

  He heard the helicopter blades overhead and looked up to see several mercenaries rappelling down, a stretcher rolled up in front of them. “Father Kameron, could you go with her?”

  He nodded slowly. “Where are you going?”

  “To hunt someone down and kill him.”

  Kameron nodded. “How? Do you know him?”

  “Sort of, I…” Wait, I overlooked something. I made this personal. Everyone, even Shen Lo, thought the first kill I found was about me. What if the body in Chinatown wasn’t because of me, but because it’s where he lives, is comfortable? That’s why the Children didn’t notice him, because he’s a resident! But what about Nevaeh, on the Embarcadero…near the docks…near Alcatraz? Chinatown and Alcatraz…the sonuvabitch isn’t a client of the Hackers. He is a hacker! But…? “I’ll need the cell.”

  ***

  At the Ground Zero, Mac looked over his records, near giddy at the profits the bar was making. The desk phone rang and he picked it up without looking. “Kyle, I know you’re my biggest fan, but people are going to talk if you—”

  “Mac, shut up, unless you want me to redefine your definition of terror.”

  Mac blinked. It took him a moment to identify that specific voice with that alien tone. “Kevin? Hey, spy-boy, how’s—”

  “I want a yes or no answer, Mac: has there been any increase in bodies near the docks lately? Maybe between the last four weeks and the last year?”

  Mac paused for a moment, looking at the phone as though it had sprouted a head. “How did you know?”

  “Call Kaye Wellering, tell her I’m coming to see her, and it’s an emergency. She either clears me for landing, or I land on top of her.”

  “Wow, that’s an image I didn’t need at this time of—” Click.

  Chapter 30: Hacker’s dilemma

  “I want to see your boss! Now!” Kevin bellowed.

  The term raging bull didn’t quite describe how Kevin had rampaged through the front door. Three security guards ran his way, guns drawn. He charged, making their range advantage useless. He sidestepped out of line for one officer, and felled him with two rapid punches to the kidney.

  The next guard had a chop to his inner forearm, hitting the nerve under the wrist—the gun fell from his numb fingers. Kevin grabbed the gun as it fell, and pistol-whipped the guard as he pivoted, bringing it down on the temple of guard number three.

  Kevin lunged to the secretary’s desk. “Where’s your boss?”

  The tiny redhead looked up at him. “Omar Zephyr is busy.”

  Kevin reached down, grabbed her with both hands, and lifted her up by the arms. He carried her over to the main office and kicked the door open. He stepped past, and then kicked the door closed.

  The madness melted away from his features and he gently put the redhead down. “Sorry about that, Kaye, but your other customers didn’t seem to appear happy that I was cutting the line.”

  Kaye Wellering forced a smile, even though she was confused. She didn’t know what to feel—amused or outraged. She nodded at him vaguely, and stepped around behind the Chairman’s desk for the Hacker’s Union—her desk.

  Part of her problem was that she had a bad feeling about this. Kaye Wellering had met Anderson a few times. The first time, when he breezed into her office, deduced who she was, and what her position was, she was a little annoyed, and a touch impressed. The second time was a series of meetings pounding out an agreement to get priests into San Francisco.

  Both times, she had seen a perfectly nice guy who projected an outer mask of lunacy. Now, it seemed quite the reverse. He appeared to be a man spiraling out of control, and projecting a mask of calm and control over his very being. She suspected that his out of control appearance in the lobby was the true state of his mind, and the calm visage in front of her the mask. He looked tired, frazzled, and he had blood on him… she didn’t think it was his.

  “What is it that requires such a rush?” she asked.

  “You may have heard that there’s been some excitement revolving around a killer in my neighborhood, yes?”

  She nodded. “He was killed, though. So what?”

  Kevin leaned forward. “He had a slight problem with staying dead. I gave him a bloodstream full of Assassin neurotoxin, but he’s still alive. I suspect he has medical nanites in him. Serious medical nanites.”

  The redhead nodded slowly, her green eyes flickering with interest. “So that just makes him a well-off killer. We’ve provided medical nanites for certain members of the elite in San Francisco that could do what you’re talking about. These people spend almost as much money after that to make certain we don’t wind up using them like remote-controlled dummies, but that’s their problem.”

  “Exactly. I need either a list or a name. This includes members of your own union.”

  Kaye looked at him carefully. “And what will you pay for this knowledge?”

  “Your life,” Kevin said dismissively.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, but this creature is going after San Francisco’s most wanted and most dangerous. And I think he’s a Hacker—which puts you on the list twice.”

  She blinked. “What makes you think that?”

  Kevin stood and started to pace as he walked the length of the office. “At first, when he started leaving bodies in Chinatown, I thought that he might have been trying to leave me a message. But I forgot something—most serial killers start where they’re most comfortable. I thought he was just well trained and felt comfortable anywhere, killing like a professional right away. But this guy is different. I met him. He’s not cocky; he’s not overly arrogant. He’s flashy and he’s confident, but nowhere near stupid. He probably started out in a comfort zone—usually where he works or where he lives. In this case, it’s both. Apparently, in the last year, there’s been an increase in bodies at the docks—can you think of another connection between Chinatown and the docks that would also include someone who would use your technology to bug the Ground Zero?”

  Kaye leaned back and thought a minute. “Unfortunately not.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’m looking for a pure, simple sociopath. Typical onset of this sort of thing is between the late twenties and early thirties, but this guy can’t be more than twenty-two. Frightening thing is, I’d not even be surprised if you were his sister.”

  She looked up at him. “Really? I don’t have a brother.”

  He nodded curtly, distracted, his pace increasing. “He’s a foot taller, but he’s got your coloring. If I didn’t know better,
I would say that Emmanuel was your son. But let’s face it, you’re way too young for that.”

  There was a long pause. “Did you say Emmanuel?”

  He gave it an offhand, dismissive wave. “That’s what he called himself.”

  He continued pacing the office like a madman, but his mind had actually ground to a halt. Kaye’s manner and tone had changes. She knew this killer, certainly. But if she didn’t have a brother…

  People who make assumptions are asses, remember that, Kevin, my son.

  The Hackers have never made anything that wasn’t centuries ahead of everyone else in the neighborhood, which is why Emmanuel can recover so fast. But what if their tech was even better? Some of the doctors installing medical nanites into me and other covert agents suggested that I might even live longer than most people, assuming I didn’t get my head blown off in the meantime.

  What if the Hackers took it even a step or ten farther? What if they can fix damage at the cellular level, damage caused by aging? Maybe even reverse the aging process itself? Then this creature wouldn’t be as young as he looked—he could even be Kaye’s son… that would actually explain everything. This isn’t early onset if his aging has been reduced by half. They could both look like they’re barely in their twenties, and be decades apart. And how many serial killers have been the result of egomaniacal, overbearing, controlling parents? Several I can name.

  “My question is,” Kevin pushed on, as though he hadn’t made several radical conclusions, “do you know him, and can you shut him down? Turn him off? Something?”

  Wellering considered it. “It’s possible. But I can’t imagine he’d want to kill me.”

  “Why not? Because you treat your employees well?” he asked, as though he didn’t even suspect something could be off about their relationship. “Like a mother? Serial killers tend to kill their parents first or last.”

  Kaye blinked, as though she hadn’t considered that. “There would be consequences if I died.”