Codename: UnSub (The Last Survivors Book 2)

by Declan Finn

  Furthermore, she had been informed weeks ago about Anderson’s confrontation with “Emmanuel.” Given the coloring of the killer, she had suspected he was Emmanuel Wellering, but since Anderson said he was killed, she didn’t think it worth mentioning. Apparently she was wrong.

  There was, therefore, only one reason that Anderson would come to her; he needed a way to defeat this bastard for certain, and possibly the route Kaye had tried to take: his nanites.

  Lotus knew Anderson better than Kaye did, and knew more or less what he was willing to do. She also had more experience with Kyle, and thus knew what a man of action was capable of. “Do you still have Nevaeh’s phone?”

  Anderson blinked, nodded, and pulled it out. Lotus smiled slightly and took it, placing it on the nearest workbench. “My price…?”

  “Yes?”

  Her eyes flickered to the couch over in the corner. “Sleep. I’ll be done before morning. I’ll wake you then.”

  Chapter 34: Pursuit

  Amanda Esmeralda “Mandy” Rohaz walked into the Pyramid building with her duffel over her shoulder, wearing all the accoutrement of her profession short of weaponry. She felt almost naked without it, but she was highly trained, vicious, and had no problem with gouging someone’s eyes out before beating them over the head with whatever rock was handy.

  Besides, she had to learn to relax sooner or later. If she were always on high-alert in San Francisco, she’d probably be marked as a “tourist” and thus a victim.

  Then again, hot girl in San Francisco. Yeah, they’re going to think I’m a target anyway. That’s why you’re leaving your uniform on. So that no one is dumb enough to jump you.

  Mandy walked up to the front desk, smiled, and said, “Rohaz, Mandy, here to go up to the top floor.”

  The one on the front desk – big, black, with hands larger than her head – gave her a broad grin and nodded. “Lieutenant, you’re clear to go up.”

  She nodded. “Thanks, sergeant…?”

  “Perry, ma’am.”

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me ma’am, I work for a living.”

  Sergeant Perry chuckled. “That’s my line.”

  Mandy looked him up and down. “I’m sure. But it was my father’s first.”

  “I know…ma’am.” He nodded at her bag. “You want me to take that bag for you?”

  Mandy grimaced at the thought, but slowly, reluctantly, handed it over. “I guess I better. I don’t want to be carrying hand grenades around the city. I might just nuke all of it and leave.”

  He took the bag, hefted it over the “I hear ya…ma’am.”

  She laughed this time. “Don’t push it, Perry. My father might send you to Siberia.”

  He shrugged. “I could use the quiet. Enjoy your trip upstairs.”

  Mandy walked up to the elevator and leaned in close for the retinal scanner. The door opened for her, and she repeated the process to unlock the top floor. Had she been a visitor – like Kevin had been when he called her – she would have been buzzed up to the top floor.

  When Mandy walked in, she waved to the gatekeeper at this front desk. She worried for anyone who called Captain Gina Reynolds a “secretary.” Okay, she was blonde, smiled a lot, looked like a college co-ed, and appeared to have a bust size bigger than Mandy’s head. But she had a masters degree in business, and a bachelors in modern warfare.

  “Hey, Gina. How’re you doing?”

  Gina’s bright blue eyes lit up as she rose from behind the desk. Instead of hugging her, she gave Mandy a high-five. “Mandy! How are you, kiddo?”

  “I’m good, Captain.”

  Gina put a finger to her lips and shushed her. “Don’t say that too loudly. I don’t want to complete intimidate all of the guys around here. They still think I’m a corporal.”

  Mandy waggled her eyes. “Good to know.” She looked around. “The top floor’s sorta empty. Is dad out?”

  Gina nodded. “He flew out of here like a bat out of hell a few hours ago. Do you know Nevaeh Kraft?”

  Mandy blanched. Having Nevaeh mentioned not 48hours ago gave her a sudden bad feeling about this. “Yes. And?”

  “Apparently, someone took a shot at her. Your father pulled out of here with a full tactical team, went to Doc Gabriel’s.”

  Mandy blinked. “That nutjob? What the hell? Don’t we have perfectly good facilities here, or over in the Mission?” she asked, referring to the Mission district of the city, where the entire mercenary contingent in San Francisco hang their guns.

  Gina shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I think it was a request from Anderson.”

  Mandy took a step back, as though settling into a fighting stance. “Kevin?”

  Gina smiled. “Like you’d acknowledge any others?”

  “Funny. Are they there now?”

  “The Major is, I don’t know about Anderson.”

  Mandy frowned. “I won’t need any guns, you think, right?”

  Gina looked at her watch. “It’s been hours since whatever happened, happened. I can’t imagine you’d need a gun right now.” Gina sucked her lips in, thought about it a moment, then reached into her cleavage, much to Mandy’s surprise.

  Gina came out with a device that looked like a lightsaber, then tossed it to Mandy. “In case you need to rope somebody.”

  Mandy grabbed it and blinked. “An EM-hook?” She studied the device, as though it had materialized from nowhere. Why would she carry the “I’ll stick to anything” grappling hook? She looked up at Gina, and noticed that her chest looked a little…deflated. “Really?”

  Gina shrugged. “Sometimes.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the desk. “You try being stuck behind that desk, and see how secure you feel without an arsenal at your disposal.”

  Mandy smirked, thinking about the way she felt handing over her guns at the front desk. “Point taken.”

  Gina flicked her hands at Mandy. “No, shoo, go get your prince charming.” She pointed at the hook. “Feel free to lasso him with that if you need to.”

  Mandy laughed. “I might.”

  ***

  Alek Soubel stalked back and forth in the middle of the field in Golden Gate Park, flicking his Zippo lighter on and off. He didn’t want to be back in the park, not after last time. He wanted to be in the Muir woods, surrounded by thousands of Derringer’s minions. He wanted trees for cover, not a flat, open field.

  But no. Derringer just had to change the rendezvous. He just had to have it in the city. He just had to put Alek’s neck on the line. He just had to play games. He just had to…to…be such a douchebag.

  “You ’kay Alek?” Frank asked him by his side?

  “No, stupid, I am not okay,” Alek said dismissively, not even looking at him. “I am so far from okay, Words fail me. Just…just shut up, stupid.”

  “Okay, Alek.”

  Alek tensed, about to ask why Frank couldn’t learn a new word, but, again, stupid. He sighed. He had to put up with so many stupid people. Sure, they were great playthings, and he didn’t really cared when they broke, but there were days it would have been nice to have someone not be totally brain dead.

  Frank blinked stupidly and looked away. A bird probably caught his attention.

  “Ooo, shiny,” he said.

  Alek paused and looked up. There was a glint of moonlight coming from within a tree.

  Sniper rifle.

  “Gun!” he screamed.

  Frank at least knew what a gun was.

  Alek dove behind Frank, looking for exit routes.

  And there, coming into the clearing, was Harris Derringer, a handgun raised and ready to fire.

  And it was aimed at Alek’s head.

  Then the shooting started, and the world came to an end.

  ***

  Mandy walked up to the modified brownstone as though the Doctor within owed her money. Right now, she figured that Gabriel owed him one slightly-used ex-spy, and Mandy would take him cheap, and not break his kneecaps.

  The last thing
that I need is to listen to that nut job shrieking his usual paranoid gibberish. That’s assuming that the schmuck hasn’t gotten even more nuts since I last saw him.

  Mandy took the steps two at a time, then used the EM-hook to pound on the door. “Lemme in, Doctor, or I’ll be happy to take the door off its hinges.”

  “You and what army?”

  “I’ll huff, puff, and blow the door down.” Actually, with the hook, I can probably use a lamp post as a pulley and rip the door off. “All I want is Kevin. Tell him I’m here.”

  The door opened. Instead of the eccentric Doctor, there stood her father in full battle fatigues, sidearm at his hip, full assault rifle slung over his shoulder, cigar clamped in his teeth. “Mandy. You’re a little early.”

  Mandy shrugged. “Told the plane to hurry.” She looked around her father. “Did I miss him?”

  “You could say that. Come in.”

  Mandy stepped through the door, and wondered when the doctor’s office became an armed camp. She could identify five of the nine mercenaries that her father had brought with him. She couldn’t even see the doctor who ran the place.

  “Was there a party?”

  That’s when a priest came through a door, wiping his hands. He looked like a cross between an old marine and a gorilla, with short-cropped, silver hair. His bright, violet eyes met Mandy’s as he offered his hand to her. “Hello, Lieutenant Rohaz. Good to see you again.”

  Mandy smiled. “Monsignor Patel, good to see you again.”

  He smiled. “You can call me Father Jack. Still.”

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “Sure. What’s happening?”

  Jack gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s a bit of a long story.”

  “The serial killer came back from the dead,” Major Rohaz stated bluntly. “He’s hunting ’challenges.’ And you were right, he was more complicated than we thought. He’s Kaye Wellering’s son.”

  Mandy blinked. That was sudden. “When did Kaye spawn? When she was five?”

  “Forty.”

  Mandy groaned. “Hacker technological shit. Crap. And this serial killer isn’t dead for the same reason?”

  “He’s basically a supervillain,” one of the grunts muttered.

  Mandy looked around. “Let me guess. Kevin, by himself, is hunting this prick down?”

  “Last time he went out,” Father Jack said, “he told us he was heading to the Ground Zero.”

  Mandy braced herself to charge out the door, then remembered why everyone was here. “How’s Kraft?”

  “Nevaeh is fine,” Rohaz said. “Thus far.”

  Jack nodded. “There’s a lot of internal bleeding. But she got here quickly, within the Golden Hour. She should be fine. Kevin got her here in a matter of minutes.”

  Mandy blinked. “Kevin was there?”

  Rohaz nodded. “He did well, too. Apparently, he went into her magic shop while it was on fire, pulled her out. Even though she was aspirating blood and the shop exploded.”

  Mandy’s eyes widened, thinking of her dream, of Kevin’s dead wife. She had caught debris from an exploding building. She had died aspirating blood, lit from the flames of a burning building.

  Oh shit. “I need to find him. Now.”

  ***

  Emmanuel Wellering looked down at the Hacker’s Union building through a telescopic sight. This would be brilliant, of course. All of his kills were brilliant. So much better than Kyle Elsen’s, of course. He had one shot with a .20mm HEAP round, which would blow his mother into enough pieces to decorate the entire building side. This was assuming he couldn’t take out her personal security in time. But he was certain he could manage. This was just for security.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to point at your elders, especially not with a sniper rifle?”

  The rifle was dropped and his pistol drawn before the speaker could even move. Kevin Anderson merely stood at the roof’s edge, leaning back on the low wall around the perimeter. The exile’s hands were stuffed in his pockets against the early morning chill, but he was otherwise comfortable. He even had that annoying, amused little smile on his face.

  “My mother didn’t bother,” Emmanuel told him.

  Kevin nodded. “Of course. You know, you’re unlucky that you got me.”

  He smiled broadly. “Unlucky I got you? You’re nothing. You’re not an assassin.”

  “I suppose I should’ve called Kyle in to kill you,” Kevin continued as though the killer had not spoken, “but you know what? I don’t like you. You’ve gotten on my nerves, you’ve threatened my friends, you assaulted and nearly killed another one of them, and I’m tired of futzing around.

  “And yes, I say unlucky. Kyle’s a professional, he may hurt you a little before you die, but you’d die far too quickly for my taste. And there wouldn’t be any horror to it at all. I’ve decided that you deserve a little pain before you go.”

  The killer smiled. “Really? And what exactly makes you think that you can do that? You don’t even have a gun on you, and I’m better at anything you can do.”

  A shrug. “Perhaps. But you see, I don’t give a damn what you think, because I can understand you, and you’re not exactly an opinion I’d respect.”

  The seemingly younger man giggled. “And what makes you think you know me?”

  “Well, to start with, you’re no assassin, you enjoy killing people far, far too much, and that just wouldn’t be tolerated. Hell, you scare the Children of Thanatos, and they’re usually the nightmare creatures in this city. You’re bright, and brilliant, but you’re also boastful and whimsical about what you do and how you kill. And you spend way too much time talking. Should I even bother to mention that you’re a sociopath?”

  “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but a bullet will turn your brains into an aerosol spray.”

  The spy rolled his eyes. “Given your intelligence, I’d figure you would be more creative, but wordsmithy isn’t your forte, is it?”

  The serial killer shook his head. “No, I’ve spent too much time with computers. Haven’t you noticed that I lack social skills?”

  “That’s generally what a sociopath is, though in your case, I think it links back to the original definition of ‘pathos’—you’re a plague on society, even in San Francisco, and that’s really hard.” He took a step forward, slowly and carefully. “Besides, you’re not going to shoot me. You want to break me in two. You want to leave me a beaten and bloody mess on the ground, don’t you? Leave me helpless and in pain while you break me piece by piece, right?”

  Emmanuel smiled slightly, enjoying the thought of it. “But I’m busy. I have to kill someone.”

  “Your mother won’t be getting here anytime soon. I delayed her escort so we could have this little heart to heart.”

  He paused. “How did you know that Kaye is my mother?”

  “You mean aside from the fact that most serial killers take after their mother, usually with a hatchet? You tipped your hand with that little stunt—ooh, look at me, I can heal myself. You left fingerprints of yourself all over the city.

  “Your mother’s an egomaniac who uses people like puppets, and likes them only insofar as they are useful to her. You tried to find a different puppetmaster, someone else to mold yourself on, and you found Kyle.

  “Kyle didn’t like you, so you’ve decided to do what all serials do—kill the one who spawned you, on multiple levels. Kaye gave birth to you, and she created the rest of your personality. For some reason, she’s really into control, and that makes guys like you want to get your own power—the power of the kill. It’s what created creatures like Alek Soubel, and it made you. Kaye really likes control, and since you never had it, this is your way of taking it. Sound right?

  “As for how I found you, well, I cut you off from most other targets. She was next.”

  Emmanuel merely looked at him a moment, and then smiled, and chuckled, and then broke into a full out belly laugh.

  And then the assassin-trained, unkillable mo
nstrosity attacked.

  ***

  Mandy bypassed the line outside of the Ground Zero. She didn’t even bother looking at the bouncer. Her helmet’s HUD visor scanned the bouncer’s face, and the profile header said simply, “Leo,” and after that, she dismissed the file.

  Mandy marched into the bar, and charged directly for the bartender. The orange-haired mixologist glanced at her, raised a brow, and reached under the bar.

  Mandy raised the EM-hook, pointing it at the bartender. “Reach for it, I put this right through your head.”

  Orange-head didn’t even blink. “That’s a grappling hook.”

  Mandy smiled. “It’s a grappling hook that can punch a whole through a brick wall. I’m reasonable sure it can go through your head.”

  The bartender smiled. “And I’m not reaching for a gun. I touched a button.”

  A hand landed on her helmet and lifted her off the ground.

  Mandy sighed. “Command: taser.”

  The bouncer immediately had a million volts going through him. Thankfully for Leo, the amperage wasn’t high enough to kill him, but it was definitely going to slow him down.

  Mandy’s feet hit the floor, and she didn’t even bother to look back at the bouncer, just focused on the bartender. The HUD showed her a profile. The profile header said “Mickie,” real name Jana Hollyfeld…and don’t drink whatever she served.

  “Listen, Jana,” Mandy said, “you’re going to tell me where Kevin Anderson is so I can save him from hellspawn.”

  Jana just shrugged. “You’re going to have to pay me for that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m an information broker. It’s what I do.”