Dark Crypto (Thorne Inc. Book 1)

by Neil Mosspark

Once parked, she sat up and exited the vehicle. Chuck had been running the air conditioner, but the humid air spilled over her, sticking to her skin. Sweat was beginning to form even as they walked toward the elevator.

  “Gabe told me you found this girl in a house in the northern slums.”

  “Yeah, northeast side of the zone. They had her head hooked up to some box with a cable. Apparently plugged her brain into it.”

  “I’m surprised she is alive. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

  “It’s all the new tech spilling out of the zone. Everyone wants a piece of it. Not sure why they were using kids, though.”

  “What was it for?”

  “Don’t know that either,” Olivia said as the elevator doors slid open. Cool air replaced the trapped, cloying moisture. She almost sighed with relief. Chuck led the way, steering them through a moving throng of discharged patients amid the working nurses and doctors. Olivia stood at the periphery while Chuck chatted with the man at the reception desk, flashing his badge.

  She watched everyone come and go. The quiet space near the wall seemed to satisfy the rising irritation behind her eyes. She needed sleep. Lots of it.

  At the reception desk, Chuck identified what floor the girl was on and waved to Olivia to follow. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she followed.

  “She’s on the fourth floor.” Chuck stepped into a nearby elevator, and Olivia continued to follow silently. Mercifully, the enclosed space was free of others.

  “Sorry about being short with you. It’s difficult to deal with people when I have my migraines. I'm not good with people at the best of times.”

  “No worries. Gabe says that you are one of the best people he knows. I trust his opinion.”

  “When did you start working with him?”

  Chuck’s smile was back. “I transferred in about two weeks ago. Been working with him since.”

  “Transferred?”

  “I worked in the Niagara region. Nothing but rich people and lost dogs out there these days. Lots of gated communities. I wanted to make a difference when I joined. Figured I could do that here, so I transferred.”

  “Most cops are trying to go the other way. Looking for cake rather than the sewer.”

  “My dad was a cop.”

  “Where did he work?”

  “Downtown Toronto. We lost him when the black showed up.”

  “That’s rough,” she said. “I lost both of my parents the same way.”

  “Lots of people did. I’m sure he’s still in there, probably at the precinct. I’ll bet you he worked right up until the end. He was a good cop.”

  “Not many of those these days,” she sniped.

  He paused. “I’m a good cop.”

  “You have a short life expectancy then. Don’t fall into the wrong crowd, or someone will take you for a snitch and shoot you in the back in an alley."

  "That's a bit dark."

  Olivia shrugged. "Just my advice.”

  “Are you always this bitter?”

  “Most of the time,” she said as the doors opened. “Which way?”

  “Left.” Both of them stepped out onto the floor and headed toward the reception area nearby. A room full of medical charts was doted on by nurses coming and going. Dull faces reflected that everyone was overworked as much here as down at the police station.

  “We're looking for Sarah Ornell,” Olivia stated to the head nurse working the counter.

  “I’m sorry, visiting hours are over, and she isn’t taking any visitors until tomorrow.”

  Chuck held up his badge. “We're here on police business. It will only take a moment. We just want to ask some questions about who kidnapped her.”

  “Ah, I see. One second, I’ll take you down to her room,” the woman said.

  The nurse retreated, dropping off some files she had been holding onto a nearby desk before returning. “My name is Jana, by the way.” A hand was extended to Olivia, who gripped it tightly, pumped once, and immediately replaced her hands into her jacket pocket.

  Chuck shook Jana's hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for letting us talk to her. We know it's getting late, but we can wrap this up with only a few questions, and then we are out of here.”

  “That’s good. She’s awake now. The surgery was this morning. We were worried that she wasn’t going to wake up. The specialists were very helpful in removing her from that box.”

  “Do you know what the box was doing?”

  “It wasn’t doing her any good, that’s for sure. She had some weird brain scans, but the neurosurgeon said he was optimistic for a full recovery.”

  “Good to hear,” Chuck said.

  Jana led them down the hall and into a room full of patients separated by thin curtains. Olivia could see kids in various states of health lying on the beds. Bags of IV fluids and bandages were prevalent regardless of the animal stickers and patterned blankets.

  “Hey, Mrs. Ornell, we have some visitors from the police department. They wanted to talk to you about Sara.”

  “Olivia!” Mrs. Ornell stood and wrapped her arms around Olivia. The woman’s embrace was so strong that the gun in Olivia's concealed holster dug deep into her own ribs.

  Olivia awkwardly patted the woman on the back, and the mother retracted, still smiling ear to ear. “It's good to see you too again, Mrs. Ornell. This is Chuck, one of the detectives from the precinct. He’s getting some information for the case. We were wondering if we could ask Sarah a few questions.”

  Olivia watched Chuck lean in again and smile. She absently wondered if his teeth were real or veneers.

  Movement in the bed caught her eye. Sara was awake. The dirt-encrusted child that she had plucked out of the ground now appeared human again. The color had come back into her face, and large blue eyes stared at the people in the room. A bandage was swathed around her head, over which sat a crocheted toque. A clear bag of fluids hung above her head, dripping into her arm through an intravenous tube.

  “I like your hat. It’s pretty,” Olivia said.

  Sarah smiled weakly, and Olivia sat on the end of the bed, giving the girl some space.

  Mrs. Ornell chimed in, “Sara, this is the woman who brought you back to us. She’s the one I told you about.”

  The little girl stared silently at Olivia. There was something disturbing in the look of a child who no longer trusted strangers.

  “Sara, I was wondering if you remember anything from when they took you?”

  The little girl shook hear head. The smile disappeared.

  “It was probably pretty scary. I know. I got taken once too.”

  The door creaked open behind them. A blonde nurse in scrubs smiled and entered on the opposite side of Olivia to check on the dripping bag.

  Olivia continued. “Sometimes we remember things afterward. Maybe in a scary dream or maybe when we see something.”

  The girl was looking at Olivia’s tattooed hands. Distrust spilled over into rote horror, and the girl's face was full of fright and anxiety.

  Sara shifted uncomfortably and silently began to cry. The mother leaned in to touch her daughter. “It’s okay. Some people have drawings on their skin.”

  The little girl was pointing to the black anvil tattooed on the back of Olivia’s right hand. Her eyes were wide, and she was beginning to find her voice. Olivia began easing off the bed to give her some room.

  “Excuse me? Who are you?” the head nurse asked. Olivia turned, confused, wondering how she was going to explain a rough mercenary history to the family that had only moments ago seen her as their savior.

  The head nurse was looking past her, though. She was staring at the new nurse, who was adjusting the bag of IV fluid. The younger blonde woman ignored the head nurse and quickly uncapped a syringe.

  "You didn't double-check the patient information before dispensing," the head nurse scolded. "You need to stop."

  Olivia noticed the young woman's hands working quickly as they injected directly into the li
ne. A dark fluid swirled in the clear fluid as it began its crawled down the inside of the tubing toward Sara's arm.

  “Who are you?” the head nurse asked again. Worry and panic dripped in the voice.

  Olivia reached across the bed and grabbed at the plastic tubing in the little girl’s flailing arm. The small, soft limb writhed and contorted to get away as she screamed out in fear. Mrs. Ornell reached up and tried to protect her daughter from Olivia's grabbing arms.

  With fingers wrapped around it, Olivia yanked hard. Fluid, blood, and dark ichor splashed across the sheets.

  A caustic needle clattered to the floor as the would-be nurse turned toward them, lifting her scrub top to reach for a gun tucked into her waistband. By the time Olivia had pulled Sara off of the bed and into her mother's arms, the first shot was fired, catching the real nurse in the forehead. The wall behind exploded in crimson.

  The small child screamed in Olivia's ear as she pushed her into her mother's arms and to the floor.

  By the time Chuck had drawn his weapon, the woman already had hers trained on him. The second gunshot echoed through the hospital room, catching him in the chest. The man’s frame slumped to the floor with a grunt.

  Expertly, the assassin redirected the pistol to the little girl. Olivia exploded over the bed and grabbed the attacker’s wrist, pushing it out of the way as the third projectile launched in a puff of fire and noise. The pillow on the bed puffed as the stuffing erupted out through the new hole. Olivia’s hand clambered to stop the pistol’s slide, pushing back keeping the hammer from connecting with the next deadly rounds inside.

  A fist caught Olivia in the eye, and then again in her jaw before she could get her other arm up to defend herself. Despite the assault, her hand remained steadfast while the room dimmed slightly. A metallic noise told her that a knife was now in play, and the burning across the back of her raised forearm confirmed it.

  Olivia snapped the pistol outward and to the side, breaking the assassin’s trigger finger with a sickening crack. Taking advantage of the situation, Olivia yanked the weapon away but could see the blade arcing toward her neck. Using her free hand, which was now dripping blood from the long gash, she grabbed the fist attached to the knife. Working with the force of the downward thrust, she allowed it to pass close to her own body before redirecting the momentum back toward the assassin. The blade resisted at first, but with a push it broke through clothing, skin, muscles, and organs to seat itself inside the assassin’s heart.

  The imposter nurse staggered, crashing against the wall. Her pink cheeks slowly began to turn grey as her lifeblood pumped out, spattering to the floor. A brain, starved of life-giving oxygen, tried to find an escape route but only had enough time to look at the door before death wormed its way in.

  Olivia raised the pistol and leveled it, scanning the room for more threats. Mrs. Ornell was clinging to her Sara, Jana the nurse was dead on the floor, and Chuck was groaning from somewhere on the opposite side of the bed. With a practiced hand, she lowered the weapon and ejected the magazine into her blood-soaked hand before racking the lethal round out onto the white bed sheets. The empty gun stayed in her hand out of habit.

  “You alive, Chuck?”

  There was no response other than the screaming little girl and her mother’s calls for help.

  “Chuck!”

  Olivia marched around the bed. The rookie was lying on the floor. A tiny, blackened circular hole cut into his shirt near the well-creased buttons over his heart. He lay motionless.

  Olivia’s heart sank for a moment.

  Chuck’s hand came up and felt the middle of his chest. More moans of pain amid heaving attempts at getting his breath. His hands pulled at the shirt, probing the Kevlar vest underneath.

  Olivia looked at the would-be killer dead on the floor. “You okay, Chuck?”

  "I think my ribs are broken." He winced with each breath.

  She bent over him, trying to keep her the dripping blood from her arm away. She could hear him fighting to get air back into his lungs after being winded.

  "Did it go through?" she asked.

  Two men charged into the room, and Olivia looked up. Tasers were drawn. Uniformed security guards trained their Tasers on her. “Hands up!”

  Olivia lifted the killer’s gun and held it above her head, letting it dangle from a finger. She let the weapon drop from her hand onto the bed. All the private security guards could see was a dead nurse, a cop down, and a screaming kid.

  “Guys, I know it looks bad, but I’m a...”

  “Gun!” the nearest man said. Olivia realized that by lifting her hands she had exposed the shoulder holster underneath her left armpit. She saw it on the rent-a-cop’s face before he pulled the trigger.

  Time seemed to slow down as she watched the darts from the Taser fire toward her. She could see the wires uncoiling as they followed the barbed metal projectile. They penetrated the skin of her neck, and crackling pain followed. Her body refused to listen to her commands.

  Ramrod straight, she fell forward, watching the horizon tip. This wasn’t going to help the headache, she thought as her skull connected with the linoleum.

  Chapter 4

  Olivia leaned against the whitewashed concrete wall of the holding cell. Around her criminals waiting to be processed sat on benches, or in the case of one woman, lay on the floor face down in a drunken stupor.

  When Olivia woke four hours ago, she had found that someone at the hospital had hastily bandaged the knife cut on her forearm, but it still pulsed angrily. It was almost as annoying as the black eye and throbbing headache. The worst part of sitting and waiting was not knowing what had happened to Chuck.

  A uniformed police officer stepped forward and called out. “Olivia Thorne, please step forward.”

  Olivia strolled across the floor, eyeing the large man. “I’m Olivia.”

  “Hands through the hole,” he droned, pointing to the chest-level opening between the bars.

  “Really? I’m getting cuffed?”

  “Do you want to stay or go?” he said.

  She looked around her, and the envious masses of hookers, drunks, and petty criminals eyed her back. “Cuffs it is.” Her wrists pushed through the open space to the other side.

  Mechanically, the officer clacked the shackles on binding her. He left her there for a moment before reaching for his radio’s transmit button. “Cell 18, open.”

  A buzzer sounded, and he pulled the door just wide enough for her to step out before sliding it back into place. The clang of metal on metal was a familiar one she had heard most of the night, and now it rang for her.

  He steered her through the maze of cells under the police station and up a set of stairs. Only after passing through a set of locked heavy double doors did she realize where they were. From here she could see the cubical farm that made up the interior of the station. She scanned for Gabriel’s desk and could see him working away at his computer. The man’s hunched shoulders denoted that he was neck deep in paperwork. She wondered for a moment if it was because of her.

  Holding her by an elbow, the police officer led her through the grid of cubicles. She was pleased when the trajectory took them toward Gabe’s desk. He hardly even looked up when the officer pointed to the well-worn chair and told her to sit down.

  “Hands,” the uniformed officer said.

  She lifted her hands and smiled. “You know it's rude to give a girl jewelry then take it back.”

  The man paused and stood up. “Gabriel, you sure you want this one uncuffed?”

  Olivia gave her best mock “I'm hurt” face.

  “Danny, I promise you that she is more trouble to us inside this station than she is outside. Uncuff her.”

  A key unlocked the tight silver bracelets, allowing Olivia to rub her wrists. The officer grunted at her and walked away.

  “He’s pleasant,” she said.

  Gabe slid a plastic cup of tea toward her.

  “Oh you’re a saint.” She reached up
and held it for a moment before sipping on the tepid liquid.

  “I need to hear what happened. Chuck’s in the hospital with some broken ribs and a bruised lung; I have two dead nurses and a little girl and her family in protective custody. You're only out because of the mother." He checked the paperwork to confirm the name. "Mrs. Ornell told us you saved both her and kid from being shot.”

  “Poison. I think.”

  “What?” Gabe stopped focusing on the computer and leaned back in his creaking chair.

  Olivia sipped on the tea again, letting the lukewarm liquid wash over the dryness of her mouth. “The second nurse was an assassin. Tried to poison the little girl through the line. I pulled out the girl’s IV just in time.”

  “Lucky for her,” Gabe said.

  Olivia nodded. “Not so lucky for Chuck, though, or the other nurse.”

  “I need to take a statement, so how about you tell me the story from when you both showed up, and I’ll put it on the file.”

  Olivia sighed. “Yeah sure, but only if I can get that sandwich.” She pointed to the half-eaten peanut butter sandwich sitting on some nearby papers.

  “That’s from yesterday.” Gabe picked it up and moved to toss it in the garbage.

  “Give. Now.” She reached one hand out while taking another sip of tea with the other. When Gabe paused, she waved for him to give it to her. “I don’t care. I’m so hungry.”

  Reluctantly, he handed it over and watched her devour the dried bread and paste. Crumbs fell to the floor as she groaned happily. After washing it down with the room-temperature tea, she began to relate the story from the moment they walked in the hospital.

  The relative quiet of the cells had given her some time to review what happened. She told Gabe about how they had been led in by the head nurse, the subsequent fear in the little girl’s eyes on seeing Olivia’s anvil tattoo. How the nurse had identified the imposter poisoning the medication and the gunplay resulting in a dead nurse and an injured cop. She described how she had defended herself from the assassin’s fist, gun, and knife before using the blade against the woman. Olivia ended on how she was tased in the neck and had woken up in cells.