“There was only one thing I could do to prevent that.”
“Lynne?” Wendy asks fearfully with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I took the knife he had left for me and killed Nick quickly to spare him the torment of dying slowly. I heard—we both heard—what that death was like and I couldn’t let it happen to him.
“When he found out what I had done he made me one final offer. He let me go and swore that if I didn’t choose between you and Ling that he would kill you both.
“I’m sorry Caleb, but I did it for you, not him. I’m so sorry.”
Caleb’s heart seizes in his chest from the mixture of rage and sorrow that is eating him alive. Part of him wants to tell her he understands she did what she thought she had to. But another part of him can only see Ling lying dead in the hallway—stabbed and betrayed by her.
When Caleb doesn’t make a move, Wendy puts her arms around Lynne’s quivering shoulders trying in vain to offer her some sort of comfort.
“Well now,” Jing says from across the room, “By your definition Agent it appears I’ll have company for that injection.”
Caleb stares him down, saying nothing in return.
“Hey,” Chase speaks up, “Where’s Cummings and your lapdog?”
Picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on his pant leg Jing replies, “Oh I wouldn’t worry about them if I were you. If I were you I’d worry about the fact that the lights have been on for some time now and your man has yet to return.”
“George,” realizing that he’s right Caleb whispers solemnly to the air.
Chapter 41
“This is pointless,” Slade complains, “There is zero chance of us finding that flash drive here. I mean of all the places Savage could stash the evidence, do you really think he hid it right under our noses?”
While the two soldiers accompanying them perform a locker-to-locker search on the second floor south corridor, Cummings looks askance at his enforced companion. “I notice you didn’t mention any of that to your boss.”
Ripping a locker door open, Slade tosses its contents out onto the floor, ignoring the barb.
After a few more minutes of fruitless searching he leans against the row of lockers asking, “What’s it like to be such a complete fuck-up?”
Cummings stops searching an open locker to glare over at him.
“Oh come on,” Slade baits him, “Don’t tell me you didn’t know you were a fuck-up? I mean after Iowa alone…”
“You know nothing about what happened in Iowa.”
“Is that right?” Slade grins smugly, “I know enough to know that whatever went down you needed your ass pulled from the fire. I know you fucked up.”
“And I know,” Cummings slams a locker door shut, “That you’re nothing but a cheap mercenary who’s only working for Black Creek because you washed out of the military.
“You can be a Major in this man’s army, but in the real one, in mine, you’re nothing. Who’s the fuck-up now?”
Clenching his fists Slade responds, “I swear I don’t know why the old man puts up with you.”
Moving close enough for their noses to touch Cummings says, “Because I’ve been getting things accomplished since before you were popping zits on your face and getting flustered by the complexities of a training bra.”
“That right?” Slade hisses as he leans into him.
“Sir?” one of the soldiers interjects, “The lockers in this hallway are clean. Shall we move to the next?”
His steely gaze never leaving Slade’s, Cummings backs away slowly, saying, “Yes. Let’s go.”
“You know why you’re a fuck-up?” Slade says to his back once Cummings turns away. “You never learn. What was the downfall of Chimera? Your games; you giving people the rope to hang themselves with rather than just eliminating the problem at the start.
“And here we are again. Rather than eliminate Savage as a threat you let him run freely and risk the entire operation. Like all fuck-ups you lack the will to control your own house.”
“And like all wash-outs Major, you only think you know everything.”
“Well if I’m wrong General, then you tell me how else you allowed one of yours to compromise everything.”
Turning on his heel, Cummings straightens the lapels of his jacket as he orates, “I don’t have to tell you anything; I don’t answer to you. But since I’m in a generous mood I’ll give you this much. Savage has compromised nothing since neither he nor his data made it off this island.
“He has been handled and I will soon recover his flash drive; count on that. Because unlike you Slade—I finish what I start. Oh and,” he shakes his head disparagingly at him, “Whoever told you Chimera had fallen?”
The room is quiet.
Sitting on a table near the rear with his feet propped on the seat, Cole observes his companions in the way a good reporter does—with an eye always toward the truth.
Behind him he can hear Jeremy fitfully dozing. He finally calmed down enough to pass out a few minutes ago. To say he’s not handling their situation with much aplomb would be something of an understatement.
Cole feels for him—as he too is scared—but sometimes to do the right thing you have to set your fears aside. After he confronted Jing and laid everything they’ve discovered on the table, Jeremy’s frightful deportment worsened significantly.
It was further deteriorated by Caleb leaving with Chase to search for George. If they find that George is dead…
Cole glances back at his photographer and thanks God that he’s asleep for now at least.
Scanning the rest of the room he watches Clay and Wendy for a moment as they flank Lynne.
Is it safe for us to even keep her here?
It’s a question that has plagued his mind since her revelation about killing Nick and being related to the Toymaker—a psychotic serial killer who may very well change his mind about letting her go and come after us to get her back.
Of course she’s a murderess in her own right now too. She may believe that what she did, she did to spare Nick, but that doesn’t make him any less dead. And let’s not forget her betrayal of Ling led directly to her death as well.
The bodies are piling up around her causing Cole to wonder just how safe any of them are if they continue to stay near her.
His eyes veer to the left to settle on Hong sitting against the glass wall. He hasn’t moved or said a word since he learned the truth about his father. Odd that he was all right with his old man ordering the mass slaughter of this village but the possibility of him having his girl killed turns him catatonic.
Guess it’s true what they say; the death of one is a tragedy, the death of millions is just business as usual.
Jing Bai. Watching him sit nonchalantly beside the stage, Cole realizes just how cold the man is. Of course he had heard all the stories about him before. Every time Black Creek would be awarded a government contract the rumors would circulate about the ruthless Jing Bai.
Never one to believe in rumors, Cole still believed there had to be something to that one. One particular story circulating about him illustrated his heartless demeanor perfectly.
As a young executive in the mid 1970’s, Jing set his sights on expanding his domain into Iran. He hired an Iranian-American with ties to the Shah and dispatched him to Tehran with the explicit mandate of convincing the Shah to allow Black Creek to operate in the country.
The man would discover that such a thing was impossible short of parliament passing a law inviting foreign security companies in. Believing that to be that he returned to Houston, where he was met with Jing’s wrath. “I didn’t ask you to get this done,” Jing reportedly said, “I told you to get it done.”
Angered by the failure, Jing sent the man back to Tehran telling him not to return until he had accomplished the goal. The sought after law would never be passed but four years later the dispatched man would be captured during the Iranian revolution.
As the story goes, Jing disavowed any knowledg
e of the man and allowed him to rot in a foreign jail until his eventual death in the early 1980’s. The reason—once captured the man had no value to him anymore.
And now the man has murdered hundreds of American citizens and will look to get away with it unless the notebook he thinks Tyler has is found.
Turning his attention to Tyler lying on top of a table by the kitchen, Cole decides it’s time to make some inquiries.
“Hey,” he says sitting down next to him.
Lifting his head slightly, Tyler lowers it back to the table replying, “Hey.”
“Can we talk a minute?” Cole asks keeping his voice low. Above them they can hear the roof groaning from Fiona’s pressure.
“About what?” Tyler asks.
“Do you have any idea what’s in that notebook they want so bad?”
Looking at him from the corner of his eye Tyler says, “If I did, believe me I would’ve told them.”
Turning his head away for a moment to check on Jing, Cole turns back asking, “Will you tell me what happened to you?”
“I thought I already did.”
“No I mean,” Cole says, “Share your story with the Times; let me write a piece about it.”
“To what end?”
“Well,” Cole speculates, “You help me find that notebook and I’ll help you bring them down.” Tyler lifts his head again to stare at him. “That something you could be interested in?”
Shaking his head Tyler answers, “I have no idea where this notebook is.”
“But if we can find it?”
His swollen eyes shift to Jing across the room for a moment. Nodding he says, “He had me tortured and had an old friend murdered. You find that notebook and I’ll do whatever you need me to do to bring him down.”
Entering the crossways, Caleb diverts his eyes from the sight of Ling Tran lying on her back, a sanguine stain on her chest.
Without a word between them, Chase follows closely on his heels.
Leaving the glassed hallway behind they enter a semi-darkened corridor. The walls here are lined with old metal lockers that once upon a time were a vibrant green. Interspaced between the banks of lockers are wooden doors opening into classrooms.
Ducking his head into one, Caleb quickly catches the scent of chalk-dust and judging by the half-erased and little understood equations on the blackboard deduces that they’re in the mathematics wing of the Academy.
Leading on, it’s not long before they can hear the storm outside growing louder. As they approach the gymnasium the overhead lights are out, casting the section of corridor into a murky unknown.
Raising his hand, Caleb calls for a halt as he reaches into his belt to retrieve a penlight.
“Why would the lights be out here?” Chase queries.
Shining the beam of light upward Caleb sees it glint off broken glass. “The bulb is smashed.”
Swinging the penlight around, he catches the garish stain on the painted cinder block wall outside the gymnasium. Stepping closer, he immediately recognizes it as a bloody handprint.
“You think that’s George’s blood mate?”
Glancing back at him Caleb shines the light into his wide eyes saying, “I think it’s an invitation.”
As soon as he pushes the gym door open the roar of water grows in intensity. Feeling the rush of wind pulling at his clothes Caleb cautiously enters the gymnasium making sure to keep Chase behind him.
Sparks ignite off to his left drawing his attention to the wreckage of the scoreboard and the gaping hole in the ceiling above it. As his eyes drift down he sees George for the first time as his breath catches in his throat.
Following his sightline, Chase notices the macabre posing and quickly turns his head away.
“Stay here,” Caleb instructs.
“Fuck that mate,” Chase says wiping the spit from his lip, “I’m staying right with you.”
On their way over to the wreckage Caleb keeps his right hand poised over the weapon on his hip—Ling’s weapon. There is little need to confirm what he already knows but still Caleb must.
Standing in front of George’s corpse, Caleb’s breathing becomes shallow and a pain stabs at him from his broken ribs. Another one I’ve failed.
The jagged and broken beam sticks grotesquely out of George’s abdomen, holding him slightly aloft. His arms are spread-eagled back from his body giving him a warped Jesus Christ pose if not for the damage to his face.
The Toymaker gave him a Glasgow smile beneath now glassy eyes.
I brought him here. I talked him into coming here. I practically begged him and now…I’ve led him to his death. If it wasn’t for me he’d be home right now—alive. And so would Ling.
“Are you OK mate?” Chase asks as he notices the far-away look developing on Caleb’s face.
Caleb doesn’t answer as the memories of all the victims he’s failed wash over him in a torrent of anguish—drowning him beneath a river of blood.
Donald Lincoln. Heather Quinn. Greg Tanaka. Jake Neubauer. Little Trina McBride. Theresa Trott. Montgomery Hicks. Mary Jane Martin. Noah Gracen. Jefferson Moss. Ling Tran. George Dore.
“Hey mate,” Chase touches his shoulder causing Caleb to snap out of his reverie and whirl around on him with his gun raised. “Whoa!” Chase raises his palms, “It’s me mate; calm down. Just wondering if we should cut him down or something?”
“No,” Caleb lowers his sidearm, “Leave him.”
“That’s kind of cold ain’t it mate?”
Putting his left hand to his ribs, Caleb cringes as he replies, “What would you suggest we do? I can do no more for him than I could do for my own partner. Let’s get back to the cafeteria before Heath takes another.”
“You think he will mate?”
Turning away from the carnage Caleb answers, “Yeah, he’s just getting started. But that’s OK, cause so am I. We may be trapped here but so is he and before this night is over,” his voice hardens to stone as he promises, “One of us is going to be dead.”
Chapter 42
As Caleb and Chase re-enter the cafeteria, all eyes fall expectantly upon them.
“Where’s George?” Wendy inquires nervously.
Meeting her gaze Caleb solemnly shakes his head before withdrawing to a lonely corner beneath the mezzanine. After a quick check on Lynne, Wendy follows him.
“We need to talk,” she says quietly so the rest of the group can’t overhear.
Glancing over his shoulder Caleb pronounces flatly, “No we don’t.”
Wendy persists, “Yes we do. I can understand that you’re upset about George, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here,” he objects, “And I don’t need to talk about it.”
Steeling her resolve Wendy presses, “Well that’s just too bad, because we’re going to talk about it. The way you treated Lynne earlier was uncalled for.”
She watches his shoulders stiffen before he slowly turns around to face her. The look on his face is withering. “You are aware of what she’s done,” he hisses, “And still you can defend her?”
“You’re not being fair.”
“Fair?” he scoffs, “How should I be fair Wendy? You tell me; was it fair when she killed Ling?”
“She didn’t—”
“STOP IT!” he roars drawing the room’s attention. After they all gradually look away Caleb lowers his voice, disparaging her, “Stop defending her. She stabbed a knife into Ling’s back and allowed Heath to finish the job—she’s just as guilty as he is.
“You heard her same as I, she admits to killing Cole’s friend. And yet in the face of all of this, you defend her. How dare you?”
“And you condemn her,” Wendy fires back, “How dare you? What happened to Ling was as much our fault as it was Lynne’s. We both refused to believe that anything was wrong with her. Because she had no physical scarring we thought she was OK; but she’s not OK.
“How could she be really? He held her for over a month doing God only know
s what to her. Can you honestly sit there and pretend for a moment that you have any clue what that was like for her?”
As he listens to her tirade, Caleb can hear Ling’s warning repeating inside his head. And how do you know your love for her isn’t the trap?
“Yes,” Wendy admits, “She betrayed Ling and led her to him to be killed. But she did it for you. She thought she had to choose or he would kill you both.”
“Ling had a loving husband and a new baby girl. She didn’t deserve to die here. Lynne should’ve told us from the start what was going on and no one had to die. I could’ve protected us all.”
Shaking his head he adds, “At the very least she should’ve chosen me.”
“She did choose you,” Wendy insists, “She chose you to live. How could you expect her to choose you to die? She’s in love with you. And as far as telling us the truth; he filled her head with his poison for over a month—do you really imagine she’s thinking clearly?
“If anyone here knows, you know. You know how the Toymaker’s victims end up. We were both foolish to believe that Lynne had escaped him unscathed. He’s broken her inside. We should’ve seen that she needs help. She needs your help Caleb; your love, now more than ever.”
Caleb closes his eyes for a long moment. Rubbing at his brow he asks, “And how’s that going to work Wendy? I work for the FBI; how can I just forget that she’s killed someone?
“How can I ignore the fact that the same knife she used on him she stuck in my partner? How am I supposed to be with her and face Ling’s family?
“You’re right,” he acknowledges, “She needs help. And I pray that she’ll find it but it can’t be from me. Every time I look at her now you know what I see? I see Ling bleeding out in my arms and Lynne holding the knife.”
“Are you so righteous?” Wendy asks bitterly, “Can you only see black and white without shades of grey? I know Lynne is not a murderer no matter what she’s done in this hell. She killed a man to spare him the slow torture that was coming his way.
“He was already dead when she stuck the knife in. That is mercy to me, not murder. Maybe the law will see it differently but you say you love her; you should see it from her point of view. If it had been either of us, could we say we would’ve acted differently? She’s alive because she did what she had to do to survive.
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