This circular maze of stone, for instance—he ran his hand along the smooth rock—was on the outskirts of Trenton University, reminding students that structure and chaos coexisted in unending permanence—
Smacking lips snatched his attention.
The conductor maneuvered through the maze on his tiptoes, deeper and deeper to its epicenter. Upon making a turn into the middle of the spherical labyrinth, he found two students locking lips. Their hands were racing all over one another, and they were completely unaware of the godlike power practically standing over them. Young. Naïve. Filling themselves with dopamine.
He slid on his pair of custom-made brass knuckles. What made these knuckles so extraordinary were the long brass fingers that not only ran up his forearms, providing excellent defense in hand-to-hand combat, but also shot forward little spikes upon a simple click of his palm. Not enough for a kill, but enough to make prey feel as though they were being attacked by a mythical deity rather than a mere mortal.
The couple was making enough noise to draw the gazes of creatures of the night. But the conductor was still able to discern another sound that drifted from the outer boundaries of the maze: the rub of shoes against stone.
He slipped out of the lovers’ pod and retraced his steps, spotting his appointment a moment before his appointment spotted him.
The conductor raised a finger to his mouth, signaling that they were not alone. “Love is in the air.”
The appointment nodded. “You’re younger without makeup.”
The conductor moved closer to the appointment—but not too close, for they were both crafty and cunning. He wouldn’t put it past the appointment to try something foolish, even though the conductor had stacked enough leverage against him to hang an ox.
“So unexpected, yes?” the conductor said. “So exciting. Forget the agenda. You have a much more urgent assignment.”
The appointment understood but didn’t seem so sure.
“Come, don’t tell me it’s your first?” The conductor pressed one hand to his chest. “I must admit, body bags rather bore me—I much prefer death of the mind. But you can’t experience the latter without a touch of the former, not fully. Make it quick.”
“I came to talk, not kill,” the appointment said.
“Well, I have a distaste for whispering. So snuff the lovelings.”
“You’re sick.”
“Which makes you . . . ?” The conductor grinned and turned to the side like a matador, waving the appointment past. “Ándale, protégé.”
The appointment glared at him and stepped past him. It almost felt like sending an apprentice through their rite of passage. The conductor knew a thing or two about that.
As the appointment slinked around the corner, the conductor could practically feel the pounding of the first-time killer’s heartbeat. Speaking of dopamine . . . These kids may have had theirs, but it was nothing compared to what the appointment was experiencing now.
And to think, all it took was a few premeditated actions, leverage, and a dash of misdirection. He’d mastered the art of breaking the will.
The conductor counted off a few seconds, then lightly stepped in the appointment’s tracks until he caught up. He pounced on the appointment from behind and pressed his brass knuckles against the appointment’s pretty face. The appointment struggled and grunted something inaudible.
The explosive romance in the maze came to an abrupt finish.
“What was that?” the girl said.
“I don’t . . .” the boy said.
The conductor laughed as the two lovebirds hopped the maze’s walls and ran. He pressed his mouth to the appointment’s ear. “This—this is power: taking or giving life at will. Soon you’ll get yours.” He let go of the appointment, stood, and smacked his lips together. “Now that we have the floor, it’s time to talk about the finale.”
13
SUNDAY, 4:15 A.M.
We drove to the only safe 24-7 location we could think of to determine our next move: Saint Mary’s Hospital.
After deliberation in the cafeteria, we decided that Cody and I would take the Jeep to the university, while Janet and Alec would stay behind to work on the tablet in the public setting—not to mention stay close to Janet’s sister.
Janet and Alec would be without a vehicle, but Janet assured me she could convince one of the staff to give them a lift anywhere—no problem. I believed that.
Cody and I turned onto the freeway en route to the Trenton University police headquarters, where we were going to steal an arsenal of weapons for the conductor. You’d think it was the apocalypse with how dark and quiet the road remained.
“You’re making the wrong call,” Cody said. “We’re not dealing with a druggie whose best trick is losing his clothes so our dogs can’t smell him. You weren’t there, Haas. He had it all rigged, all orchestrated. This guy’s been planning for months. And all we’ve done is helped him make it happen.” He shook his head and looked out the window. “This has to stop, Haas. Has to. We don’t know what he’s planning.”
There was so much I wanted to say, so much anger and love right at the edge of my tongue, but I held it in. “I’m trying to think.”
“Great. Well, while you think, this sicko is winning. Let’s call, Haas. We have to get others involved.”
“We will,” I said.
“Then let’s do it. What’s your plan? You really think swiping those guns will save Steph and the girls?”
“Janet’s on to something,” I said. “We’re going to find them.”
“The IT chick? She fixes computer viruses for a living—you’re trusting that?”
I shot him a glare, then gripped the steering wheel. Everything I’d managed to hold back was about to break the dam. “Do you know loss, Cody? Do you know heartache? The kind that wakes you with teeth clenched ’cause it’s gnawing through your blood?” I held up my hand. “Have you once shut up long enough to listen and understand what’s important? Has anything ever been so important that without it everything else seemed pointless?” My voice lost its edge involuntarily, and suddenly I felt as though I were talking to myself. “If it were to vanish, you’d vanish?”
A lone car passed us, heading in the opposite direction.
I forced myself back to Cody. “Do you know how to love a woman from your heart? Have you ever sat on the floor with a child—with anyone other than a bar girl—and felt yourself disappear? Because it’s about being there for them, being strong and selfless and available to them? You might love women, but you haven’t loved. You might want to settle one day, but settling isn’t a choice—it’s character. You think I don’t know I need help? I’m taking a risk with what I foresee as the highest probability of success. Understood? You keep pushing to say this, do that. Know why? Self-preservation. You want what you want because it’s what you can live with.” I pointed to my chest. “Well, this is my self-preservation. Steph and the girls die, I die. I’m going to own that. So either shut your mouth or get out of the car.”
I kept my eyes on the road but could feel him staring at me.
“That . . .” Cody said. “That is what I’ve been wanting, Haasy. Where have you been?” He turned his palms up and looked as though he were juggling invisible plates. “And when were you planning on teaching me this feelsy wordsmithing? No wonder Steph loves you.” He relaxed. “I get it. I’m in. Just tell me that as soon as Steph and the girls are safe—and they will be—we bring in the cavalry.”
“I’ve got a contact.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll send the right people.”
He leaned back. “All right then. Let’s steal some guns—and God help us.”
Cody’s quick plea reminded me that I’d been conversing with the higher power at a staggering rate since the string had hit the fan. I didn’t find these prayers unusual—distress caused people to say all kinds of things. What I found strange was how naturally they’d flowed from my lips for the first time.
We parked on the street closest to university headquarters’ outdoor parking garage, which would make for a quick exit if things went according to plan. Staff would be minimal at this hour, with just enough of my colleagues on duty to answer emergencies, provide security escorts from classrooms to cars, and of course handle the inevitable prank calls they’d get from the emergency intercom boxes strategically placed throughout campus.
“What’s the plan?” Cody said.
“You.”
“I don’t even work here.”
“Yes, but I’m suspended without a working key card, and not one person in that building is looking to do me a favor.” I adjusted myself on my seat, trying to get a better look at the building’s surroundings. “But you, well, your reputation precedes you. We just need one of the female dispatchers working.”
“Your plan is me flirting my way in?”
“You can’t do that?”
He looked the other way and held up a hand. “Oh, I can do it.”
“Stop asking questions then.”
I told Cody exactly where to go and which doors to open to sneak me inside if he was successful in gaining entrance. “Got it?” I said.
“That door will be swinging open in five minutes flat.”
Waiting near the station’s back entrance, all I could see in my mind’s eye were guns. Rows of guns hanging neatly in HQ’s armory along with cases of ammunition. Then, just as clearly as I could see them in my head, they all vanished as if we’d already taken them, already dispersed them—already enabled the bloodlust of a madman.
The conductor wasn’t going to let me keep these weapons. It was just a part of his plan—maybe even the reason he tolerated me standing up to him. These guns could be the piece of the puzzle the conductor had earmarked for me, which meant I wouldn’t be valuable to him after this task.
But then, he had said I was the star of the show, whatever that meant. He may have more planned for me yet, which could mean both more slack and more terror.
I needed Janet to locate the conductor now. I didn’t have any time. I didn’t have any leverage.
Except for the weapons.
If the conductor wanted them, he’d have a plan in place for Cody and me to hand them off after our heist. What if we didn’t deliver them? What if we used them to get back Steph and the girls?
I shook my head, which felt as though someone were beating it with a stone. The conductor had already burned down Steph’s house. He wouldn’t barter over guns.
Movement in the bushes startled me.
“Hey.” Cody stepped out from behind one of the bushes lining the station. “Got four minutes, and I need answers.” He held up a finger. “One: tell me about Brielle—likes, dislikes, anything useful. Two: got a non-issued police key sitting in your office?”
Cody’s silver tongue could wear down Mahatma Gandhi. But when it came to getting the job done, he executed assignments quickly and with maximum results.
With only four minutes, I skipped the why questions and got straight to the answers, rattling off conversations I’d heard Brielle engage in: Gilmore Girls, her affinity for slow-motion videos, and an obsession with Shiba Inus.
Cody leaned back and squinted. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
Just as I was about to fire back, he hit my chest with the back of his hand. “Messing with you.” A strange smile worked its way across his face. “I’m set.”
I knew that look. “I said charm your way in, not ask her out.”
“Want us to keep cover or not? I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” Cody checked his watch. “Gotta go.” He disappeared back into the bushes.
We needed this to work to buy Janet and Alec time to find the conductor’s location. I wanted to text her to check in, but the conductor would see anything I wrote, be it cryptic or straightforward, and I didn’t want to provoke him any more than I had. There must be a limit to how much he’d tolerate from me, and I had to be close to surpassing it.
What if the tablet yielded nothing? What if the conductor had wanted it back just as a precaution, when really it was already too fried to be helpful? That meant the guns would be my only remaining leverage.
Just once I wanted to be a step ahead of this lunatic.
The back entrance into HQ opened. “Come in, the water’s fine,” Cody said. He handed a business card to me—Brielle’s, with her number written on the back. He winked.
But the combination of numbers didn’t string together an actual phone number. It was a coded two-worded message involving a four-letter word followed by a three-letter word, which, translated, could only mean one thing. “Sorry you struck out.”
Cody took back the card, read it again, then mumbled something unpleasant as I stepped into the building.
To the left were the officers’ cubicles. We ducked inside mine.
“How long do we have?” I said.
“How long does it take Brie to pee?”
“Wait here and let her escort you out. I’ll get you back in.”
Cody wrinkled his nose. “Your security really this bad?”
I strode to the closet that doubled as a coatrack and cleaning supplies space. Stepped inside and closed the door. I could still see Cody through the lattice. He gave me a curt nod and pressed his lips together.
Heels clicked down the hallway, and Cody made himself look busy looking for a key that didn’t exist.
I readied myself to stop the only things that could betray me in this moment: a sneeze or a cough.
“Any luck?” Brielle asked.
“I’ve looked everywhere and tried Haas’s cell three more times—nothing.”
“Drawers? Shelves? Sometimes they put their jackets in here.” Brielle walked toward the closet.
A rock dropped from my chest to my toes.
“Wait!” Cody said, startling her. His chin pointed toward the floor and his chest caved. “I—I just have to ask you something.” He’d certainly grabbed her attention. “Why the fake number?”
She crossed her arms. “Come on.” She tilted her head and smirked. “I know all about you, Cody.” Her voice took on some bite. “You shouldn’t even be back here. Let’s go.”
Good. Easy out, Cody. Get out of here.
“Hold on, hold on,” Cody said. “Just one more question.”
I cursed silently. My friend’s pride truly knew no bounds.
“And that is?” Brielle said.
“If you’d never heard stories about me, actually got to know me—the real me, no preconceived notions—would you give me a chance?”
She looked him up and down with disdain. “I do know the real you. Let’s go.”
Cody sulked after her into the hallway.
I waited a minute and then stepped out of the closet and rolled my neck and shoulders, trying to get my mobility greased after having stood like a statue. Peeking around the corner, I scooted toward the door Cody had let me through.
Footsteps padded on the pavement outside, I popped the door open, and in stepped Cody. “No comment,” he said.
We maneuvered toward the back stairwell. All the doors from here to the armory were windowless, with no way to peek at who might be on the other side.
Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, we headed straight for the armory. Thankfully, it was accessible by key, which I had.
Remington 12-gauge shotguns and MP5 submachine guns hung from the walls, each capable of devastation. I found myself paralyzed, my mind thrown into an onslaught of memories that had occurred not two miles from here in a different kind of basement, a prison basement, with different kinds of weapons.
The room before me and the room from my past blurred into one. I couldn’t believe the anguish those girls had suffered then, and I couldn’t believe I was here now helping an evil man accomplish more heinous acts in this world.
Cody put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey. None of these are getting fired. We’re going to stop him.”
I picked up one of
the TUP duffle bags and stacked it full of weapons and ammo. Cody worked on a second duffle.
We made quick work of the entire inventory, then swung the loaded bags over our shoulders. We exited through the door leading into the partially covered carport. We’d have to hop a fence, but that was a lower risk than trying to exit the way we’d entered.
Cody dropped to the other side of the fence first. One after the other, I launched the two bags over to him before scaling the fence myself. We started back toward our vehicle.
I almost did a double take but managed to control myself. “See the F-150 parked along the street?” I said.
Cody didn’t show a hint of alarm but scoffed under his breath. “Defrosted windows a big giveaway. Should have known Mitchell would be a willing participant. Can’t get a visual on persons in the cab.”
“They’re in there. Here for these bags.”
“Plan?”
I kept walking as if nothing were wrong. “See those stairs?”
“We’ll have a big head start on them, but the bags will weigh us down.”
“We go on my count, then head for the path leading into the woods. They follow, that’s on them. We’re the ones with a small armory’s artillery.”
Cody puffed his chest. “I’m going to beat your SWAT score on this run.”
“Good luck.” I took a deep breath. “Now.”
We broke for the stairs, duffle bags swinging from our backs.
The doors of the F-150 opened and slammed, and voices shouted indiscernibly from behind us. They were in pursuit.
We sprinted past two dorm buildings, past the silhouettes of two students—a boy and a girl—lounging underneath the dorms’ joint canopy, smoking something.
“Out, get out!” I shouted.
Bullets thwacked against the cement at our feet, fired from weapons equipped with silencers. Cody cursed as the bullets ricocheted off the stone walkway.
Out of my periphery, the students scattered.
“Ahead,” I said, racing onto the university lawn that would take us into the woods.
The String Page 12