Sliding out from beneath the covers, he shivered. In the bathroom, he noted scented soaps with pastel colors. He gargled with mouthwash, then returned to the bedroom and slipped into his slacks, taking care to be quiet.
Karol’s eyes fluttered open anyway. “Running out the -back door?”
He zipped his fly. “You’ve only got one door.”
She raised herself up on one elbow, supporting her head with her palm. “What’s your hurry?”
“I need to go to my place to change my clothes. It wouldn’t look good if I reported for duty wearing the same threads I had on yesterday, would it?”
“Why not? Everyone knows you’re a dog.”
Willy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. “I’m no dog. And if I was, I’m not now.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“I don’t need any convincing.” He stood. “You want to come with me? I’ll wait for you to shower. Then you can wait for me to shower at my place and we can get some breakfast.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to go home with you.”
“Oh, but I can come all the way over here?”
Karol laid her head back on her pillow. “That’s right.”
“Okay, whatever you say.” Leaning across the bed, he kissed her. “I’ll see you at our new HQ.”
“Later … Lieutenant.”
Grinning, he picked up his shirt and left the bedroom.
Rhonda awoke in human form on the straw-covered floor. She had been unable to sleep for hours, worried about her parents, but had finally managed to drift into a restless state of unconsciousness. She had no way of knowing the time of day. The tranquilizers had induced so much sleep that she no longer trusted her internal clock.
She studied the stump of her arm. The flesh at the end had healed without leaving a seam, but the arm did not appear to have grown any, leading her to believe it might not. At least it wasn’t chained. Standing, she swatted loose straw off her buttocks, then walked over to the metal buckets and, ignoring the camera, relieved herself. When she had finished, she stood facing the camera and stared at its lens, clenching her remaining hand into a fist. She wanted to know what had happened to her parents. She needed to know.
Before long, she heard the bolt sliding and saw the door open. Henri entered, accompanied by a man with blond hair, who carried a wooden crate which he set on the floor between them and her.
Henri gestured at the man beside him. “This is Myles. He planned the attack that killed your parents last night.”
No! Rhonda’s body turned numb, and she sank to her knees. First Jason, now her parents! The tears came again. I’m all alone …
“Your home is nothing but ashes,” Myles said.
She felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach.
Opening the crate, Henri lifted a live chicken out and set it on the floor, where the bird strutted and clucked. “Your breakfast.”
Rhonda blinked at the brown and red chicken. Was Henri joking?
“Other than Michael’s nose, you haven’t eaten since we brought you here. We’ll provide you with nourishment, but we sure as hell won’t cook for you.”
Wiping her tears on her forearm, Rhonda glared at Myles. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill every one of you.”
Myles glanced at Henri, who grunted.
“That’s the spirit,” Henri said. “I want you alive and kicking, so we can go at it again. I wonder what I’ll cut off next.”
Before Rhonda could summon a response, Henri jerked his head toward Myles and they left the room, closing the door with a shuddering echo. As she heard the bolt sliding into place, Rhonda lowered her gaze to the chicken. Henri had called the animal her breakfast, so she knew it was morning. Helping her get her bearings, at least with respect to the time of day, had been his first mistake. Identifying his leader by name had been the second.
Michael.
She still did not know the name of the woman with the black hair streaked with blonde and the hawkish nose. Was it just the four of them?
Rising, she moved toward the chicken, which turned away from her. Before it could escape her reach, she grabbed under its body. The chicken flapped its wings and kicked its feet, and Rhonda cradled it to her body. She wanted to stroke its feathers and put its mind at ease, but she had only one hand.
“Poor little chicken, we’re both prisoners. We should stick together.”
But she knew that was not possible. Her empty belly ached, and she required sustenance. Her muscles burned from Changing so many times in such a short period of time. She had never killed an animal before.
I’m not an animal.
But she could be.
Willing the Change once more, she sank her canine fangs into the chicken’s quivering body and tasted hot blood.
Mace took a taxi to the Detective Bureau Manhattan and collected the first receipt for his expense account. He reported to the motor pool and signed out a black Jeep Cherokee, then made the drive to Chinatown. Parking his vehicle in the NYPD’s lot at the Fifth Precinct headquarters on Elizabeth Street, he spotted Landry getting out of a white Cavalier. He tapped his horn and got out.
“Great minds drive alike,” Landry said.
They left the lot together.
“That was quite a story you told us last night.”
Mace stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “Like Candice said, it felt good to get it off my chest.”
“Does Cheryl know?”
“She knows I saw what killed Stalk and what I reported. She knows I got screwed over. And she knows that when she came home, I had stitches in my forehead and half my shoulder was missing. But I never told her about Janus.”
They entered the throng of people swarming through Chinatown, the wind carrying the smell of fish.
“Is there any chance we can requisition more detectives?” Landry said.
“I don’t think so. Jim Mint wants as few people as possible to know about this operation. And to be honest, I don’t want anyone on board who I can’t trust. It’s bad enough we have to work with Shelly and Norton, and I have my doubts about Williams.”
“She’s good police.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s suited for this assignment. Even Shelly and Norton are believers. She’s the only outsider.”
“She and Diega make a good team.”
“Believe me, that’s the main reason I included her.”
On Mott Street, they faced a four-story brick building with a fire escape. It reminded Mace of the building where Janus Farel had killed John Stalk. Shelly and Norton stood outside the front doors, sipping coffee from large cups, and Mace and Landry crossed the street and joined them.
“Good morning,” Norton said, her disposition cheery.
“This is Lieutenant Landry,” Mace said.
“Ken,” Landry said, shaking their hands.
“Shall we?” Norton said.
Mace glanced at his watch. “It’s early yet. I’d prefer to wait for the others so we can all go up together. Let’s wait for them in the lobby.”
“Whatever you say.”
Mace entered the foyer, and the others clustered around him while he read a number from the card Jim Mint had given him and punched it into the keypad on the wall. The alarm system whined, and he led them into the narrow lobby with no furniture or directory.
“The city went all out with the accommodations,” Shelly said.
Willy, Karol, and Candice filed in.
Willy eyed Shelly and Norton. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”
They rode an elevator to the fourth floor, where Mace used a key card to unlock the gray metal door facing them. He entered a space filled with sunlight filtered through wide, dirty windows and flipped a switch. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling turned a small reception area with brick walls ugly. Passing a vacant desk, he walked through a doorway with no door into the main area, where half a dozen cubicles led to two glass-faced offices and a conference r
oom. Computer monitors and large pots with dead plants and trees served as the only décor.
“Lovely,” Candice said, vapor billowing from her mouth.
Willy switched on more lights.
“It’s freezing in here,” Karol said.
Willy tapped an ancient-looking fan with a metal cover. “Look at this. If the heating’s just as modern, you can tell why.”
Shelly walked over to the windows and pressed one hand against the radiator. “It’s cold, all right. NYPD spares no expense as usual.”
“The FBI’s more than welcome to provide us with alternative space,” Mace said. He took out his cell phone, located a number, and pressed it.
After the third ring, Jim Mint answered.
“Our base camp leaves a lot to be desired.”
“What, no hot tub?”
“No hot, period. Get someone over here to fix the heat, or we’re going to have to start burning the furniture.”
“Okay, okay. I already have IT coming over to secure your computers on an independent server. Anything else?”
Mace looked at his team members. “What else?”
“I see a refrigerator but no water cooler,” Landry said.
“There’s no coffeemaker, either,” Candice said.
“You get that?” Mace said.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m writing it down.”
‘We’ll need assorted office supplies too: pens, pads, staplers, tape, a city map, pushpins …”
“I’ll get you everything you need to get started. You can requisition everything else later.”
“I want three TVs and a cable hookup for each one.”
“You planning to catch up on The History Channel?”
“No, just the news. Judging by the way this place was stripped bare, be sure to make toilet tissue and paper towels a priority.”
“I hope you’re this thorough running down your case.”
“I promise we will be.” Mace closed down his phone. “Okay, let’s get set up. I’ll take whichever office is smallest. Ken and Candice, you’ll be working together, so you share the larger office. The rest of you, pick your cubicles. Let’s meet in the conference room in ten minutes.”
With Elias sitting beside him in the backseat, Gabriel peered out the window of Micah’s taxi at the city. Every parked car, every doorway, every window, and every rooftop posed a threat. How many Wolves had Raphael assigned to secure the small piece of the neighborhood? Too many, he feared.
“Maybe we should have come separately for your safety,” Gabriel said.
“That would only amount to wasted energy. They already know who you are, and they already know who I am.”
“Maybe you should just stay at the safe house, then.”
“I’ll move in the shadows when I can strike out against our enemies, but I won’t hide in a hole like some fox.”
Micah pulled the taxi over to the curb, and Gabriel saw Lawrence and Leon standing guard outside the funeral home, which meant Eddie and David had to be nearby.
Micah pressed a button on the meter and looked over his shoulder. “You want me to wait?”
Gabriel paid him. “No. The less time you spend here, the better. As a precaution, I’ll find another way back to the safe house.”
“Whatever you say. Have a good day.”
Gabriel observed Lawrence and Leon scanning the buildings across the street. He pulled the car door handle and stepped out, his nostrils filling with crisp Manhattan air. Sensing Elias behind him, he crossed the sidewalk and heard Micah drive off. Neither Lawrence nor Leon opened the door for him, which would have meant lowering their guard for the sake of his vanity.
“Good morning,” Gabriel said without expecting a reply. He opened the door for Elias and followed him inside, where they wiped their shoes on the mat. Because the door was unlocked, Gabriel knew Raphael had come in early. Removing his black leather gloves, he opened the office door.
Raphael looked up from the monitor on his desk, and Gabriel saw images of firefighters battling an inferno. Raphael wore a New York Rangers hockey shirt and blue jeans.
“I take it you’re not working today,” Gabriel said as Elias came in behind him, allowing the door to close.
Raphael sat back in his chair. “Of course not. Neither should you. We need to close down until this is over, maybe for good.”
Gabriel hung his camel hair coat on the rack and sat at his desk, turning his chair to face Raphael. He wore a dark suit as usual and gestured to the chair at the third desk. “Have a seat, Elias.”
Elias sat without saying a word.
“I sent Melissa and the boys away as soon as I received word about last night’s attack. Arick went with them.”
“I know. You should have kept him here.”
“I have you to advise me. Why do I need Arick?”
Raphael’s expression turned sullen. “You said they wouldn’t attack that house with police inside it. You said you wouldn’t underestimate them again.”
“Are you finished?”
Raphael seemed to take a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Have the families doubled up with each other?”
“Most of them.”
“Have you deployed our available people to search the grid?” Raphael nodded.
“We still don’t know if Rhonda’s given us up. The next attack should tell us. If she hasn’t, then there are only three likely targets: your home, mine, and here. Since you and I have evacuated our homes, this is the most likely spot.”
Raphael’s body seemed to relax. “Are we calling another war council?”
“No. Assuming Rhonda hasn’t given up the names of other Wolves, the Torquemadans must be watching us here. If the same Wolves come here more than once, they’ll identify our people and follow them. For the moment, we’re the only targets. Call each delegate, and order him to contact his constituents by phone. We’ll provide text message updates as necessary.”
“They’ll want to be involved in the decision making.”
“Why should they be? I’m the alpha, and we’re at war. Between adapting to new living arrangements and searching the grid for our enemies, they have enough to do.”
“What if the delegates ask why you sent your family away?”
“Right now you and I are the primary targets, so I fear for my family’s safety. Any Wolf who shares my fears about his own family may do the same. But everyone must be made aware that a sudden exodus of our children will not go unnoticed by the authorities, and I have reason to believe we face a far greater threat than the Torquemadans on the horizon.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sitting at the middle of the long conference table while Landry plugged in a portable space heater he had found, Mace opened his briefcase and took out a notepad and some pens. “Arm yourselves.”
Candice tore off a page for herself and another for Landry and slid the pad to Shelly. Landry took his seat between Mace and Candice as the FBI agent pushed the notepad beyond Norton to Karol. Shelly and Norton each produced an electronic writing tablet to use instead.
“We’re obviously working under less than ideal circumstances,” Mace said. “But we’ll straighten those issues out. This is a joint NYPD and FBI task force. Our objective is to identify and apprehend the perps behind the abduction of Rhonda Wilson, the murder of Jason Lourdes, the murder of an unidentified male at the Lourdes’ home, as well as five canines, and the murders last night of Marshal and Deidre Wilson, Detectives Cato and Soares, and PO Lewis. These murders are being treated as the work of drug dealers, organized crime members, and terrorists.”
“Next thing you know, it’ll be Martians,” Willy said.
“We need to operate under the radar. As far as the department is concerned, we barely exist. Seeing as how New York City is the law enforcement mecca of the world, we have to run our investigation without tripping over any other agencies or tipping them off about what we’re up to. As much as possible, we need this operation to be clandestine.”
Norton leaned forward in her seat. “Captain, I just want to clarify to everyone here that Special Agent Norton and I are here to offer support only. You’re calling the shots.”
Cover that ass fast, lady, Mace thought. “So noted.”
Shelly opened his briefcase. “As to the clandestine nature of this task force, I have nondisclosure agreements for everyone to sign before we proceed.” He handed one copy of the agreement to everyone but Mace. “This stipulates that you may not discuss the details of this operation or any discoveries made by it, even in general terms, with anyone other than your superior officers, except in a court of law. If you violate these terms, you will be subject to severe penalties, including but not limited to termination and prosecution.”
Willy flipped through the pages of the agreement. “This sounds like bullshit to me. Are we serving together or not?”
Shelly’s voice remained a monotone. “Everyone sitting here realizes this is an extraordinary situation in which we find ourselves, with implications reaching far beyond this city’s safety. The government has a clear mandate regarding national security, and these agreements pertain to that mandate.”
“Well, I notice we each got only one copy. That seems a little shady to me.”
“Captain Mace is in charge of this task force. He was given authority to choose his own team. If you want to serve on the team, you need to sign the agreement. It’s that simple.”
Willy glanced at Mace.
“I already signed one.”
Blowing air out of his nostrils, Willy picked up his pen, signed and dated the agreement, and tossed it across the table to Shelly.
One by one, the other men and women signed their agreements and returned them to Shelly, who placed them in his briefcase.
The Frenzy War Page 15