“Yeah. It did,” Kyle said. “But Nicole’s there, one way or the other. I know it.”
Baker paused for a moment, then waved his agents back to their vehicles. “We’re moving out,” he told them.
“I’m going with you.” Kyle made it sound like a done deal.
“Your feelings for the girl make you a problem I don’t need. Sit this one out at the precinct. Can’t spare any room for extra baggage.”
Kyle grabbed Baker’s sleeve. “No problem. I brought my own car. Nicole knows me, trusts me. She doesn’t know you.”
Baker stared at Kyle’s hand until he let go. After some consideration, the fed gave into his wishes. “I suppose you’ll follow me anyway, so what the hell. You do understand you’re no longer heading up the investigation, and that if you screw up my operation, I’ll have you hauled before a dozen disciplinary committees?”
“Yeah. I understand perfectly, Agent Baker.” Kyle added the name with an unsubtle touch of sarcasm.
“Good. Then let’s go check into Watts Inn.”
***
Hotels in the vicinity of San Francisco International were primarily for overnight stopovers, business travelers, and temporary accommodation of passengers with severely delayed flights. No tourist would want to stay so far from the city’s attractions, or listen to whining aircraft engines fifteen hours a day. Airport hotels fell into two broad categories: moderately priced economy chains, and the likes of Watts Inn, a bottom of the barrel drive-through with lodging rates under fifty dollars a night.
There was a reason why the rooms were so cheap. Watts Inn was a hellhole, a dirty brick building with an overgrown parking lot, rusted fire escapes, and boarded up windows. It was the type of place Internet travel sites refused to list, a cockroach infested dump where people stayed when they didn’t want to be found. In daylight hours, the bed and breakfast was a pit stop for drug dealers. Only hired assassins, murderers and heavily armed police officers dared visit the area after nightfall.
Baker’s team approached the motel under cover of darkness. The nearest streetlights were on the highway that linked the airport to the city’s south side, and the pitch-black clothes, vests and ski masks worn by the agents were perfect camouflage against the night sky. The FBI unit specialized in silent raids, and made very little noise as they advanced through the brambles and weeds. Kyle moved in behind the front line.
“I spoke with the manager,” whispered Baker over a portable radio. “Some Latin American prick named Juan Enrique Leone. He’s got a female lodger registered at Watts Inn under the name of Lenora Tasoto. She paid a full month in advance. Must be business as usual. Does this guy ever watch the news? Maybe Miss Knight offered him a bonus. You know what I mean eh, Travis?”
“What the hell are we waiting for?” Kyle asked, agitated. “Nicole could be dying in there.”
Baker had gone on ahead. Now Kyle was supposed to wait for clearance from the man in charge.
“Not what,” Baker replied. “Who. My team. Your girlfriend might be dead. Ever think of that? This woman parades police officers as trophies. I don’t intend to let her do the same with me. My team conducts a sweep. If it’s okay, then we move in. If not, then we stay put. You don’t have to like it, but that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it.”
Kyle broke off radio contact. In spite of their differences, he had no complaints with Baker’s professionalism. His agents worked fast to secure the area. Fifty seconds after the operation started, they’d surrounded the building. If the killer was in there, Baker had enough firepower for a week long siege. Agents converged outside the room the innkeeper had identified as Lenora’s. The advance team climbed to the second floor and took position out front, while a second group split off to cover the rear. Snipers lay in the grass, rifles aimed at the windows.
The team leader removed a long-handled mirror from his belt. He used it to peer over the window ledge without exposing himself. “Living area’s clear,” he reported. “No sign of the suspect.”
Baker waved his team forward. Kyle joined him on the outside balcony as two agents prepared to bust down the door.
“What about behind the wall?” Baker asked his second in command. “Any surprises waiting for us?”
The agent rotated his mirror pole. “Negative. Nothing there. What’s on your mind?”
“The suspect gave us this address. I’m thinking the room might not be empty. Prepare a full assault. Flash bangs, teargas, the works.”
Kyle watched the feds arm themselves with assault rifles and grenades. “What about Nicole?” he asked Baker.
“Don’t worry, Detective Travis. We won’t shoot your girlfriend, not on purpose. If she’s being held hostage, we’ll do our best to get her out alive.”
“Your best?” Kyle got the impression Nicole’s safety wasn’t the priority. “So in your eyes, she’s essentially collateral damage?”
Baker remained unsympathetic. “If necessary, yes. I’m here to ensure the safety of my team, and take the suspect down before she harms any more innocent civilians. I’m not a reckless man, Travis. There’s nothing that would make me happier than seeing Miss Tasoto safe in your arms, but given a choice between letting this psycho go free, or sacrificing your girl’s life to save one of my agents, that’s a no-brainer.”
A female agent handed Baker a carbine with a barrel-mounted light. It was the kind of weapon a special ops commando would use: a high-powered, automatic rifle with enough ammo to wipe out a terrorist cell. Baker was going after Lenora in true action hero style.
“On my mark, move in,” he ordered the squad leader. “Three, two, one. Go!”
The agents synchronized their assault. Timing was split second perfect. Operatives smashed windows and tossed in stun grenades. Soon after the flash bangs exploded, and the room filled with teargas. Baker and his team charged through the breached front door. Their weapon lights pierced the smoke, sweeping the bedroom walls.
“Clear!” the leader shouted.
The agents continued their search, fanning out into the bathroom. “We got a hostage in here,” a woman yelled. “She’s still alive.”
“Nicole!” Kyle covered his mouth, and stepped into the smoky motel room.
Baker had issued his team with breathing filters, but there were none left over for Kyle. Whether through misfortune or selfishness, he’d no protection from the teargas. Kyle coughed, choking on the wispy fumes as his eyes filled with water. He tripped over exercise equipment, but managed to feel his way to the bathroom. The smoke thinned out nearer the door, and Kyle saw a web of torch beams ahead.
Everyone was staring at Nicole. She was suspended from the shower rail, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. The girl’s wrists were handcuffed above her head, with an industrial steel cable linking the chain to a concrete brick in the bathtub. Similar bricks were secured around her knees, practically doubling her body weight. The killer’s reference to Nicole being stretched out now made perfect sense. How long had she been left like this?
The cables creaked as Nicole swung sideways. Scratches on the shower pole suggested it wasn’t her first attempt to escape. Her underwear was drenched in sweat. By any standard Nicole was a physically able woman, but she wasn’t strong enough to lift two slabs of concrete. An FBI agent tried to cut the chains around Nicole’s legs, but his bolt cutters kept slipping on her wet skin. Duct tape silenced her whimpers of pain. Kyle tore off the gag so Nicole could speak.
“K… Ky… Kyle,” she gasped. “Be… behind… you.”
Kyle turned round and searched the room. Thinking Nicole was referring to the toilet, he lifted the cracked seat. Flies buzzed around the bowl, and the drainage pipe was clogged with thick, yellow sludge. Overcome by the sickly stench, Kyle dropped the seat and moved to the medicine cabinet. The mirror was missing and the shelves empty.
“H… Higher,” Nicole croaked. “Look… higher.”
With Nicole’s guidance, Ky
le found a handcuff key on top of the cabinet. It was another of the killer’s sadistic games. She’d placed the means to escape within Nicole’s sight but not her reach. Kyle grabbed the key, stood on the bathtub, and unlocked the handcuffs. The foundation brick crashed into the bowl, dragging the loose industrial cable with it. Kyle jumped down and caught Nicole before she fell.
“Th… Thank you,” she said. Nicole was exhausted from her ordeal, and barely mustered the strength to embrace her rescuer.
“Get a medic in here!” Kyle yelled, comforting Nicole with a cuddle. “It’s all right. She can’t hurt you now. You’re safe.”
***
Nicole sat on the bed, wrapped in Kyle’s cloak. A field agent held an ice pack on her swollen ankles, but she still shifted with discomfort. The handcuffs had left abrasion marks on Nicole’s wrists, and she had trouble holding her paper cup steady. Baker had ordered a steaming pot of black coffee to aid her recovery. Kyle recalled how Nicole’s maid had done the same when he first visited her house. He hoped it wasn’t an ill omen, though Baker’s private army ought to keep the killer away from Watts Inn.
The FBI had tore the bedroom apart. It appeared to be Lenora’s base of operations. Old newspaper clippings were pinned to all four walls, forming a collage of Dragonsoft game reviews and stock market reports. Every picture of Toshigi had a thick, red cross drawn through his face. A DNA comparison with the hair sample from Twin Peaks confirmed it was Lenora’s blood. Agents carried away weighted barbell poles and boxes full of bladed implements. In the hands of a serial killer, ordinary household items became potential murder weapons.
A punching bag was secured to the ceiling. Baker twisted the rope then released it. Photos stapled to the cover spun past. Kyle saw glossy images of Toshigi, Randall and the two dead Cyber Maidens. Baker stopped the bag, and pointed to the final picture: Kyle and Nicole making love in her dojo.
“Busy doing your job, Travis?” Baker tore down the photo and turned to Nicole. “Come round yet, Miss Tasoto? Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
Nicole stared into her coffee. “I was at the precinct with Kyle. I mean Detective Travis. Lenora had just killed that cop. Kyle thought she was still in the building, and that I’d be safer if I went home.”
“I see,” replied Baker, nodding in thought. “You followed his advice? That was your first mistake.” He ignored Kyle’s hard stare and continued questioning Nicole. “What happened to your bodyguard? The girl we found with her skull cracked on the sidewalk. You’ll have to excuse me, but with all the dead police, I’ve forgotten her name.”
Nicole sipped her coffee. “Carmen. Her name was Carmen. Lenora rode in front of us on her motorcycle. I swerved, crashed into a lamppost. Next thing I knew, I was hanging from the shower rail in there. Carmen must have… gone through the windscreen. I don’t think she was wearing her seat belt.”
Baker squeezed his chin, scratching his lips. “Why not run the bitch over there and then? Save us the trouble of hunting her down. Unless Randall Forbes wasn’t her only partner. Now that makes more sense. You think so, Travis?”
“I would gladly pulverize that woman.” Nicole squashed her empty cup and threw it in the trash. “Believe me. She was wearing a helmet. How was I supposed to know it was Lenora?”
Baker viewed the newspaper clippings. “It seems to be a carefully planned vendetta against you and these Cyber Maiden friends of yours. Miss Knight must bear quite a grudge to collect all this.”
“Hey!” Kyle butted in. He was getting tired of Baker’s cat and mouse game. “You got something on your chest, come out and say it. We both know this woman’s an animal.”
“Animals respond to base instincts, but human predators require motivation, a reason to hate their prey. So your girlfriend stole some of Miss Knight’s design ideas. Hardly the crime of the century. It’s too petty a reason. Who’d go on a killing spree over videogames? Depraved teenagers, perhaps, but Lenora seems much too clever for that. What does she really want?”
“She’s freaking crazy,” Nicole said. “Who cares what her reason is?”
Kyle helped the girl to her feet. “Even by FBI standards, Nicole’s had a pretty rough day. So if you don’t mind, Agent Baker, I’d like to take her home.”
“Oh, I don’t mind one bit, Detective Travis,” Baker said, handing Kyle the photo. “So long as you stay out of my way, I don’t care what Miss Tasoto teaches you on the mat. Though if I were in your shoes, I’d find out what your girlfriend’s secret is. It might help you prepare for when the psycho comes calling.”
***
Nicole relaxed, sharing the last of her wine with Kyle. She’d recuperated on the way back from Watts Inn. Perhaps it was the absence of Baker’s unfounded accusations, or simply that she felt safer in her dojo, but Nicole seemed at ease. It was still three hours before dawn, and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Rain pattered against the roof, occasionally interrupted by the rumble of distant thunder.
“You think Lenora’s out there?” Nicole asked. “Watching the house? Waiting for an opportunity to strike?”
Kyle supped his wine, listening to trees creak in the wind. “I hate to be pessimistic, but you are the only person left on her list. She murders your friends, your colleagues, then comes after you.”
“You’re on her list too,” Nicole reminded him. “That’s why she kept me alive. She’ll come for you first, then move on to me. Jade Dragon’s final kill, her moment of ultimate victory.”
Nicole lowered her head. Kyle shuffled across the mat and stroked her face.
“Hey. She won’t get to you,” he said. “Not if I can help it. You’ve had a rough ordeal. Perhaps you should go lie down. Get some rest.”
Nicole finished her wine, and tucked her hair behind her ears. “You’re right. I’m tired of playing this stupid waiting game. You finish your wine. Kyle, I’d feel safer if we spent the night together.”
Kyle paused, trying to determine whether there was a double meaning to Nicole’s words. “I’m happy to sleep on the mat. But that’s up to you.”
“My bed’s a queen size. There’s space for two. I’ll go get changed.”
Nicole kissed him, went into her private room, and closed the door. Kyle poured the final drops of wine from the bottle, and drank them in one gulp. Something nagged at the back of his mind. Baker was a jerk, but what he’d said about Lenora’s lack of motivation made sense. Having her game design ideas stolen wouldn’t drive a person to mass murder. Crazy or not, there had to be a deeper reason. Kyle wondered if Nicole had kept a dark secret from him, something buried in her past she wanted to forget.
“Kyle!” Nicole screamed. “It’s Lenora! She’s—” There was another scream, then nothing.
Kyle dropped his wine glass, drew his gun, and ran into the next room. Jade was waiting for him behind the door. The tall, blonde woman stood beside Nicole’s bed, her leather jumpsuit bathed in green light. Kyle aimed his pistol, but Jade kicked it from his hand before he could shoot.
“I feel sorry for Lakeysia,” she said.
Kyle went for her throat. Jade sidestepped out of the way and punched Kyle in the face. She lifted her leg, and brought her boot heel down on his shoulder. There was so much power behind her attack she dislocated Kyle’s joint. Jade pounced, wrestling Kyle to the ground.
“Sorry she has a partner who thinks with his dick instead of his brain.” Her voice was different, softer and very familiar.
Jade unzipped her jumpsuit, exposing her body to the light. Kyle had seen her underwear before, less than an hour ago at Watts Inn. The woman’s face and neck were Caucasian pink but the rest of her body was Oriental brown. She wore tinted contact lenses, but Kyle would recognize Nicole’s eyes anywhere.
He looked around Jade’s room: her dragon-scaled bed, the computer she’d used to print the photographs, her colored lampshades. Baker had FBI agents posted outside, but the added security wouldn’t help. The killer was already inside the house. Lenora had been a
scapegoat framed by the woman Kyle loved. Nicole was Jade Dragon, and now she had him cornered in her lair.
“Surprised, Detective?” she asked with a gleeful smile. “My father had that same blank, look in his eyes. He tried to tell you before he burned away, but you were too dumb to listen. You look exhausted. Feeling sleepy?”
Nicole elbowed Kyle in the face. She stood up, kicked him twice in the hip, and drew her tranquillizer pistol. For the second time, she shot a dart into Kyle’s neck. He had one final thought before he blacked out. The killer wasn’t finished playing games just yet.
Chapter Sixteen: Modus Operandi
Nicole chained Travis’ right leg to her lower bedpost, pulled the links taut, and snapped on a padlock. The restraints she’d fastened around the detective’s wrists and ankles were so tight his body was stretched to the limit, with his back barely touching her duvet cover. Nicole had stripped Travis of his weapon and clothes, leaving him vulnerable and naked. Without a gun, he was as helpless as the others. Even if Kyle somehow escaped, he’d pose no threat. In a fight to the death it would take Nicole four seconds to beat him senseless, and half as long to snap his neck.
She’d kept Travis alive because she wanted him to understand what it was like to be a prisoner in another person’s bed. Now he was at her mercy, Nicole would subject Kyle to the same torture she’d endured as a child. Beneath his suave exterior, he was no different from Toshigi or Randall. He’d pretended to offer his protection, but his only real interest was in seducing her. All three men had taken advantage of Nicole, and not one regarded her as superior or even their equal.
Nicole was the heart and soul of Dragonsoft. It was her innovative game designs that had propelled her father’s company to the top and funded his luxury empire. Everyone wanted a piece of his success, yet nobody showed the chief architect any respect. Nicole received royalties on her games, but Toshigi diverted most of the wealth to his sleazy attorney. Despite being a small fish in his pond, the other employees had seen Nicole as a spoiled child. Charlie, Rebecca, the Cyber Maidens – they’d all hated her guts. In the eyes of her peers, she was an attractive Japanese schoolgirl, not a videogame pioneer.
Jade Dragon (Action Girl Thrillers) Page 19