Ana followed the crowd out of the hall and into the closed parking garage attached to the department building. She ducked into an idling unmarked patrol car with Detective Gabriel Marquez, also from Bio Unit.
The marshals directed Sharp into one of the black prisoner transport vans. Two other identical vans served as decoys. Three unmarked patrol cars took the lead, and the door to the garage opened. Ana and Gabriel’s car fell in behind the trio of vans, and two Baltimore PD cars drove in line behind them.
“Why not take normal squad cars?” Ana rolled her eyes as she leaned back in her seat, her hands behind her head. “It’s not like nine black cars driving down I-95 is inconspicuous or anything.”
Gabriel shrugged and pulled out his comm card. “Hell if I know. I’m not looking forward to sitting in this damn car for an hour to drop the good old senator off and then turn around.”
“You know he’s going to get all his charges dismissed, don’t you?”
The line of self-driving cars whirred under passing streetlights as they turned past Camden Stadium toward the highway.
Gabriel stared vacantly at the glow from his comm card. “Probably.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
He sighed and looked at her. “You know that’s the way things work. If you let yourself get upset by it, you’ll stress out until you have a heart attack.”
“Come on. You aren’t even slightly annoyed?”
Gabriel kicked his feet up onto the dash. “I’m annoyed you won’t let me catch up on my shows.”
Ana glowered but said nothing more. No one in their department spoke out as she did, which irritated her more. She brought in criminals and entrusted them to the justice system. But the justice system failed her, failed the people of Baltimore, Maryland, and the rest of the country when it let guys like Sharp off easy.
She exhaled and combed her fingers through her hair. She knew Gabriel wasn’t right but wondered if he might have a point. Hell, she’d deceived her own department and worked behind the backs of her fellow detectives to help Chris Morgan out weeks ago. She’d ensured he didn’t get wrongly arrested and thrown into jail while the rest of the Bio Unit clamored to bring him in. She’d convinced herself she needed to bend the rules and laws to keep an innocent man out of prison. In doing so, she had at least had a hand in bringing down Tallicor and Sharp.
But all that dancing in an ethical gray area led to a convoy traveling down I-95 at midnight to drop the politician off at an office, where he’d probably be freed in a few days with nothing more than a verbal admonishment and being stripped of his government position. She kicked the dashboard, and Gabriel jumped.
“Damn. Let it go already.” He shook his head before returning his gaze to his glowing comm card.
A swelling thrum of rain pattered against the windows. As it grew, sheets of water obscured Ana’s view of the surrounding highway. In an effort to make their conspicuous convoy less suspicious, the U.S. marshals had ordered them to drive with headlights off. Ana thought the entire ruse was a farce, but she knew her opinion on such matters had little sway.
No one had bothered to listen when she advised they shouldn’t release a department-wide memo detailing the date and time of the transport. Hell, maybe she was crazy, but she couldn’t help entertaining the thought that someone in the department wanted the itinerary to be published and spread around. While the marshals claimed they needed the Baltimore department on high alert for suspicious activity around the city that might precipitate a desperate attempt to free the senator or some other event Ana thought unlikely, the detective knew the more people in her department aware of the senator’s trip to the Capitol, the more likely specifics of the highway ride would end up on the wrong comm cards.
To make matters worse, autodrive cars were regulated by governing chips to prevent speeding. Yet their unmarked convoy flew down the interstate.
Not obvious at all, she thought.
“This is all screwed,” Ana said.
Gabriel ignored her.
A wave of water slammed against the windshield, and Ana jumped. It had been kicked up by a vehicle speeding past. Anxiety crept through her. “The hell was that?”
Gabriel waved her off. “Another car on the road. Drive much?”
“Give me a break. You see how fast they were going?”
“Yeah, so?”
“They were speeding.” She shot Gabriel a nonplussed look, not believing he couldn’t understand the implications. “That means they’re driving manually. No comp driving. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Not if they have somewhere to be and can afford a couple of tickets.”
Ana settled back into her seat and let the minutes tick by. The holoscreen displaying their current location on the map showed they were almost halfway between Baltimore and DC. Half an hour more and she’d say goodbye to the senator for good. The feds, if they were feeling generous, might drop her a bone and give her a tidbit of information they’d squeezed out of the senator. It could be enough to help rid her city of the scum peddling back-alley genetic enhancements claiming to improve memory, increase lifespans, and allow a person to see in the dark. Most of this street tech didn’t work and caused enhancers—the people using these gene modifications—more problems than benefits when they injected these so-called genies into their blood. Even the criminal groups distributing working enhancements functioned without the oversight of the FDA. They might sell a product successfully increasing muscle mass, but it might also introduce musculoskeletal tumors.
Another splash of water preceded three more in quick succession. Ana’s heart leapt into her throat, and she stared at Gabriel. The glowing comm card still captivated him, and he made no indication to confirm the burgeoning fear filling Ana with adrenaline.
“Something’s not right,” she said.
“Don’t worry—”
The road before them turned bright with flames licking into the sky. One of the patrol cars flipped under a cushion of roiling fire. The second patrol car spun out on the slick asphalt and slammed into the third. In response, the autodriving vans cranked hard to the left and passed by the burning wreckage.
Such violent conflagration in vehicles was supposedly a thing of the past. With electric motors and intense fire-protection measures, the most devastating car wreck—an absolute rarity in itself—almost never resulted in a scene approaching the hellscape before Ana now.
Something was definitely not right.
One of the marshals lugged himself out his door, tongues of fire dancing across his clothes. No other signs of conscious life appeared in the other vehicles.
“What the—” Gabriel didn’t have a chance to finish his words.
Though the self-driving systems of their vehicles were optimized to perform better than a human driver, physics could not be as easily programmed. Both the van holding the senator and the two decoy vans slammed into something. Ana and Gabriel’s unmarked patrol car didn’t slow in time. Rubber slid across the wet asphalt as their vehicle careened into one of the vans.
Ana flew into the dashboard, and her head cracked against the windshield. Her vision went black, and she felt numb for several seconds. Her consciousness seemed to ebb and flow until a scorching pain sent shudders down her left arm and side. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, and looked toward Gabriel. Blood streamed from his nostrils and out from under his thick black hair.
No air bags, Ana thought. The safety systems had been turned off. Somehow, whatever was going on, whoever was responsible for this, their vehicles had been sabotaged.
She grabbed at her seat with her right hand. Her left arm hung limp, agony tearing up it each time it bounced against her body. She wiggled up to see out the cracked window.
Dark shapes flitted around the sides of the vans. At each of the rear doors, figures held up objects emitting a scorching blue blaze. An electric whine accompanied the bright light.
They were cutting into the doors.
; A sudden fury whipped up in Ana. They were trying to get to the senator.
Ana leaned on the handle, and it clicked open. The door swung, and she tumbled out of the car. With her right hand, she struggled to her feet and used the crumpled exterior of the vehicle to help support her weight. She reached into her holster and pulled out her Smith & Wesson. Rain washed over her and dragged her hair down in front of her eyes.
Still, she could make out where the brilliant blue lights originated, even in the murkiness and her muddled consciousness. She fired three times at each of the people trying to gain access to the vans.
The lights didn’t go off, and the electric whining of the metal cutters continued. Voices yelled out. She made out the shape of a man leveling his gun at her, the weapon glinting with the flickering light of one of the cutters.
She tried to adjust her aim, but a spray of bullets hit her first. One plunged into her right arm, another three slammed into her chest, and she fell onto the asphalt. Water poured over her face as she gasped for breath. The metal cutters ceased.
One of the men kicked her pistol away and glowered at her before turning away. Cold rain soaked through her clothes and mixed with the warm blood pouring out of her wounds. She inhaled sharply again, desperate to breathe normally.
“He’s in here!” one of the dark shapes yelled. “Found Sharp.”
“Pull that asshole out,” another voice called, this one belonging to a woman with short-cropped blonde hair who was approaching the senator. She held up a comm card to illuminate Sharp’s face. “Fantastic. Take care of him.”
Without hesitation, another man pressed a pistol into the senator’s forehead and fired twice. Sharp’s body crumpled to the ground. The woman knelt and took several photographs of the dead senator with her comm card before signaling to the rest of her comrades to leave.
The whir of rubber on the road quieted as the vehicles disappeared. Ana hadn’t even gotten a proper view of her attackers or their rides. She gaped at the senator’s lifeless body.
She’d failed. She scraped her nails against the asphalt and clawed toward Sharp. Pain coursed through her chest and sides. She’d wanted the senator to face justice, to endure punishment fitting his crime, but this wasn’t what she had in mind.
Ana struggled to keep her eyes open, to fight against the onslaught of chemicals and hormones in her body urging her to lie back, to accept fate. She was done with letting others ignore her advice and instincts.
She was done.
Chapter 3
Chris awoke with a start. He instinctively reached to his bedside table. As an ex-con, he couldn’t legally own a firearm, and he didn’t want to risk even 3D printing one. He’d served his time for distributing genetic mods, but he’d forfeited his right to keep a gun around. Jordan always told him he should, just in case, but Chris feared a cop would somehow find out and he’d end up back in prison.
But now he found himself wishing he’d heeded Jordan’s advice.
There was a scratch at his front door. He knew he’d heard it.
He pulled out the knife hidden under a paper book in the nightstand, a six-inch blade, and slipped out of bed.
“Something wrong?” Robin turned over, her hair splayed across the pillow and her eyes still closed.
“I don’t think so, but I want to check on something.”
She rubbed her eyes and straightened up in bed, the comforter falling from her naked form. Her eyes shot wide open. “Is that a knife?”
Chris held a finger up to his lips and crept out of the bedroom. He peered into the bathroom, but nothing moved. Nudging open the door to the second bedroom he’d converted into an at-home laboratory of sorts, he confirmed no intruder played scientist there.
He tiptoed down the hall to the living room but saw no shapes moving near his couch and coffee table. Nor did anybody appear in the kitchen.
Another scraping sound.
He jumped. It had come from the front door, and he snuck toward it. He held the knife before him, trying to slow his breathing lest the would-be home invader prepare himself for Chris’s ambush.
A loud knocking echoed throughout the living room. Robin appeared, the comforter wrapped around her body. Her brow wrinkled in worried creases. “What the hell?”
“Chris!” a voice called from beyond the door. “Open up! Chris! Are you there?”
Chris’s body relaxed, and he knew at once who waited for him on the other side. He placed the knife down on the coffee table and rushed to open the door.
A tall man in a pressed suit stood before him. His deep brown eyes matched the healthy glow of his mahogany skin as a worried look dissipated into a wide grin.
“Chris! You’re okay!” His eyes ran up and down Chris’s body before settling on Robin. He cocked his head. “Looks like you’re more than okay.”
Robin flushed red as Chris flicked on the lights to the condo.
“Hi, Jordan,” she said before escaping back down the hall toward the bedroom.
Jordan gave Chris a playful punch on the shoulder. “Man, am I glad to see you alive. Not naked...I could do without that. But you’re alive.”
Chris’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. In his haste to defend his condo, he’d neglected to dress for the occasion. “Give me a second, all right?”
“Certainly,” Jordan said. He turned around and checked the front door’s locks as Chris went back to his bedroom.
“What’s Jordan doing here?” Robin had already donned the dress she’d worn to dinner. “I mean, I knew you two were close, but if I would’ve known he’d planned a late-night rendezvous with you, I wouldn’t have stayed over.”
Chris smirked and pulled on a pair of boxers and then the slacks he’d tossed on the floor. “You talked about taking our relationship to the next level so I thought bringing Jordan into the mix might spice things up.”
“Well, a little warning would’ve been nice.” Robin playfully jabbed him in the ribs. “It seems like our relationship is already fraught with communication problems, huh? Doesn’t bode well for our future.” She leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.
Chris placed a hand on the small of her back and swept her off her feet. His lips met hers, and he closed his eyes. Gently lowering her, he drew away but lingered near her, soaking in her warmth. “How’s that bode for our future?”
“It’ll help.”
While the adrenaline faded from Chris’s bloodstream and the tiredness of waking in the dark hours of the morning set in for him, Robin seemed to have no problem reenergizing. He supposed that quality came in handy, since she spent most of her time either at the hospital working in the pediatric oncology unit or on call. He always wondered when she had time for sleep, much less talking to him. On the floor beside his nightstand, his comm card blinked red, and Chris bent to pick it up. The holoscreen displayed several missed calls from Jordan along with a couple of text messages and emails demanding to know where Chris was and if he was okay.
Chris returned to the living room, where Robin and Jordan were already seated on his couch. Robin’s face appeared ashen. Jordan tried to offer a warm smile, but the man’s eyes revealed an intense worry betraying his forced casual demeanor.
“Senator Sharp’s dead,” Jordan said. “I think he’s been assassinated.”
“What? That’s what you were calling about?” Chris asked.
Jordan nodded gravely. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Vincent’s group planned this.” Chris, Robin, Jordan, and Chris’s ex-partner, Veronica Powell, had helped Detective Ana Dellaporta take down the operating front, Tallicor Consulting, that had protected a criminal organization dealing in illegal genetic enhancements. Senator Arthur Sharp had apparently worked under the sway of massive financial gifts levied by Tallicor. Despite the organization’s demise, one member, the alleged leader of the group, had disappeared: Jeremy “Vincent” Kar.
“You think Vincent’s behind this?” Chris asked. “Trying to eliminate the senator to prevent any information b
eing leaked?”
“Makes sense to me,” Jordan said. “And if he’s bold enough to go after a man with that much clout, it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to come after you.” He glanced at Robin. “Or you.”
“Veronica, too, I assume,” Robin said, arching an eyebrow.
Chris grabbed Robin’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He felt grateful she sat near him, safe by his side. Then his thoughts turned back to his ex. If he had never gotten involved in the underground enhancement trade, neither Robin’s nor Veronica’s life would be at risk. Guilt for putting them in danger welled up.
“Right,” Jordan said. “The police haven’t released any details yet, but the hit happened while the senator was in a police-escorted convoy allegedly headed down to DC.”
“Police?” Chris scratched at his five-o’clock shadow. “If Baltimore PD was involved, then I’d bet Dellaporta knows something about it. She’s been wrapped up pretty tight in this case.”
“I’d be willing to go all in on that, too. Which is why I needed to come here.” Jordan looked over at Robin. “Again, sorry for intruding. I tried your card, too, but all I have is your work number, and the hospital wouldn’t transfer my message to your personal line.”
“No need to apologize,” Robin said. “Besides, it’s probably you, Chris, and Veronica that are in real danger. I don’t know Vincent, and I’ve never seen him.”
Those words sounded eerily familiar. Veronica had once told Chris she didn’t think she was at risk of anyone hurting her because she didn’t have any direct role in the black market. But his associates and the business were not so discriminating. Vincent had tortured Veronica to squeeze information out of her. Chris interlaced his fingers with Robin’s. “I think it’s best we’re all careful now. After all, Vincent’s people did abduct you before. It’s not like they don’t know who you are and what you’re capable of.”
Robin opened her mouth, likely in protest, but her lips tightened just as quickly, and she nodded. She had been kidnapped and forced to work in a laboratory setup within Tallicor to fix a defect in genetic enhancements that had caused an outbreak of cancer in the enhancer community. Given everything she’d witnessed, she might still be an asset to the investigation and any subsequent case against Vincent—which meant the crime lord would want her gone, too.
The Black Market DNA Series: Books 1-3 Page 53