Two answering shots sent splinters of wood exploding past her, but she ducked back into the bathroom in time.
Across the hall, Chris crouched within the master bedroom, his back pressed against the interior wall. He leaned out enough to take a shot. The gun blast echoed and drew two more shots in response. Both bullets plunged into the doorframe.
Robin had never trained in firearms, and she knew Chris hadn’t either. The best they could do was hold this intruder off and pray he ran out of ammunition before his backup arrived. The orders he’d barked into his comm card seemed to indicate there were going to be far more gunmen descending on Reed’s home.
“We need to do something,” she said.
Chris’s brow wrinkled as he stood and wrapped his fingers around his pistol again, ready to take another shot. “You’re right.”
Another three blasts resounded. Robin flinched, and Chris jumped back. She hated being separated from him but wasn’t about to become riddled by bullets to quell a silly emotion.
She leaned out and fired off another bolt. In reply, a bullet smashed against the mirror behind her. Jagged glass fragments rained down on the tiled floor.
“We can’t deal with one guy; I don’t know how we’ll deal with more.” She fought to control her breathing and willed her arm to stop shaking.
“No kidding. I could try climbing out the window.”
“A two-story fall could be enough to break your ankle.” She blew out a breath as she picked up a mirror shard. She almost laughed at herself as she realized what she held in her hand. She’d been so focused on the man down the hall that she’d neglected to utilize the potent tool before her.
The wooden frame that had held the mirror still contained protruding fragments like a mouthful of broken teeth. If she pressed herself flat enough against the wall, she could see the reflection of the doorway where the gunman hid.
She needed to be sharper, quicker if she wanted to live. A thought struck her.
They had another potentially useful advantage over the man barricading himself in the guestroom as he waited for reinforcements.
“Throw me the drone.”
At first, Chris’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. Comprehension seemed to wash over him in an instant as he dashed beyond her line of sight. The same softball-sized drone Chris had found was functionally disabled by Vincent’s hacking of the Reed’s security. But the device might yet be useful.
Chris returned to the doorway. Robin held up a hand to signal him to wait. She saw the gunman peek out, and she fired. She missed but knew she’d been much closer this time. Knowing where he had positioned himself allowed her a more accurate shot.
But she’d need to do better if they wanted to escape. “Okay, now.”
Chris threw the drone to her underhanded.
She caught it against her chest. “On my signal, we’re going to rush down the stairs. Fire like crazy but follow me, got it?” With the dead drone in her palm, she pointed at Chris. “First, I need you to lay down cover fire. On my mark.”
Her heart climbed into her throat. She pressed her eyes closed and inhaled, once again mentally pushing her nervousness to the side. She clicked up the power on her stunner. The small holodisplay indicated maximizing the power provided enough charge for a single, fatal shot before the battery would be depleted.
The cold metal ball in her hands also contained a battery—that much she knew. She had no idea if her plan stood a chance of success, but she couldn’t think of anything better.
The gunman’s reflection appeared in the mirror. He aimed toward Robin’s door.
She stood, holding the drone in her right hand and the stunner in her left. “Now!”
Chris fired off three shots. His vantage point was worse than Robin’s. All three bullets punctured the far wall. Still, the gunman vanished back into his room.
Robin heaved the drone toward his doorway. She aimed her stunner, following the drone as it now rolled across the carpeted floor. She held her breath and squeezed the trigger.
The arc of electricity, like a miniature lightning bolt, struck the drone. The drone flashed, momentarily coming alive, green, blue, and red lights glowing from various points in its metallic shell. It shot off the floor as though preparing to fly again. A sudden burst of flames fanned from the cracks in its casing.
It exploded.
A frightening yell rang out, and the gunman threw himself to the floor. Tongues of flame enveloped his collared shirt and slacks. Yet somehow he still managed to hold on to his gun.
Fire leapt across the baseboards and caught on the paintings in the hall as the conflagration spread.
“Let’s go!” Robin sprinted toward the stairs.
Chris followed behind, shooting as they ran. A bullet slammed into the fallen man, and he ceased his flailing.
Robin looked back, momentarily relieved. But the overpowering heat and plumes of smoke filling the hall urged her to move on. Even if the gunmen’s reinforcements didn’t arrive soon, cops and firemen would be swarming Reed’s home. They didn’t need to be entangled in this mess.
She bounded down the last stair. Her foot slipped, and she fell backward. Pain rocketed up her tailbone, into her spine. Chris bent to help her as the heat caught up to them.
He slid a hand under her arm and hoisted her to her feet. “You okay?”
“Damn shoes are supposed to be ‘no slip.’” She rubbed her lower back and winced as they hobbled toward the front door. “That’s the reason I wear these ugly things around the hospital.”
Chris readjusted his arm around her side as she tightened her grip on his shoulder.
The throbs of pain began to dissipate. In her left hand, she still held the stunner, devoid of charge and temporarily useless. She slipped it into the waistband of her slacks. Chris likewise stowed his pistol.
She didn’t feel comfortable that neither had a weapon at the ready. “Let go of me and get your gun out.”
“I’m out. Spent my last round on that guy.” His eyes lifted toward the stairs. Tendrils of smoke obscured the ceiling. Flickers of orange glowed on the white walls. “Let’s get away from here and call Jordan.”
She grasped the door handle and twisted it.
The door burst back, flinging her and Chris across the floor. Pain reignited up her tailbone and through her lower back. Flecks swam in her vision, and she instinctively reached for the stunner.
But reality crushed her as she remembered the device had no more charge, and two men sauntered in from the night, weapons drawn.
Chapter 35
Jordan leveled his pistol at the man sprawled across the hardwood floor before him. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the fire devouring the home. The acrid smell of smoke stung his nostrils. “Chris?”
Rubbing his head, Chris drew himself up to his feet. “Christ, Jordan. I’m glad to see you, but you could’ve knocked.” A grin broke across his face as he helped Robin stand. “Hugh, glad to see you, too. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Sounds like a plan, my man.”
Hugh raced ahead, leading them down the drive toward the parked Audi. Pockets of trees blocked the view from Reed’s neighbors, but the billowing, pungent smoke and flames lighting up the night sky could not have gone unnoticed.
The car’s doors unlocked automatically, recognizing the signal from Jordan’s comm card as they drew near. They piled in, and Jordan tapped on the holodisplay. He hit the first destination that came to mind—his penthouse condo—and the car rolled off the drive and into the street, lights still off. He didn’t need headlights anyway to see the neighbors milling about their front lawns or gathering near the ends of their own drives to gawk at the growing fire. Sirens wailed in the distance.
A man—looking to be a neighbor in a robe—ran after them for a short while but stopped, his hands on his knees. His shape grew smaller in the rearview display as they sped out of the neighborhood. No doubt the man had seen
their car exiting Reed’s driveway. Maybe he wanted to stop them, to make sure Reed and whoever lived with him were okay.
But Jordan doubted it. The man would talk to the police when they arrived. He hoped the robed neighbor hadn’t taken a holophoto or video of the car. Maybe the darkness cloaked them enough to obscure any identifying features.
He tried to shake the fear, the reality that Vincent held them in a noose, observing their every moment. David Reed’s thugs were after them and already holding Ana hostage. The police, both the corrupt ones working with Reed and those who would be after the alleged arsonists that had driven off from Reed’s house, would soon be on their trail like ants after sugar.
His comm card buzzed. Another document from Vincent. It appeared to be an encrypted message Vincent’s team had recovered.
Jordan held his breath as he read, and his mouth went dry. He couldn’t believe it. He reread the message to ensure he understood. In the text, Reed detailed a planned release date for when the contaminated Blackbird Organics supplements would be distributed.
And it would all happen in three days.
There was also a scathing reminder that none of the experimental supplements should be shipped out early. Jordan suspected despite this warning, a few of those contaminated supplements had been delivered early. Robin’s patients had received them. The journalist, Ross Garrett, must have discovered them, too. The poor guy hadn’t lived to uncover this nefarious plot.
“What is it?” Chris asked, leaning forward in his seat.
“I don’t think the camouflaged prions were supposed to be released yet.”
Robin arched an eyebrow and positioned herself over Jordan’s shoulder. He showed her the holodisplay. She silently mouthed the words and then fell back, her eyes wide.
Once the supplements hit the market, there would be a rash of prion diseases across the country. The devastating effects of mad cow disease would affect thousands of families. Mothers and infants, some still in the womb, would suffer from the debilitating ailment.
That is, until they received treatment.
“So if Vincent isn’t lying, then our hospitals would be filled with these people.” Her eyes shot up from the card, and she stared hard at Jordan. “And we’d all be treating these patients with Styryldine.”
Jordan closed the message on the comm card and watched the passing of empty sidewalks illuminated with the glow of streetlights. “Protiomics is the company that makes Styryldine, right? And both companies are owned by Advance Industries. Is it too hard to believe Protiomics doesn’t have something to do with this? Could that be where Reed is with Ana?”
“I don’t know.” Robin cupped her hands over her mouth and breathed out. “This is too unreal to be a simple cash grab like this.”
“Remember how pharmaceutical companies cashed in on the flu every season with their vaccines?” Chris asked. “Sometimes, the vaccines were no more effective than a placebo, but people gobbled those up. Nobody is suffering from mad cow disease or any of its variants anymore. They probably have stocks of these drugs waiting to go bad.”
“Maybe inventing an epidemic to help sell a drug isn’t out of the question,” Hugh said. “Especially if you guys think this company is somehow involved in selling genies, right?”
“Boy’s got a point.” Jordan arched an eyebrow. “It might also support their case against the senator. If Protiomics, Blackbird, or Advance Industries had anything to do with black-market enhancements, they would’ve wanted Sharp and his bill out of the picture. Seems like we might have potential answers to some of our questions.”
The dot on the holomap showed they were approaching his home. Down the street, the looming tower, lights sporadically glowing out of windows, awaited them. He had never meant for them to actually stop by his home. He’d needed to input a destination back at Reed’s home, and this was the first that had come to mind. Now that they approached it, his thoughts turned back toward Ana, back toward where they should be heading.
“But none of this answers the two most important questions we’ve got. How do we stop this shipment from going out, and where the hell is Ana?”
Robin nodded and tied her hair back. “Can you show us everything Vincent sent you again?”
One quick tap on the comm card and documents and files glowed in the air. The car slowed at an intersection and Jordan tapped in a random address in the Federal Hill neighborhood. He didn’t intend to drive them back to his place, back to where a gaggle of spooks were probably lying in wait for him. Likewise, he figured none of the passengers in his car were safe from similar treatment.
“Who are all these people?” Chris said. He gestured over a document, and images of faces appeared around the car’s interior. “Looks like he sent us an entire list of all Protiomics’s and Blackbird’s employees.” He stopped on the CEO of Protiomics, Linda Thomas, a woman with short-cropped blonde hair and intense blue eyes. She wore a calm expression across her face that appeared both warm and serious at the same time, as though she knew nothing about the storm hovering over her company. “Wonder how much they all know about this mess.”
Chris’s and Robin’s hands danced through the air as they selected and opened more documents. The blue light of the projections lit their faces. Hugh tried to read a couple of the papers floating around but gave up. Jordan admired the lab tech for trying to be a part of the investigation, but so much had happened in the past few days, even he felt overwhelmed.
“This is strange.” Chris pointed to a document. The others paused their own perusing to scan his. “Reed was a member of the IRB committee back when Styryldine underwent clinical experiments at the University of Maryland Medical Center.”
Robin cocked her head, appearing to consider the point. “He’s been around for a while, so it makes sense.”
“That’s not what’s strange.” Chris pointed to a line in the committee’s meeting minutes. “Reed abstained from being part of the approval process.”
“You only abstain from that kind of thing if you have a personal or financial interest in the company.” Robin gestured to zoom in on the document. “It doesn’t state the reason here.”
Jordan waved his hand to scroll through several other files. He stopped on one showing Reed’s brokerage accounts—both those publicly disclosed and ones hidden offshore that Vincent had uncovered. He searched through the lines of shares Reed traded over the years. The manufacturer of Styryldine, Protiomics, was a publicly traded company, and he expected to see them show up in the list. That would tie everything into a nice, perfect package.
He bit his bottom lip in frustration when the company didn’t appear. “He never owned a single share of Protiomics.”
“Impossible.” Robin slapped the back of Jordan’s seat. “Why would he abstain, then? How was he connected to Protiomics?”
In answer to her question, a loud thump sounded from the trunk. Chris and Robin jumped and faced out the rear window.
“Don’t worry.” A wide grin spread across Hugh’s face, like a child showing his parents a report card of straight As. “I tied him up.”
“We found Gordon Huff,” Jordan said. “Or rather, he found us.”
“Jesus. That’s the guy who burned down the evidence room, right?” Chris gripped the handle of the pistol protruding from his waistband.
“Right, my man.” He held up a hand as Chris opened his mouth again. “Already interrogated him, and he doesn’t know where Reed is or where the man might be.” Chris slumped back. “Apparently, Reed only sent him encrypted messages. Never met in person.”
“Sounds like how half the doctors I know operate. Send a message to a nurse or orderly and never actually visit the patient.” Robin threw an arm around the front seat’s headrest and leaned forward again. “Wait a second. Can I borrow one of your comm cards?”
Chris handed her his, and she tapped at the screen. With a flick of her wrist, another holoprojection glowed before them. It appeared to be a matrix of names and times
. “This is our shift schedule. Keeps track of when we’re supposed to be on call and at the hospital.” She pointed at a name: Dr. David Reed. “Reed isn’t in today.”
“We’ve already established that, though,” Chris said.
Robin shot him a look of apparent impatience before pointing at another day on the calendar. “Reed wasn’t scheduled on the day all my samples were stolen, but Vincent sent us video evidence of him stealing the vials that evening. At the time, he wasn’t clocked in.” She pointed to the calendar again. “Plus, he sent the forged message to discharge my patients.”
Chris grinned, evidently understanding Robin’s train of thought. “But he sent the discharge message through the hospital’s secure intranet.”
“Right,” she said. “The only way to send that kind of encrypted message is to actually be in the hospital.”
“What’s all this jargon mean?” Hugh asked.
Robin jabbed a finger at the calendar. “It means Reed would’ve been inside the hospital when he wasn’t scheduled and wasn’t clocked in. The staff calendar says he wasn’t there.”
“And we were told he wasn’t in tonight, too,” Chris said. “But he could be at the hospital, and no one would be the wiser.”
Jordan understood their logic, but the idea that Reed was hiding out in the hospital now didn’t seem supported with the evidence. Sure, he could be there, but why would he be? “Any proof he’s there now?”
Robin’s victorious expression seemed to dissipate. Gordon’s muffled pounding from the trunk resonated throughout the cabin. “If our friend in back doesn’t know and we have no other leads, then this is our only option.” She nodded to indicate the GPS map on the holodisplay. “We aren’t too far from the UMMC, so why not make a visit?”
Images of Ana tied up as he and Hugh had hogtied Gordon Huff passed through Jordan’s mind. “We may not have much time, and the hospital’s huge. Where would we find Reed? If he is hanging around, I think we can safely eliminate any of the patient wards. That’d be too obvious, and the staff would know he’s there.”
The Black Market DNA Series: Books 1-3 Page 72