Silent Assassin

by Leo J. Maloney

  She nodded weakly.

  “Okay, good,” he said. “Here.” He took four hundred dollars from his wallet and put it in her hand. “If you need anything, don’t use your credit card. Don’t bring your phone. Call me from their house phone in two hours so I know you’re safe.”

  “Wait, Dad!” she said. “Let me go with you. I can help!”

  “You’re going to help me by being safe.”

  “Dad, I need to do something!”

  “I said go! Now, Alex!” He realized immediately that he’d spoken too gruffly, and softened his tone. “They already have your mother. I need to know that you’re safe while I get her back. Okay?” He hugged her, holding and comforting her for a minute. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes,” she said weakly.

  “Okay,” he said. He got back into the Shelby, which he had parked askew on the curb. He backed up, then peeled out, moving back along the dark suburban streets. His phone rang.

  “Cobra, I got the vehicle,” said Shepard. “Black van, getting onto I-93 South thirty minutes ago.”

  “Then that’s where I’m going,” said Morgan.

  He was speeding back down to Boston when his phone rang.

  “Hello, Daniel Morgan.” It was cold and cruel. The voice of a stone cold killer, a man with no heart. The voice of Nikolai Novokoff.

  “You bastard,” he said.

  “Come down to the city, Danny Boy,” said Novokoff. “And turn the radio to the local news. I’ve got a surprise for you. And I guarantee you’ll find out where your wife is very soon.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Boston, February 27

  Morgan drove blindly down Storrow Drive, not knowing where to go. The urgency of finding Jenny, of rescuing her from the madman Novokoff, spurred him to accelerate, but it was, of course, useless. He had no idea where to go. The radio was tuned to a local station, but the anchor was giving a traffic update.

  “Do you have anything for me yet, Shepard?” he asked, with his cell on speakerphone.

  “I’ve tracked him down as far as getting to the city half an hour ago, but that’s it.”

  “Keep looking!”

  Morgan switched between radio stations until he came to another local news station.

  “—we turn now to one of our citizen journalists, who just called in about something strange going on downtown. Sir, just what is happening?”

  “Yeah,” said a man’s voice with a Southie accent, “there’s someone hanging from the crane here at that big construction site—”

  “That would be the future Dwight Tower,” said the anchor.

  “Oh no,” Morgan said to himself. “No.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Dwight. Anyway, they’re just hanging there, squirming. It’s a mob thing, if you ask me.”

  “Thanks, sir. Well, there you have it, folks. We’ve got Steve going down to get a look at it himself—”

  Morgan switched off the radio, then clutched, white-knuckled, at the wheel and sped off, grazing cars as he wove through the tight traffic, past the Common. He reached the block of the new skyscraper. A crowd was already forming, blocking his car’s access. He screeched to a halt and left the car, leaving the door open behind him.

  Morgan ran down the street, barreling through the crowd, and looked up. By the skeleton of the rising skyscraper, already some thirty stories high, the huge yellow arm of the crane swung over the street. Hanging from its hook was a figure, tiny so far above the ground, contorting itself and swinging precariously. Her body was covered in what looked like a very heavy winter coat and pants. She was far enough above the street that all he could make out was her hair. The short, straight brown hair.

  His phone rang and he put it to his ear. “Did you figure it out yet?” asked Novokoff’s mocking voice.

  “Let her go,” he said. “Set her down right now, or I swear to you that I’ll—”

  “You will do what? You have nothing to offer me and nothing to threaten me with. I am a dead man already. Courtesy of the savage beast you let loose on me. But I intend to go out in style, Mr. Morgan! And I intend to break you in the process.”

  “What do you want?” Morgan asked. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I want you to suffer.”

  He pushed his way through the crowd, elbowing his way through where it was thickest. Four policemen had arrived at the scene, and were trying to keep an area clear underneath the crane. Morgan ran toward them.

  “That’s my wife!” he said.

  “We’ve got this under control, sir,” a policeman told him, holding up a hand to hold Morgan back. “We are going to get her down as soon as we can. We’re getting someone who can operate the crane to come down here right away.”

  “Oh, could it be that easy?” Novokoff taunted on the phone.

  “What did you do?” Morgan demanded.

  Novokoff burst out laughing. “It’s too good. Just too good.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Look at your wife. Do you see the bombs I’ve strapped to her?”

  Morgan tensed up, ready to dash to her.

  “Don’t make for that crane, Morgan. I can detonate them remotely.”

  Morgan stopped himself and stood still, not knowing what to do.

  “Ah, but there’s more,” Novokoff continued. “You see, along with the bombs, I’ve strapped her with vials of the infectious agent.”

  The world sank. “No . . .”

  “Now, the bombs I have are set to go off in—oh, just over ten minutes now. If they blow, the fungus will rain on all the people below, and be set loose in this great city of Boston. But I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!” he exclaimed with obscene joy. “I will give you a chance—one chance—to save your city. If you look to your right, you will see a trash can.” Morgan looked around at the confusion of faces in the crowd; then he looked up at the buildings around him. Novokoff had to be there somewhere. If he was half as devious as he was supposed to be, then Novokoff would also have a sniper trained on him. Morgan turned to face the building across the street from the construction site. It was a hotel, tall and boxy, with at least two hundred windows. It had the clearest line of sight to the street. If Morgan were a sniper, that’s where he’d be.

  “I want you to walk to it and reach inside,” Novokoff continued.

  Morgan did as he was told, and found something heavy and plastic inside. It had a handle of some kind. He pulled it out. It was a black detonator, with a red button on top protected by a clear plastic cover.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “The best part!” Novokoff said with glee.

  “What did you do?” Morgan was a mess of rage and torment.

  “You can save your city—by sacrificing her. Push that button and you activate the second set of bombs that I wrapped around her. Incendiary bombs. They will completely burn up her and the fungus.”

  “I’m going to stop you,” Morgan said, gritting his teeth. “I’m going to save her, then I’m going to find you and kill you.”

  “Oh, stop,” he said. “You’re taking all the fun out of my beautifully constructed moral dilemma. Agonize, Morgan. Live the decision.”

  He wasn’t going to. That would mean to play on his terms. To make that choice would mean that Novokoff won. Except what if he couldn’t—he stopped himself from thinking it, and began to look around for ways to stop him. He hung up on Novokoff and put his communicator in his ear.

  “Shepard! He’s got a bomb on Jenny. I need to you to get a jammer down here immediately. Think you can do that?”

  “I’ll do what I can, Cobra,” he said.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, just do it! I need it here five minutes ago!”

  “I’ve got Bishop here. He’s getting it ready as we speak.”

  “Also, I think there’s a sniper on me. He’d be in the hotel across the street.”

  “In the hotel? Care to narrow that down for me, Cobra?”

  “I’ll try to get
a visual,” said Morgan. “It’ll be hard from street level, though.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” said Shepard. “I got Spartan on her way to your location as well.”

  “Okay, keep me posted.”

  Morgan’s phone rang once more. It could only be one person.

  “What the hell do you want?” he asked.

  “Rude, rude, rude,” Novokoff said. “Hanging up on me like that.”

  “Are you having fun with this?” said Morgan. He scanned the windows of the hotel across the street as he held the phone up to his ear. Novokoff had to be around here somewhere.

  “Would you like to talk to your wife?” he asked.

  Morgan didn’t answer. Of course he did. But he’d never admit that he wanted something from Novokoff. But the question had been rhetorical, and Morgan heard Jenny’s voice coming from the cell phone.

  “Dan?”

  “Yes, Jen, it’s me. Talk to me, Jen. Talk to me.”

  “I’m scared, Dan, and I’m cold. He put bombs on me. He has me tied up, blindfolded, and hanging from somewhere that feels like it’s high above the ground.”

  “I know,” he said. “I see you. Listen, Jenny, don’t be afraid. I’m going to get you out of this. I’m going to hang up now, but trust me.”

  “I’m so scared, Dan. . . .”

  “I’ll get you down! Everything’s going to be okay! I just need hang up now, okay? Remember, I love you, Jen.”

  “I love you, too, Dan,” she said tearfully. “Tell Alex I love her. Tell her I love her more than anything.”

  “Time is ticking, Morgan,” Novokoff cut in. “And you are making promises that you can’t keep. Oh, and look, the police are getting ready to go inside the building. We can’t have that.”

  “What the hell am I going to do about that?” Morgan asked.

  “You’re a resourceful man, Mr. Morgan. Keep them out or she dies.”

  Novokoff hung up. Morgan looked at a group of policemen, who were opening the gate to the construction site with a wire cutter. He had to move fast. He hastily pocketed the detonator and stealthily drew his gun from its ankle holster. Then he scanned the crowd until he found a young woman, standing near the police cordon. She must have been no older than twenty-seven, tall and curly-haired. She was apparently alone there, dressed in an elegant black coat. Morgan jostled his way to her, keeping his gun low and out of sight. He brought his gun to her neck and pulled her aside quickly, so that he had her against the fence, with no policemen behind him, as she let out her first scream.

  “Stand back!” Morgan yelled to the policemen, who had turned immediately and now had their guns on him. “Everyone, back!”

  “Let her go!” said the nearest policeman, who was young. Morgan saw that his bravado was a cover for a deep nervousness. He would be the most dangerous one there.

  “There’s nowhere to go, buddy,” said another policeman. He was older, with a face weathered by experience, a real, old-school Boston cop, clearly in charge, though Morgan couldn’t make out his rank.

  At that moment, the alarm in the hotel across the street went off. Shepard, you genius. The hotel would be evacuated, and the only one left inside would be the sniper.

  “Cobra, I’m guessing you’ve heard the alarm by now,” said Shepard. “I’m running an infrared satellite sweep on the location. Once enough people are out of their rooms, we should be able to locate the shooter.” Morgan couldn’t answer him, but at that moment, he could kiss the little geek.

  “Back, all of you,” said Morgan, calmly as he edged to the gate to the construction site. “What’s your name?” he said quietly to his hostage.

  “L-lisa,” she said, in a trembling voice.

  “Listen, Lisa, you’re doing great,” he said, still moving slowly along the sidewalk. The four policemen backed to make way for him, and the crowd contracted back in fear, all the while being pushed tighter by the curious people in the back. One of the policemen had his radio out, calling for backup. Morgan had to handle this carefully. “Just move as I move and do everything I say, and everything’s going to be all right. Okay, Lisa?”

  “Please let me go,” she said. Her voice was trembling, but she was composed. She had been a good choice.

  “What the hell are you doing out there, Cobra?” asked Shepard, exasperated, into the comm.

  “Drop the gun,” said the more experienced cop. “Nobody has to die here today.”

  “Nobody will, if you just stay the hell back,” said Morgan. Lisa whimpered quietly.

  “We need to get through that gate to help that woman up there,” said the cop.

  “You can’t help her,” said Morgan. He had reached the gate into the construction site now.

  “Why not?”

  “He said she was his wife!” said the policeman who had blocked Morgan’s way earlier.

  “Is that true?” said the older cop. “Did you do that to her? Is that why you don’t want us in there?”

  “Cobra, what the hell is going on?” Shepard repeated.

  “No,” said Morgan. “It’s because I’m the only one who can save her.” Then, quietly, he said, “How is that jammer coming along, Shepard?” He looked up at the windows of the buildings around him. Novokoff might be up there somewhere. Morgan knew he’d be watching. But once the jammer was in place, there’d be nothing he could do, and Morgan could run and save Jenny.

  “Almost there,” he replied. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

  “Who are you talking to?” asked the older policeman.

  “You need to stay back,” said Morgan.

  “You said you can save her,” said the policeman. “Let us help. Who are you talking to?”

  “You can’t help,” said Morgan. He looked up at the crane again. Thirty stories. He’d have just over five minutes to get up there and defuse the bomb. “There’s nothing you can do, except stay out of my way.”

  “The bomb squad is on its way,” said the policeman. “If that’s your wife up there, they can save her.”

  Morgan saw a half-dozen more policemen making their way through the crowd. They’d have snipers on him within minutes.

  “Okay, jammer’s in place,” said Shepard. Morgan noticed that one of the policemen was fiddling with his radio. Seemed like the jammer was working.

  “You’re surrounded,” said the policeman. “Where are you going to go?”

  Morgan pulled Lisa backwards into the construction site, looking back to locate the elevator.

  “I’m going up,” he said.

  He released Lisa and dashed behind a piled of bricks, as shots rang out behind him. Hidden from view, he fired two shots in the air. That should keep the cops busy. He ran around the corner of the building, out of sight of both the cops and the sniper, to find the construction hoist. It was a yellow elevator, with a cage at the bottom and a tower that stretched to the top of the construction. He opened the door to the cage and flipped the lever, but the power was off. It took him a split second to consider the stairs, and then looked at his watch. Three minutes to go. He’d never make it in time.

  “Shepard, I need information on this elevator. It’s a Palson D-zero-five-five. Meanwhile, what’s the status on that sniper?”

  “We’ve got two possible locations. Tactical is on their way.”

  “Good. And that info on the elevator?”

  “Got it here. What do you need?”

  “I’ve got no power, and I need a way to make it go up. Fast.” He looked back, and fired two more shots into the air.

  “Where’s the cage?”

  “At the bottom with me.”

  “Safety?”

  “Not really my number one concern right now.”

  “Okay,” said Shepard. “You’re going to want to release the brakes. This model only has emergency brakes on free fall, so once you do that, the counterweight should take you all the way up. There should be a lever next to the motor. Pull that first, all the way. That’ll allow the cables to mov
e freely, independent of the motor.”

  Morgan found it, outside the cage next to the tower structure, and pulled it. The steel cable tensed audibly. “Done.”

  “All right. Now, get inside the cage. There’s another lever there, should be at ground level, along the edge.”

  Morgan moved inside the cage. He saw the policemen rounding the corner carefully, guns drawn. He closed the door to the cage.

  “Drop your weapon, and get on the ground!” one yelled.

  “I need to get moving, Shepard!”

  “You just have to pull the lever. Remember to keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and hold on to your—”

  Morgan didn’t hear the rest. The elevator jerked so violently that the upward force kept Morgan pinned to the floor. Mere seconds went by until the counterweight hit the ground with a deafening clang that reverberated upwards along the structure of the hoist, shaking it so violently that Morgan barely noticed for a second or two that he felt no gravity. The cage stopped abruptly at the top of the tower. Morgan’s back collided painfully with the ceiling of the cage, and then he hit the floor again as the emergency brakes kicked in.

  “—organ, Morgan, come in. Are you okay?”

  There was no time to answer. He pulled open the doors to the cage. The brakes had arrested its ascent some ten feet above the highest floor. Well, no time to think about how much this is going to hurt. He pushed off the edge, and there was no ground beneath his feet.

  He rolled as he fell on hard concrete. He immediately ran for cover behind a pillar. He heard a buzz as the sniper’s bullets flew past him, and two hit the concrete pillar, making dull thwips. He looked at his watch. Its face had shattered in the elevator, and his wrist was red and swollen, although he couldn’t feel any pain. He checked his pocket for the detonator. It seemed to be in one piece. He felt his other pocket for his knife. It might save his life again that day.

  “Shepard, I need that sniper taken out now!” Two more shots whizzed by. “How much time do I have?”

  “Just over two and a half minutes! Stay put, they’re almost at his room!”

  Morgan counted the seconds off in his head, and they were the longest of his life. He looked at the ledge, and saw the crane that was hanging off the building. Jenny was there. She needed him.