Patient Darkness: Brooding City Series Book 2

by Shutt, Tom

  “He wasn’t at home when I left.”

  “But I already have the spare key in hand, and I don’t mind the walk.”

  Brennan smiled. “Fine, go ahead. Lock up when you’re finished raiding my liquor cabinet.”

  “A man’s work is never finished, you know that.”

  He ended the call and glanced at the rising cab fare meter. It was a good thing that Alex was covering the tab. They drove the last several blocks in silence, but Brennan could sense his partner’s rising excitement as they approached Eighteenth Street. Her eyes remained riveted on the large, tiered skyscraper that marked their destination.

  The taxi pulled up alongside the curb, and the two of them stepped out into the shadow of the building. It was a large corporate office center, and the name of SymbioTech was hung in bold, steel letters in the middle of the expansive lobby.

  “Why would he come here?” Alex asked.

  “You’re the telepath, you tell me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere near that. The only thing jumping into that psychopath’s head is a bullet.”

  “We’re here to capture Kellogg, not execute him,” Brennan reminded her.

  Alex gave him an unrepentant look. “He’s a murderer. Doesn’t he deserve to die for that?”

  Brennan waited for the helpful voice in his head to speak up, but it remained silent. His power apparently didn’t extend to moral dilemmas. “How do you think that will look to OPD?” he asked instead.

  “After what happened this summer, I would have thought you’d be used to standing in blood.”

  “Is there something you want to say to me?”

  Alex waited until Brennan had waved his badge at the security guards before responding. “I’ve been inside your head. Your moral high ground is shaky at best, Sleeper. You have killed before, so I don’t understand why you hesitate to do so now when faced with the man who murdered my mother and kidnapped your nephew.”

  False. True.

  “What was that?” Brennan demanded as his steps faltered. “Where’s Greg?”

  Alex pointed straight up. “On the thirty-first floor, your nephew is kneeling on the ground. His heart rate is up, and I’m not getting any visuals from him, but otherwise he seems fine. For now.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t know until now.”

  Something about that statement didn’t set right in Brennan’s stomach, but he didn’t have time to worry over it right now. “And what about Kellogg?”

  “Same floor,” Alex reported. “He was just with someone, but now I can only sense Kellogg.” She placed a palm to her temple as they boarded an elevator. Her eyes looked around at the walls with a heavy dose of distaste. “I think it’s this place. It’s messing with my ability.”

  True.

  This day was getting weirder and weirder. “Can you get anything more from Greg?”

  The elevator started to rise, and it looked like Alex was recovering more with each floor. “His ears are working just fine, but whatever he’s hearing is muffled. His wrists are chafing, but so far any bruises are self-inflicted. My best guess is he’s being kept blindfolded in a small room.”

  “Like a storage closet?”

  “Most likely. It would make sense for the distorted noise and feeling of claustrophobia.”

  Brennan raised an eyebrow, more impressed than skeptical. “You can read all of that from him?”

  “All of that and more.”

  The elevator doors pinged open, and their conversation ended as a well-lit hallway presented itself to them. It was a late Saturday afternoon, but the office still wasn’t entirely deserted. Brennan and Alex slowed their pace to appear casual as the telepath’s eyes grew vacant. He knew she was tapping into the senses of everyone on the floor, processing their own sights and sounds as quickly as she would her own.

  “Down that hall,” Alex said, indicating it with a faint nod.

  “Take the long way around and blend in,” Brennan ordered. “If he tries to run your way, you need to stop him.”

  “What about your nephew?”

  “If Kellogg took him, and they’re both on this floor, then it stands to reason that he will want to keep Greg close. When we find Kellogg, we’ll find my nephew.”

  She regarded him blankly, her eyes still vacant, before she continued down the main hallway alone.

  Brennan turned down the side corridor and kept from meeting anybody’s eyes for too long. Not that anybody was paying particular attention, but it never hurt to be careful. Kellogg seemed to have a supernatural sense of when he was being hunted. He slowly slid a hand under his jacket and his fingers wrapped lightly around the grip of his holstered gun.

  There were a few curious gazes as Brennan passed, and he realized that an unfamiliar face among the small weekend workforce might be an instant red flag to them. He dropped the grip he had on his firearm and forced a smile that was meant to reassure them. They didn’t look convinced, but nobody rose to stop him.

  Brennan felt a burst of psychic pressure, and he realized Alex was attempting to contact him. He considered dropping the mind-shield, but he stopped himself at the last second. An uneasy feeling spread through him, and even though he wasn’t sure why, he suddenly felt that letting the psychic into his mind was a bad move.

  He continued his search, clearing several more offices before turning another corner. If the layout of the building was consistent, this was the hallway in which he hoped to trap Kellogg. The only other avenue of escape was past Alex, who currently sought vengeance for her mother’s death.

  A quick glance around confirmed that nobody was watching, so Brennan drew his gun and kept it half-concealed in the sleeve of his jacket. The lights flickered overhead, and the hairs on his arms raised as electricity hummed through the air. A moment later, a loud cry of pain issued from down the hall.

  “Alex!” Brennan yelled, breaking into a run. Startled employees began fleeing in the other direction, and he had to either dodge around them or shove them aside to make headway. “Alex, I’ll be right there!”

  The lights dimmed heavily, and another wrenching scream filled the air.

  In the corner office at the end of the hall, Brennan finally spotted Kellogg.

  He looked disheveled and out of place, despite the business clothes he now wore. The fabric of the sleeves was stretched to its limits over his ridiculous arms. His hair was cropped short, nearly to the skin. A long, sparking cable was held in one hand, while the other gripped the ridge of a large rolling office chair. Brennan could only see the legs and feet of his hostage.

  “Hold it right there,” Brennan ordered, his gun trained on Kellogg’s back.

  Kellogg spun around to face Brennan as he entered the room, and his eyes danced with frenzied nervousness, at extreme odds with the man on the television last night. He positioned himself behind the chair, using its occupant as a shield.

  “How did you find me?” Kellogg asked.

  Brennan, though, was too distracted by the blindfolded figure seated in the chair. “Greg?”

  His nephew whimpered in response. Another length of cloth wrapped over his mouth, effectively gagging him. Burn marks showed on the exposed skin beneath his torn shirt.

  Kellogg drew a knife and pressed it against the soft flesh of Greg’s neck. “I don’t want to hurt him, Detective, but I will if you so much as take another step.”

  “Drop the knife and step back from the boy.”

  “No,” Kellogg said, shaking his head. “I have a message to deliver to the citizens of this city.”

  “The murders? The bombing? Enough lives have been lost already,” Brennan said. “Message received.”

  “You don’t understand, Detective. Then again, how could I expect you to? You’re just another drone in the system.”

  “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. You’ve taken innocent lives—”

  “Innocent?” Kellogg asked, sounding incredulous. His f
ace contorted in a grotesque mask. “I can’t stand the very sight of you…things. Corporate executives. The chief of police. The mayor. Do you know what all of these things have in common? They’re positions held by the rich and powerful. And how do you think they got those resources? By oppressing the masses with their abilities and corrupting the system that is meant to protect the innocent.”

  “Is that why you were here today, Kellogg?” Brennan asked. “Were you stalking your seventh victim?”

  Kellogg’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve only cleansed this city of five of the corrupted. But my mission is far from complete.”

  “From where I’m standing, you have two options. Either surrender yourself to me peacefully and stand trial for your crimes, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” The plastic grip of his gun groaned slightly as he tightened his hold on it.

  “You won’t kill me,” Kellogg said confidently.

  Stepping into the building, Brennan would have agreed. He had wanted to take Kellogg in alive, in spite of everything the ex-soldier had done. Now, with Greg’s life on the line, that resolve had all but disappeared.

  “When I was overseas, the enemy combatants were obvious,” Kellogg continued. “They were all around me, and my purpose there was clear. But now that I’m home, and I see a new enemy, still all around me…I can’t live with that reality.”

  “There are no enemies here, Kellogg, except the one holding the knife and the live electrical wire.” Brennan glanced at the open door to the closet in the corner. There were scuff marks on the floor between the closet and the chair where Greg was now seated. “If you come with me to the station, now, without any more deaths, you’ll have a chance to say your piece.”

  Kellogg jerked his head from side to side. “No,” he said shakily, “that’s not true.” A bead of blood appeared on Greg’s neck, sliding down the length of the blade. He started to press in harder. “You’re trying to trick me, I can see what you are!”

  “No, stop!” Brennan yelled. He turned his gun sideways and held up both hands. “Stop. I’m putting down the gun, okay? Watch, I’m putting it down.”

  The knife didn’t move, but Kellogg watched warily as Brennan knelt and placed the gun on the ground. “Kick it back into the hallway, away from you,” Kellogg ordered.

  Brennan slid it backward with his foot, his blood rising with each skittering sound of metal against hard tile. Where the hell is Alex? he wondered, taking a step into the room. He dropped his mental barrier and sent that thought out broadly. “I did as you asked, Kellogg,” Brennan said. “Do a courtesy for me and put the knife down.”

  “I don’t think so. Do you know what the difference is between you and me, Detective? I am a man of action. I fight for what I believe in, and I know which side I’m on.”

  “So what does that make me?”

  “Last night, I would have said you were simply another pawn in their game. But you strike me as a reasonable man. You made the news this summer.” Kellogg smiled smugly. “No names were dropped, but I did a little digging and found out what you did. Tried to take patches off the street and pissed off a lot of powerful people in the process.”

  “Petty drug lords don’t scare me,” Brennan said.

  Kellogg frowned. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not talking about dealers and addicts here. It’s the bosses upstairs that you’ve upset, the ones who benefit most from having corruption spread through our streets. When the chief of police can stand in front of the press and say that Chamalla is the next big crisis, that benefits both him and the mayor.”

  “I don’t understand. How does that—?”

  “Maybe I overestimated you,” Kellogg said, his voice full of disappointment. “I thought you of all people could see past all the bullshit. The people in charge are fearmongers, and they thrive on leading the public from hysteria. Without chaos, how can they institute order? Without crime, how can they deliver punishment? This city is dying, and it’s those with power who stand at the helm.”

  Something clicked in Brennan’s brain, a cog turning that was previously gummed up with ignorance. “When you say ‘power,’ you mean—”

  “People like you, yes. The freaks, the conquerors. Humans two-point-oh.” Kellogg was breathing heavily now as emotion overcame him. “I’m the only one who can see the heart of the matter, the root of the problem, so it’s my responsibility to save humanity.”

  “I’ve done nothing but help this city,” Brennan growled. “And if you can see us, then you are one of us. Your power is seeing others with power.”

  Kellogg shook his head, and there was a subtle shift in the features of his face. There was something akin to acceptance, even though he was clearly living in denial. “I’m not like you,” he said proudly. “Your power corrupts, while mine has given me clarity. And purpose.”

  “Then do it,” Brennan dared him. “Fulfill your purpose and kill me. I’m the one with power, not the boy. And look! I’m unarmed.” He took a step closer. “So go on, then. Do it!”

  Kellogg snarled and pushed Greg out of the way, the rolling chair careening toward the far wall. He lunged at Brennan with the knife, and two things happened in that moment.

  First, Brennan went deaf as a gunshot fired from almost directly behind his head.

  Second, a red lotus blossomed on the shoulder of Kellogg’s dress shirt as a long sniper round cut through his body like air through a fan. Blood soaked the material as his snarl was replaced by a slack-jawed look of utter shock. As Kellogg fell to his knees and then the ground, Brennan noticed a sister wound on Kellogg’s other shoulder, this one with a smaller entry point and less immediate blood.

  Brennan cupped both hands over his ears and swayed into the nearest wall, losing all sense of balance with his hearing. The ringing that exploded in his skull was deafening all on its own, and he looked up deliriously to find Agent Jun standing over him. The grim-faced agent stared at Brennan for a moment before moving in to slap handcuffs around Kellogg’s wrists. It seemed like a moot point to Brennan, but he wasn’t in any condition to object.

  Actually, Alex spoke in his head, a moot point is a subject still open to debate.

  Where the hell have you been?

  Letting the cavalry know where to find you, she replied, sounding testy. You’re welcome, by the way.

  Oh, I’m welcome? I needed you here, with me. I could have been killed!

  And I would have fared any better, without a gun? Besides, you’re still alive. She paused for a second. Everyone is alive, it seems.

  What? Brennan stared blearily at Agent Jun and Kellogg while the ringing in his ears slowly faded away. Jun had secured his pistol, and he was reciting the Miranda rights while keeping one knee firmly pressed against one of Kellogg’s wounded shoulders. “He’s still alive?” Brennan asked.

  “For now.” Jun looked up at him with a solemn expression. “I only shot him once.”

  Wind whistled through the hole in the glass window pane.

  Comprehension washed over Brennan. He made a mad dash to grab Greg and wheel him into the hallway, staggering away from the line of sight of whatever sniper was posted on the adjacent roof. Kellogg followed shortly after, pushed from behind by Jun.

  When you say ‘the cavalry’…

  Not the FBI, Alex finished simply. I sensed them closing in behind us, though, and had to make myself scarce.

  Why? Are you a criminal?

  There was an almost imperceptible pause that followed the question.

  I was thinking of you, actually. How would you have explained my presence?

  Somebody took a shot at Kellogg, Brennan said, feeling like he was finally putting the pieces together. If I had been just a foot closer, that round would have hit me, too.

  Another pregnant pause.

  Ask the question that’s on your mind, Detective Brennan.

  Brennan breathed out slowly. Kellogg didn’t kill your mother.

  That wasn’t a question.

  Maybe that’s because
I already know the answer. Why did you do it?

  Today is a win, Detective. A murderer is going behind bars, and you get to live another day.

  Brennan bristled at her words. So you want me to just let you go?

  Alex’s response was swift and cutting. You don’t have a choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alex severed the connection and looked over to Heinrich.

  The thick, bald man was disassembling a high-powered sniper rifle and stowing it away in a hard plastic case. His eyes met hers for a moment, and a shadowed look passed over his features. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but there was resentment plain on his face. The other men, a half dozen in total, seemed impassive about her presence.

  Behind him, James Brüding stroked his chin thoughtfully. “If I didn’t know any better,” her father said, “I would have guessed you were aiming for the detective, with Kellogg merely being an obstacle in your way.”

  Heinrich continued stowing his gear. “Two birds with one stone,” his deep voice rumbled.

  “One of those birds killed my wife,” James said, his tone darker than Alex had ever heard before. “And your gambit didn’t pay off. That shot was hardly fatal.”

  “Then we’ll take him out during the transfer back to Washington,” Heinrich said, sounding unconcerned.

  James pursed his lips before responding. “We will,” he said. “You won’t.”

  With a two-fingered wave, he motioned to one of Heinrich’s lieutenants, who promptly stepped forward with a silenced pistol. The sound barely registered louder than a hoarse cough, and the command of Leviathan shifted to the gunman himself. A jagged crescent tattoo wrapped around one ear, and he couldn’t have been much older than Alex. However, his rigid bearing spoke of previous military training, and he turned now to receive his orders from her father.

  “Very good,” James murmured quietly. “Take care of the body and then get set up for the inevitable transfer.” To the group at large, he said, “Matheson is your leader now. If you have a problem with that, feel free to step forward.”