Chameleon's Challenge (Chameleon Assassin Series Book 3)

by BR Kingsolver

“Libby!” I heard Wil call. “Wait! Don’t go after him alone.” I could hear him scrambling into the tunnel, but he was too big to move around easily. I kept going.

  I figured Grenier was also too big through the shoulders to fit comfortably, and being behind him, all I had to do was catch up and start shooting.

  Great plan, but Grenier knew something I didn’t. A hundred feet along, the narrow cross tunnel dumped into another large tunnel. Cautiously peering out, I was almost blinded. Pushing the goggles up on my forehead, I saw light to my left, and Grenier running toward the light.

  I rolled out into the tunnel, snatching the riot gun off my back. I fired one shot as Grenier hit the rubble at the bottom of the tunnel, and another shot as he scrambled up the cave-in and up through a hole.

  Racing after him, I climbed out of the tunnel into daylight. Crouching and scanning the area, I searched for a telltale movement or blurring. Nothing.

  Searching for him on my own was begging for an ambush, so I waited for Wil, who came along four or five minutes later. We discussed the situation, then he called Devon. Within a couple of minutes, a drone appeared overhead, and shortly thereafter, two of the APCs showed up and disgorged the men riding in them.

  We searched for the next three hours, but didn’t find Grenier.

  “I sent men back down the tunnel with lights, and they found blood on the wall where one of us nailed him,” Wil said.

  “You did. I heard him cry out. It didn’t seem to slow him down any.”

  Wil shook his head. “The blood smears we’ve found, both in the tunnel and off down that street over there, were about shoulder high. Hell, maybe I didn’t hit him at all. He could have banged his shoulder and reopened the old wound.”

  “What about the tripwire?” I asked.

  “Wired to a grenade. The damned thing was ancient, so who knows where he got it.”

  It was starting to get dark, and we would have to abandon the search.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “We missed him. We’re back to ground zero to try and find him.”

  Chapter 16

  My phone rang far too early the next morning. As I fumbled to find it, I glanced out the window and saw the sun was just coming over the horizon.

  “Yeah?” I answered in my best early-morning customer-service voice.

  “That house you told me about, the address you got from Penelope Jones? The place she said Grenier might be using?” Inspector Donofrio’s voice came through the phone.

  “What about it?”

  “I had a stakeout on it in case Grenier showed up.”

  I was awake at this point, remembering the sloppy cops who were watching that house from down the street. A sense of dread rose to make sense of what I heard in Donofrio’s voice.

  “He showed up there,” I said.

  “I guess so. Both of my men are dead.”

  “Have you gone into the house?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I’d suggest surrounding the place. Call Wilberforce. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Not that I expected Grenier to still be there.

  When I reached the street with Grenier’s house, the whole street was cordoned off. A few cops and CC security either wandered around or raced around.

  The two surveillance cops never had a chance. Grenier had shot them through the windshield, and I assumed they never saw him approach the car.

  CC guys in body armor stood with a battering ram on the front porch of Grenier’s house. As I watched, they beat on the door for quite a while, then placed a small explosive on it and blew the locks. Several soldiers rushed inside.

  I headed that direction but Wil intercepted me on the front lawn.

  “Hold off until my men clear the place.”

  “You don’t honestly think he’s still around, do you?”

  Wil shrugged. “Don’t know what to think. A doctor was kidnapped from a hospital near here last night. Took her in the parking lot when she got off shift, and the witnesses gave some very bizarre accounts.”

  “Bizarre if you didn’t know about chameleons, that is,” Donofrio said as he walked over.

  A man stuck his head out of the front door of the house and shouted, “Clear. Need someone to come see.”

  We walked over and entered. The house was very neat when I visited it before. Now it looked as though someone had turned everything upside down—like maybe the owner looking for his computer.

  The kitchen was a bloody mess. Bloody bandages filled a rubbish bin.

  “The bedroom is what you need to see,” the CC sergeant said.

  We walked back, and as soon as I peered in, I knew I didn’t want to go inside. A nude woman with short brown hair hung on the wall like Victoria Ruiz.

  “The doctor?” Wil asked.

  “She matches the description,” Donofrio said. “Looks like he brought her here, killed the cops, then brought her inside.”

  “Made her bandage him up, then killed her,” I finished.

  “That’s my guess as well.”

  “And this is what he’s doing to all his victims?” Wil asked.

  “The women,” Donofrio said. “Mariana Ruiz and the Weeks’s servants were the only exceptions. Men he just shoots.”

  “Except for Joshua Goldberg,” I said.

  Wil shook his head. “This guy is all over the map.” He and Donofrio moved into the room to examine the scene more closely. I backed out because I’d seen enough.

  The bandages in the rubbish bin attracted my attention. None of the investigators stopped me, so I put on some gloves and started sifting through it. I soon came across a blood-soaked sling. Perhaps Grenier’s earlier wound opened up. Perhaps Wil shot him in the right shoulder or arm again. Grenier was right handed. Having to shoot left handed hadn’t helped the cops outside, but those had been easy shots.

  When Wil and Donofrio came out of the bedroom, I showed them what I’d found.

  “The sheets are gone from the bed,” Wil said. “Looks like they cut them up for bandages.”

  “We should have covered this place better,” Donofrio said. “But I got distracted by that room under the store.”

  “What room under the store?” I asked.

  “The other back room at the store, not the one with the entrance to the tunnel, had a trap door, also. It goes to a basement under the store, rather than into the tunnels. It appears that someone, or several someones, died there.”

  The girls in the vids I found on his tablet. I hadn’t told anyone about the tablet, because I couldn’t figure out how to explain where I found it.

  “Well,” I said in an attempt to comment on the room, “it does make sense that Olga wasn’t his first kill.”

  “It does,” Donofrio said. “He’s changed a lot of things, but not what he does to the women. That’s been very consistent.”

  “So, he practiced,” Wil said. “Worked out his methodology in that room under the store.”

  Donofrio nodded. “Probably women or girls from the slums. Prostitutes, maybe. Pay them with credits or food, and once he got them alone, it was too late.”

  “You noticed what good shape that store was in, didn’t you?” I said. “In contrast to most of the buildings in the neighborhood, it’s intact, and on the surveillance vids, we didn’t see much activity in the neighborhood. If you paid attention in your biology classes, you see that with an apex predator’s den, right? Well, he scares the hell out of me. I’ll bet he scares lycans and vamps that have any sense. And if you hear screaming coming from that building, you stay the hell away.”

  “Okay,” Donofrio said. “We’ve blown two of his hideaways. Where does he go now?”

  “Someplace to recuperate. He’s been shot twice in a short period of time.” I thought about it. “How did he get the doctor here?”

  “Her car, probably,” Donofrio said. “He took her and her car from the hospital. We have an all-points bulletin out for it.”

  “With the tags from your car, right?�
��

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t notice? The car your men were killed in is missing its tags.”

  I called ahead and ordered pizza, and Wil and I picked it up on the way home. He set it on the kitchen table while I pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge, but before I could sit down, my phone chirped with a text.

  miss nelson this is lady vivien how many boys did you promise skateboards

  That brought a smile to my face. Six. Are you home?

  yes thought you were crazy but my place is ok still locked and nothing stolen

  Wil raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s the woman who told me about Grenier’s hideouts,” I said.

  I texted her back. I’ll bring the skateboards by sometime this week.

  no i'll buy them tell them you did thank you

  Are you ok? How are you feeling?

  jaw still wired shut i'll survive thanks to you

  I sat down, took a piece of pizza, and told Wil about Lady Vivien and the lycan kids while we ate.

  “I think I’ll go by and see her,” I told him. “If those kids are reliable, I can pay them to keep an eye on that old store. CC and the cops aren’t going to keep drones on that place forever.”

  “That’s true,” Wil said. “Not a bad idea. So she told you about the house and the store?”

  “Yeah, and one more place out in wild country.”

  “Should we go check it out?”

  I thought about it. “She didn’t really know where it is, just a general area. We could wander around out there for weeks.”

  After Wil left, I checked my email and found a message from the university in Geneva with the analysis of Grenier’s DNA. I forwarded it on to Dad because I knew he’d be interested. Then I opened the file with the analysis of my DNA.

  The Chamber of Commerce had an international criminal database that I’d hacked years before. It took me a couple of hours to modify a copy of their matching software. The program was meant to find a match between a sample from a crime scene and a sample on file. I wanted it to simply identify the matches of the genes in two non-matching samples—mine and Grenier’s. For controls, I used the analyses I had on file for Nellie and Paul. My two best friends were as normal as a person could be.

  I didn’t realize how much time I’d spent until Mike and Nellie came home from the bar. I set the program running and went to bed.

  The doorbell rang around nine in the morning. I tried to ignore it, but the sadist on my front porch persisted.

  “Kill whoever it is quietly, and come back to bed,” Nellie muttered and pulled her pillow over her head.

  I pulled on a pair of running shorts and a tank top, grabbed my pistol, and stumbled downstairs. The screen above the door showed Wil grinning at the security camera.

  “What the hell do you want?” I graciously greeted him.

  He held up a carry-out caramel mocha and a bag that smelled of fresh-baked pastries. “What did you do last night? Go out partying after I left?”

  “Worked on the computer.” I considered what to do with him. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “I brought breakfast.”

  I took the coffee and inhaled the steam from it as Wil took the pastries into the kitchen. He fished a pair of plates out of the cabinet and set a cheese Danish in front of me.

  “Working on the computer. Whose bank accounts did you loot?” he asked as he sat down and took the lid off his own coffee.

  “I don’t do things like that.”

  He gave me a raised-eyebrow look.

  “I don’t. Corporations and banks keep track of their money, and they get upset when it disappears. Then they clamp down on security and make it harder to mine information. Besides, where’s the challenge in that sort of thing? It’s like blackmail, easy money for people with no ambition or imagination.” The coffee was cool enough to take a big swallow, so I did. “I was setting up a run to compare Grenier’s genotype with mine. Maybe I can figure out what causes the chameleon mutation.”

  “Think that will help us catch him?”

  “Huh?” I really wasn’t awake yet. “Oh, no. Just curiosity.”

  “That’s why you wanted his DNA?”

  “Partly. Mostly, though, I want to know what other mutations or enhancements he has. The guy is too damned tough to be normal. Considering who his father is, I like to know what I’m facing. The analysis from Geneva is very interesting.”

  “That makes sense. What did they find?”

  I reached into the bag and pulled out another pastry.

  “Enhanced coagulation, extra dense muscles and bones, and hypoalegia—all things you’d want in a super soldier.”

  “What the hell is hypoalegia?”

  “Decreased pain sensitivity. In addition, at least five of his genes show breaks in significant places. Not mutations, but environmental damage. That’s not uncommon. Most of us have some kind of damage from living.” I motioned to the gray smog outside the window. “But things that happen in the womb can cause developmental abnormalities. One of his breaks is associated with mild autism, which explains a lot about his difficulty dealing with other people.”

  Wil’s phone rang and he answered it. “Good morning, Inspector.”

  He listened for some time, occasionally saying, “Uh, huh,” or, “I see.” Finally he said, “Thank you for calling me. Yes, I’ll stop by around noon.”

  I waited for him to put his phone away, giving him my best expectant look.

  “Inspector Donofrio, as you probably guessed. When forensics went through the kitchen at Grenier’s house, they found a 7.62 millimeter slug from an assault rifle. Said that it was rather the worse for wear.”

  “I told you that you hit him.”

  “They also found five 8.38 millimeter lead balls that were rather deformed.”

  “Double-aught buckshot. I must have hit him, too.”

  “So it seems. He is one tough son of a bitch,” Wil said.

  I had to agree.

  Chapter 17

  I let Wil go off to talk with Donofrio by himself. As soon as he left, I called Richard O’Malley. His secretary said he was in a meeting, but would call me back.

  When he did, I said, “Richard, I was told that Peter Grenier might have a hiding place out in the wild country northeast of here. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No, I don’t. You might try asking Tremaine. He knew Peter a lot better than I did. If not, you could ask his mother.”

  “Stella wasn’t very happy with me the last time I saw her. Is Tremaine in the office today?”

  “I think so. Let me check.” I waited on hold for a few minutes, then Richard came back on the line. “He’s in a meeting, but his secretary said he has some time at four-thirty.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

  Given Tremaine’s attitude the last time we spoke, I didn’t want to give him a chance to duck me, so I went to Entertaincorp’s early. Director Pong had given me a temporary contractor’s ID card that got me past security, and I took the elevator up to Tremaine’s office.

  The surprise on Tremaine’s face when he walked in showed that he hadn’t expected me.

  “Miss Nelson is here to see you,” the secretary said. “Director Pong set the appointment.”

  That was a surprise to me. I thought Richard had arranged it.

  Tremaine gave me a look, his movements those of a man in a hurry. “Well, I guess I can spare you a few minutes. I’m terribly busy.”

  He led me into his office, Weeks’s office, which was about three times the size of his previous one. The old one was the size of Nellie’s flat. The new one could have comfortably housed a whole family.

  “What is it?” he asked as he sat down behind the desk.

  “I understand that Peter Grenier had a home or a cabin or something.”

  “A fishing cabin. Jack and Stella gave it to Peter and Marlene as a wedding gift.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know
where it is?”

  “It’s on Sturgeon Lake. Not quite sure where. I’ve never been up there.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  I rose to leave and Tremaine said, “You’re not continuing that fantasy that Peter is to blame for all these murders, are you? Stella called me and said you’d been by to harass her. Really, Miss Nelson, I’ll have to speak to Director Pong. This fixation of yours is really too much.”

  “The Toronto Police, Director Pong, and Chamber Security all seem to think Peter Grenier is responsible. It’s not my fantasy, I’m simply taking my lead from the professionals.”

  “Well, I think they’re all wrong. I will speak to Pong.”

  Tremaine came around his desk and walked with me to the door. “Miss Nelson, it’s terribly inconvenient to have you coming by the office and interrupting the flow of my work day. If you have any further questions, call me and we’ll meet somewhere in the evening.”

  He handed me his card. I didn’t pay any attention to it until I glanced at it when I got on the elevator, and then gave it a closer look. The only number on it was a private line—his mobile phone. I could tell since I knew the exchange for Entertaincorp’s phone system.

  As soon as I was outside, I pulled out my tablet and queried Sturgeon Lake, since I had no idea where it was. I’d never even heard of it before. It turned out to be about a hundred miles northeast of the city, a Y-shaped body of water about ten miles long. That meant thirty miles of coastline, assuming the cabin was right on the lake. Five small towns circled the lake.

  Property ownership was public record, though of course it was easy to hide the real owners behind shell companies. My townhouse was owned by my father, but the official owner was a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a small corporation in Montreal. Nonetheless, I checked to see if Peter Grenier owned any property near Sturgeon Lake, and came up empty. The only property he owned was the house where he’d butchered the doctor.

  Out of curiosity, I checked to see where he lived before his divorce. It had been a nice house in a middle-class neighborhood in York, the northern part of the city. After the divorce, ownership of the property was transferred to Marlene Hanlon, his wife’s maiden name. Also transferred to Marlene was a cabin identified only by map coordinates.