Thick Fog (Alexis Parker Book 18)

by G. K. Parks

  “He must own more clothes than Martin,” I remarked.

  “No,” O’Connell picked up the photo, “he flipped his shirt inside out. See the tag? He alters his appearance enough to slip by, but he’s not making huge changes. He probably doesn’t have that many resources.”

  “Who cares what he’s wearing?” Heathcliff stabbed at another photo. “This is where we lost him. But this,” he pointed to another image, “is where Cross picked him up again. Same guy. Just with a baseball cap and sunglasses. No jacket.”

  “Tag’s still on the outside,” O’Connell said.

  The timestamp was thirty minutes after the previous photo was taken. “Where is this?” I asked.

  “Ten blocks away, east of where he left the car.”

  “You’re sure that’s him?” Lucca asked. “Facial rec wouldn’t be able to get a hit. Not with the bill of his cap and the glasses. Not enough of his face is exposed.”

  “Cross Security must have analyzed his height, weight, and gait. Maybe they matched his earlobes. I don’t know. I don’t question the magic of technology. I just accept it,” I said.

  Heathcliff placed the final photo in the center of the table. “We need to move on this now. Steele might still be there.”

  Twenty-nine

  “Ready?” O’Connell asked.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. This was it. He had to be here. This was the last place Steele had been seen, assuming the man with the cap and sunglasses was Francisco Steele and not another doppelganger. After the move he pulled with Vega, I had doubts. My inner voice hadn’t shut up since we arrived. This is too easy. But I ignored it.

  “Ready,” O’Connell said into the radio.

  The condemned apartment building had been undergoing renovations when the city pulled the plug, deciding it’d be cheaper to demolish the building and start over rather than continue with the costly repairs. Cross had hacked into all nearby CCTV feeds in every direction, something the authorities had also tried, but unlike Cross who disregarded things like warrants and privacy, the authorities had come up blank. Cross Security did not. They spotted Steele going down the steps to the basement apartment, and he hadn’t been spotted since.

  “Anything we should know?” the ESU commander asked.

  “Bard resided in a basement apartment similar to this one. It makes sense Steele would want to hide in a place like this.” I thought back to the raid, which had nearly turned into an ambush. “Stay on your toes. Expect surprises.”

  “Like rats and cockroaches?” O’Connell asked.

  “One can only hope.”

  We’d analyzed the blueprints on the way here. Aside from the apartments, there were other rooms beneath the building. With a bit of ingenuity, Steele might have the run of the entire subterranean level. So teams were positioned at all the exits and entrances. For all intents and purposes, the building was surrounded. Now we just needed Francisco to come out with his hands up.

  A member of ESU stood beside the door with a battering ram in hand. We tried thermals to get a look inside, but the insulation didn’t give us a clear view. We could see a heat source in one of the middle apartments, but we couldn’t be certain it was human.

  Lucca tugged on my shoulder, pulling me back so he could enter ahead of me. “You shouldn’t be here, Parker.”

  “Neither should you.” Or Heathcliff, I thought. The detective was stationed at the western exit with Thompson and another team. “But this is the job. We all knew it when we signed on.”

  “Not you. You’re a consultant.”

  “And you’re on vacation, so you don’t have a leg to stand on,” I retorted, knowing now wasn’t the time to argue, but Lucca made it so easy.

  The officer with the battering ram gave us a dirty look, and we fell silent. Two other members of ESU stood behind him, holding the big guns. After they took down the door, they’d enter, deal with any immediate threats, and we’d follow. This is how it always worked. It’d be fine. The danger to us was minimal, and we had vests. Plus, Steele was just one guy. He didn’t stand a chance against twenty armed police officers.

  The commander counted us down. The officer pulled back the ram, turned his hips, and slammed it into the door. The door gave way, and rifle fire peppered the air.

  The officer didn’t even have time to get out of the way before he was struck multiple times. He went down in front of the door. But the gunfire continued.

  Another member of ESU fired blindly into the open doorway while his teammate dragged the downed officer out of harm’s way by his collar. At the same time, the other teams made frantic radio calls. They were also under fire.

  “Pull back,” the commander ordered. “We’ll need additional units to this location. We have at least four shooters.”

  “Wait,” I said, “listen.” The shots came in a constant rhythm. No pause. No break. They didn’t speed up or slow down. No one fired like that.

  The commander arched an eyebrow. “They’re still firing. We need to set up a barrier.” He keyed the radio, asking patrol to block off the streets and keep the neighbors inside their houses. “Have paramedics meet us across the street. I have multiple casualties. Repeat, officers down.”

  The other two members of the tactical team hauled their downed colleague up the steps and away from the door. He wasn’t bleeding. None of the bullets pierced his vest, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear. From what I could tell, he was down for the count.

  The commander practically shoved me up the steps, but I sidestepped.

  “Move.”

  I held my ground.

  He cursed and followed his men. O’Connell and Lucca remained at the bottom of the steps.

  “It’s automated,” Lucca said.

  O’Connell pulled his cell phone from his pocket, switched to video mode, and crept toward the bashed in door. He crouched down, making sure to lower himself beneath the rounds whizzing past us and pounding into the retaining wall.

  “You better be right. I’m not in the mood to get shot,” O’Connell said.

  The three of us held our collective breaths as O’Connell stuck his hand in front of the open door. After a few moments, the gunfire stopped. Quickly, he retracted his hand and aimed at the doorway.

  I took the phone from him while we backed away from the opening. “Steele rigged it. Tripod. Pull cord.” I passed the phone to O’Connell to examine and edged closer.

  “Parker, don’t be stupid,” Lucca hissed, even though he had stopped his retreat and was now directly behind me.

  I signaled and dashed across the open door. No shots were fired. Turning on my flashlight, I held it beneath my gun and went in low and to the left. Lucca went in high and to the right.

  The basement was cold and damp. The thick smell of gunfire made me choke. I coughed a few times, keeping an eye on my surroundings as I approached the mounted gun.

  “Right side clear,” Lucca announced.

  O’Connell radioed in our findings and provided cover while I checked the weapon. It was an automatic rifle, like the ones the police discovered in the storeroom of the Stop N’ Shop. It had been jerry-rigged to start firing when the basement door opened.

  “We didn’t think about tripwires.” O’Connell took the gun off the mount, made sure it was empty, and laid it flat on the ground.

  “Steele’s full of surprises.” I edged deeper into the room. Our suspect had to be here. And now he knew we were coming for him. “Fan out.”

  I recognized Heathcliff’s voice over the radio. He and Thompson found another rifle in front of the western door but no sign of Steele.

  The dark made me claustrophobic. Flashes of Steele attacking played on a loop just behind my eyes. I felt along the walls for a light switch. No such luck. In the distance, something clanged.

  I spun toward the noise. A shadow darted away from my beam of light before I could make out any details. And then a door slammed.

  “Freeze.” I held my breath, straining to hear over th
e thumping of my heart.

  Footfalls sounded behind me, and I pressed my back against the wall in search of a defensible position.

  “It’s me,” Lucca said, keeping his flashlight pointed toward the floor to keep from blinding me. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah. I thought I saw something.”

  “Okay,” Lucca put a hand on my left shoulder, a common technique to avoid confusion and mishaps, “let’s check it out.”

  I didn’t know where O’Connell had disappeared. Apartment doors lined the hallway on both sides. A community storage area was set up in the rear of the building. That must have been where O’Connell went. We had to clear the basement in order, or else Steele might slip away.

  Lucca twisted the first knob, and it opened. Slowly, we crept inside, turned the corner, and ended up in a kitchenette. I hit the light switch, but nothing happened.

  “Electric’s out,” Lucca whispered.

  I approached the counter, crouched down, and peered around the edge. “Clear.” I stood, sweeping my beam of light from right to left across the chipped tile floor.

  “Parker.” Lucca pointed his flashlight toward a can of tomato sauce which lazily rolled across the floor. “Cover me.”

  I moved behind the counter and aimed outward. I hated the dark. Lucca turned off his flashlight and disappeared into the abyss. What was he doing? Had he seen something I missed?

  The can of tomatoes rolled against a rough patch of tile, wobbled, and came to a stop. Another sound, like flesh hitting concrete, replaced the sound of the rolling can. I turned my flashlight toward the noise and caught sight of two people, one much larger than the other.

  “Federal agent,” Lucca announced, flicking on his light. “Don’t move.”

  A girl who couldn’t have been older than ten curled into a ball, hugging a dirty stuffed bear to her chest. She didn’t speak. She just stared up at him.

  He lowered his gun and let out a breath. “It’s okay. I’m Eddie. What’s your name?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubbed his palm against his pants leg. “I almost tripped over you, huh?” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Parker, why don’t you come say hi to our new friend. She won’t tell me her name.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t like you.” Keeping my head on a swivel, I stepped out from behind the counter and crossed into the rest of the studio apartment. “Aren’t you afraid of the dark?” I asked, kneeling down next to her. “I know I am.”

  She reached behind her and grabbed a dark cylinder-shaped object. I tensed, nearly aiming out of habit, but Lucca put his hand on the muzzle of my gun. She tugged on the top of the object, and light poured out as the cylinder expanded upward.

  “LED lantern,” Lucca said, in case I couldn’t figure it out.

  “Do you live here?” I asked her. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

  She didn’t answer, but since she understood what I said about the dark, she had to speak English.

  Lucca reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He brought up a photo of Steele. “We’re looking for this man. Have you seen him?”

  She hugged the bear tighter as she leaned forward. She squinted at the screen and shook her head. Okay, that was progress.

  “Is anyone else down here?” I asked.

  She shook her head again.

  “Did you hear the gunfire?” I waited, but she just bit her lip. “Scary, right?”

  “Parker,” Lucca whispered, inching closer, “she must have already been inside. If she came in after Steele rigged the doors, we wouldn’t be having this one-sided conversation.”

  “Can you show us how you got inside?” I asked.

  She shrugged.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be good with kids?” I whispered to Lucca. “You have one. Do something.”

  “Give me ten bucks,” Lucca said.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty. He smiled at the girl. “My partner’s so gullible.” He held the money out to her. “Want to get some fresh air and sunshine? We can get some ice cream at the shop across the street.”

  She hesitated, suspecting this might be a trap. Come on, I thought.

  “Parker?” O’Connell called, and I turned at the sound of his voice.

  “In here.”

  By the time I turned back around, my twenty bucks had vanished and she had climbed off the air mattress, the bear against her chest, the lantern in her free hand.

  “Get her out of here,” I said to Lucca. “And be careful. If you cross into another apartment radio ahead. You don’t want to spook Heathcliff or Thompson. And watch out for Steele. He has to be down here somewhere.”

  Lucca gave me an uncertain look, but the girl wasn’t waiting for us to debate. She was on her way out. And since we didn’t know where Steele was or what other booby traps might be waiting, Lucca had to protect her.

  “For the record, I don’t like this.” Lucca jogged to catch up. He kept his gun at his thigh and a hand on her shoulder. I just hoped Steele wouldn’t hurt a kid, but I didn’t know if there were any lines he wouldn’t cross.

  O’Connell came through the door. “It looks like the landlord did some renovations and never reported them to the city. He carved out a few additional apartments in the basement. I just checked out two identical units off to the right where the laundry room was supposed to be. It’s no wonder this place got shut down. Nothing is up to code.”

  “Any sign of Steele?” I asked.

  “Not yet. This would be easier if we could see more than two feet in front of our faces.”

  “Lucca found a kid. A girl, maybe ten years old. She won’t speak. I think the gunfire freaked her out.”

  “Freaked me out too.”

  “Well, the dark’s doing a number on me, but I’m not bitching about it. Have you heard anything from Heathcliff or Thompson?”

  “They found additional apartment units on their side of the building too, but no sign of Steele.”

  “He’s here. He has to be. Let’s keep moving. Lucca will catch up.” I shouldn’t have sent him out alone, but our priority was getting the girl out. He would take care of it. Plus, we already cleared the path behind us. It should be safe.

  As we searched apartment after apartment, I couldn’t reconcile the girl’s presence in the building. How did she get here? Why was she here? Who was she? Did Steele know she was here?

  “Clear,” O’Connell said as he checked the kitchen in the fifth unit.

  “Clear,” I repeated.

  We just closed the door when a deafening roar sounded in the adjacent apartment. O’Connell kicked the door in, and we burst inside. Bright white light blinded me, and I threw up a hand.

  “Police,” O’Connell announced at the same time Heathcliff did.

  “Stay cool. It’s only us.” I lowered my gun and flashlight. “What was that?”

  “Another one of Steele’s traps.” Thompson pointed at the smoking bits of microwave that had been blown around the kitchen.

  “I don’t see the door,” Heathcliff said, crouching down as he examined one of the pieces. “Looks like he removed it, put some kind of explosive, perhaps a grenade, inside, and it went boom.”

  “Tripwire,” Thompson said, holding his flashlight near the ground. The beam of light made the fishing line glisten. “I told you to be careful checking the kitchen.”

  Heathcliff stood, his right hand bloody. “You wouldn’t have seen it either.”

  “Are you okay?” I moved closer, pointing my flashlight at the various nicks in Heathcliff’s arm.

  “Fine.” He pushed past me. “This must have been where he stayed. It’s the only unit that went boom. So where is he?” He stormed into the bathroom, shoved the curtain aside, and opened and closed the cabinets. “Nothing. Dammit.”

  The radio chirped. “What’s your status?” Lucca asked. He must have heard the explosion.

  “We’ll live,” O’Connell said.
“Where are you?”

  “Second floor. You need to see this,” Lucca said.

  “How’d you get up there?” From the schematics I’d seen, no one could enter the main building from the basement.

  “Ceiling tiles are missing in apartment six. You can climb up the built-in bookcase and push up through a hole in the floor. It leads into a maintenance closet, which had a ladder leading up to the second floor.”

  “Yeah, great,” Thompson said.

  “Have you found more booby traps?” I asked.

  “Not in the immediate vicinity, but I haven’t checked beyond that,” Lucca replied. “Just get up here.”

  I looked at the detectives. “What are you waiting for? You heard the man.”

  Thirty

  “Where’s the girl?” I asked.

  “Outside. The paramedics are keeping an eye on her until someone from child services gets here.” Lucca gloved up.

  “Do you think she’s Steele’s kid?” I asked.

  Heathcliff snorted. “Steele could have a dozen kids running around, but I doubt he’d want one hanging around with him.”

  “She’s not his,” Lucca said. “She didn’t recognize him from the photo.”

  “If she was telling the truth.”

  “She’s a kid, Parker, not a hardened criminal,” Lucca berated. “You’re acting like she’s Steele’s accomplice.”

  “From the looks of it, Steele wouldn’t need an accomplice. He has everything he could possibly need right here.” I crouched down and lifted the flap on an olive green duffel bag, finding two more rifles, three handguns, a roll of twenties, and a few t-shirts, some pants, and a couple of zippered sweatshirts in various colors. A receipt was stuck to the inside of one of the t-shirts, and I pulled it out. “He got these from the army surplus store on Seventeenth. He paid cash for everything.”

  “What’s the date?” Lucca asked.

  “I can’t tell.” I handed him the receipt. “It’s faded.”

  “Techs should be able to enhance it,” Heathcliff said, his attention drawn to the maps and clippings taped to the wall. “But we have far bigger problems than that.”