by M. Z. Kelly
He retrieved his duffel bag, with the equipment he would need, from the car’s trunk, then moved out. The narrow road was a silver ribbon of light surrounded by chaparral that receded into the formless black hills. Occasionally, a car came down the road behind him, causing him to move off the roadway until it passed.
When Caine reached the sprawling house, he set to work, checking the grounds for anything out of the ordinary. He’d driven past the residence earlier in the day, mentally noting every door and window in the two-story structure.
The night air was freezing, a thin veil of mist rising as he moved inside the fence line. His hands were numb, and he grunted as he worked on the electrical panel. After disabling the alarm system, he switched off the power, killing the interior lights that were burning downstairs. He walked over, surveying the darkened house. It lit a fuse of excitement. The terrorist always did his best work in the dark.
Caine moved to the kitchen door, his fleshy features glowing in the moonlight as he worked on the lock. After the latch released, he used a penlight, moving inside the residence. He opened several drawers before finding what he needed. The blade of the knife he took was heavy and honed to a razor’s edge. He put the knife in his duffle bag with his other belongings and moved up the stairway.
When he reached the upstairs hallway, he stopped, calculating. He had seen the girl when he drove by the house earlier in the day. She would likely have the room next to her parents. He decided the room at the end of the hallway was the master bedroom. The girl would be next door. She was his ticket.
Caine paused at the girl’s door, his breath coming in heavy spasms of excitement. He listened for movement, and, hearing nothing, turned the handle. The door creaked open, and he heard the girl calling out.
“Who’s there?”
In an instant, Caine was inside the room, pushing a hand over her mouth. There was a brief struggle, followed by muffled cries, then a soft, desperate whimper. She was his.
He worked quickly, pushing a rag into her mouth. He then turned her over, binding her hands behind her back, before running the rope across her chest. He found the battery powered lantern in his duffle bag and turned it on. A pale light washed over the room.
The girl was about fourteen, he guessed. She had sandy blonde hair and dark innocent eyes that were filled with terror. He watched, smiling, as her small rounded breasts heaved against the bindings. Caine realized he was grunting as he worked, and his heart was beating rapidly, maybe working against the pacemaker implanted in his chest. He made a conscious effort to take silent, controlled breaths.
When he brought out the knife, he held it up for the girl to see before beginning. After a moment, he began to cut away at her nightshirt, exposing her firm, bare breasts. He then moved down, smiling as he worked on her white bikini panties. She struggled as he removed her underwear, causing him to suppress a laugh.
When the girl was naked and defenseless, Caine moved closer to her face. His voice was a hot, foul whisper at her cheek. “Don’t struggle and don’t cause any trouble. I’ll be back in a moment with your father.”
Caine moved back into the hallway, toward the master bedroom. He set the lantern on the floor and turned the door handle. He heard movement inside the room and rushed inside, seeing a woman awash in the pale light from his lantern. She screamed, but in an instant he had her under control, his knife causing little droplets of blood to surface at her throat.
James Randolph, the man he’d come for, was now up and moving toward him. “Stop where you are, or she’s a dead woman,” he said, leveling the gun on the nuclear weapons specialist.
Randolph did as he was told. Caine almost laughed out loud at his distended stomach that protruded above his undershorts. The man was soft and clumsy. He would be no real trouble. An easy death, unless...
“Tie her,” Caine said, tossing a rope from his bag to Randolph with his free hand. He turned the sobbing woman around, so that her husband could bind her wrists.
“Please, we’ll give you anything you want,” Randolph pleaded as he worked over his crying wife.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Caine said. He pushed the crying woman down on the bed. “Tie her legs. Make sure it’s tight.”
When he was satisfied the woman was helpless, Caine put his gun away. He then took his knife out, moving it up to Randolph’s throat. He pushed him toward the door, wheezing, “There’s something I want you to see.”
They were in the hallway when Randolph fell. When Caine attempted to pull him up, the heavyset man lunged at him in a desperate attempt to save his family. A brief struggle followed until Caine was on top of the man, straddling him. He moved the knife back and forth, making sawing motions against Randolph’s throat.
“You can make this easy on your family, or difficult. It’s your choice. If you’d like, I can get your wife and daughter, and they can watch you bleed to death.”
Randolph nodded, his gaze moving off. The terrorist sensed there wasn’t much struggle left in the man. He pulled him up, steering him into his daughter’s bedroom, as he snatched the lantern up from the floor and carried it with him.
When Randolph saw his naked daughter, bound and gagged, he began pleading for her life. “Please don’t harm her. I’ll give you anything.”
Caine pushed the crying man onto his daughter’s bed. He then held the trembling girl up, running the blade of his knife across her breasts.
“It’s time to make good on your word,” Caine said.
“Anything! Please, take it.”
A smile slipped across Caine’s face. He was wheezing hard now. “I want the activation codes, the hot codes for the K-09 installation.”
James Randolph stared silently at him. Caine realized the enormity of his request was hitting home. His victim’s eyes shifted away from him. “Please, anything but that.”
Caine moved the knife across the girl’s breasts. Blood began moving down her chest. Muffled cries followed.
“Please, God,” Randolph begged. “Don’t do this.”
Caine shook his head. “I’m going to count to five, then your daughter dies. You get to watch as I disembowel her.” The girl struggled against her ropes, sobbing, as he began counting. “One...two...three...four...”
“All right! Stop! Please!” Randolph screamed. “I’ll give you the codes.”
“I’m waiting.”
The weapons specialist released a shallow, stuttered breath. “The enabling sequence is seven...red...thirteen...alpha...six...Kansas...nine...foxtrot.”
Caine smiled and repeated the code. He then looked at the girl. “It’s too bad you have to die. Daddy just lied.”
Caine began to run the knife up the girl’s legs, causing rivulets of blood to trickle onto the sheets.
Randolph was frantic. “Please, don’t do this! I gave you the codes!”
Caine shook his head. There are four words and five numerics in the code.” The knife began its journey again, carving its way up the girl’s legs.
“Twelve!” Randolph cried. “The last number is twelve.”
Caine nodded and pushed the girl down on the bed. He glanced at her sobbing father for an instant before grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. The knife was poised to slice across her throat.
“No, please!” Randolph screamed. “I gave you the code. I swear!”
Satisfied that Randolph had told the truth, Caine eased the girl’s head back. He turned to face James Randolph. “You really shouldn’t have lied to me.”
Randolph fell to his knees. “Please, just leave us alone. You have the codes.”
Caine shook his head. “You’re really not a stupid man, Mr. Randolph. What good would the codes do me if you were still alive?”
“Please. I won’t tell anyone.” Randolph’s body went limp, and he toppled over, sobbing.
Caine moved down to him, his blade glistening in the moonlight that shone through his daughter’s window. He whispered, “You’re a liar, John. The
penalty for lying is death.”
Randolph’s hands came up, trying to ward off the attack. Caine was careful not to damage his adversary’s hands or face. Screams filled the air as the knife was repeatedly buried into Randolph’s chest.
The end for the girl and her mother came quickly, Caine taking special care to see that the child had an easy death. His task completed, he moved back into the room where John Randolph’s body awaited his attention. The terrorist was a master of disguise, having worked with a makeup artist years earlier to perfect his ability to transform his appearance.
He turned the dead scientist’s body over, using alginate, plaster, and cheesecloth, to carefully make a death casting of Randolph’s face. Once the casting was completed, he used latex to make a mold from the casting of the dead scientist’s face. When it was finished, he took his time to carefully affix the latex appliances to his own face.
Caine’s final work involved taking close-up photos of the dead man’s fingers, which he turned into thin plastic moldings to affix to his own. He’d taken note that Randolph was left-handed and took special care in applying the moldings to the fingers of his left hand.
When Caine was finished, he took a moment to consider the dead scientist, his wife, and his daughter. Their deaths were an overture to the symphony that would conclude with a magnificent finale. One that was destined to shatter the world.
SIXTY-FOUR
I got home late in the day after being interviewed by OIS, the department’s Officer Involved Shooting team. Danica Andrews had been taken to the hospital and was in surgery, expected to survive. Leo’s partner, Al, was emotionally distraught over having to use his service weapon. After being interviewed, he was placed on suspension with pay and sent home, standard departmental policy. Al had confided in Leo that he was so upset by the events that he was considering an early retirement.
After searching Danica’s apartment, we found the murder weapon used on her father and the Spences in a hall closet. We also found information on her phone, showing that she’d been in contact with Sorin Chemicals. While the emails didn’t specifically reference the murders, there was a discussion of money being exchanged for unspecified services. Leo put it best when he said Danica paid for an upscale Maui condo in blood.
When Bernie and I got home late in the day, we found my friends in the atrium, wearing outfits they’d purchased for the upcoming weekend’s JPS run.
“We got you a matching outfit,” Natalie said, as they modelled pink bikinis with the words Luv Handles strategically placed on each butt cheek.
“We could call ourselves the Lipshit Triplets,” Mo added, showing off what two hundred pounds of attitude in a pink JPS bikini looks like.
I laughed. “I think I’m going to find something a little less revealing to wear, like maybe a wetsuit.”
Natalie took exception to my plan. “You gotta get down and dirty in this event and show off what the lord’s body factory gave you. If you don’t like our outfits, we can all go shoppin’ for something else before the big event.”
“We’ll see,” I said, collapsing onto the sofa and deciding to change the subject. “I don’t suppose Otto’s got anything to drink.”
“He went to a play with Grover,” Natalie said, “but I got some Green Goblins in the fridge.”
While Natalie went into the kitchen, Mo lowered her nearly nude body into a chair across from me, her pink wig slipping low on her forehead. She straightened the hairpiece and said, “I heard that McVey’s kid went down for his murder.”
“And the others.”
“Word has it she was working for that chemical company to kill the stories her daddy was writing.”
“I don’t know where you got your information, but it’s pretty accurate.”
Natalie returned with a tray of cocktails. “I got the recipe for these Goblins from a book ‘bout Bobby Craven. They said he drank this stuff right before killin’ his family.”
As she served them up, Mo and I took note of the fact that her Green Goblins were bright red.
“Why do they call ‘em Green Goblins?” Mo asked, sniffing one of the drinks. “This stuff looks like blood.”
“Wait for it...” Natalie said. “Wait for it…”
We watched as the cocktails changed color, turning bright green.
“Is that the coolest thing ever?” Natalie said, before downing her drink in a single gulp.
Mo followed suit, then smacked her lips. “Not bad, ‘cept for that bloody aftertaste.” She looked at me. “Drink up, Kate.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
She regarded me. “You seem like you’re down. Everything okay between you and Joe?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t returned my calls. I’m a little worried about him.”
“He’s probably just busy, on the trail of that Caine bloke.”
“I doubt that. The last I heard, he was at home.”
Mo’s eyes narrowed. “You think he’s got some action going on, don’t you?”
I sighed and gave into the need for a drink. I tasted my Goblin, deciding it was harmless. I set the cocktail down and said, “I don’t know what to think, but it’s not like him not to return my calls.”
“What’s the latest with Caine?” Natalie asked. “Has the dirty lump of gas surfaced?”
I couldn’t tell them about Grant tracing his latest phone call, so I said, “Not yet. The feds are still working the case.”
“Maybe you need to move on,” Natalie said. I assumed she was talking about Joe again. “That Grant bloke is easy on the eyes.”
“We’re just friends, but I did run into Mack, make that ‘Hud’ McKenzie the other day. He’s the PI I dated last year. We’re planning to get together for drinks.”
Natalie’s voice pitched higher. “That guy is a hunk with major junk. He’s also got custody of Bernie’s kids.”
She was referring to the fact that my furry partner had a romp with Hud’s dog that resulted in him becoming a doggy daddy.
“I’m glad somebody’s got options,” Mo said. “I’m feeling like a big pile of dog doo these days. I wonder when I’m gonna find that soulmate Pythia told me ‘bout.”
Natalie gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Mo. We’re gonna find you a JPS hunk.”
Mo was saying something about chocolate chips as my phone chimed. I saw the call was from Stan Waters and went into the living room to answer it.
“It looks like that trace on the cell phone worked out. We’ve got something breaking in Longmont,” Waters said. “A car will be there in ten minutes to take you to the airport.”
“What’s up?”
“Caine got the military drone he used in DC from a Captain Allen, who’s stationed at a nearby Air Force base. We’re staging a raid on his house tonight.”
SIXTY-FIVE
The death mask of James Randolph stared back at Nathan Caine from his mirror. He had spent the night putting the finishing touches on the delicate latex molds of the weapons specialist’s face and hands, making sure the appliances were seamless and natural. The results were better than Caine had hoped for.
Contact lens had turned his eyes blue, and his hair was darkened, as he became the reincarnated image of a man with a fleshy but curious face, who, in life, was intelligent and precise in his chosen field. The mirror-image of the weapons specialist was so convincing that he thought he could even fool Randolph’s own wife and daughter, if they were still alive.
Once the transformation was complete, Caine took his time, practicing what little he knew about the way James Randolph had talked and moved. He knew, from past operations, that changing one’s identity had as much to do with learning the mark’s personality as it did with assuming his physical characteristics. There had been times when a transformation was so convincing that his own personality seemed to fade away, submerged beneath the mask of his new identity.
Satisfied with his transformation, Caine made his way through the house where he was staying with
other members of the Swarm. He moved through a series of rooms until he found Lindsay. His hostage was chained to a wall, the only furnishings in the room the mattress where she lay.
“Wow, these conditions leave a lot to be desired,” Caine said, bending down to her and using his own voice. “I’ll see to it that Astrid upgrades your quarters.”
Lindsay stared into a face she’d never seen before but didn’t respond. Caine then saw her expression change, the realization dawning on her about who she was talking to.
“Yes, it’s me,” he said, smiling. “I’m going to be busy for the next few hours. You’re to remain here with Astrid and the other Guides. You are to follow all their instructions. If you fail to do so, they’ve been given orders to kill you.”
“What are you going to do?” Lindsay asked.
Caine smiled. “Take over the world.
After Caine was gone, Lindsay slumped back onto the mattress. She thought about her sister, wondering if Kate was still on the terrorist’s trail. She thought it unlikely. Her trip here, wherever here was, had been long and arduous. It was cold in the empty room where she was held. She couldn’t be sure, but she had a sense that she might be somewhere in the western United States.
She had no idea what Caine meant by “take over the world”. Maybe he was planning something similar to what happened in Washington. All she knew for sure was that he was planning something big. Despite the risk, it made it imperative that she do one thing: escape.
She had to find a way to stop him.
SIXTY-SIX
I left Bernie with my friends and took a flight out of Van Nuys airport. Along the way, I tried Joe again, but didn’t get a response. My thoughts went to a dark place again, imagining him with other women. Maybe he had secretly been in another relationship for months and had been playing me. If that was the case, I decided it wasn’t worth my trouble to keep calling him, so I did my best to put him out of my mind.
After arriving in Boulder, I was met by a military transport, and we drove north to Longmont. I met up with Stan Waters and Jack Logan down the street from a small house on the outskirts of town. The weather was frigid, with about a foot of snow on the ground.