by Jack Bowie
“Very good. What about any video cameras?”
“Ah, the cameras are out right now, but we’ve got a technician coming in the next day or so.”
Right. I wonder how long those cameras have really been out?
“I understand,” he replied with a friendly smile. “You’ve been very helpful. Okay if I go to my unit now?”
“Certainly.” The boy reached under the counter and handed Fowler a silver disk padlock. “Here’s your lock, sir.”
“Thank you, son.”
Fowler squeezed out the door and walked back to his car, tossing the lock in his hand. He shook his head. Twenty-five bucks for this piece of crap? Well, at least it made his next task easier.
He drove down the gravel path to the middle of the second row of units. No one was around. He parked in front of number 147 and got out.
One of the skills the ex-cop had developed in his twenty-six years in law enforcement was a passable ability to pick locks.
It took him less than a minute. He dropped the lock in his pocket and checked his watch, giving himself five minutes to do the search.
Fowler didn’t know what he had expected—an armory of sophisticated weapons or a high-tech command center perhaps—but it sure wasn’t what he found. He walked into what could only be described as a backstage dressing room. Three rows of clothes racks filled the rear of the unit containing all manner of suits, sport coats, slacks, shirts and sweaters. The right side contained a long dressing table backed by a mirror that ran the length of the table. A row of expensive-looking light fixtures hung over the mirror. On the table were three trays of makeup and a rack with four wigs.
He would have been very uncomfortable if the clothes were women’s, but they were all clearly men’s. Whatever Turner was up to, he wanted to be unrecognized.
Fowler made a quick pass through the small space looking for safes or other hiding places but came up empty.
His allotted time was up, so he locked the unit and drove back up the path. The search had definitely been worth the risk. Now if he only knew what the Jason was hiding from.
* * *
Gary Davidson wheeled the cart over the threshold of the elevator and turned down the hallway. As he planned his route to the offices, his mind wandered to the YouTube video he had watched the night before. It had been yet another project to build a robotic mail carrier. The boxy contraption had rolled down a hallway very similar to this one, opening doors with a life-like mechanical hand and dropping letters and even small boxes on the desk of their recipients. All quickly and silently. And cheaply.
He knew this was the fate of his job. It was only a matter of time. That’s why he had enrolled at Northern Virginia Community College to study electronics. He was going to be someone who built robots, not be replaced by one.
And that was also why he walked directly to Cerberus Consulting, bypassing the other offices on his way. To most of the Tower’s inhabitants, he was invisible. An invisible man doing an invisible job. Except of course, when a particular package went missing. Then they would yell and complain and demand he be fired.
But Karen Chu was different. She actually talked to him. She was interested in what he was doing. He hadn’t done well at Fairfax High School and never thought he could be anything more than a messenger boy. But Chu had listened to his worries and his dreams. She had told him she had been a teacher and convinced him to apply to college. She had helped him through his application process and sometimes even assisted with a particularly tough homework assignment.
Karen was special, and now he had something he really had to show her. He had gotten an “A” on a design project and had to share the news with someone he cared about.
When he arrived outside the Cerberus offices, the door was ajar. Which was odd, because Chu never left the door open. She had always said the noise was too distracting.
He knocked, then pushed the door open and entered the reception area. It was empty as well.
Everything looked normal, but the papers on her desk were scattered. Like something had interrupted her.
Did she leave the office and forget to close and lock the door? That would be very unlike her.
The room was eerily quiet. There was none of the normal tapping of computer keys, rustling of papers or buzzing of telephones.
“Karen?” he called into the silence. “Mr. Braxton?”
There was no answer. The door to Karen’s boss’s office was closed, but he could see a sliver of light shining through an opening in the suite’s conference room door. He moved to the door and called out to his friend, but there was still no answer.
Unable to stop himself, he pushed open the door and peered in.
Then he screamed.
PART TWO
Budapest
Chapter 15
Reston Hospital Center Emergency Room, Reston, VA
Monday, 2:15 p.m.
Braxton stood in the Reston Hospital Center Emergency Waiting Room shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes fixed on the door to the care area. He had nearly finished putting away his groceries when he had gotten a call from a policeman, whose name he had immediately forgotten, who said there had been an accident in his office and Chu was in the hospital.
He had sent quick texts to Walker and Fowler, and rushed to his car. On arriving at the Hospital Center he had given his name to the receptionist at the nurse’s station and asked to see Chu. He had been told that she was still undergoing evaluation and he would have to wait. Someone would come out with an update soon. She had pointed to a sitting area to his right. Since he was not immediate family that was all the information she could provide.
Since this was not his first encounter with the US healthcare system, he was not filled with optimism for rapid answers to his questions.
What could have happened? What kind of an accident was it?
The sitting area was a typical hospital waiting room. Pastel walls, posters exhorting the excellence of the Hospital Center and signs warning of airborne disease from coughs. Places where people sat, frightened nearly to death, while their loved ones underwent unknown treatment for unknown problems by unknown caregivers. It was not a pleasant place.
There were only three other people in the room. An elderly couple, he was reading Road and Track, she had a copy of People, and a younger woman sitting with a toddler fidgeting in her arms. Bland, lightly-cushioned seats filled the space.
He had been too anxious to sit, so he had begun pacing around the room like an expectant father. After a few unfriendly glances from the three others, he had banished himself to the far corner of the area.
Ten minutes later Fowler arrived. He glanced around the room, nodded briefly to Braxton, then went straight to another black man in a sports coat and slacks standing by the nurse’s station. They spoke for a few minutes, and then he came over to Braxton.
“Thanks for coming, Sam.” Braxton outstretched his hand, but Fowler wrapped him in a hug. It was like being trapped by a bear. He finally managed to break away. “Who were you talking to? I hope he knew something. The damn nurses won’t tell me anything.”
“Got here as soon as I could, Adam. That’s Detective Brown, from Fairfax County.” Fowler nodded in the direction of the man in the reception area. “Easy to spot. I played the ‘fellow cop’ card. Karen was found by the mail guy in your office. She was zip-tied to her chair. When the paramedics arrived she was still unconscious, Brown assumes drugged. No other wounds, thank God. There was no evidence of a break-in, and nothing seemed to be disturbed. They’ll want you to check to see if anything was taken.”
“Do they know who—”
Fowler shook his head. “No one saw anything, of course. The cops are getting the security tapes from the building.”
Braxton nodded. He was about to remind his friend that they didn’t use tapes anymore, but then realized how pointless a comment it would be.
“It’s my fault, Sam. I should have been there. I was out runn
ing some stupid errand.”
“You do realize what a dumb statement that is?” Fowler replied, frustration clear on his face. “If you had been there you could have gotten the same. Or more likely, it just would have happened some other time. Either way, it’s not going to help Karen. You stay here and wait for the docs. I’ll go back and nose around some more. And be sure you take care of Sydney. She’s really close to Karen these days.”
Braxton had forgotten about Walker. She was probably in some stupid staff meeting worried to death.
“Sure, Sam. Thanks.” Fowler went back to the station where Brown continued to flirt with one of the nurses.
“Mr. Braxton?”
A woman in green scrubs stood in the door from the care area. Braxton raised his hand like a first-grader, then walked toward her. She was short, only about five foot four, but had broad shoulders and narrow hips, like a gymnast. Her brown hair was cut short in a bob. Embroidered on her top was “Dr. Elizabeth Grady, Emergency Medicine.”
“Is Karen, okay?” Braxton blurted out.
“Mr. Braxton,” Grady said flatly, “you are Mrs. Chu’s employer?”
Grady’s formality was scaring him. “Yes, but I‘m also her friend. How is she? Please.”
The doctor hesitated which made Braxton even more frightened.
“Actually, Mr. Braxton, I’m in a bit of a bind. You are not family and I should not provide you any details on Ms. Chu’s condition. But she is awake and is quite adamant that she see you. Under normal circumstances, I would give her something to calm her down, but our tests say she already has a lot of drugs in her system and I don’t want to give her anymore.”
“Drugs? Karen would never take drugs. There must be some—”
“No. You misunderstand. We do not believe Mrs. Chu was taking drugs. Our initial tox screen showed large amounts of Scopolamine in her system. Along with some others we’re still trying to identify. Mrs. Chu was drugged. For reasons we do not know.
“Her husband hasn’t arrived yet and I’m not sure how to proceed. To get her stabilized, I am willing to let you see her. But just for a few minutes and with the objective of calming her down. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Of course. Whatever you say.”
“If she becomes agitated or confused, you will have to leave. Agreed?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Grady led Braxton through the door and into the patient care area. It was a large open space with hospital beds sticking out from two opposite walls. Curtains hung from slides in the ceiling separating each of the patient areas.
She directed him to a closed area to his right and opened the curtain. Braxton almost fainted when he saw Chu. Her normally golden skin was deathly white, and her eyes looked like they had fallen into deep, black wells. She had a distant, haunted look that frightened him. A wall of beeping monitors surrounded the bed and three IV bags dripped fluids into her arms. Both wrists were wrapped in bandages.
Braxton moved to the side of the bed and turned to Grady. She nodded.
“Karen,” he called softly.
Chu’s eyes fluttered then opened. “Adam. Is that you?”
“Yes, Karen. I’m here. You’re going to be fine. Just take it easy.”
“Have to tell you.”
Braxton heard the beat of the monitors increase. He looked over to Grady and saw an expression of concern.
Braxton reached out and placed his hand on Chu’s arm. “Just relax, Karen. Tell me what?”
“It was him.”
“Him? The man who attacked you?”
“Yes. It was him. The man with the hollow eyes.”
Singer? My god. What the hell is he doing back?
The pace of the monitors continued to increase.
“He asked me all kinds of questions,” she whispered. “I tried not to answer.”
“Questions? What kind of questions?”
“Mr. Braxton,” Grady suddenly commanded. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Braxton! What the hell are you doing here?”
Braxton turned and saw a tall Asian man enter the room. It was Russell Chu, Karen’s husband. His face was scarlet, and his hands were balled into fists. “This is your fault. What have you gotten her into now? Get out of here!”
Grady rushed to stop the visitor from coming any closer. Alarms were screaming from the monitors. Braxton glanced at his friend lying in the bed and lightly squeezed her arm. With one last look back, he retreated from the room as fast as he could.
* * *
“Adam, what’s happened? Is Karen alright?” Walker was waiting for him in the sitting area. Fowler was still in the reception area talking with Brown.
“Ah, yes. She’s getting better.”
Braxton was still shaking. He could barely get the words out. The revelation about Singer was frightening enough, but Russell Chu’s outburst had affected him deeply. Braxton didn’t know how, but the attack was his fault. Singer had no reason to harm Chu. It had to be about her boss.
Walker reached out to touch his arm. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I was stuck in meetings.”
He shook his head. “That’s okay. There’s nothing we could have done.”
Fowler must have seen Braxton emerge. He joined them in the corner of the room.
“The doctor says Karen will be fine,” Braxton explained. “She looks pretty bad, but apparently that’s because she’s still loaded with drugs.”
“Drugs?” Fowler asked. “What kind of drugs?”
“Scopolamine for starters,” Braxton said. Then he dropped the bomb. “It was Singer.”
Absolute silence. Braxton could only guess at their thoughts.
Two years ago, Singer had cornered Braxton outside his office after the terrorist had tried to steal some documents. Braxton had never been so scared in his life. He had told Chu about the hollow-eyed man that had threatened him. That’s how she had recognized him.
“Singer?” Walker finally exclaimed. “What is he doing back here? And why attack Karen?”
“I have no idea. But I’m afraid it has to do with us. Karen said he asked her a lot of questions.”
Walker squinted. “What about?”
“I don’t know. They kicked me out.”
“Did you see Russell?” It was Fowler. “I saw him go in a couple of minutes ago.”
“Ah, yes. He wasn’t happy to see me.”
“Why not?”
Braxton paused, trying to keep control. “He blames me for the attack on Karen.”
“How could—”
“I imagine he feels the attack is due to something I’m involved in. But I can’t think of what.”
A knowing look passed among them. “You don’t think …” Walker said.
“I have no idea,” Braxton replied.
That was when he saw Roger Slattery standing outside the entrance.
“But I’m damn well going to find out.” He stepped away from his friends and stormed to the door.
* * *
“What the hell are you doing here?” Braxton confronted Slattery under the porte-cochère of the emergency entrance. He was having trouble controlling his urge to pummel the spook.
Slattery seemed surprised by the verbal assault. “I came to see how Mrs. Chu was doing.”
The spook’s emotionless tone just made him madder. “And how did you find out about the attack?”
The agent’s tone hardened. “Now as hard as it may be for you to believe, every law enforcement agency in the greater metropolitan area has a red flag next to your name. And all those flags point to Mary Ellen Flynn. She called me. What’s wrong, Adam? What are you not telling me?”
“What’s wrong? It was Singer. He drugged Karen. Why would he do that? Why did he come back?”
For the first time since Braxton had known him, Slattery looked genuinely confused. Braxton didn’t know whether that was a good sign or bad.
“Slow down, Adam. What do you mean it’s Singer?”
Braxto
n took a deep breath and tried to control his anger. He had to stay calm for Chu’s sake. “He came into our office. I was gone. He tied up Karen and pumped her full of Scopolamine. Then he asked her a bunch of questions. It was him!” Braxton’s heart was still racing. He could hardly push out the words.
Slattery grabbed his shoulders. “Calm down. Talk to me. How do you know it was Singer?”
“She recognized him. The hollow eyes.”
“Jesus.”
“What kind of questions did he ask?”
“I don’t know. The doctor wouldn’t let me stay any longer.” Braxton didn’t like what he saw. Slattery had regained his composure and had gone into interrogation mode. “You don’t seem that surprised. What don’t I know?”
Slattery dropped his hands and looked away. Braxton knew he wasn’t going to like the agent’s answer.
“I didn’t think it was relevant. There was no reason you needed to know. Singer was Colonel Rockwell’s conduit to his backers.”
Henry Rockwell had been an egomaniacal ex-Army Colonel who had built a corps of genetically-selected child assassins. While on a routine security audit for the CIA, Braxton had stumbled into Rockwell’s operation, been framed for murder, abducted and nearly killed. Slattery had finally saved his life. Barely.
“Singer was funding Rockwell’s operation? How long have you known?
“He told me just before I … he died.”
“And you didn’t think I needed to know this?” Braxton knew his voice was too loud, but he didn’t give a damn. He jabbed a finger toward the spook. “Jesus, Slattery, you are one piece of work. If Karen suffers any permanent damage, I’m holding you responsible.”
Slattery just stared at the threat and Braxton let his hand drop. Getting into a physical altercation with the man would only cause more trouble. “We had no idea Singer was back in the States. And why would he attack Mrs. Chu?”
Braxton had been wondering about this. Nothing made any sense. “You tell me. Why not just shoot me?”
Slattery paused. Braxton hoped he wasn’t making up some bullshit story to protect the Agency.
“Maybe that was his plan. And you weren’t there. Or he didn’t want you, he wanted something else. Singer is never direct. He’s always got some hidden agenda. Was anything taken?”