The Enraged

by Brett Battles

  In the smashed front cab of the Audi, he could see the two men jammed together, unconscious or dead. Which meant, at least for the moment, he didn’t need to worry about them, so he angled straight for the BMW.

  He found Howard slumped against his seatbelt, a deflating airbag draped on his lap. Daeng tried to jerk open the driver’s door, but it had been bent in the accident and wouldn’t budge. He tried the door behind it. This one popped open right away, so he crawled in and reached around the seat, feeling Howard’s neck for a pulse.

  It was there. Strong and steady.

  He crawled over the seat and shook Howard’s shoulder. “Hey, Steve. Wake up.” No response. “Steve, come on. Can you hear me? Wake up. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  He heard the front passenger door open, and looked back to see Misty sticking her head in.

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  A fat guy in a faded Guns N’ Roses T-shirt jogged up behind Misty. “Hey, is that guy all right?”

  Misty, sounding surprisingly in control, said, “We’re checking him now.”

  “Steve, it’s time to wake up,” Daeng said, tapping Howard’s cheeks.

  Howard started to blink.

  “He came out of nowhere,” the overweight rocker said. “Whacked right into those other guys.”

  “Maybe you should go check on them,” Daeng suggested.

  “There’s somebody already over there.”

  “They could probably use some help,” Misty said. “We’ve got this one here.”

  The man hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see what’s going on.”

  Misty leaned back into the cab. “Are you okay?” she asked Howard.

  “Not my best day,” he said, wincing. “But I’ll be fine.”

  Daeng did a quick check for broken bones, but found nothing obvious. “We need to get out of here before any others show up. You think you can move?”

  Howard nodded once. “Yeah. I just…need some help.”

  Daeng unlatched the seat belt, and helped Howard climb across the seats. Once they were out, Daeng and Misty got on either side of him and headed for Misty’s car.

  “Should you be doing that?” It was the same guy as before. “He probably shouldn’t move until the EMTs get here. He might have internal injuries, you know. Don’t you watch TV?”

  Misty replied before Daeng had a chance. “I’m a nurse,” she said. “I’ve already checked him over. I think it’s best to get him to the hospital as soon as possible.”

  “You’re a nurse? Shouldn’t you take a look at these other two also?”

  “Let me help with this one first, and I’ll be right there.”

  As soon as they’d left the man behind, Daeng whispered, “Nice improvising.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sounding like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d done.

  They got Howard into the backseat of the Camry, and started to get into the front.

  “The files,” Howard said, his voice weak. “In my trunk.”

  The files from the safe at Peter’s apartment. They hadn’t had time to dispose of them.

  Daeng looked at Misty. “Are they important?”

  “It wouldn’t be good if anyone found them, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  Racing back toward the accident, Daeng could hear sirens approaching, no more than a minute or two away.

  “Hey, what happened to that nurse?” the onlooker asked. “Thought she said she’d be right back.”

  “The other guy started bleeding. She’s taking care of that first.”

  Mr. Guns N’ Roses didn’t look completely convinced. “Well, she’d better hurry. I don’t think these other two are doing so well.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  At the BMW, Daeng leaned in through the passenger door, pulled the key fob out of the ignition, and pushed the button to open the trunk. When nothing happened, Daeng guessed that the electric system had been disabled in the accident, and used the actual key to unlock the trunk. The files had spilled out of the bag, so he had to waste several valuable seconds shoving them back in. As he turned for the Camry, his gaze lingered on the Audi for a moment, wondering if he should try to find the phone the man had used to take their pictures. The piercing siren only blocks away made up his mind for him, and he sprinted the rest of the way back to Misty’s car.

  When he got there, he saw she was in the back with Howard, so he climbed in behind the wheel and dropped the bag in the front passenger seat.

  “Everyone ready?” he asked.

  Misty snorted a laugh.

  He took that as a good sign as he shifted into Drive and sped away.

  CHAPTER 17

  SAN FRANCISCO

  “WHAT?”

  If Helen Cho hadn’t already been on her feet, she would have shot up as she’d yelled into the phone.

  “They hadn’t expected to find anyone,” Central said. “The recon team was just there double-checking that there wasn’t any evidence missed from yesterday that might ID the intruders.”

  “And who authorized that?”

  A pause. “I did.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “The client has made it very clear that they want these people found. I thought in the confusion yesterday something might have been overlooked. It’s standard procedure.”

  Helen seethed. Great, another O & O standard procedure. She bit back a response that would have been unproductive. Central wasn’t the one to argue the point with. That would be Stone.

  She took a moment to regain her composure, and asked, “How are your men?”

  “Alive, but both will be in the hospital for a while.”

  “What about local authorities? Have you been able to contain the situation?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ve spun the accident as being the result of road rage. It jibes with what witnesses reported seeing, so it was an easy sell. Once our men regain consciousness, they’ll be briefed before they can make statements to the police.”

  “Any leads on the car that hit them?”

  “The vehicle is registered to a corporation that doesn’t exist. It’s in police custody, but it’s my understanding they have yet to check for prints. I have a person in place who will forward that information to me as soon as that happens.”

  Helen could hear a few keyboard clicks over the line.

  “We do have photos of all three suspects,” Central said.

  “You do?” Here, at least, was some good news. “E-mail those to me right now.”

  “I should probably check with—”

  “You should probably check with no one. Send them now!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Helen stormed back to her desk, woke up her computer, and waited for the e-mail. As soon as it arrived, she opened the three attached files.

  The first image was of a Caucasian man behind the wheel of a BMW, the same BMW that had apparently caused the accident. The second was of another male, this one Asian. He was driving the Camry. The third was the Camry’s passenger, a woman.

  Helen stared at the screen. She had met this woman before.

  “Shit,” she said under her breath.

  “Ma’am?” Central said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Have you opened the files?”

  “Yes.”

  “According to witnesses, the woman claimed to be a nurse. She and the Asian male helped the BMW’s driver out of his car and over to theirs. While she stayed with the injured man, the other one returned to the BMW and retrieved a bag from its trunk before they left.” Another click of a key. “I went ahead and ran the plate on the Camry, and came back with the name Misty Blake. The picture on the driver’s license issued to that name matches the woman in the picture I just sent you. I have an address, and will be dispatching a team there momentarily. I should have more answers for you very soon.”
>
  “Have you reported any of this to the client?”

  Central was silent for a moment. “Not yet.”

  Good, Helen thought. At least something was still in her control.

  “Have your team stand down,” she said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You heard me. Tell them to stand down.”

  “But…the woman. We should—”

  “You should do as ordered. Or would you like to be relieved?”

  “No, ma’am. How would you like me to proceed, then?”

  “As far as O & O is concerned, this project is closed,” Helen told him. “You will cease all surveillance, seal the records, and forward no more information to the client. Any inquiries from the client should be directed to me. Is that understood?”

  “Are you going to tell this to Director Stone, or should I?”

  “You will tell him. You will also tell him to get on a plane and be in my office first thing tomorrow morning. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She could tell he was eager to get off the line, so she said, “If there is anything else I should know about, tell me now, because if I find out you’ve kept something from me, your job isn’t the only thing you’re going to need to worry about.”

  “No, ma’am. I believe that’s it.”

  She let him hang on the line for several seconds before she said, “All right. Good. Please keep me posted on the condition of your men.”

  “Of course.”

  Helen set her phone down on the desk, and looked once more at the image of the woman on her monitor.

  Misty Blake. Helen had never known her last name. To her, the woman had only been Misty, Peter’s executive assistant.

  She had no idea what the hell was going on, but she knew she needed to get a handle on it. She also knew that Peter would have wanted her to protect Misty, so that’s where she decided to start.

  She turned to her computer, found Misty’s record, and set about making the woman disappear.

  CHAPTER 18

  ISLA DE CERVANTES

  THE SUN HAD just set when Quinn’s plane landed at St. Renard’s International Airport. He hurried through Customs and grabbed the first available cab. When it finally pulled up in front of the hospital compound, he didn’t even wait until it came to a full stop before throwing open the door and jumping out.

  It took all of his will not to run through the corridors as he made his way to Orlando’s room. Reaching her door, he paused to catch his breath and then stepped inside.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find, but it wasn’t seeing Orlando lying in bed, her eyes closed, and looking exactly as she had when he’d left. He stopped a few feet in, perplexed.

  Liz was sitting in a chair next to the bed. She twisted around when she heard him enter, then jumped up and rushed over.

  “I…I thought…” Quinn stammered. “I mean, Nate said she was awake.”

  His sister put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “She was.”

  He looked past her at the bed again. “But…”

  “She’s asleep. Normal sleep. Not like before.”

  He relaxed a little. “Did she say anything?”

  A gentle smile graced Liz’s lips. “Not much. Just that she was thirsty.”

  “That’s it?”

  Liz started to turn him toward the door. “Why don’t we talk in the hall?”

  He glanced at Orlando, not wanting to leave in case she opened her eyes again.

  “We’ll be right outside,” Liz assured him.

  With extreme reluctance, he followed his sister into the corridor. As soon as the door was closed, he said, “Dr. Montero said she wasn’t going to wake for three days at least.”

  “Her vital signs were improving, so he eased back on what they were using to keep her under.”

  “You could’ve told me that. I would have come back sooner.”

  She grasped his bicep. “Jake, look at me. If I had known, I would’ve called you, but we only found out he’d done that after she opened her eyes the first time.”

  “How many times has she been awake?”

  “Two more times since Nate called you.”

  Two more times Orlando had seen he wasn’t there. “What’s Dr. Montero saying now?”

  “He’s cautiously optimistic.”

  “That tells me nothing.” Quinn spun around as if he might spot Montero standing nearby. “I want to talk to him. Where is he? I need to know exactly how she is.”

  As his voice grew louder, a nurse at a station down the hall looked up. With a frown, she patted the air, gesturing for him to lower his volume.

  “Jake,” Liz said, taking hold of both his arms this time, and stopping him from twisting the other way. “The important thing is that she’s getting better.”

  “I want to talk to Dr. Montero.” Until he heard the doctor tell him that, he couldn’t allow himself to believe it.

  Liz took a breath. “Fine. Why don’t you go back inside and I’ll see if I can find him, all right?”

  He nodded. “All right.” He paused. “Thank you.”

  He let himself back into the room, walked over to the bed, and looked down at Orlando. He immediately realized his original assessment of her had been wrong. She didn’t look exactly as she had when he’d left. There was color in her cheeks now that helped rid her face of the lifeless mask it had been wearing. And someone—Liz, no doubt—had combed her hair, so that it lay on either side of her head.

  If he narrowed his eyes to slits and blocked out everything else but her, he could almost believe they were at her house in San Francisco. That she was taking a nap, waiting for him to return from a workout, a trip to the store, or some other unimportant task. That if he leaned down and kissed her, she would ease her arms around him and pull him onto the bed with her, where they would stay for the rest of the day.

  And the next.

  And the next.

  Her hand was lying on top of the covers. He slipped his fingers under it, and gently moved them across her palm, tracing the familiar creases. He desperately wanted to squeeze her palm, not hard, just enough to wake her so that she would see him, so that she’d know he was there. But he knew that would only be selfish. She’d wake soon enough.

  “She looks better, doesn’t she?”

  Quinn snapped his head around. Nate was standing a few feet away. Quinn had been so focused on Orlando, he hadn’t heard the door open. That was unnerving. He always knew what was going on around him.

  “Sorry,” Nate whispered. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Quinn’s former apprentice was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, not the hospital gown Quinn had last seen him in. “Not intruding,” Quinn said. “I was just…” He stopped as he lost the energy to explain himself, and turned back to Orlando. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Only for a moment,” Nate said.

  “What did she say?”

  “It wasn’t easy for her to talk. She’s still weak.”

  “She must have said something.” Quinn hesitated. “Did she ask for me?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  Relief? More guilt? It was becoming hard for Quinn to separate all he was feeling. “What did you tell her?”

  “That you’d be back soon.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  Quinn looked back at him. “What else?”

  “Nothing,” Nate said, meeting Quinn’s stare. “I think she wanted to say something more, but she drifted off. As far as I know, that was the last time she was awake.”

  Quinn closed his eyes. He should be happy, ecstatic even. But instead he was frustrated and angry and guilt ridden and jealous that Nate had already talked to her. He had to get a grip. He had to get himself under control.

  When he opened his eyes again, Nate was still looking at him.

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn said. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but Nate held up a hand, stopping him.


  “We’re all a bit out of sorts right now,” Nate said. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a wry grin. “It’s been a pretty screwed-up few weeks.”

  Quinn felt a bit of his tension ease, and returned the half smile in kind. “It has been, hasn’t it?”

  “I blame you.”

  “Excuse me?” Quinn said, tensing again.

  Nate shrugged. “If Romero’s men had taken you instead of me, I wouldn’t have all these welts on my back.”

  “But that means I would.”

  Another shrug. “There’s give and take on everything.”

  Quinn suddenly felt his fingers being pressed together. He turned back to the bed. “Orlando?” he whispered.

  Her eyes were still closed, and the rhythm of her breathing unchanged. He glanced at her hand. The fingers encircling his palm had relaxed, but he knew they had definitely squeezed him. Had she only been dreaming?

  “Orlando?”

  No response.

  Quinn’s phone vibrated. His first inclination was to ignore it, but it was a patterned ring, one he used for only two people: Nate and Daeng.

  He eased his hand out from under Orlando’s and retrieved his cell.

  “Yes?”

  “We have a problem,” Daeng said.

  __________

  NOT WANTING TO disturb Orlando, Quinn told Daeng to hold as he and Nate relocated to an empty room down the hall. Keeping the volume low, he put the phone on speaker so they could both hear.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We ran into a little trouble when we went for Misty’s car.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Daeng briefed Quinn and Nate about the men who’d spotted them outside Peter’s place, and the subsequent chase that ended with Howard using his car as a blunt instrument.

  “Is he all right?” Quinn asked.

  “He’s shaken up and bruised, and probably going to hurt for a while, but he should be okay.”

  “And the other two?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t have time to check them. All I know is that they weren’t moving.” Daeng paused. “There’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “They took pictures of us as we drove by. I would have searched for their phones, but the police were almost there.”