The Hound of Justice

by Claire O'Dell

  “Found. Bought. Buried,” Micha said. “Just as you ordered.”

  “What explosives?” I said.

  “For our distraction,” Sara said. “Remember?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Raven added.

  I lifted my eyebrows and stared at them both. Micha choked back a laugh. “I told you,” she murmured to Raven, who offered a wry smile in return.

  “Comrades,” Dane said. “We have a great deal to accomplish before tonight. Kite? Update, please.”

  “All vehicles acquired,” Kite said. “Skunk and her crew are heading down to help with the evacuation. Our man Coyote will drive the van. Skunk wants to know if you need a driver for crossing the border.”

  “We’re still talking about that,” Dane said. “What about our new papers?”

  “Inked and with the standard courier.”

  “Good work. Raven, give us the munitions report.”

  Raven rattled off a series of makes and numbers, which I guess corresponded to guns and explosives. Whatever they were, both Dane and Sara nodded with satisfaction.

  “I got us some extra treats,” Raven added. She extracted a plastic bag filled with clear pellets from the medical supplies on the bed. “Sleeping gas pellets. Fired with an air gun, they explode on impact. Our supplier gave us breath masks to go along with them.”

  “Oh, very good,” Dane murmured. “Very, very good. Thank you.”

  The rest of the afternoon was spent double-checking our plans. Raven and Micha had acquired all that I needed for the operation, and then some. Owl and the other women returned by four P.M. We ate an early dinner of rice and beans. At Dane’s orders, we took a brief catnap.

  Seven P.M. All of us awake and gathered around Dane for our final briefing.

  “We start off the same as every other night,” she said. “Owl, you tell our guards that Raven called in sick. It won’t be the first time, so they won’t care. Around nine thirty, you take your tumble. Waste as much time as you can, then limp outside. Everyone else? Dawdle as much as you can, but don’t get the guards worked up. We want them stupid and careless.”

  “Won’t be hard,” one of the nameless women muttered.

  “Don’t count on it,” Dane said. “Besides, those stupid people have guns. So. At ten fifteen, Doc and I will ask the guard for the ID into the lab. The rest of you, make any excuse you can to work away from the loading dock. Raven and Ferret here will set explosives to break that door wide open. They’ll come pouring in, shoot the guards, and hand out weapons.”

  “What about the sister?” I asked. “Do we know where they’ve locked her up?”

  “West side,” Micha said. “Hound and I measured out the factory foot by foot. We have an acetylene torch to cut through any interior doors. If necessary, we also have low-impact explosives.”

  Right. No chance anything could go wrong there.

  But from everyone’s grim faces, I could tell they were not taking anything for granted. We ate a second light meal, more from determination than anything else. Owl and Raven went outside for a smoke. Dane leaned against the wall, eyes closed, resting and not resting. Only Kite seemed unaffected, though with her, it was hard to tell.

  Around quarter to nine, the regular cleaning crew, minus Raven, loaded up into the rusted Buick and headed over the back roads to Sooner State Machine Parts. Within the hour, Kite and her friends would have all the equipment loaded into Coyote’s van and would head to wherever and whoever needed the Resistance next. Meanwhile, Sara, Micha, and Raven drove off in one of the newly acquired cars.

  We were quiet, all of us in the Buick, driving through the soft April night. The car’s tires thumped over the dusty road. A chorus of frogs sang from the nearby creek. From far away came the bark of a night heron, the throaty call of the owl. My nerves had settled, and I felt calm and centered, the same as before a difficult operation.

  The calm vanished when we pulled off the dirt road and into the factory parking lot.

  Dane stared fiercely at the military-style jeeps and the small battered Porsche. “I should have expected that.”

  “Expected what?” I said.

  “Adler. That’s her car. And I bet my mama’s earrings we’ll find extra guards on duty tonight.”

  Owl had pulled the Buick to a stop well away from the other vehicles. “Now what, Captain? Do we cancel the operation? Try again after the rats settle down?”

  “We can’t.” Dane’s frustration bubbled over into her voice. “Adler’s going to launch the first assassination next week.” She sighed. “Fine. Let’s start the show.”

  We unloaded our unhappy selves and queued up at the door. Our friend the security guard examined each of our badges with a great deal more care than he had the night before. “Where’s Ruby?” he asked.

  “Sick,” Owl told him. “She ate somethin’ bad.”

  “You mean she got drunk,” the guard muttered. “Ain’t the first time.” He waved Owl inside and held his hand out for my ID. “What about you? You sick, too, girl?”

  “Me? Oh, no, sir. I’m not sick.”

  He squinted at me, and I had to tell myself to breathe, act normal, ain’t nobody doing anything wrong here, officer. Apparently, I passed inspection, because he gave a loud sigh and ordered me inside.

  We collected our trolleys and our cleaning supplies from the closet, all of us pretending not to see the two extra guards patrolling on the catwalk overhead. Owl and the other three women headed to the side of the factory next to the hidden laboratory, where they spread out with brooms for a first pass over the floor. Dane and I set to work in the offices. We took our time, but not so much that the guards would notice.

  Almost nine thirty. The floor crew finished sweeping and took out their mops. Dane and I cleaned one office and had emptied the office wastepaper baskets in the second when Owl tripped and landed on her knees with a yelp that echoed throughout the factory. Everyone from the Sugar Sweet Cleaning Crew gathered around her, fussing and arguing until one of the guards showed up. He helped Owl to her feet and was listening to her tearful complaint that she’d busted her knee and couldn’t walk no more when the door to the lab swung open and Nadine Adler marched over to us.

  “Do we have a problem?” she said crisply.

  “No, ma’am, no,” Chad-the-guard said hurriedly. “One of the girls had an accident.”

  Adler surveyed the group with narrowed eyes. Her face was gray with fatigue, her eyes rimmed with red, and her hair was matted and tangled. I tried to tell myself that her gaze had not lingered on my face. “No more accidents, you hear? I can always hire a smarter crew. You,” she said to Owl, “will have your pay docked for carelessness.”

  She vanished into the back rooms, while Chad-the-guard helped Owl limp across the floor to a bench. The rest of us stared at each other, muttering, until he returned and shouted at us to get back to work.

  Only nine forty-five, and Adler on the alert. The floor crew were steadily working their way to the corner opposite the loading dock. Dane and I muddled through our chores, with far more accidents and bumbling than usual. Even so, we could only delay so much without being obvious, so it was only ten past the hour when we presented ourselves to Chad for our card key to the back rooms.

  “Ain’t you supposed to do those bathrooms?” he asked.

  “Miss Bonnie didn’t say nothing about that,” Dane said. “She told us, do those offices, then the back rooms. Maybe Missy over there can move her ass.”

  Chad soon found out Missy didn’t want nothing to do with those nasty bathrooms any more than we did. The three of us wasted another few minutes arguing before he gave up and handed us the temp ID card, while Missy stomped back to her mop and pail, muttering dark threats about the ride home.

  Ten thirteen. Dane slid the card through the reader. The lock snicked open. I grabbed the handle at the front of the trolley and yanked the trolley at an angle over the threshold, making the wheels jam.

  “Goddamn you, Callie Mae,” D
ane shouted at me. “Can’t you do nothing right?”

  She hauled the trolley back onto the factory floor, still cursing at me, while Chad stood off to one side, muttering about these dumb-ass black girls. All I could think about was that Raven and Micha had better launch their attack soon.

  A round of gunfire echoed outside from the direction of the loading dock. Chad swung around into a crouch with his gun in hand. Dane didn’t wait. She hooked her foot around his ankle and slammed his head against the floor. She took his gun, shot him through the neck, and had his ID card in hand within a few moments.

  Not a moment too soon. The guards on the catwalk aimed a spray of bullets in our direction. Dane dove for the floor and scuttled inside after me. We heard the dull boom of explosions outside, then the outer door slid closed.

  “That was close,” Dane breathed.

  “Understatement of the fucking year.” My voice came out as a croak.

  She released a puff of laughter. “Oh, my dear Doc. You doing a damn sight better than I would’ve thought. If you want a career with us, you got one.” She laid a hand on my arm and I flinched. “Just kidding,” she said softly. “You do fine up there in DC. But oh glory, the door is opening. Let’s find us our biochemist.”

  The air lock’s second door slid open just as the office door opposite did the same.

  Nadine Adler stood in the entryway, a cell phone in hand. For a moment, we stood face-to-face, both of us frozen. Then Adler punched a number into her cell. “Emergency. Repeat, emergency—”

  Without stopping to think, I drove my right fist into her gut. Adler folded over, the cell still clutched in her hand. Dane shoved me to one side and grabbed Adler by the arm and with a quick twist, had Adler facedown on the floor. “Get the door,” she barked at me.

  I flung myself at the office door and caught it just in time. Adler was cursing and doing her best to break free. Dane pressed her gun into the woman’s neck. Her eyes were bright with anger. “I wish I could shoot you now,” she growled. “Lucky for you, my friend wants you for evidence.”

  Another burst of gunfire sounded, this one closer, then Raven called out, “Dane. Goddamn you. Open up.”

  I grabbed a book from Adler’s desk and wedged the office door open. Dane handed me Chad’s card, which I slid through the slot. The panel blinked red. Fuck. We couldn’t open the outer door until the inner one closed, and I had no idea if we’d run through our count for the night.

  Meanwhile, Raven was still pounding at the outer door.

  “Gimme a minute,” Dane called out. “Check our friend’s pockets,” she said to me. “Oh no, none of that, do you hear?” she said to Adler, who was kicking and squirming, in spite of the gun.

  “Goddamned n—”

  Dane smacked the back of Adler’s head. “Tsk, tsk,” she said. “Such a limited vocabulary. Doc, ignore her. Raven sounds a bit impatient.”

  Adler’s pockets yielded several old-fashioned keys, the electronic fob to her Porsche, and . . . yes, victory! A security card with a pattern of flat metallic dots scattered over its surface—another high-tech item that made me wonder about who had financed this operation.

  I slid the card through the reader. The door clicked open, and Raven, wearing an air filter mask, stepped through with a .45 ACP in one hand, and several more weapons slung from a gun belt. She eyed Adler on the ground and the AK-15 in Dane’s hand. “Guess you didn’t need me after all.”

  “I shall always need you,” Dane said. “Give Doc a gun and help me with our friend.”

  Raven produced what looked like police-issue speed cuffs and a hobble strap. In spite of Dane’s pressing her knee between Adler’s shoulders, Adler continued to curse and struggle. “Fuck you, fuck—”

  I shoved Dane to one side and grabbed a handful of Adler’s shirt. With a growl, I rolled Adler onto her back and leaned in close until she couldn’t look anywhere but my face. “Fuck you,” I said. “You murdered my friend. You murdered my patients.”

  Her face went still with shock. And confusion. As if she’d never before considered the dead. I wanted to kill her with my own hands. Saúl. Belinda Díaz. They’d been nothing except nameless obstacles to her. I wanted to shout at her until she acknowledged what she’d done. Except she never would understand, she never would care.

  I felt a gentle touch on my arm.

  “Later,” Dane murmured in my ear. “We’ll have our revenge. Doc, can you hear me?”

  I drew a shaky breath. I’d almost lost myself there. Dane waited another moment before she nodded to Raven. Raven snapped the cuffs over Adler’s wrists. Dane sat on Adler’s legs and looped the strap around her ankles. At last, Adler was bound and hobbled.

  Dane retrieved Adler’s cell and stuffed it into her pocket. “Go get Kalila,” she said to Raven. “Doc and I will fetch Dr. Sa’id and drag this one outside.”

  Another dull boom echoed through the corridor. “Goddamn that Ferret,” Raven said. “Having herself fun without me. I best get back out there.”

  She readjusted her air mask and exited through the outer door. Dane and I gagged Adler and shoved her into her office entryway as a life-size doorstop. Adler never stopped fighting us, but by the time we finished, she could barely move.

  Leaving our hostage for later, we hurried down the corridor and through the next door into the kitchen—where we ran smack-dab into another crisis.

  Tables and chairs scattered about. Garbage all over the floor. The door to the lab swinging on its hinges. Two men were attempting to drag a furious and disheveled Sa’id toward the back rooms. The moment we entered, one of them spun around with gun in hand. Dane dropped to one knee and shot him before he could take aim. The other yanked Sa’id against his chest and snatched up a knife.

  My pulse stuttered to a halt.

  “Stop,” he shouted. “Or she dies.”

  Sa’id’s face paled. Her lips moved, as though in prayer.

  Dane sighed. “Such drama.”

  The man grinned and pressed his blade against Sa’id’s neck—hard enough for a trickle of blood. I started forward, but Dane laid a hand on my arm. Sa’id went limp and the two staggered backward. Before the man could recover his balance, she stamped down—hard—on his instep and broke free.

  No sooner than her target was clear, Dane fired twice in quick succession, and the man dropped to the floor. Dane lurched to her feet. “Dr. Sa’id. Time to go.”

  Sa’id stared down at the two dead men with a wild-eyed look. Dane had to repeat herself before the woman heard. “What about my sister?”

  “My friends are getting her out now. Come.”

  “Not yet.” She knelt by the man who still clutched the knife in his dead hand and searched through his pockets, unfazed by the blood.

  Dane hissed in frustration. “Dr. Sa’id, we don’t have time—”

  “And I am telling you we must take the time. We need to take everything from the lab’s safe—the venom, all my lab notes, the packets I’ve already created—or Adler will have her victory. Ah, here it is—”

  Sa’id plucked a black disc from the dead man’s pocket and ran into the lab. She slid the disc through the reader slot of a cabinet, flung the door open, and emptied its contents onto a nearby worktable, her hands moving swiftly and surely. Dozens of vials packed in insulating foam. Thumb drives. Several bound notebooks. And a small box that she stared at with a strange and furious expression.

  “These are the ones,” she said in a low voice. “The ones she meant to use next week.”

  “Right,” Dane said. “Let’s get Adler and—oh shit.”

  I followed the direction of her horrified gaze and swore. Nadine Adler had broken free of the hobble strap and now stood over her desk, her hands still bound behind her back. She grinned at us over her gag, then smashed her forehead onto her desk. A siren wailed.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Overused word of the day. We tumbled all of Sa’id’s things into a plastic garbage bag and made a hasty exit from the
lab and into the corridor. Adler’s office door was shut. Dane rattled the handle. “It’s locked. Give me her card.”

  I handed it over, but the reader only blinked red. “Emergency override,” Dane growled. “Damn it. We have to leave without her.”

  “But the remote trigger,” Sa’id cried out.

  “Unless she can work it while she’s handcuffed, she won’t be setting it off any time soon. But it does mean we best get going. Fast.”

  Outside on the factory floor, the shoot-out was over. Six guards lay dead in pools of blood, while two more made wet gasping noises. Missy sat on the floor, cradling her left arm. Her shirtsleeve was blood soaked, and her freckles stood out against her pale face.

  “How many casualties?” Dane demanded.

  “One,” Charlene said. “Only . . . Just one. Over there.”

  She pointed to the loading dock, to a still body that lay as if flung to one side. I abandoned Missy for the moment and started toward the body (and oh, yes, I knew the sight and stillness of death), but Dane shoved me back.

  “Who is it?” I whispered.

  “Owl,” Charlene replied softly. “Sniper got her.”

  Owl lay in a pool of blood. Even at this distance I could see how the bullets had torn her throat open. Dane’s breath hitched. She walked slowly, stiffly, toward Owl, as though every movement brought great pain. Then she bent down and gathered her friend into her arms. Without a word, she strode through the gaping holes of the loading dock doors.

  Ain’t no one left behind in this army of the Resistance.

  Dr. Sa’id followed after Dane. Charlene and I helped Missy to her feet. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled. “Just a flesh wound.”

  Charlene gave a breathless laugh. “Now I know you’ll be fine. Won’t she, Doc?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “She’s not even—”

  Not even mostly dead, but I couldn’t make a joke, not with Owl’s blood turning dark and sticky on the floor. My adrenaline was crashing down around me, leaving me shaking and close to tears. Charlene laid a hand on my shoulder. “You done fine, Doc. Let’s get with the others now, hear?”

  Outside, someone had extinguished the factory’s exterior lights. Mist was rising from the nearby wetlands, and the siren was only a muted whine. Tight-beam flashlights sparked and glinted through the mist, and by their light, I could make out a rusted, dented van with a white man in the driver’s seat, and on the other side of the Buick, an honest-to-god military truck. Charlene helped Missy over to the van. I headed toward the truck, where I found Salmah Sa’id, the bag with her lab notes clutched to her chest, arguing with Raven.