Dead Asleep

by Jamie Freveletti

  “Sumner, stay down,” she said. He dropped to the floor and the second man’s shot missed him. Stromeyer aimed at the first man’s neck and fired, glad that Sumner was low and out of the line of trajectory. She heard the man grunt, but it was clear that while she had hit him, it wasn’t a kill shot. From somewhere in the hall she heard the voices of her neighbors, an aging couple that had retired from New York City to the quiet of St. Martin. The husband said, “Call the police,” and she hoped that he would stay well away from the apartment.

  While Stromeyer was focused on the first man, Sumner had aimed at the second. This one was smarter than his buddy. He’d realized that the lack of places to hide in the small area worked both ways, and with two against two, his options to hide were few. He had been second in the door behind his friend, then angled around him and kept moving. He didn’t wait to be shot but instead sprinted through the room and dove into the kitchen.

  Stromeyer ignored the second man while she focused on the first. Sumner had managed to get behind the sofa. This put the first masked man between Sumner on his left and Stromeyer on his right. The man backed away, keeping his gun up and sweeping it back and forth to encompass both of them. He hit the door and disappeared. Stromeyer heard his feet thundering down the stairs.

  “Loser in the kitchen.” Stromeyer projected her voice in the direction of the man in that room. “There’s nowhere to go and we’ve got the door covered.” There was no sound. “Slide your gun across the floor and come out slowly, hands in the air.” She heard what she thought was a knife being pulled from the block. A second later the gun skittered across the wood floor. Sumner was up and moving quietly to lean against the wall at the kitchen entrance, and Stromeyer took up position opposite him. She could hear police sirens in the distance. Her neighbor had called for help.

  “Come out,” Stromeyer said.

  The man appeared at the doorway with one hand in the air and the other, the one nearest Stromeyer, held low near his thigh. Sumner put the muzzle of his gun at the man’s ear, and Stromeyer let him take one extra step to clear the entrance. She reached down, grabbed the man’s wrist, wrapped an ankle around his and yanked his foot out from under him. He staggered, and as he did, she pulled the butcher knife out of his hand. She used her other forearm to push against his back, which sent him crashing face-first to the floor. Sumner crouched next to him and pulled the mask up and over his head. He grabbed the man’s hair and pulled it to the side so Stromeyer could get a look at his profile.

  “Who sent you?” Stromeyer asked.

  “Money guy,” the man said.

  “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know. He never said. I got the job through an ex-con just out of prison. He was hired but couldn’t finish.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Dead. He’s the guy they found floating. Two days ago. You hear about that?”

  “I shot him,” Stromeyer said. The man groaned, and she leaned closer to him. He watched her with the eye that wasn’t plastered to the wooden floor. “Just like I’ll shoot you if you don’t cooperate.” She knew that the dead man had been a dealer fairly high up in the chain of command of a local gang, but she didn’t recognize the one on the floor. “Who gave you this address?”

  “The guy gave it to me. Called it in just an hour ago. “

  “Where’d he get it?”

  “I don’t know.” Stromeyer put the tip of the knife on the man’s cheek and pressed. A tiny bubble of blood began to form. A look of panic grew in the man’s eyes.

  “He has a contact at the department. He said they gave it to him.” Stromeyer watched as sweat rolled down the man’s neck into his collar. She had no doubt that the combination of stress, heavy Kevlar vest, and the knife at his cheek was making him overheat.

  “I have some handcuffs,” she said to Sumner.

  “What you gonna do to me?” The man sounded panicked. Stromeyer felt little sympathy. Just two minutes earlier he’d been ready to kill her.

  “Shut up,” she said. The man clamped his lips together. She went into the messenger bag and removed the cuffs. She tossed them to Sumner to use while she jogged up the stairs to retrieve several bandannas. She gave one to Sumner. “Blindfold.” She used another to stuff his mouth and a third to tie around his head. When he was trussed, gagged, and blindfolded, they moved him into a bedroom closet. Stromeyer kept a minimum of clothes in the rental. She tossed what she had into her roller bag and within ten minutes was ready to leave.

  “Off the island?” Sumner said.

  “For good, I’m afraid. If this guy is right, then someone in the police department is dirty.” The sirens she’d heard before were louder now. “Let’s get out of here before the next round of police comes. I don’t want to have to decide which cop is clean and which is dirty.”

  Sumner nodded. Stromeyer thought about who might have known her location while in St. Martin. “It makes sense that the address leaked from the department. Darkview is working in conjunction with the locals, but I thought the mission was kept secret.”

  “Hard to keep a secret on an island,” Sumner said. Stromeyer had to agree, but the fact annoyed her.

  “They manage to keep the offshore accounts secret.”

  “That’s because the holder of the accounts will blow the bankers’ brains out if they talk. Darkview doesn’t operate that way. Well, I presume the shooting at the dock was an unusual circumstance.”

  “Darkview doesn’t hesitate when one of their operatives is at risk.”

  “A fact for which I am extremely grateful,” Sumner said. Stromeyer sighed.

  “I’ll need to set up shop elsewhere. Did you let anyone besides Banner and the detective know that you were coming here?”

  Sumner shook his head. “No one.”

  “Let’s turn this on, then.” She reached behind a small electronic tower set on a table near the front door. “It’s a dummy system. It’s a stereo tower that has a small camera built in.” She showed him a tiny LED display that lit when she pressed a switch in the back of the machine. “We’ll see who comes through the door to check on our hostage. Maybe we can flush the leak out that way.” She put the gun in her roller bag. “Shall we go?” Sumner returned his gun to a holster at the small of his back and nodded.

  “Thanks for the backup. That’s the second time you saved my life this week.”

  Stromeyer smiled. “I’m on a roll.” He pushed aside the shattered door and stepped out of the way to allow her to leave first.

  “I don’t mean to appear ungrateful, but here’s hoping that peace prevails and your roll comes to an end.”

  Chapter 20

  Banner woke when he heard the door open and close in a quiet motion. He reached under the pillow opposite him, pulled out a gun and sat up. Wearing long black pajama bottoms and a loose gray cotton tee shirt, he kicked free of the sheets and stood. He moved along the wall and settled in next to the door frame just as the door swung open.

  “Don’t shoot me.” He heard Stromeyer’s voice. He rose and stepped out where he could see her.

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said. “I’d have been upset if I’d killed you.”

  “No sorrier than I would have been,” Stromeyer said. Banner looked at his watch.

  “It’s three o’clock in the morning. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  “The crew after Sumner made an unannounced visit to my apartment while Sumner was there.” She told him of the attack. “I think it’s safe to say that the apartment is compromised, and perhaps my cover. We’ll have to let the Department of Defense know that there’s a mole in the police department.”

  Banner nodded. “If you’re right and a source in the department revealed your address, then this location isn’t safe either. Time to move elsewhere. Where’s Sumner?”

  “He went to meet with the Southern Hemisphere Defense group to analyze the bullet. He asked that you stay put long enough for him to get the results to you.”


  “How much time do you think we have before they come across the water here?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not as risky for us as it is for Sumner. They seem to be tracking him, not me. I’ve just been in the wrong place at the right time. My feeling is they’ll focus on following him first and us second, if at all. Still, you should be ready to leave right after he delivers his report.” She looked around the room. “I forget. Do you have an alarm system here?”

  He nodded. “I do. Let me turn it on.” She stretched, and Banner noticed that she looked tired. “Need some sleep?”

  “Desperately,” Stromeyer said. “I never realized until this mission how crucial sleep can be. Seems as though I’ve been up most nights. Arms dealers need to learn how to conduct their transactions in the daylight hours.”

  Banner smiled and walked to the alarm keypad located on the master bedroom wall. He activated it to trigger should anyone tamper with the perimeter. “There’s a reason that sleep deprivation is a tried and true form of torture and mind control. Without sleep, people very quickly begin to hallucinate and then die.”

  “Now I believe it,” Stromeyer said as she walked out of the room.

  Banner headed down the hall toward the kitchen. He doubted that he’d be able to wind down very quickly. His body was still alert from the way he was roused, and he thought perhaps a glass of water would help. He didn’t bother to turn on the light as he made his way through the house. The phone rang and the noise startled him. That can’t be good news, he thought.

  He picked up the receiver and heard the voice of Susan Plower, the Secretary of State. She’d risen through the ranks by virtue of a brilliant mind and unshakable loyalty to the former Secretary, Carl Margate. When Margate retired, he’d pushed for Plower to succeed him. While her mind was brilliant, her organizational skills were lacking. Things were better now that she had an entire staff to keep her on task, though, and Banner liked that she could see through the obvious in an instant and mine the deeper implications of an event. Hearing her pulled up a mental picture of Plower in his mind: a mousy woman with ill-fitting clothes and a thoughtful manner. She was surprisingly effective as Secretary, mostly because her quiet approach appeared to foreign dictators as the opposite of the brash American that they expected. She got her point across with a quiet insistence that leaders knew would be backed by the force of the United States military complex. Banner liked her.

  “I know the hour is late and I’m sorry to wake you,” Plower said. Banner held the phone between his shoulder and jaw as he reached into the kitchen cabinet for a glass.

  “Not at all. What can I do for you?”

  “Do you never sleep?”

  “Only when off duty.” He heard her soft laugh.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to give you less time to sleep. There’s been an incident in Saudi Arabia.” Banner poured some filtered water into the glass and took a sip.

  “Terrorist? I hadn’t heard anything.”

  “That’s because it’s not the usual bombing or threat. The prince was walking from a restaurant to his car, and a robber tried to shoot him. The gun misfired and the man took off. They were unable to catch him, but they did find an unusual bullet.”

  “From a new material?”

  “Yes, how did you know?” He told her about the strange arms seller that Stromeyer had stumbled upon.

  “The Southern Hemisphere Drug Defense crew is on it,” he said.

  “The king is upset and there are rumors that the U.S. has had a hand in developing the bullet, which, by the way, can sail through standard metal detectors.”

  “Please tell me that the U.S. hasn’t developed it. We’re barely staying ahead of the criminals with standard bullets designed in the last millennium. The last thing I need is a better bullet.”

  “We’re not involved, but we’re as concerned as the Saudis. The Secret Service is asking that we begin an immediate investigation. The President is preparing to travel to the G-8 conference, and they’re concerned that their security measures will be inadequate.”

  “Stromeyer has set up a meeting with another buyer. Rumor is that there is a cutting-edge weapon available. We’ll keep you posted if it proves to be the unusual bullet.”

  “Thanks, and please tell her hello for me. And to stay safe, both of you.”

  “You, too. I understand that one of the African leaders has a massive crush on you. Be careful that he doesn’t have you kidnapped for his harem.” Banner smiled at the sound of her groan over the line.

  “State dinners with his country are excruciating. He sits too close, doesn’t want to discuss politics, and keeps complimenting me on my clothes. Complimenting my clothes, can you imagine?”

  Banner couldn’t, but was surprised that she seemed to know that her clothes were shapeless. For the first time, it occurred to him that perhaps her lack of fashion was deliberate.

  “A crush could come in handy, though. Maybe he will help with intelligence on the new weapon?”

  “Unfortunately he’s not that far gone, though I haven’t put his affections to the test and have no intention of doing so. I’ll rely on you and Stromeyer, if you don’t mind.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Not at all. In the meantime, we’ll try to keep the President within safe boundaries. Good luck.”

  She rang off, and Banner finished his water. He stared out the window and started cataloging in his mind the known countries and terrorists that would have both the financial wherewithal to fund research for a cutting-edge weapon and the knowledge base to fashion one. His list was short, but lethal.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning Emma pulled into Island Security carrying the food samples. She opened the door and stepped into chaos. All the phones rang at the same moment and two women stationed at separate desks were picking them up, saying “Can you hold?” switching lines and saying “Can you hold?” over and over again. Randiger stood at his desk against the wall looking out onto the airfield while he held what appeared to be an intense conversation. He looked up, saw Emma, and waved her to him. He hung up as she reached the desk.

  “You look good,” he said. “Glad to see that the poison didn’t get to you. Did you bring the tainted food?”

  She held up the plastic bags. “I could analyze it myself, but I want it to be used as evidence, and I imagine it would be a conflict of interest if I did the testing.” Randiger’s phone rang again and he ignored it.

  “What’s going on? Seems frantic around here,” Emma said.

  “Two more houses have staff that fell asleep and can’t be woken. The news has spread and the owners that remained after the holiday are leaving.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the airfield, where one private jet after another was lined up for takeoff.

  “What about the staff?”

  “They’re leaving as well, but the charter boats have a set schedule so they’ll be here awhile longer.”

  “Any idea what’s causing it?”

  Randiger nodded. “I just got off the phone with a health service official in the Bahamas. He asked if the staff members do drugs. Of course, the families of the patients deny that they do.” Randiger’s voice held a sour note.

  “And you don’t believe them?”

  “No. I know the guys involved and they all indulge. Nothing terrible, but a smoke here and there from some homegrown, if you catch my drift.”

  “So the official thinks it may be from the drugs?”

  “They do.” Randiger raised a coffee mug to his lips, looked into it, grimaced and put it back down. As he did, Emma saw that it was half filled with a layer of congealed cream on the surface.

  “Do you think it’s from drugs?”

  Randiger rubbed his face. “I have no idea, but whatever it is, it seems to be spreading. Everyone’s getting agitated. The islanders are going to local doctors for natural treatments.”

  “Is that code for the voodoo woman?”

  Randiger nodded.
“I think it is. I’ve been asking around for her, and no one claims to know who she is or where she’s staying on the island, but frankly, I don’t believe it. I think they’re protecting her because they believe her potions can help them.”

  “Do they? Any success?”

  He shrugged. “If there are, no one’s talking.” His phone rang again and again he ignored it. “Listen, I’m headed to interview a family of one of the patients. They say they found some sort of powder residue in his bedroom. Can you come take a look at it?”

  Emma checked her watch. It was eight o’clock in the morning and she didn’t expect to leave for the blue holes until at least ten.

  “Sure. I’d be glad to help.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Randiger drove a short way before turning into a dirt access road hemmed in on both sides by trees. Every so often Emma would catch a glimpse of a sprawling compound and the back of a large mansion flanked by smaller houses.

  “That house is massive,” she said. “Is it the largest one on the island?”

  “No. It’s the second largest. The largest is owned by a newspaper and magazine mogul from the UK who also just recently purchased a large pharmaceutical company.” Randiger mentioned the name.

  “That’s one of the biggest in the world. He owns it?”

  “Yep. He provides the Acute Care Center with most of its pharmaceutical supplies. Just about every home on the island has a medicine chest filled with his pills. He’s in a bit of insider trading trouble right now and is spending a lot of time here.”

  “No extradition treaty on Terra Cay?”

  Randiger chuckled. “Ahhh, yes. Hypothetically speaking, if a conviction comes down while he’s on the island, it would take quite a long time and lots of paperwork to get Terra Cay to turn him over. Would buy him time to wait for the outcome of any appeals.”