The Warriors Series Boxset I

by Ty Patterson

  The elevator didn’t go down fast enough for him. He left wind and the sisters behind when it opened, headed to a customized Chevelle, matte black, dark, and foreboding, just like how he felt.

  The sisters piled in behind him and when he fired it up, it leapt forward and growled, daring any other vehicle to even blink its way.

  New York City compressed and flattened, people disappeared, lights disappeared, just tarmac and him. Everything else a liquid line that whooshed past silently.

  Meghan put a hand on his shoulder. Slow down. Calm down.

  He ignored it.

  One word registered in him.

  Attack.

  Broker had been attacked. He was being operated on.

  Chapter 13

  Zeb brushed past ambulances, doctors, nurses, the twins hurried to keep up with him at the hospital. Meghan kept up her narrative as they reached the fourth floor. Pizaka, Chang, and Rolando swam in his vision, swam out. They said something, Rolando clasped his shoulder, the grasp slid off.

  Words washed over him. Six hours of operation. Head injuries. Dislocated shoulder. Broken forearm. Lung pierced. Unconscious. Possible swelling of brain. More scans required.

  Meghan held him back, he shook her off, she grabbed him again with both hands and turned him around. Her green eyes were wide. Her lips moved. He focused on her for a moment. ‘Most serious ones are the lung injury and the head injury. The knife went between his ribs and pierced his lungs. The blows to his head have caused brain swelling. Right now, they’re treating it as a mild TBI, Traumatic Brain Injury. They’ll run more scans, tests.’

  Lungs. Brain.

  The rest of her words dissolved. He headed to the Neuro-ICU, the sisters fell in beside him, the cops trailed behind. He went through a hallway, and then through another, approached a glass-windowed door. Beth darted ahead and swung the door open.

  Zeb took a few steps inside and stopped.

  His friend was surrounded by machines, tubes went in and out of him, and his face was bandaged. Through the hospital gown, he could see thick bandages around his chest. His eyes were closed, his head turned away and he could see Broker’s chest rise and fall as he breathed.

  ‘He’s sedated.’ Beth whispered.

  Zeb stood there for a long while as he absorbed the sight of his friend and when he’d had his fill, went closer. He placed his palm on Broker’s hand, let it lie there.

  Forever.

  Broker’s hand didn’t grip him back.

  Zeb wouldn’t leave his side till it did.

  Chairs were scattered in the hallway outside for families, visitors. Those like Zeb. He grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it to a spot across from the room.

  The chair became his home.

  People came and went, the sisters alternated, one of them always with him. Rolando came three times a day. He didn’t attempt to speak to Broker. He just stood there, watching, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  Rolando and Broker. They were both ex-Rangers and had served together in Mogadishu. One time, they were pinned behind the wreckage of their transport, hostile fire sang in the air as it sought them. Dead bodies littered the ground, their fellow Rangers. A sniper had saved them. A sniper who’d perched on a roof top and had coolly and methodically taken out all the hostiles. Zeb.

  The bonds forged in war had stayed true.

  In the evening, on his third visit, Rolando grabbed Zeb and pulled him up and hugged him. A muffled sob broke through him. They didn’t speak. Words weren’t necessary.

  A grey-eyed woman came. Tall, ice cool, she swept through the hospital like a glacier cutting through the sea. People fell away from her as she moved. She came to Zeb and held his hand and the ice became warm. Clare didn’t say anything. She drifted across to the twins and talked to them softly. Zeb didn’t move his head, didn’t follow their conversation.

  He left his chair just twice in the day, both times to freshen himself up.

  He became furniture.

  He became time.

  The killer reveled in the headlines. Baseball Bat Killer Strikes Again. Attacks Cop. Broker wasn’t a cop, but that didn’t deter the media. Hours of breathless news analysis followed each headline. Broker wasn’t a cop, but that was journalistic license for you. He read each and every word feverishly, followed the coverage and laughed to himself. He wiped the drool off his face with the back of his hand and changed the channel.

  There was some backstory on Broker. His record in the army was read out in a suitably reverential tone, the cops came and made their usual threatening statements. The killer stuck his finger up at the television.

  You’re yet to get me, fuckers. You don’t even know who I am.

  Don’t be overconfident.

  Shut up.

  He’d learnt to ignore the voice now. He picked up the remote and paused as his eyes went wide.

  One of the channels was covering the hospital entrance and he saw a quick glimpse of brown hair, followed by another head, bob inside.

  Of course.

  That’s where they’ll be. That guy’s still alive.

  Maybe I can finish him. He’s the only one still alive. Get those two as well.

  Two birds with one stone.

  Two birds.

  He snorted in laughter and went to his computer to make his plans.

  The thing moved in him uneasily, but it kept silent.

  ‘It’s the same killer. He signed in blood. Of course the rain washed away most of the writing, but the curves of the ‘B’ still remain. The bat’s the same brand and as usual, no trace evidence. We got blood, but that’s Broker’s.’ Pizaka sighed as he answered Meghan’s questions the next day.

  ‘We reckon he’s wearing one of those shiny and slippery bodysuits that makes it hard to get a hand on. If a person is covered from head to toe in that suit, chances of trace evidence are rare.’ Chang flicked a glance at Zeb who hadn’t moved from his seat. ‘Rain screwed up the site.’

  ‘What about the witness?’ Beth demanded. ‘How did the sensors go quiet?’

  ‘The witness’ statement was not very helpful. He heard shouts, saw the black figure pause over Broker and when he yelled and ran at them, the figure escaped. He intervened just in time, else the outcome would’ve been very different. As for the sensors, the killer crushed them. Their location is quite obvious for those who know their stuff. Our man clearly has done his homework.’

  If the witness hadn’t intervened, Broker would have been dead.

  ‘The attacker’s height matched what we’ve got for the killer. We’ve saturated the neighborhood but no luck so far.’

  Pizaka pulled off his shades and polished them with a glum look. ‘This guy’s got the luck of the Devil.’ He paused as he felt the weight of his words. ‘You would think someone who has killed ten times and injured an eleventh, would leave something behind. Not him.’

  ‘That’s not luck, that’s planning. He’s smart.’ Meghan replied bitterly.

  ‘No, nothing at Sandoval’s apartment.’ He shook his head as he anticipated and answered Beth’s next question.

  ‘We’ve got cops all over the hospital. The killer might come back to finish the job.’ He beckoned at one of the plainclothes men and introduced him to the sisters.

  An hour later he donned his shades and followed Chang on the way out. Their steps slowed as they walked past Zeb, but a look at his wooden face and they carried on.

  Zeb heard them talking to the twins as if from a distance and felt their gaze. The beast inside him stirred. It wanted to go hunting. Its master wanted to stay put.

  Morning turned afternoon, evening came and with it, Rolando. He crossed his hands across his chest, looked at the seated man, at the twins, who shook their heads.

  Broker’s pierced lung was healing and he’d come out of sedation with his memory intact. He blinked at them and whispered when they approached him. He winked slowly at the twins, returned Rolando’s squeeze and looked past their shoulder. He closed his
eyes and breathed deeply when Beth guessed his thoughts and told him about Zeb.

  ‘Yeah, he knows you’re awake.’ Meghan answered the question in his eyes.

  Rolando left an hour later, Meghan along with him. A change of clothes beckoned at twins’ apartment.

  She turned the key in the Chevelle, her thoughts on Zeb. He needs to wake up. She didn’t feel the eyes on her as the hospital became smaller in her mirror.

  The next day brought more hope. Broker had taken only one direct blow to the head, and that too as he was moving away from the bat. The killer had fled from the oncoming witness before he could finish the job. Broker’s shoulder had been set and his forearm cast. His head was still being scanned for secondary injuries, but it was the lung that got the most attention.

  Hope didn’t matter to Zeb. He’d seen hope in its various guises. His vigil continued.

  Late at night on the third day since the attack, when the hallway fell silent and as the twins snoozed, he rose quietly. In the distance, the plainclothes cops rose too and sank back noiselessly when Zeb nodded at them.

  He approached his friend and watched him as he slept. Machines ticked noiselessly, monitors and counters glowed green, but he had eyes and ears for only the even breathing of his friend.

  He stood motionless for an hour and something deep in him settled and took weight.

  His friend was alive. He would be fine.

  Meghan woke at six in the morning, moved Beth’s head away from her shoulder and stretched. She stopped and gasped.

  Zeb’s chair was empty.

  Beth heard her and her eyes flew open and grew wide when she saw Zeb in front of them.

  He thrust two steaming cups at them. Coffee.

  ‘Let’s go. We’ve got a killer to catch.’

  He took a step back when two bodies piled into him and grabbed him tight. Hot liquid spilled over his wrist, scalded it, but his hands remained steady.

  Life had started.

  ‘Who’s your best forensic criminologist?’ He asked the two cops when they met at One Police Plaza. The twins referred to them as the PC pair, after their initials. The initials fit since the two of them were annoyingly formal and correct.

  ‘All of them are good.’ Pizaka said defensively.

  Zeb kept looking at him and Chang finally replied. ‘Jason Cleary.’ He started to say something, kept quiet, and when the weight of Zeb’s gaze grew, he said, ‘He’s suspended currently. Disciplinary action. He’s not a team player.’

  ‘I want him.’

  ‘He’s difficult to work with.’

  ‘I want him.’

  Cleary had a red shock of unruly hair that didn’t stay down. His brown eyes blinked owlishly from behind thick glasses. His spotted and freckled face turned red under the scrutiny of the twins.

  Hollywood’s looking in the wrong places. This guy’s made for those nerd roles.

  His lips curled. ‘Had your fill of me? Let me get back to the rock I crawled out from.’ A high pitched voice that had a slight stammer.

  He’s been picked upon right through school and now uses his brains as a weapon.

  ‘You’re suspended. Why?’

  Zeb’s voice halted Cleary.

  Cleary turned, his eyes narrow in grim amusement. ‘I told my boss he was an incompetent asshole. It wasn’t the first time.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be grounds for suspension.’

  ‘We had a minor scuffle. I came out on top and struck him. In front of about ten or so witnesses. Not the best advertisement for career promotion.’

  ‘I want you to look over the Sandoval site.’

  Sandoval halted again. ‘In case you’re forgetting, I’m suspended, dude.’

  Zeb kept looking at him.

  ‘Oh, you have juice, have you? Not interested.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Cleary sneered. ‘Trade one asshole of a boss for another? I’ve heard about you. Thanks, but no thanks.’

  Beth bristled and calmed when Zeb shot a look at her.

  ‘What will change your mind?’

  The high-pitched laugh returned. ‘Bud, this is your best shot at convincing me?’ He shook his head and walked away.

  ‘Not even the opportunity to prove your co-workers wrong?’

  Cleary’s steps slowed.

  The killer knew where the twins lived. He knew where they went for their caffeine shot. He knew how they looked. He staked the apartment block and during the long slow day, he saw one of the twins come and go. He knew where the other would be.

  He thought about attacking the lone twin as she exited the apartment.

  Nope. I want both. Besides I grab one, the others will be alerted.

  Hospital. Should I take them both there?

  It’ll be crowded. Bet they’ll have cops around.

  But I can get a shot at Broker too.

  Risky.

  I’ll be invisible.

  You can’t carry a baseball bat in a hospital.

  I won’t.

  He hung around the hospital in the evening, a skullcap pulled low over his head, collar turned up on his coat. A pair of clear glasses completed the anonymous look.

  He knew the twins used a side entrance and also knew there was a cop car parked just outside. He easily made out the unmarked cop car. The cops in it were the only ones who didn’t have anything to do.

  No worried look on their faces, no looking up when ambulances rushed past. All they did was watch the comings and goings.

  The killer smirked as he bought a burger from a food truck, wolfed it down and washed it away with hot, steaming coffee.

  Pricks. I’m right behind them and they’ve no clue.

  A white lab coat rendered a person anonymous. A white coat belonged in a hospital. Thousands of stores in the city sold such coats.

  The killer picked up a conversation with another doctor at the food truck, asked casually about the security set up, nodded knowingly at the replies. He stumbled and bumped into the doctor as a man behind him jostled through the crowd around the truck.

  The killer moved inside the hospital, the doctor’s access card now hanging around his neck, and made himself look busy with a patient file and a phone.

  It was seven in the evening, shifts changed and a change in the pressure of air, a sizzle, warned the killer not to look up.

  Through the corners of his eyes, he saw three pairs of feet walk past, ten feet away. One pair wore combat boots, two others wore trainers. He glanced up and saw two heads of brown hair disappearing in an elevator.

  The killer headed to the elevator bank, watched the light go up and noted at which floor it stopped the longest.

  He punched for another elevator and waited. He smiled politely at a bunch of doctors, made room for a gurney, and stood quietly in the corner as the box whooshed up.

  A good citizen. That’s what I am.

  He stepped out on the seventh floor, walked briskly to a water fountain, went to the next, and water fountain by water fountain, he found the hallway Broker’s room was on. The presence of cops, some uniformed, some plain clothes, gave it away.

  Broker was recovering well, it was almost a week since his attack, the threat level had diminished and along with it, the alertness.

  He opened the file and read as he walked toward Broker’s room. A pair of Vibram soles came in his vision and his steps faltered for a fraction of a second. He recovered and walked past without looking up. If he’d looked back, he would’ve seen flat eyes lasering his back.

  He walked round the hallway, approached an elevator bank and punched the button and stuck his free hand deep inside his pocket.

  Trembling. Trembling at that bastard’s sight.

  He hadn’t expected to come across Carter sitting across from Broker’s room.

  The prick should be in the room, along with his friend.

  The elevator pinged and disgorged its contents. The killer moved to a side to let them pass and hurried to a corner.

  Just as the
doors were closing, a hand shot out and held them open.

  The killer’s vision dimmed and his breath shortened as Meghan and Beth Petersen entered the elevator.

  The mass of bodies crowded back to let the new entrants inside and the elevator moved down.

  Fifth floor and the elevator thinned out.

  Fourth floor and two more walked out, no one got in.

  It was just the killer, the twins and one other doctor. The killer smiled absently at the other doctor and flipped a page in his file. If the doctor had come closer, he would’ve seen the page was blank.

  Empty, like how I feel.

  Third floor and the doctor moved out. The twins stepped back and hugged the wall of the elevator.

  Just the killer in a corner and the sisters in the other corner. The killer fingered the scalpel in his pocket.

  Now!

  Chapter 14

  Cleary whistled approvingly as he made himself comfortable at the back in the dark SUV. ‘Not your standard cop drive, but then I guess you folks aren’t standard cops.’

  Beth ignored him and moved away from him on the rear seat while Meghan circled the vehicle and climbed in the passenger’s seat in the front. Zeb wheeled away as soon as they were seated and belted and joined the traffic streaming from Manhattan to Brooklyn.

  They had come down early to One Police Plaza to collect the criminologist, but the inevitable paperwork had delayed them and by the time they hit the tarmac, it was rush hour. Chrome and aluminum gleamed in a bumper to bumper liquid line that snaked through at a snail’s pace. Horns blared, more to vent than to make the wheels move any faster.

  ‘A horn is a New Yorker’s birthright,’ Cleary commented as he flipped a finger to a Lincoln that was trying to cut in.

  ‘Where’re you from, Jase?’ Beth asked. I don’t want to know, but then I don’t want to hear his commentary all day.

  Cleary grinned at her, his teeth surprisingly white and even against his pale skin. ‘Bumfuck, Kentucky. Ran away from home when I was eighteen, came to the Big Apple, worked as a bicycle courier, put myself through night school and here I am with you lovely women.’