Chameleon Assassin (Chameleon Assassin Series Book 1)

by BR Kingsolver

  To my surprise, he blushed. I was tempted to take his hand and ask him if my bra felt familiar, but I restrained myself.

  We swooped in on the drug house, just like in a vid. One of the helicopters hovered over the building, one sat down on the roof of an adjacent building, and the third, the one Wil and I rode in, landed in the only clear space on the ground about thirty yards from the entrance.

  The SWAT team fanned out toward the building from our copter while the team on the other building’s roof descended the stairs there. No sooner did both teams enter the buildings than they ran into resistance.

  I crouched outside behind an old junk car and listened to all the shooting and screaming. I thought with all their drone surveillance, they should have noticed the drug house wasn’t the only inhabited building in the area. Maybe they didn’t pay attention to what went on after dark.

  A sound behind me caused me to turn, and I saw a girl and boy rushing up behind me. I fired at him, hitting him in the chest, but she slammed into me before I could get another shot off. She bore me to the ground, and I hit the back of my head. Stars and comets. Her weight on top of me and her knee in my stomach made it hard to fight back.

  I managed to get my arm up between us and hold her mouth away from my throat. She was strong, and it took me a few moments to regain my senses, then I began hitting her in the head with the pistol I still held in my other hand.

  A shadow loomed above us. The boy I’d shot leaned down to grab my arm. I reacted just in time, shooting him in the face.

  My distraction allowed his girlfriend to push off from me and grab my free arm. She pulled my wrist to her open mouth at the same time as I pushed the muzzle of my gun against her temple and pulled the trigger.

  Rolling her off me, I saw Wil running toward me.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his head turning back and forth from me to the two kids I’d shot. Neither of them could have been eighteen yet.

  “Yeah, I think so.” I looked beyond him, took aim, and fired. With a little more time, my bullet took the boy in the head and he went down.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked. “Who are these people?” His face betrayed confusion.

  “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Oh, hell. Why do you think I wanted to hit this place in the daytime? This is a vampire neighborhood. At least half of the gang members I saw on your video going in and out of that house are vamps.”

  “Vampires? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  I shot another one who was sneaking up on us. “I tried. Couldn’t you see? Don’t any of you know what a vamp looks like? Why did you think their skin was so white?” I couldn’t believe it. I was dealing with corporate idiots. “All you had to do was look at one of the police maps. Here be vampires. Go about six blocks in that direction,” I pointed, “and you’ll be up to your ass in lycanthropes. The bar around the next corner is called Fang, and the nightclub two blocks away is called Bloodlust.”

  Wil stared at me gape mouthed.

  I shook my head. “How long have you lived in Toronto? East of the sewage treatment plant is the mutie district. You could have asked any ten year old on the street.”

  For the most part, vamps left people alone. They fed on us, of course, but I probably could have walked through the neighborhood at night without them hassling me. But they answered an assault on their territory the same way any other group would defend their homes.

  Too damned late to fix it. “Let’s get out of the street,” I said, grabbing him by the arm. “If you don’t want to go in the house, then we can help defend that chopper on the ground.”

  We reached the helicopter on the ground and jumped in the back, turning to face outwards. A terrible screeching sound came from above us. We looked up and saw dozens of people pushing the other helicopter on the roof. The chopper was firing its machineguns, but many of those attacking it were under the level of the guns, or to the side.

  As we watched, the mob pushed the machine to the edge of the roof, and then over. It hit the street with a tremendous crash.

  “God help your SWAT team that entered that building,” I said. Hundreds of vamps swarmed the area.

  Wil clambered up to the cockpit and talked with the pilots, then got on the radio. The copter still hovering over the scene dropped a half-dozen gas canisters. I pulled a different mask out of my bag and slapped it on. Some security systems utilized gas, so I always had a gas mask handy. Losing consciousness in a place you were robbing was usually very embarrassing.

  The helicopter in the air moved over the tenement where the other copter had landed and dropped more gas. A few minutes later, more helicopters arrived.

  Morning light revealed a hellish scene. Several buildings that had stood the previous day were reduced to rubble. Bodies lay everywhere. Most were knocked out from the gas, but too many were dead, including half the Chamber’s SWAT team. Most of the vamps were young. The vampire mutation didn’t usually lead to a long life. Unless they were rich, there was rarely any penalty for killing them, and exile to the slums was dangerous for anyone—normal, mutie, vampire, or rat.

  We confiscated a huge stash of drugs. Heroin, luvdaze, cocaine, amphetamines, barbiturates and many more. Credit cards linked to accounts with millions of credits. Billy and his gang were big time.

  What we didn’t find was Billy. We did find a couple of computers. Wil sent them to his forensics people, hoping to find records that would lead us to the luvdaze lab. I didn’t plan to hold my breath.

  Wil dropped me off at my house. Dad was awake, and after assuring himself that I was unharmed, sent me to take a shower while he fixed me breakfast.

  Standing in the shower under the stream of hot water, I discovered various scrapes and bruises, including a thin gash on my wrist from one of the girl’s fangs. The lump on the back of my head was the size of an egg and hurt like hell.

  “I couldn’t believe it,” I told Dad for about the tenth time as I ate my breakfast. “The bloody idiots didn’t know we were dropping into the heaviest concentration of vamps in Ontario.”

  “The corporations don’t look down,” Dad said. “They employ local police to deal with street crime. They don’t pay much attention to muties unless one of their own kids is mutated.” He poured me some more orange juice. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Go to bed and sleep for a week.”

  “Best plan I’ve heard lately.”

  My phone rang. I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to talk to, so I checked who was calling before I answered it. Amanda Rollins.

  “Hello? Miz Rollins?”

  “Libby, there’s a couple of gangbangers here lookin for you. One has a white Mohawk, and the other’s a vamp.”

  “Lock all your doors,” I said as I bolted for the bedroom. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call Tom.”

  I threw on some clothes, grabbed my bag, and jumped on my motorcycle. I broke enough laws getting there—speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, running traffic lights, driving across a park—to get my permit revoked. The thought of Billy and a vamp hurting Amanda or the kids made me sick. I swore he’d die slowly.

  Arriving at the school, I surveyed the area and didn’t see anything that looked out of place. Some of the kids were playing in the yard. Billy Smythe and another man were sitting on the front steps. I jumped off the motorcycle and ran up to them, a knife in one hand and my pistol in the other.

  Billy looked up at me with an idiot smile on his face. I couldn’t see any spark of intelligence in his eyes, and he was drooling on himself. His friend, the vamp, was in the same shape. Amanda leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

  *Hello, Miz Libby,* Walter’s voice sounded in my head. *They wanted to hurt Miz Rollins and they planned to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen.*

  I looked around, and didn’t see him. “Miz Rollins?” I called to her.

  “You didn’t wait for me to explain when I called,” s
he said. “I was goin to tell ya that we had things under control. But these two can’t stay here. Do ya have someone to take em?”

  “Are…are they going to stay like this?” I asked.

  *They won’t hurt anyone ever again,* Walter told me. *They weren’t nice people.*

  I wasn’t sure what to do. I couldn’t leave them on Amanda’s doorstep. Checking their pockets, I discovered they both had legitimate identification.

  A shadow fell over me, and I glanced up to find Amanda standing there.

  “Walter is very protective,” she said.

  “I think that’s great, but I don’t know what to do with them.”

  “Take them to the subway or light rail, put them on a train, and leave them when you get off at the next stop. There’s a charity that will take them.”

  “You’re kidding.” I gazed into her eyes and saw only sorrow and kindness.

  “Really.”

  So that’s what I did. They didn’t even notice when I got off the train and left them.

  Chapter 18

  I was back to square one as far as my original goal, which was to get the luvdaze drug off the streets. All of my leads back to the drug’s origin were either dead or mind dead.

  Diane Sheridan’s bank accounts still showed zero activity. She was either dead or using a pseudonym that I could not identify. Liam Campbell was the only principal in the original scheme still left. I ran some queries and set myself to follow him.

  The next morning, my takeout mocha and I sat across the street from Campbell’s luxury apartment building. I sat there a long time. Campbell evidently was a late riser and didn’t emerge until nine o’clock. He got in a limo that, to my dismay, rose into the air and flew off. Little chance of me following him on my motorcycle.

  At eight o’clock that evening, he walked out of the CanPharm office building where he worked, got in the limo, and flew off again. Aircars were a decided luxury, and one I didn’t have any access to. Hell, the only person I knew who had access to an aircar was Nellie’s sugar daddy.

  I rode by Campbell’s apartment and saw lights in the windows, but had no idea whether he was there or not. Frustrated, I went home, hacked into his computer accounts, and accessed his schedule. I noticed recurring private appointments on Friday evenings. Deeper investigation suggested they were with a woman. Cross checking with Diane Sheridan’s calendar cleared up the issue. I checked out the dates in the future and in the past. The future ones were just placeholders. Evidently, he filled in the details as he needed to, if he needed to. None of the appointments after her brother’s death contained any details.

  On the whole, Campbell’s schedule was problematic. He didn’t seem to keep it up to date. With few exceptions, it only recorded working meetings, and except for the appointment with Diane, he didn’t schedule anything outside of normal work hours.

  The next day, after the limo picked up Campbell in the morning, I sat back and waited. About two hours later, his wife Cynthia came out and got in a taxi. As soon as it drove off, I morphed into his likeness and crossed the street. I had accessed his apartment building’s security system and programmed my own passcode that morning. It took a little longer to get into his apartment, but fifteen minutes after Cynthia locked the door, I stood in their living room. Nice place.

  I spent two hours searching the apartment and found nothing that could tie Campbell to any of the people I knew were involved with the drug ring. I didn’t find anything to indicate Diane Sheridan had ever been there. Of course, I didn’t know how much his wife knew about Diane. I wondered how Diane felt about him continuing to live with his ex. Seemed pretty weird to me.

  I resigned myself to a long surveillance. Sooner or later, he’d break with the routine. I planted half a dozen bugs throughout the apartment, then called Wil and arranged to meet with him for lunch.

  Nellie called as I waited for Wil.

  “Hey, girlfriend. Long time, no see. Can you talk?”

  “Sure, Nellie. I have an appointment in a few minutes, though.”

  “I’ll keep it short. Don’t forget that the charity concert for the orphanage is this Saturday. Be there by noon at the latest. Okay?”

  “Damn. I forgot.”

  “That’s why I called to remind you. We got two more local bands to play intro. The music starts at three o’clock. Food vendors, some corporate sponsors. Artists gonna sell their work with ten percent to the orphanage. We sold two thousand tickets already. We gonna rock the hood, baby.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “I’ll be there.” For one day, I could have a good time and forget all the crap surrounding luvdaze.

  When Wil showed up, I filled him in on what I had learned.

  “I’m going to need help tailing Campbell. Do you think we can ask for help from that Mateo Hudiburg guy?”

  He shook his head. “Campbell is too high up. His position is at the VP level. We don’t have any proof. We don’t have any witnesses or evidence tying him to the drug.”

  “But CanPharm employees are dead,” I said. “A CanPharm lab was broken into and pillaged. Surely Hudiburg can investigate that.”

  “University employees, university lab. CanPharm is out its grant money, but that’s Campbell’s problem. When you’re funding research, you expect to spend a lot of money on dead ends. The one that hits and makes billions covers it all.”

  “So, you’re saying we just drop it?”

  “I’m not saying that at all. Simon Wellington wants the drug off the street, and Hudson Bay is one of the largest corporations on the continent. He doesn’t pay the Chamber to ignore his concerns. I’m just saying that unless we have proof, Campbell is off limits. We can investigate him discretely, but we can’t accuse him.”

  Wil appeared as frustrated as I felt.

  “What about the other cities?” I asked. “Any idea who is distributing the drug there? How they’re getting it? I mean, we know who was doing it in Dallas. With Blaine gone, who are they getting it from now?”

  He stared off into space and I could almost hear his mind churning. When he turned back to me, he said, “Except for Dallas and Ottawa, all the distribution seems to be through mob channels.”

  “Alderette.”

  “Yes.”

  That afternoon I managed to sneak up on Campbell’s limo and plant a bug and a tracer on it while the driver waited for him.

  Wil set a couple of drones to follow Campbell’s limo and told the drone operators to alert me if he went anywhere unusual.

  Out of curiosity, I decided to follow his wife the next day. The couple lived well, but within the exorbitant salary CanPharm paid him. In spite of the enormous sums he was depositing in his accounts, he hadn’t bought a yacht or anything. He put an allowance in his ex-wife’s account every month, and that amount hadn’t changed much over the past couple of years.

  Cynthia Campbell did have some rather unusual expenses that puzzled me. A couple of times a week she paid individuals a couple of hundred credits. Occasionally the same name came up more than once, but in general, these were one-time payments. I checked on two or three of the people, and found they were far from the social class with which I would expect her to socialize.

  On those days, she also made payments to a ritzy little bistro in the entertainment district and to another business identified by its bank account as Front Door Enterprises.

  Following Cynthia was boring. She spent the morning shopping but not buying very much. Then she went to the bistro for lunch, and I discovered she was meeting Alice Alderette and Sophia Gonzales, Alonzo Donofrio’s daughter. An interesting trio. All had husbands connected to the illegal drug trade.

  While they ate and chatted, I pulled out my tablet and a stylus and started trying to chart out the connections between the players in that scheme. I was totally confused as to who all the players were and how they fit together. A few online queries helped fill in the blanks. When I finished, I sat back and tried to take it all in.

  It was a
face-palm moment. No wonder Ron’s business, Calderone Funeral Home, did business with Jimmy Alderette. Sophia’s former husband was Ron’s cousin.

  What I had was a family affair. The only one I hadn’t identified until then was Ron, who was a cousin to Cynthia as well as to Sophia’s ex-husband. The question was whether Ron had a part in the scheme or simply benefited from all the dead bodies.

  I thought of the caskets I’d seen that night at Ron’s, the ones labeled for shipment to other cities. Cities with a luvdaze problem.

  The women finished their lunch and said their goodbyes on the sidewalk. I followed Cynthia Campbell.

  She strolled down the street, doing a bit of window shopping, and soon crossed into a less savory neighborhood. That surprised me a bit, and I wondered what she was searching for. A couple more blocks, a twist and a turn, and she was walking down a street where boys and girls, some as young as ten or twelve, others as old as I was, displayed themselves for sale.

  Halfway down the street, she stopped, then crooked her finger. A lad I judged to be about twenty pushed away from the wall. They exchanged a few words, then she turned and walked on with him following her. When they reached the corner, she turned into the doorway of a hotel that rented rooms by the hour.

  Having absolutely no interest in knowing what she did in there, I kept going.

  “I think I know how they’re shipping the drugs to other cities,” I told Wil when I met him that evening. “I still have to confirm it. But I’m going to watch the shipping point and see if I can spot a delivery.”

  He motioned toward my ear. “Are you still wearing the tracker I gave you?”

  I grinned and bit down on the little device squeezed between my last tooth and cheek. “Can you hear me now?”

  “Perfectly,” he said, returning my grin. I loved his smile and the light dancing in his eyes.

  “You know,” Wil continued, “I thought you’d be difficult to work with. Consultants often are. But I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how cooperative you’ve been.”