Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder
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“Even with the mask, we can see that’s our son,” Christine said with a whisper. No one in the room responded as they watched the drama unfold.
Leif Henderson moved to the kitchen table and unplugged Chip’s laptop. His voice had a hollow sound. “God, it’s right in plain sight. This is too easy.” The camera followed him into Chip’s living room. “Sweet. Look at these speakers. Let’s take these, too.” Leif unplugged the Bose speakers and picked them up. Returning to the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator door and removed the six-pack of beer and set it on the floor along with the rest of his loot. He opened the freezer and took out a plastic bucket of ice cream.
From off camera an adolescent voice cracked. “What the fuck are you doing? Dad said to just snatch the computer and get back to Grandma’s party before anyone notices we’re gone.” Jane didn’t make a sound, but Chip could see her chest pulsate with short, rapid breaths.
“Well, then put down that friggin’ video camera and help me carry this stuff.”
The screen went blank. All eyes turned to Chief Fredrickson. He pushed himself out of his chair, as if he had anvils on his shoulders. “I’m sorry folks. I’m going to have to haul the boys in for questioning. I want to talk to each of them separately before I talk with Hal. Pastor, I’ll have to ask you to go over to the school and get Leif and bring him over to the station. This is his second offense, so you might warn him that I expect his full cooperation. When I’m finished with Leif, Jane, I’ll give you a call to bring Sven on over. For now, let’s keep this as quiet as possible, okay?” The heads of three heavy-hearted parents nodded in agreement.
“What about Hal?” asked Jane.
“When we find him, you can be assured I’ll be talking to him. He’s got a lot of explaining to do,” said the chief. “And not just about this robbery.”
Chip had a fleeting memory of another teenage boy in trouble. His parents sitting in the schoolmaster’s office, the Mount Rushmore of his father’s face, his mother wringing a lace-trimmed handkerchief. All these years later, he now understood his parents’ anguish.
Back at the clinic, Chip asked Mabel to get them three coffees to go at the Bun.
“We didn’t see it on the tape, but they must have taken Runt out of the playpen where I left him.”
“What would make Sven do this, Chip? And, why would he tape it and post the tape for everyone to see? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s the teenage mind, Jane. It doesn’t think. It seeks pleasure and adventure. Hormones control it. What worries me more is Hal’s involvement. If he wanted my computer, he somehow knows that I’m the one that put you on to his shenanigans. He now has our best evidence of what he’s doing. It sure as hell complicates Plan B. I’ve got to confess to you, Jane, I’m a wimp when it comes to defending myself. If he sends his thugs after me, I’ll be mincemeat.”
“First let me deal with Sven. Then I’ll put a stop to Hal. You need to keep out of this, Chip. Trust me, I won’t show Hal any mercy.”
“Well girl, you evaded the scalpel for now, but this is the last litter, hear me?” Honey put her head in Chip’s lap and looked up at him with brown dewy eyes. “I hope you at least were carousing with a man of good breeding and not some farmyard mutt.” Honey licked Chip’s hand with her velvety tongue.
“Lucinda told me to write and stay away from the dames, but don’t worry, I don’t think that includes you, sweetie.” Chip powered up his new laptop and switched his own mind to minds controlled by microchips and the insidious NC-15. Lucinda’s deadline was looking impossible at this point. Writing on a timetable was not to his liking. He wondered how some authors could churn out one or two of these novels every year, year after year.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Brain Freeze
Two Harbors, Minnesota
John heard a voice saying his name as he struggled to the surface of consciousness. His head pounded and waves of nausea rose up into his throat.
“John, wake up. John?” The voice was demanding, persistent, but all he wanted to do was sleep.
When he tried to reach up and hold his aching skull, his realized his hands were tied behind him. His feet were likewise restrained. The area beneath his stretched out body was hard and dug into his back. He felt his body jerk to one side and then the other. Where am I? The scent of gasoline and the tang of blood filled his nostrils.
“John!” The voice had become panicky and shrill.
His eyes flew open and he saw Jo sitting on the floor next to him. She looked down at him, her face pinched with concern. She blew out a puff of air. “Oh, thank God! You scared me.”
Clouds of confusion finally began to lift and he looked around. He was lying on the floor of a van. The only windows were in the back doors. They were covered in stained, gauzy fabric, letting in a muddy-colored light. Swaying to one side when the vehicle made a sharp turn, his head bounced painfully off the floor of the van.
“Where … where are we? What happened?”
Her reply was bitter. “Candleworth got the jump on me. I acted like a first-day rookie.” She shook her head. “The little bastard. Should have shot him in the kneecap the minute he pointed that gun at you. Thought I had it all under control.”
He realized for the first time that they were alone in the back of the van. “Where is he now?”
Jerking her chin toward the front of the van, she said, “Up there. They threw us in here and made sure we were locked up tight.” She twisted her back so that he could see her hands were tied up, along with her legs. Jo was wearing her boots, but their coats had been left behind at Ms. Peterson’s house. John heard Jo’s teeth chatter in the chilly, dank air of the vehicle.
“What are they going to do with us?”
“Hell if I know. Candleworth said he’s taking us back to NeuroDynamics. Said he has big plans for us.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“You’re right about that. By the way, how’s the head?”
John tried to sit upright, but winced as the pain came roaring back. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the throbbing to subside. “Not so good. A few cobwebs need to be cleared out. Are you okay?”
Her tongue probed a cut in the corner of her mouth, where there was a small trickle of dried blood. “Nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “My wounded pride might take a little longer, though.”
“What happened? I’m still a little fuzzy. Last thing I remember, you were pointing a gun at Candleworth and he had one pointed at me.”
“You don’t remember Frisco then?”
With a shock, he recalled seeing the body of Detective Frisco at his feet in the family room at Belinda Peterson’s house. He sucked in a breath. With a growing sense of dread, he asked, “He wasn’t moving. How is he? Don’t tell me he’s dead.”
A shadow crossed Jo’s features. “I don’t know for sure. I could have sworn I saw his finger move as we left. But Wilson stayed behind with Frisco. Candleworth told him to kill Frisco and get rid of the body. Do you recognize Wilson’s name?”
“No, should I?”
“He was another one of the test subjects in the files.”
“Oh, no. No telling what he’s capable of doing.”
Jo nodded. “Exactly.”
John briefly forgot his aching head and felt a hard lump in his chest. “My God.” For a moment, he couldn’t say anything else. His mind whirled with thoughts of all the damaged lives. Finally, he said, “I vaguely remember reaching out for Frisco, to check his pulse …”
“Yeah, well, that’s when I lost my focus and Candleworth’s goons made their move.”
John had a sour taste in his mouth. I acted without thinking, just like Candleworth wanted. Jo would never have lost her concentration if I hadn’t reacted. “You mean you were distracted because of me. You mean it was my fault …”
Jo interrupted. “No. It was my error. For God’s sake, I’ve been trained to keep an eye on the
bad guy. Been taught that from day one. All I could think about was you and the weapon coming down on your head.”
John didn’t agree with Jo’s assessment that it was her fault. This was exactly the type of situation that makes our relationship a bad idea. Jo can’t do her job if she is worried about me.
He was quiet for a moment, and then he realized that Jo hadn’t mentioned Belinda Peterson. “What’s happened to Ms. Peterson? What did they do to her?”
“They loaded her into the front of the van. She put up a pretty good fight. Candleworth pulled out some kind of gadget—it looked like a primitive remote control. He pushed a button and then she went into a seizure.” Jo’s voice grew brittle. “It was horrible to watch. He was controlling the microchip. The pain she must have been in …”
John clenched his jaw. “This ends now. I’m not watching that son-of-a-bitch get away with killing and torturing people anymore.” He rocked to one side. “Can you help me sit up? I’m tired of feeling like a victim lying on the floor of this van.”
Jo maneuvered herself around and helped him get some leverage. After several false starts, John sat upright and he leaned against the wall of the van. His body was drenched in sweat from the exertion, and his head felt like it was exploding, but he felt more in control.
He gave Jo a small triumphant smile, and then said, “So, any brilliant plans to get us out of this mess?”
“I think we’d better do as they say until we get inside. Thompson is in the front of the van with Candleworth and Belinda. I doubt Belinda will be very helpful to us in her condition. That basically leaves two bad guys against the two of us. Not bad odds, but we’re a little hobbled with these damn restraints. Before you came to, I tried to get myself loose, but they used plastic cuff-ties. The more I struggled, the tighter they got. Once we’re inside, maybe we can distract them.”
The brakes of the van screeched as it slowed and then came to a stop. John said, “Here we go.”
The door of the van creaked open a moment later. A blast of frigid air rushed into the vehicle and he saw that Jo’s lips had turned blue with the cold. John squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight bouncing off the snow outside. When he could see clearly, he saw that Candleworth stood in the open doorway.
“So glad you decided to join us, Dr. Goodman. You’ve missed quite a bit of the excitement while you were resting.”
John flexed his fists behind his back. Just you wait. “What do you want?”
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”
When one of the guys from Belinda’s house came around to the back of the van, the CEO spoke to him, never taking his eyes off of Jo and John. “Thompson, please show Special Agent Schwann our accommodations. Keep a close eye on her. We wouldn’t want any nasty surprises.”
Thompson pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket and flicked open the blade. John sucked in a breath, wondering what Candleworth’s man would do to her. Thompson reached into the van and sliced through the ties that bound Jo’s feet together and then unceremoniously hauled her out of the van by her arms.
Jo’s green eyes blazed, but she said nothing. Seeing Jo’s anger calmed him. If she can tuck away her fear, then so can I. Panic and guilt would not fix this problem. He had to have a clear head.
He watched as Jo was marched toward the headquarters building, walking carefully on the frozen ground. A gun to her back. A part of him willed her to make a run for it, but he realized that it would be too dangerous. Assuming she somehow managed to avoid being shot in the back, in her current state of dress, hypothermia would rapidly set in and she would die in the secluded woods.
John studied the CEO. He hadn’t seen Charles Candleworth for over a decade. In other circumstances, he would have almost felt sorry for the guy. The years had not been kind. He had to be in his mid-thirties, like John, but he looked to be in his late fifties. His carefully sculpted blonde hair blew up in the wind, showing the shiny scalp beneath. A paunch pushed at the buttons of his jacket. His nose was red and bulbous, with spider veins creeping across his considerable cheeks. The man clearly enjoyed more than just a social drink or two in his evenings.
Candleworth reached in and sliced off the plastic ties at John’s ankles. Fishing a gun out of his jacket pocket, he pointed it at John’s head and said, “Just keep this gun in mind in case you decide to be a hero.”
John stumbled out of the vehicle, his feet burning with the sudden release of blood flow. Candleworth pushed him forward, towards the building. The gun dug into his back.
The sharp wind bit into John’s face and cut through his sweater. As they walked, John decided to keep Candleworth talking, to find out what he could. “Where is Ms. Peterson?”
“She’s already inside. Cooperative as a little lamb, now.” John heard the CEO chuckle behind him, “I have to say, after you told her our little secret, she was not too happy with me. However, in the end, my methods were quite convincing.”
John spat out, “I’ll bet. Hard to disagree when someone is threatening to blow an artery in your head.” He briefly lost his balance on a patch of ice, but caught himself just in time. “What are you going to do with us?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” He cleared his throat. “I have to say, I’m really quite honored that a highly esteemed specialist such as yourself has taken an interest in the goings on of my humble little company.”
John forced his voice to be steady when he responded. “Charles, false modesty from you? What you’ve done is hardly humble. Tell me, are you doing it for the money? Or is living out your God complex reason enough?”
Wheezy laughter came from the CEO. “John, John. Always a bit of a wise-ass. I’m glad you’ve joined us. Very few people could truly appreciate what we’ve achieved. Look at Ms. Peterson, for example. I took a perfectly normal, ambitious mother of two and made her into a criminal. Her money-laundering talents are elegant in their complexity. Even you have to admit that’s quite a feat.”
John gritted his teeth and said, “You think it takes talent to destroy people’s lives? All it takes is a psychopathic mind like yours. What kind of monster are you?”
He felt the muzzle of the gun dig into his back. “Name calling won’t get you anywhere. Not very polite.”
They had reached the building. Candleworth stepped to the side of John and yanked open the door. Heat enveloped them and for a moment John was relieved to be inside. The polished floors squeaked beneath their wet boots as the CEO led John down one hallway, then another.
Finally, they stopped when they came to a set of locked double doors. Candleworth reached around John and touched a pad with his palm. There was an audible click and then the doors swung open. They walked down another hallway, this one more brightly lit and sterile-looking than the others. Charles stopped him at the last door on the left. John felt his arms being tugged as Charles spoke. “I’m going to untie you now. I’ve got something in mind for you, but don’t forget for one second that I have a gun centered on your back.”
John turned toward the CEO. He was sorely tempted to take a swing at Candleworth. He would take great pleasure in beating him, not stopping until the breath left his body. John could picture landing the first punch in the man’s mouth and he would savor the welcome pain to his knuckles. However, he knew that Candleworth would probably shoot him before he had a chance to move.
Candleworth studied him. “You know, for such a civilized man, you enjoy this violence. I can see it in your eyes.” He tilted his head to the side. “You want to kill me, don’t you?” He looked down at John’s clenched hands.
John rubbed the back of his hand in the palm of the other. “The thought crossed my mind.” Pointing to the gun, he said, “Call off your thugs and maybe I’ll leave you for the courts.”
Candleworth’s burst of laughter was loud in the hallway. “Where would be the fun in that?”
John’s tone was dry. “Forgive me if I don’t find this amusing.”
Cocking his head, John said, “I’m curious. How can you be so sure that Ms. Peterson will do anything you tell her? She clearly knows what you’ve done to her.”
Charles pulled an item out of his pocket, about the size of a small cell phone and held it up. It had a large, green button in the middle, with three smaller red buttons below. His grin was devilish. “My little insurance policy. This remote sends out waves to the microchip in Belinda’s head. If she disobeys, she gets a zap. One jolt will cause excruciating pain. Several will cause an aneurysm and certain death.”
John felt dread course through his body. “What are you going to do with Agent Schwann?”
“It’ll be much more thrilling to show you. Patience, Dr. Goodman, patience.”
Feeling like he didn’t have much choice but to humor the CEO, John tried another tactic. “We found the financial files, you know. They show all your contracts with known terrorists and drug lords all over the world. You’re building an army of people who can’t think for themselves, who will do what they are programmed to do. It must be quite a lucrative business for you.”
Candleworth’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, very. You know, I’m really quite pleased that you and Agent Schwann nosed around. Half the fun is having friends to share it with, wouldn’t you agree?”
John crinkled his nose, as if he had smelled something particularly offensive. “You really are a slimy bastard, aren’t you? You think that everyone thinks the way you do, crawls in the same sewers as you do.”
He was rewarded when Candleworth’s face turned a deep burgundy. “Enough. Time to teach you some manners.” He looked down at his watch. “They should be just about ready for us now.”