by Dom Testa
He also knew we were on his tail and he couldn’t wait for the next chance. This was it.
So with his accomplice Oosterhaus under surveillance and with me as a wildcard, he’d been forced to make additional arrangements. It might’ve slowed down the execution of his plan, but it hadn’t stopped it. It was an inconvenience.
I turned to Oakes. “I have to get in there. You gonna be all right?”
His eyes were red-rimmed from fighting the pain. Hey, I’ve been shot before; movie tough guys shrug it off and barely break their stride, but that’s utter bullshit. It’s agonizing.
“Just do me a favor,” he said, breathing hard. “Take them down. Hard. Not for me . . .”
I followed his gaze that had moved to the center of the courtyard. One of his partners, a young police officer, was crumpled in a puddle of blood.
“Count on it,” I said. “Hang tight. Help is coming.”
He replied with just a curt nod.
I looked back to where Kat was positioned. She had a clear view of the door I’d need to enter, and her angle was good. I dialed her up.
“This sucks,” she said. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to lean out and put a couple of shots toward the window where they’re set up,” I said. “I won’t hit them, but it might cause them to duck for a moment. I need you to reach out and put a full clip into the door handle for me.”
She understood what I was thinking. With that door bolted, I’d linger too long trying to kick it open. She could do most of the preliminary work with her SIG Sauer. I doubted these doors were built to withstand a military assault.
With one more glance at Oakes and a pat on his shoulder, I took a breath, rolled out from the cover of the building and fired four shots at the window. Within two seconds Kowalczyk cut loose.
Her shooting skills were magnificent. After the first two shots went a touch high, she pretty much obliterated the hardware around the door handle. I bolted from my position, threw my shoulder into the door, and felt the satisfactory crunch as it spilled open.
I was on the ground inside, rolling to my left, and saw two men kneeling below the window. They were ready for me, but that didn’t matter. I had a round into the first one’s head before he could do much, and was about to place another into the second man’s chest.
But he was much quicker than his friend. As I trained the Glock on him and squeezed off a round, he dove backwards, through an open office door and out of sight. I saw a streak of blood.
“Shit,” I said through my mouthpiece to Kat. “One down, another is hit but has taken cover. It’ll be the room to the right of that window. I can’t stay to battle with him.”
“Go,” was all she said, but I was already on the move.
This building was smaller than the main offices but still had a long series of rooms. Once again I’d have to move as quickly as possible while staying alert for an ambush. There was very little lighting, and a rhythmic, pulsing sound grew louder as I made my way along. It would help to cover my approach, but also mask anyone waiting ahead.
I knelt down as I entered the room where most of the sound originated.
“Poole,” I said, trying to remain as quiet as possible. “I’m in a second, larger room. It’s noisy. Am I still moving ahead?”
She was right there. “Yes. Building plans say the chlorination facilities are farther along. You’ll pass through one more room before getting there.”
I muttered below my breath, then crept forward.
The machinery kicking out the obnoxious sound was smaller than I’d expected, but was apparently hard at work cleansing the water supply for its customers. Reaching the end of the room, I looked back to make sure my wounded adversary wasn’t following. The path was clear.
The next room was oddly quiet, with just a hypnotizing hum to announce that anything was going on. It was a low-frequency note, and I felt it in my stomach more than I heard it. It was strangely soothing.
But the good feeling didn’t last long. I discovered my way ahead into the chlorination room was blocked by a large, metal door. It was the kind that was kick-proof, and looked to be bullet-proof, as well. If it was locked, I was screwed. I’d have to wait for reinforcements.
I held my breath and pushed against it.
It slowly swung open with a metallic groan.
The average person might thank the gods for easy access; I’d been around enough to know that when a bad guy leaves a door open, they have other plans for you. It was pure Parks and his desire for showmanship.
This room was also dimly lit. I understood that was done strictly for my arrival. I paused as long as I could to let my eyes acclimate, and just as I was ready to take a step I heard movement behind me.
I whirled around, Glock raised, and saw Kat entering the humming room. When she saw me she hurried over and crouched by my side.
“Well, that was quick,” I said.
“Hey, I took note of your one critique of Agent Fife. I wasn’t about to be late.”
“And the bully back there with the gun?”
She gave me a quick glance. “You did better than you thought. When I got into the room he had one hand up and the other cupped across a wound in his chest. He’s now cuffed to a railing.”
“Still bleeding?”
“Of course. I don’t have time to play nurse. Someone will be along in a few minutes.”
I nodded and looked back into the chlorination room. “This is ground zero,” I told her. “Ready?”
She held up her weapon in response. “I’ll go to the right.”
With a quiet count to three, we jumped ahead, separating. But the moment we entered the room there were more shots. I heard Kat cry out, followed by the sound of her hitting the ground.
I’d made it to a large metal bin and was crouched behind it. Into the mouthpiece I said, “Kat.”
There was no answer, so I repeated it. A moment later her voice came through my earpiece. It was low and sounded terrible.
“Son of a bitch,” she said. “Hit.”
“Where?”
I could hear her breathing in gasps. “Left side.” She let out a groan.
This was ridiculous. All of my partners were getting nailed, and yet I was the one with the extra lives.
As I contemplated my next move, Kat spoke up. “Don’t wait for me. Go ahead.”
It was the only play. Even if Kowalczyk bled out, I couldn’t afford to move over to her. Somewhere in the darkness ahead many more murders were about to take place.
I snuck toward a faint light ahead, ducking behind another bin as a shot skipped across the ground beside me. I peeked back around the corner and saw someone kneeling beside a large barrel, the kind that held 40 or so gallons, and what looked like one of those large tanks you find at an aquarium.
It was Oosterhaus. She was working on the vat of poison, hooking up the barrel to the chlorination tank. The dolly they’d used to roll the tabun vat into the room was parked to the side.
One shot from me could save thousands of people. Although by now Poole and Q2 had probably alerted the local media to warn people against drinking the water — who knew what story they’d invented? — there was no way they could reach everyone. Thousands of people would still be exposed to the poison. I didn’t want to just shoot Oosterhaus, but would she stop otherwise?
I opened my mouth to shout a single warning to her and felt a crunch against my back.
Spilling onto the concrete floor and losing my Glock, I managed to roll to the side just as a metal pipe smacked into the ground. I felt blood seeping through the back of my shirt, a sign the pipe either had a ragged end or maybe a screw sticking out of it. I peered through the low light and studied the man wielding the weapon.
Parks obviously had recruited an entire Shit Squad, and this latest specimen had a wolfish grin on his face. There was a gun tucked into his waistband, and I wondered why he hadn’t just offed me with it.
That’s when I saw a shap
e walking up from the gloom. As soon as it took the form of a woman I didn’t need two guesses to figure out who it was.
“Put the pipe down, Glen, and cover him with a real weapon,” Jayanti said. “No games with this one.”
The pipe clattered to the floor and he pointed a gun at my face.
Jayanti moved closer and nodded.
“Of course it’s you,” she said. “You’re the asshole from San Antonio. The one who killed Cox.”
“And Troy in the park,” I said. “Plus another couple back that-a-way.” I nodded toward the one she’d called Glen. “I’m adding him to my collection in just a minute. By the way, where’s your nutty boyfriend? Why isn’t he here helping? Or does he always refuse to get his own hands dirty?”
With a condescending smile she walked up to me and ripped my headset away, severing the contact with Poole and Kowalczyk.
“He’s busy in the land of enchantment,” she said. “You, on the other hand? You’re done.”
But instead of ordering her goon to shoot me, she raised a hand from her side. Even in the low light I saw the glisten of a syringe.
“Oh, c’mon, Jay,” I said. “Not again. How many times can you poison me? Frankly, it’s getting old.”
She took a step toward me. “You say the strangest things. You did at the Riverwalk, too. Are you just trying to be odd for show? If anything is getting old, it’s your wit.”
“You sound just like my wife.” I held out my left arm. “If you’re going to do it, I’d prefer this arm.”
It had just the effect I wanted. She got within two feet of me and paused, wondering what the trick was. Glen was also confused, and took his eyes off me to see what his employer was going to do.
In a rush I flew to Jayanti, grabbed her by the wrists, and watched the lethal syringe fly harmlessly to the ground. I spun her around and positioned her between me and Glen. It had happened in less than three seconds.
“Don’t shoot your boss,” I said to the hired beef.
Jayanti hissed at him. “Shoot him! He won’t do anything. Shoot him now.”
I’d counted on his hesitation and got it. As he looked between me and Jayanti’s savagely-contorted face, I used the opening to shove her into him as hard as I could. I followed with a kick into his face that shattered teeth. Pradesh fell to the ground and I completed the lesson by striking her gunman as hard as I could in his larynx. With a gasp he dropped to one knee, then collapsed onto his side, holding his crushed wind pipe. He’d be dead soon.
I picked up Glen’s gun, then grabbed Jayanti by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go stop some mayhem.”
She didn’t cooperate well, and I ended up mostly dragging her toward the spot where Oosterhaus was working. The scientist had obviously been aware of the scuffle going on, but to her credit hadn’t stopped working. Now I pointed the gun at her as we approached.
“That’s enough, Allison,” I said. “There are about a hundred cops and SWAT members ready to descend. You won’t get out of here, and if you finish your work I can’t vouch for how well you’ll be treated. It’s their family members you’re poisoning, you know.”
She looked at Pradesh, who, even with one arm pinned behind her, surprisingly chuckled and said, “Finish the job.”
I waved the gun. “Allison, make no mistake. I will shoot you.”
After a few seconds her smile matched that of Jayanti, and it was clear I was dealing with two complete lunatics.
“Listen, Mr. Government Man,” Jayanti said, and I realized that was her stock name for agents. “Allison only has about a minute left. Isn’t that right?”
The scientist nodded, still with a deranged smile on her face.
I stretched out my hand holding the gun, and squared it with Oosterhaus’s eyes. “She has less than that. Besides, just how do you think you two could escape, anyway? Every exit will be covered by a dozen police officers by now.”
Jayanti laughed again. “You think we’re going to walk out a door?”
I hate being stumped, and I especially dislike feeling stupid in front of people I’m supposed to triumph over. My mind churned through the possibilities. If they didn’t plan on exiting through the door . . .
Of course. The pipes carrying the treated water out of the storage tanks went down a tunnel, which undoubtedly had a service walkway alongside. Pradesh and her evil scientist friend would be able to get several blocks away before taking a service entrance up to the street. From there they would scatter into the wind.
They’d planned it all perfectly. The only obstacle had been the late notice from Thresh regarding her visit. If not for that, everything would’ve been done with no complications.
“Well,” I said. “You’ll be going out the front door this time, right into the backseat of a car.”
At that moment — because nothing in my job could ever be easy — I caught something in my peripheral vision. It was Jayanti’s free hand.
All I could do in that split-second was drop the gun and intercept her wrist with my gun hand. Once again I saw the gleam of a hypodermic needle.
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “How many of these things do you carry around?”
She kicked at me, and tried pulling her wrist from my grip. She was small, but strong in a stubborn, wiry way. For a moment we wrestled, and in the faint light I saw the golden liquid inside the syringe. It carried death.
Oosterhaus used the altercation to turn back to her work. She was moments away from finishing.
I twisted Pradesh’s hand backward. After chasing her for so long, after visualizing revenge, and after lamenting that someone I admired could be such a snake, it had come down to this: A battle inside a sewage plant.
“Let it go, Jay,” I said. “No need to —”
Her face turned toward mine and she spit at me, then uttered an animalistic roar and actually tried to lean forward and bite me.
That did it. Grudging respect or not, I’d had enough of her act. Summoning the necessary strength, I spun her around so her back was to me. I forced up the arm pinned behind her, which caused her to cry out.
Then, with one savage rip, I pulled her other arm down quickly, plunging the syringe into the center of her throat. With a determined stroke, I emptied the contents into her.
She let out a gasp and her body went rigid. I held on tight. Then, as she began to shake, I leaned down to her ear.
“Silly girl,” I whispered. “You didn’t think of everything, did you?”
Childish or not, I wanted those words, the final words she’d uttered to me in her hotel room, to be the last thing she ever heard.
She struggled for a moment, trying to fight the inevitable, then gave a piercing scream. From listening to the recording of my own murder in a Scottsdale hotel room I knew what the poison was doing to her body. But while my own exposure had been small and gradual, Pradesh had just received a substantial dose. The agony she now experienced would be indescribable.
I let go of her arm and she collapsed to the concrete floor, convulsing and crying out.
Without waiting for her to expire, I stepped over Pradesh on my way to Oosterhaus, who’d stopped again and was watching, wide-eyed, as her boss contorted in a grisly death spasm, screams reverberating from every wall. They were similar to the sounds I’d made after my own taste of tabun.
I grabbed Oosterhaus by the upper arm and pulled her face to within inches of mine. In the gruffest, angriest voice I could conjure, I said, “And now, Ms. Oosterhaus. If you don’t want to be next, rip this shit out.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was almost nine o’clock. The wind had picked up, and dust swirled outside the grounds of the Sun City water treatment plant. I sat on one of the bench seats in the back of an ambulance, talking with Kat Kowalczyk. She lay there, two different IVs feeding her veins.
“How close did they come?” she asked, slightly dopy from the medication.
“Oh, God, we had a
ges to spare. Wasn’t even dramatic.”
She managed a laugh. “Liar.”
I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, thank you for running in to help me. You’re officially much more prompt than Fife.”
“A lot of good I did.”
“Are you kidding? You filled them with overconfidence.”
“Shut up.”
With a soft pat I told her, “The EMT says you’re going to be fine. Then you’ll have a scar to prove to the Bureau’s top dogs how tough you are. So quit griping and get some rest. I’ll check in with you later.”
I stepped out of the ambulance into the chilly night air and the blinding glare of emergency lights from a squadron of police cars. Sergeant Oakes was also going to be all right, but would be out of service for a few months. Unfortunately the young officer who’d been cut down in the yard didn’t make it. The cost of this mission had been high, but the risk to the population had been eliminated. Barely.
I could’ve felt happy about the outcome, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Steffan Parks was still at large. And still just as dangerous.
My phone vibrated and I took the call from Quanta.
“Well done,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I am. Agent Kowalczyk is going to the hospital. She’ll be out of action for a while.” I paused. “She’s good. We should make a note of her.”
Quanta spoke with a twinge of humor to her voice. “You’re not suggesting another new agent for Q2, are you? You can’t keep doing that.”
I thought of the woman I’d recommended after the escapade in the Caribbean. “Just keep it in mind. You know, in case I retire.”
“I don’t expect that anytime soon.”
She was right. It wasn’t unusual after a difficult case for me to make similar noises. But Quanta knew it would come to nothing. She was professional enough to let me vent.