He stood up and redialed his father, who answered right away.
“Are you all right?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Exits?” Dash whispered.
“Your floor is clear. No guards. Suggest you take the elevator down and bluff your way out.”
Dash hung up and pulled the hood off his face. A quick glance at the guards told him they wouldn’t be a problem anytime soon. He slipped back into the corridor and hurried to the elevator.
The doors slid open to reveal Rockwell. Surprise splashed across his face as he recognized him.
Dash’s stomach dropped. “Shit.”
Rockwell lashed out with a jab, but Dash parried it with ease only to miss Rockwell’s knee up jammed into his abdomen. Air burst from him in a loud whoosh, but Rockwell didn’t slow down. He backhanded him and gave him a hard shove, spilling Dash into the hallway where he lay, mouth agape as he tried in vain to draw a breath.
Rockwell undid his necktie and smirked. “Oh, man. I don’t believe it’s you. Castillo called it. I thought she was grasping at straws, but here you are.” He shook his head.
Dash got rid of his bag and tried to stand up but dropped back to one knee as his mind raced. Castillo?
Rockwell shook his shoulders loose. “You still with me? You got any fight left? I know that knee hurts.” A mirthless chuckle.
Dash shook his head and pointed a finger at him, still moving his mouth in silence.
“Well, don’t worry. This won’t hurt too much.” Rockwell leaped into a spin kick aimed at the side of his skull. A blow with that much force would probably kill him—
Dash dropped his head and the shoe tore at the top of his hair as it passed, then he exploded out of the crouch, tackling Rockwell to the floor. The OSI operative landed on his stomach with an “Oof” and swung his elbow back at him. Dash took the strike on his shoulder and grunted but drove his knee up between Rockwell’s legs.
“Shit!” He yelped.
Dash winced as the PR hack’s foot snapped up and struck him in the back but screamed as Rockwell pivoted the other way and struck Dash’s wounded arm. Pain exploded in his shoulder and Dash clutched the injury, only to get another elbow in his temple for his trouble. He fell against the wall, gasping for air. Blood dripped into his eye.
“Damn, boy.” Rockwell got to one knee. “Thank God I’m wearing a cup.” He shook his head as he stood up. He grabbed his hip, probably for the gun he wasn’t wearing. Rockwell shrugged once, then reached down to grab a fistful of his hair. “Come here.”
Tears filled Dash’s eyes as pain exploded across his scalp. He clambered to his feet as Rockwell dragged him up. Powerful fingers clutched his throat and squeezed. Rockwell’s eyes might as well have been stones as he stared back, strangling him.
Panic seized Dash’s mind as he tried to gasp but couldn’t draw a breath. His hands clutched at his attacker’s arms, his face, but Rockwell jerked his head out of the way.
“Shhh,” he said. “This won’t take long.”
Fasil was going to lose both of his children in the same week.
Forgive me, Rasul...
His arm burned like it was on fire, his lungs ached as they strained to draw in fresh air, and Dash’s temple throbbed, but it was his heart that hurt the most.
I failed?
His brother’s bloodied, shattered head flashed before his eyes. Dead and disappeared. No one to wash the body, no one to wrap him in a shroud...
He’d let him down. Failed Rasul.
Inside, a spark ignited his anger and cleared his mind. Rockwell’s powerful arms locked him in place as his fingers squeezed the life from Dash’s body. He had reach and weight on him, so Dash couldn’t strike back. Fasil had drilled his children endlessly on hand-to-hand combat, however. With his mind now clear, instinct took over and Dash counterattacked.
Dash’s arms locked around Rockwell’s right elbow and jerked down, forcing his arm to bend. It didn’t break the strangling grasp but pulled his head close enough for Dash’s elbow to smash his nose. He pushed his elbow down a little more, then jerked it back to strike his jaw.
Rockwell’s fingers let go as he staggered back, bleeding from the mouth and nose. “You cunt!”
Dash snatched his tactical folder from his spandex pocket and he flicked the blade open.
Rockwell’s eyes locked on the black knife as Dash buried his foot in his belly. He doubled over as all the air evacuated his lungs. Dash stepped in and jammed the knife through the side of his skull, where the bone was thinnest. He wiggled the blade around, scrambling his brains as Rockwell made indistinct sounds and dropped to the ground, twitching.
Dash leaned against the wall, panting like he’d just run a marathon. Blood and pink matter slid from the end of his knife to the carpet. He choked and coughed, his throat aching and raw. Blood slid down his arm and chin.
No time to rest. Dash needed to get out of the building before someone saw him or found Rockwell’s body or the two guards. The Olympus Initiative was knee-deep in his brother’s death, but now he’d killed another one of them. Their hunt would close in on his last-known location.
Dash needed to flee.
Yifei leaned against the Fasil’s van, biting her lip and staring at her phone as Dash came around the corner.
“You okay?” Dash asked.
Yifei’s head snapped up. “My God! Dash!” She hurried over and touched just over Dash’s eyebrow. “You’re hurt! And your arm!”
Dash waved a dismissive hand. “I’m okay. Tore open the graze. I’ll patch it up inside.”
“Do you have the keys?”
“No...” Dash drew it out. “My father isn’t inside?”
Yifei shook her head. “No, I got back here and waited like we agreed.”
His stomach tightened as he smacked the door several times. “Fasil? Fasil? Open up!” Dash’s voice went up an octave. “Damn it. I asked him to distract the guards for me. I figured he’d get kicked out of the building or arrested.”
“Maybe that’s what happened,” Yifei offered.
Dash pursed his lips. “No. If they’d arrested him, the cops would still be here, taking statements.” He paused to consider his options for a moment, then chose. “Take your phone apart. Pull the battery out.”
“Okay.” Yifei complied.
Dash went to each wheel well, feeling inside the grimy, hard gaps.
“Come on, Dad,” he whispered. His fingers curled around a small metal box, which he pulled free. He slid the cover off and retrieved the key inside. Unlocking the door, he jerked it open and the two climbed inside.
“Hand me the first aid kit,” Dash said as he woke up one of his father’s laptops, then peeled off his shirt.
“Oh, God! Dash, you’re really hurt.” Yifei’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Did you get in a fight?”
Dash let out a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Any cuts on my back?” He asked as he turned to the laptop and opened a browser.
“No cuts, but there’s a bruise over your waist, not to mention an ugly cut on your eyebrow.”
“Cool.” Dash tapped on the keyboard, trying to ascertain Fasil’s location. The cursor spun as it processed the request. Dash grabbed some gauze from the first aid box and wiped the blood from his shoulder. He ripped open a Quick-Clot patch and slapped it against his wound, then bit his lip to stifle the scream.
“Dash!” Yifei spun him around. “Are you okay?”
Eyes squeezed shut, Dash shook his head. “This hurts like hell.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing yet. Actually, yes. Can you drive us out of here? Wherever we’re going, I don’t want to wait here for the police to show up.” Dash handed her the key.
“Sure.” Yifei climbed into the front seat and started the engine.
Dash took a few minutes to tape down the bandage and wipe the blood from his face. A butterfly bandage stopped the bleeding from his eyebrow but couldn’t do anything to ease the pain. He
went through half a dozen non-alcoholic swabs cleaning himself up. As soon as he looked half-decent, he threw a shirt on and glanced back at the laptop.
NOT FOUND
Dash’s eyes narrowed. “Not possible.”
Fasil was a creature of professional habit. He always carried more than one tracking device if he thought capture was a possibility.
“Come on, Dad. Where are you?”
His phone vibrated, as if in reply.
Fasil’s number.
Relief surged through his body as he answered. “Where are you?”
“Well, I was just about to ask you that,” Castillo admitted in a mocking tone. “This is a little awkward, but why don’t you go first?”
A shudder ran up his spine as he clutched the workbench for support. “I want to speak to Fasil,” he bit out.
“Certainly.” Then, sounding farther away, “It’s for you.”
Fasil spoke in Farsi, so only Dash would know what he said. “Nothing will happen to us except what Allah has decreed for us: He is our protector and on Allah let the Believers put their trust.”
Dash’s Farsi wasn’t the best, but Fasil had quoted the Qur’an to his children day after day. Despite himself, tears welled up in Dash’s eyes. He understood why his father had chosen that Surah, what he was prepared to do for his sake.
Castillo returned. “Now, where are you, Dash?”
“What do you want?”
“The same thing I’ve wanted all along. I want you to come in. I want to contain this as much as possible.”
Dash didn’t believe a single word. “You’re not going to release him if I turn myself in.”
“True,” Castillo admitted, “but I’m prepared to confine you both to federal custody until the danger you pose has passed. It won’t be a four-star hotel or anything, but it won’t suck either.”
“And if I don’t?”
Castillo’s voice hardened. “Then I won’t waste resources holding him.”
The van rumbled down the road as Yifei navigated through traffic. Dash glimpsed the cars around them, whose drivers were oblivious to the life and death battles in the shadows. They simply never knew of them.
“Still there, Dash? I hope I haven’t bored you.”
“I’m here,” Dash whispered.
“Good. Meet us at—”
“MacArthur Park,” Dash broke in. “I’ll meet you at MacArthur Park. Nowhere else.”
Castillo didn’t reply for a long moment. Yifei’s eyes met Dash’s in the mirror.
“All right. MacArthur Park. One hour. Bring everything Rasul gave you, too.”
Dash nodded once. “Oh, I will.”
Seventeen
DASH SCANNED THE PARK through a monocular. Having changed out of the bike messenger disguise, he wore nondescript khaki pants and shirt, with a similar boonie hat and carrying a rake. Just another harmless city employee, albeit one with a headset plugged into his walkie-talkie.
His disguise seemed to work, too. No one paid him any attention.
“See anything?” Yifei asked over the radio.
“I’m walking to the fountain,” he replied.
The afternoon sun baked the city. Sweat ran down his back between the shoulder blades and Dashed cursed himself for wearing a hat. Invisibility was his only safety. Discomfort didn’t matter.
Dash watched the decoy dressed in his clothes stride toward the fountain. A hundred dollars plus the promise of four hundred more motivated the homeless man. After cleaning his face and brushing his hair, he looked promising. Dressed in Dash’s clothes, with his sunglasses?
Quite convincing.
“Circle the van around. I’m about sixty meters to the fountain. If this goes bad, I’ll need to make a quick exit,” Dash ordered.
“Um, okay.” Yifei’s voice betrayed her fear.
Dash had to give his friend credit. Most people, most smart people, wouldn’t have anything to do with him after understanding how much danger he was in. Dash, at least, had the advantage of years of tutelage by his father. He had some preparation, whereas Yifei had to wing it and rely on her faith in her friend.
No small thing.
Dash watched the homeless man hold up a hand with a small envelope. Inside was a SIM card from Yifei’s old phone, wiped of all contacts except for Dash’s newest phone. Across the park, Fasil emerged from behind a tree. Dash’s heart leaped.
“He’s alive,” he whispered into the radio. “I can see him. He’s on the other side of the fountain, just behind a tree. Maybe a hundred and twenty meters.”
“Is he alone?” Yifei asked.
“Doubtful.” Dash glanced around, then focused on his father. “What do you see?”
“Nothing on the street. I’m not seeing any cars sticking to me.”
Dash wished he could take comfort in that, but Castillo’s OSI team were professionals. If her people were onto Yifei, she’d never know it.
“Okay. Someone’s stepped out with Fasil. It’s a man, six foot tall, short blonde hair, in jeans and a sport coat,” he narrated.
“I’m turning around.”
Dash watched the man rip the man’s sunglasses off, then curse. A smirk spread across Fasil’s face. His captor snatched the envelope from the homeless decoy and ripped it open. The SIM card fell to the ground and he knelt to pick it up. Dash tensed up, expecting his father to attack him and bolt, but he stood still.
“Damn it, Fasil. Come on!”
Sport Coat stood up and called someone, glaring at Fasil.
Dash glanced to the east. No one approached the recycling bin in which he’d taped an envelope to. Off to the west, his father’s escape route looked clean.
Sport Coat nodded and hung up, then put his SIM into the phone and stabbed the screen to dial the single number in the contact list.
Dash’s phone vibrated in his pocket. His thumb swiped across the screen and he held it to his face. “Hi.”
“Where’s the damned information, Dash? The deal was for a trade, not a scam.”
“Calm down,” Dash said in a soothing tone. “The deal is still on. I just couldn’t expose myself to whatever evil trap you came up with. The info isn’t far. Relax. What’s your name?”
Sport Coat huffed. “Boscardin.”
“Great. Nice to meet you.”
“Where is it?” He demanded.
Dash scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll just give it to you and you shoot him on the spot. What a great idea.”
Boscardin glanced at Fasil, then shook his head. “Not here to do that. This is an exchange. Nothing more.”
“Glad to hear it,” Dash said, still not believing him. “Okay. Here’s the plan. Put Fasil on the phone for a moment. I want to hear his voice.”
Boscardin swore but complied.
Scratching sounds came from the phone as it brushed across Fasil’s stubble. “Don’t do this,” Fasil urged him. “Walal-aakhiratu khairul laka minal-oola.”
And the Hereafter is better for you than the first life.
Tears pooled in Dash’s eyes, but he swallowed his fear and grief.
“Shut up and listen. South, then West,” Dash ordered him in Farsi.
Fasil didn’t respond and Boscardin took the phone back. “Okay. There’s your proof of life. Now, the information?”
“Hold your horses. Turn Fasil loose. He walks right now or the deal’s off.”
Boscardin glanced around, then shrugged. “Okay. Fine.”
In his monocular, he watched Boscardin gave his father a shove and Fasil took off to the south at a slow jog. The OSI officer waved Dash’s double away with an irritated glower.
Dash took a deep breath. “Okay. Look to your left. Do you see the water fountain?”
Boscardin spun and scanned the park. “Yeah.”
“See the recycling bin next to it?”
“I do.”
“Head over there.”
Boscardin sprinted across the grass. Dash peeked around the other side of the tree and watched his father
still jogging south.
“C’mon, Dad,” Dash whispered.
“What am I looking for?” Boscardin asked between gasped breaths.
Dash played for time. “You’ll see. You’re not even there yet.”
Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyebrow. Dash’s stomach twisted as Boscardin approached the can. Fasil hadn’t yet turned west yet, which meant Boscardin had a decent line of sight to him. It would take quite a marksman to shoot his father at that range with a pistol, but Dash didn’t want to chance it.
“Where is it?” Boscardin barked.
Dash turned back to him and said, “It’s on the bottom.”
Boscardin dropped to a knee and reached under the can. “I don’t feel anything.”
“It’s inside the can, not underneath it. Take the bag out and you’ll see it.”
Fasil finally turned, but his pace had slowed. Dash bit his lip as he watched him run, then muted his phone and keyed his radio. “He’s moving to the Wilshire entrance, Yifei. Hurry!”
“What the hell is this?” Boscardin bellowed. In the monocular, he saw him shaking a yellow envelope and screaming into his phone.
Dash unmuted the call. “That’s what my brother gave me.”
“It’s gibberish!”
“No, it’s in Farsi, moron,” Dash shot back. It was just some handwritten notes Dash had scribbled together before he placed it. Random lists, a recipe for hummus, and a story about his pet cat. Dash’s Farsi sucked and would have shamed his foster parents, but no one else would be able to tell.
“We’re burned,” Boscardin growled. “Do it.”
Ka-krak!
Two near-simultaneous shots shattered the quiet of the park.
Dash, startled by the abrupt blasts, dropped to his knees behind the tree, whirling around to spot the threat. Screams and shouts filled the air as people panicked and fled. Dash couldn’t see the shooter. Most people ran for the park’s border, but a few ran towards a crumpled form—the homeless man Dash had hired to deliver the envelope.
But there had been two shots.
A surge of fear shot through him. “Dad?” Dash peeked from behind the tree, his hands clutching the rough bark.
In the distance, several bystanders knelt over something on the ground. Dash couldn’t see, but he didn’t need to. The truth pierced his heart. He swayed on his feet as sobs clawed their way out of his throat.
Erebus Page 12