by Ethan Cross
“I don’t know how you can defend her.”
“Because she was the love of my life. And, most of all, she gave me you.”
She joined him in the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Papa.”
“I can’t lose you too.”
“You won’t, but imagine if someone did kill me, what would you do to that person who stole me away from you? Would you hunt them, kill them?”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and met her gaze. “No. That would make me just like them.”
She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re a good man. An even better father. But I’m not like you. I won’t forget, and I’ll never forgive.”
Chapter 37
Lamar Franklin kept his eyes on the front door and did his best to seem confident and in control. But on the inside, he was nothing but fear and prayer. Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. The army was supposed to be his “get out of the hood free” card, but instead, joining the military had led him down a path where he had made even worse mistakes than he had during his youth in Oakland.
But he knew that it wasn’t where he was born, his old friends, or the army that had gotten him into this mess. It was his own stupidity and greed. All the money Kruger had promised would do him little good if he didn’t make it out alive.
Mr. K had used phrases like “compartmentalization of information” and “security purposes” and “need-to-know” to explain away why the escape plan and their true objective couldn’t be shared with him. He had heard a lot of terms like that during his years in the service, and it had all seemed perfectly logical at the time. Looking back now, he knew he had been blinded by the promise of riches, and he was dying to know what Mr. K and the Doc were doing in that vault room.
The more time that passed, the larger the pit of fear and doubt grew. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of that pit, ready to take the tumble into the depths at any moment.
His arms grew tired from maintaining his aim with the assault rifle, and the bulky vest hidden beneath his shirt made him feel like a baked potato wrapped in tin foil.
It seemed like an eternity since they had sent the blonde woman out with the food order. Kruger had explained that sending out a hostage and asking for food made them seem reasonable and bought them more time to access the vault.
So far everything had worked out as Mr. K had said, but Franklin had his doubts that they would be able to escape from a building surrounded by cops. But it was too late to turn back now. He just needed to be a good soldier a bit longer and hope that his superior officer knew what the hell he was doing.
Franklin’s finger twitched against the M4’s trigger guard as he saw movement outside. The black FBI agent approached the front doors holding two large plastic trays, the kind used at a fast food joint.
“Mr. K, we have movement,” Franklin yelled. “Burgers are here.”
The giant foreigner ducked his head and stepped out from the vault room, shutting the door behind him. In his strange accent—that Franklin guessed was African or maybe Australian, and was too afraid to ask which—Kruger said, “It’s about time.”
“How should we handle it? Do I let him in or meet him out there?”
“No one comes in. Intercept before he reaches the building,” Kruger said. Then, with a smile, Kruger added, “And it’s time to make sure they don’t get any ideas. Show him your little surprise.”
Chapter 38
Carter moved toward the front doors of the Henderson GoBox facility carrying the very specific food order, which was ready and waiting when he returned from the North Vegas GoBox building. The gunmen had sent a hostage out with a typed note detailing a precise number of hamburgers, with no cheese or toppings, removed from the wrappers and placed on two standard plastic trays. The note also stated that if any listening devices were found, a hostage would die.
Nic had suggested a bug on the tray, arguing that they wouldn’t risk forcing a breach by killing a hostage. But Deputy Chief Edgar had decided to err on the side of caution.
When Carter was ten feet from the entrance, the same man he had spoken with before exited the building, an M4A1 assault rifle at the ready.
“That’s far enough,” the man said.
“I could carry them in for you. You can’t keep that white knuckle grip on your weapon and handle these trays at the same time.”
“Don’t move and keep your mouth shut.”
Carter nodded, and the gunman walked out to meet him. The man’s eyes never stopped scanning for threats or some kind of trap. The kid was fighting hard to maintain control and seem like a professional, but to Carter’s trained eyes, he could tell the young man was about one loud noise away from a total breakdown.
“No tricks, kid,” Carter said. “Just some greasy-ass burgers.”
When the scared kid reached him, Carter locked gazes with him and said, “This doesn’t have to end bloody, son. Why are you doing this? What do you want?”
“You’re not in charge here, old man.”
“And neither are you. You think that crazy bastard has your best interest at heart? Why is he sending you out here to do his dirty work?”
“Shut up.”
“He’s using you, kid. You’re expendable to him, and you know it.”
“You don’t know anything,” the kid said. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. We ain’t playin’. And just to make that clear.”
The gunman reached to his waist and pulled up his shirt to reveal a vest covered in packs of C-4 explosive and various wires of different sizes and colors. Carter had seen pictures of plenty of vests like this before, but he’d never encountered one in the field, up close and personal. It was the type of vest commonly worn by suicide bombers.
“Your goon squad so much as sneezes too close to the building, and I’ll blow the roof off this place,” the kid said. “You feel me, old man?”
“Yes, son, I ‘feel’ you,” Carter replied, frowning. “You’re the boss. You keep your cool, and we’ll do the same. Nobody dies today.”
Without another word, the young man took the trays, and walking backward with his eyes constantly scanning, he retreated into the building.
Chapter 39
The paramedics had set up a makeshift trauma ward inside the Walmart located in the strip mall neighboring the GoBox facility. Currently, there were only two patients. The gray-haired woman who delivered the first message and the blonde who delivered the second. The police had already talked with the older woman, who could provide little intel that they didn’t already know, since she hadn’t been a hostage for very long before her release. The blonde woman had potentially seen and heard a lot more.
Deciding to question her himself, with Dr. Burke in tow, Carter had her moved to the store manager’s office, where they could speak privately.
When Sam Carter stepped into the manager’s office, it wasn’t at all how he had expected. He had pictured an oak desk and a sitting area for meeting with customers, something like a loan officer would have in a bank. Instead, he felt like he had stepped onto the bridge of a battleship. Filing cabinets and three ring binders lined one wall. All manner of cables, servers, and security access terminals occupied another. The desks were pushed against the walls and littered with handheld radios, file folders, and computer workstations. Nearly every inch of the walls, those not covered up by filing cabinets or server racks, held cork boards, calendars, and sticky notes. The room smelled of Clorox and coffee.
The blonde occupied one of the rolling desk chairs. Carter pulled another of the chairs into the center of the cluttered space, and Burke followed suit.
Carter smiled and said, “How are you feeling? Are you up for a few questions?”
She had a yellow legal pad and a pen on her lap. She wrote, “Yes, I’m fine. But I’m unable to speak.” She gestured toward the mass of scar tissue on her throat and then added, “The big bastard smashed my electronic communication device.”
/> “Do you know sign language?” Burke asked.
She replied in what Carter assumed to be some form of sign language. Burke smiled and started gesturing in ways Carter had no ability to comprehend. The two had a few nonverbal exchanges before Carter said, “Dr. Burke, are you going to let me in on the conversation?”
“Sorry. I asked how she got the scars. That they seem old. She told me it happened in a car accident when she was a child.”
Carter looked her in the eyes and said, “I’m very sorry. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask a few questions, and my associate can translate.”
She nodded, and Carter looked to his small black notebook. “Your passport says you’re from England. May I ask why you’re here in Henderson?”
With her hands and Burke acting as her voice, she said, “I’m vacationing in Las Vegas.”
“So why did you come out of the city to Henderson?”
“There’s a GoBox in London. I had them transport my jewelry here for me in one of their boxes.”
“I see. Luggage can get lost and purses stolen, but not a trusty GoBox.”
She nodded.
“What can you tell us about the people who held you captive?” Carter asked.
“The big black man was a real prick and a bully. I hate bullies. He kept harassing me, touching me.”
“I’m very sorry this happened to you.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” she said.
“I’m sorry, nonetheless, and we will get these guys.”
“One was a woman, I think.”
“Yes, we’re aware of that. Did you get a good look at her? Could you do a sketch?”
“No, she wore a mask and then pretty much stayed in the vault room,” the blonde said.
“What about the big man?”
“I’ll never forget his face. I could help with a sketch of him. And he had a strange accent.”
“Yes, we were thinking South African.”
“Sounded more like central or northern Africa to me. Maybe Nigerian.”
“Thank you, we’ll keep that in mind. Which one of them was in charge?”
“I can’t say for sure, but it seemed like the big one.”
“Did you overhear anything or notice anything that could help? Anything, even a small detail, that you think we should know?”
She thought about this for a moment and said, “They tortured some info out of the manager, but other than harassing me, they didn’t seem interested in us. The woman and the big one spent most of their time in the vault room, with the younger man on guard duty.”
“Thank you. We’d like you to wait in the store at our makeshift sick bay, just in case we have further questions, and we’d like you to give us a sketch of their leader.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Thank you. Is there anything we can do for you? Any family or friends you’d like to contact?”
“Family is dead, and all my friends are back in London. But thank you. I’m fine.”
“Okay then, we’ll get one of the—”
Carter noticed Burke asking her an additional set of questions in sign language. She smiled and replied with her hands. They made a few more nonverbal exchanges that made Carter feel like the only person in the room who didn’t get a joke.
With a final exchange, Burke stood and shook her hand. Carter did the same and followed Burke into the hallway winding away from the manager’s office.
Carter grabbed Burke’s shoulder, and the young doctor pulled away.
“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like to be touched,” Carter said, “but are you planning to let me in on the secret?”
With a look of confusion on his handsome boyish face, Burke said, “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“What were the two of you talking about there at the end?”
“Sports.”
Carter blinked a few times. “Now I’m confused. Anything you’d like to share with me?”
Burke looked back toward the manager’s office and seemed to ponder that. “No, just a little small talk.”
“Are you absolutely sure? Nothing you picked up on that I should be aware of?”
Burke’s gaze went to the floor. Then he started walking again and replied over his shoulder, “Nah, it’s nothing.”
Chapter 40
Gabi Deshpande had been waiting for the right moment, and some feral part of her brain knew that moment was coming soon. The younger gunman seemed distracted and even more on edge than before. The longer she allowed him to fight with himself internally, the easier he’d be to defeat externally.
But that same feral part of her brain also told her that the danger grew with every tick of the clock. The giant had taken the trays of hamburgers into the vault room with him, which struck her as odd. But maybe they were all for him. Lord knew how many calories it took a day to satiate a Sasquatch.
That theory was quickly disproven when the giant returned from the vault room with the two full trays of burgers.
He stepped into the middle of the couches, exuding his authority as he towered over them.
“We’re going to be here for a while, so everyone takes a burger, and everyone eats a burger,” he announced. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry. When I was a boy, at the orphanage, they would tell us to eat to keep from getting hungry. That’s what you’re all going to do. Are we clear?”
Most of the hostages merely nodded in fear, but some, including Gabi, maintained a defiant stare. The giant walked around the group in a circle, handing out a burger to each hostage.
“Eat,” he bellowed to anyone who seemed reluctant.
Gabi was emotionally and physically exhausted and frightened beyond the point of reasonable, objective thought. But despite all of that, she sensed something was wrong here, and that dread and apprehension only grew as the giant came closer to her and she watched her fellow victims devouring the burgers.
She fought for a solution, but before she could even understand her own apprehension, he was towering over her, a burger held out in his massive hand. He said, “Eat, little princess. I’m sure that you’re worried about ruining your figure, but trust me, one burger won’t hurt. You can do some extra Pilates or whatever it is you Americans do.”
“I can’t eat that.”
“Oh, you will, or I’ll shove it down your throat. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s organic or free-range and all that nonsense.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m Hindu.”
“And I’m impatient and prone to violent outbursts. Eat the burger.”
“I can’t. In my religion, cows are sacred animals, the symbol of ahimsa and the mother goddess. Feeding a cow is seen as an act of worship. We take this very seriously. In many Indian states, consuming or even harming a cow is against the law. I will not eat it!”
He stared at her a moment, the first time she’d seen him speechless and not in complete control. Then he started laughing. It wasn’t meant to be menacing, of that she was sure. He seemed to have genuinely found something she said hilarious. His laugh reminded her of a department store Santa Claus, minus the “ho ho ho.”
He kneeled down to her level, coming eye to eye. He still chuckled, but even with a smile on his face, he radiated an aura of menace. Like a large predator with no natural enemies, he was at the top of the hierarchy, and he knew it. To meet his gaze, to be in his presence, was to be at his mercy.
“You’re strong, little one,” he whispered. “A fighter. Maybe even a killer, under the right circumstance. But you don’t have the claws to fight me on this.”
Gabi had dealt with bullies for as long as she could remember. She had inherited three in the form of her brothers. She knew you could never let the enemy smell your fear.
Gabi stared straight into the eyes of the most frightening person she’d ever met and said, “I’m not afraid to die. And I would die before betraying my faith. So you do what you have to do.”
His smile faded, but what she saw in his
eyes wasn’t anger. Respect, perhaps?
“I could torture you,” he said. “We could see if your faith is strong enough to withstand that.”
She refused to back down. Her father had always told her that she was as stubborn as an old bull elephant.
“Do your worst,” she said.
“I could also shove it down your throat by force.”
“I’d throw it up all over you.”
At that, he stood up and started laughing again. He looked around the group and said, “Fine. You get a pass, little princess. But if anyone else decides to switch to Hinduism, I’ll start removing fingers and toes.”
None of the others dared meet his gaze, and Gabi didn’t allow herself to breathe until the giant had passed out all the burgers and returned to the vault room.
Chapter 41
Constable Isabel Price waited for Mr. Christopher to pick her up on the stoop of her building, as they had agreed upon earlier. He pulled to the curb in a silver BMW 6 series two-door coupe, five minutes late. He pushed open the passenger door and said, “You ready for a drive, love?”
She wore a gray pantsuit, which concealed two weapons, one in the small of her back and one on her ankle. She fought the urge to verify they were still in place as she hopped down from the stoop and slid into the BMW. Some kind of classical music reverberated quietly around the car’s interior, and the BMW smelled like leather and black licorice. She hated black licorice.
Christopher pulled away from the curb without another word. She waited a moment but then asked, “So how did you come to work for Mobius?”
In his Australian baritone, he replied, “Same way everyone starts working for him. He finds you.”
“He recruited you?”
“In a way.”
“What does that mean?”