by Ethan Cross
“Copy that,” Burke said.
“Our first priority is getting this treatment back to the hostages as soon as we can, but I need you to be thinking about where Kruger could be headed.”
Burke keyed the mic and replied, “Affirmative.”
He looked down at the mural of his sketch notes and considered Kruger’s next move.
“So, do you know where Kruger is headed?” Isabel asked.
Burke shrugged. “It’s hard to say with any certainty, but considering that Yoshida and Loria are held up at Loria’s mansion, which is undoubtedly guarded and secure, and they have Kruger’s money, he’ll probably be headed there. He knows we’re getting closer and that we may even know his name, known associates, and other compromising data. He’ll want to make the trade-off as soon as possible and escape the country. But that’s just an educated guess.”
Isabel nodded and said, “That sounds good enough for me.”
With a blur of movement, she slipped out of her handcuffs—apparently already having picked them—elbowed Burke in the nose, and pulled the Glock out from beneath his right thigh. He saw white and couldn’t have been more surprised if she had sprouted wings and flown away. By the time he regained his composure and the throbbing in his face subsided enough for rational thought, she had the Glock 23 aimed at his head and full control of the situation.
“Drive to Loria’s mansion,” she said.
Burke rubbed his nose and said, “Ow, you could have just asked.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“Absolutely not. But diplomacy should always come before violence.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m more of a shoot first and ask questions later kind of girl.”
“That’s reckless and not very politically correct.”
“Just drive, Dr. Burke. Or I’ll hit you again.”
“Fine. But when this is over, I hope you’ll seek proper medical assistance for your anger management problem.”
“Sure, right after you seek treatment for your know-it-all asshole complex.”
Burke put the BearCat into gear, and with a nod of respect, he said, “Touché.”
Chapter 98
Isabel watched the lights of the strip fly past her window. It felt like a dream. She saw pyramids and the Eiffel Tower and other wonders. The lights and structures were dazzling and impressive, but they only added to the surreal insanity of it all. She wondered what in the hell she was doing. She had gone to work for a psychopath, partnered with a cold-blooded killer, nearly tortured a man to death, and now she had stolen a police vehicle and kidnapped an FBI consultant.
She knew she had gone off the rails into madness, but what made her hate herself even more was that she knew that, in her heart, it would all be worth it to punish the men who had killed Tyler.
Her boy’s death had taken more than just a son from her. It had stolen her happiness, her one chance at a normal life. All she really wanted out of life was to be a mother, to be the kind of mother that she never had. But monsters had stolen that from her in a way that was unforgivable. If she didn’t punish them, then who would? Even if the American authorities captured them, they would only be warehoused and given three good meals a day. They didn’t deserve to breathe. They didn’t deserve to eat or feel or do anything that they had taken from Tyler and all the others. It was up to her to make sure that the proper punishment was dealt.
She tried not to think of Christopher, of his betrayal and his death. She knew that there had been some kind of spark between them. Not love, but a flickering flame that could have grown into something much more. But he hadn’t even hesitated to follow orders to end her life. How could he just cast her aside like that? She knew it was a different time and a different situation and that any goodness she had seen in him didn’t outweigh the bad, but she couldn’t help but think of the way her mother had cast her aside. The sting of the betrayals felt all too similar, and it had drudged up dark feelings of abandonment and brokenness that she thought were in her past.
From the driver’s seat, Burke said, “So, do you have any kind of plan?”
“Kill them all.”
“Well, that’s a goal. And the title of a Metallica album. But do you have any idea of the steps needed to achieve that goal?”
“We’ll drive this rig down their throats, and then I’ll shoot them.”
Burke looked over at her as if she was an alien life-form. “That’s not really a plan. That’s assisted suicide. Consider the variables for a moment. You have one gun with ten to fifteen rounds. They have lots of guns with probably thousands of rounds. You not only have to deal with Kruger and his blonde wolverine, but you also have Yoshida, Loria, and probably twenty mercenaries from Black Dog Protective Services.”
“David beat Goliath.”
“He was a skilled marksman with a long-range weapon fighting what was likely a mentally handicapped man with a sword. As a shepherd, he would have previously killed all manner of beasts with his sling. Goliath didn’t stand a chance. In our case, however, death is a certainty. You have no plan and are outgunned and outmatched. I couldn’t care less what you do, but if you want my participation, you’re going to have to do a lot better than ‘kill them all’.”
“I’ll drop you off before we get there.”
Burke drove without a word for a moment and then said, “Okay, I do care that you would be marching to your death.”
“Well then, smart guy, how do you propose we take down Goliath?”
“When facing a superior force in battle, the only option is to defeat them with cunning and subterfuge.”
“I’m all ears. What’s your big plan?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then shut your mouth.”
“If I do come up with a plan that could result in you achieving your goals that doesn’t end in our deaths, would you follow it? Right now, we’re not partners. I’m your hostage.”
She considered that for a moment. A part of her wanted to die, had even hoped for that release. But she didn’t want to take Burke with her. And killing Tyler’s murderers was more important than killing herself.
“Okay, Dr. Burke. You come up with a plan, and I’ll back it.”
“Good. Ten minutes to figure out a plan on how two people can take down an army. No problem. You don’t happen to have a tank jammed up your ass, do you?”
“This thing’s practically a tank,” she said.
“This is an armored rescue vehicle. It’s little good to us without offensive capabilities.”
The lights and extravagance of Las Vegas had given way to suburbia and shopping centers. They came up behind a slow-moving flatbed truck with a bed filled with tall, cylindrical tanks of some kind.
Burke smiled. “Okay, I have a plan. But I’m going to need you to give me the gun.”
“Out of the question. Why would you need the gun?”
“Because I’m about to commit grand theft auto.”
Chapter 99
Burke’s mind raced as they approached Loria’s mansion. He calculated and recalculated the variables. So many unknowns. He needed more data to compute their chances of success, but he supposed he had done everything in his power to ensure a favorable outcome.
He knew from the GPS locator on Yoshida’s phone and Google Earth pictures of the residence that the bad guys had congregated in an outbuilding just beyond the mansion itself. Loria’s home was a sprawling white monstrosity designed in the style of a French villa. It was quite different from standard for the area, but he supposed that was the point. To be set apart. To be better than the neighbors.
He pulled the truck up to the security gate, and when the guard came to the window, he said, “Please tell Mr. Loria and Mr. Yoshida that Dr. Burke is here to see them, and that they will definitely want to hear me out.”
The next part of the plan was where he had to rely on his evaluation of the reactions of other people, which was admittedly not his best subject. He knew from his prior rese
arch that the outbuilding was where Ty Loria housed an impressive car collection. The plan hinged on adding one more vehicle to that collection, the flatbed truck he was now driving. But if the guards made them leave the vehicle or refused to let them in, then things would get infinitely more complicated and dangerous as they would have to resort to Constable Price’s questionable ram-it-down-their-throats method.
Thankfully, the guard returned as the gate started to open. “Step out of the vehicle, so we can check you.”
They complied, and the first guard was joined by a second as they patted them down for weapons and recording devices. Then the second guard proceeded to search the truck. Burke hoped that this didn’t take long. He knew that the more time they spent at the gate, the odds of success for his plan decreased. They found and confiscated the Glock 23 from the truck’s glove box, but then the first guard said, “Take the drive to the left and pull inside the metal building. Keep it in first gear and don’t try anything stupid.”
“Absolutely. Stupid isn’t in my nature.”
They climbed back into the truck and followed the guard’s directions. A massive sliding door parted in the side of the metal building at their approach. Burke noticed a large mercenary with an MP5 machine gun pushing it open.
Pulling the flatbed inside, Burke’s heart fell. He had read that Loria had quite an impressive car collection, but he hadn’t expected this. The garage had checkerboard floors and clearly was insulated and environmentally controlled. Vintage signs sporting the names Chevrolet, Ford, Texaco, and more lined the walls. Loria’s collection was only about twenty cars, but what the stockpile lacked in quantity it more than compensated in quality.
Burke had never been a fan of expensive sports cars or the like. He was an old school American muscle car aficionado. Apparently, Ty Loria shared his affinity. In just a glance, Burke spotted a 1967 Chevrolet Corvette L88, a 1967 Shelby GT500, a 1970 Hemi Cuda Convertible, a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, a 1971 Pontiac GTO Judge Convertible, and a bevy of others that made his mouth water. He considered changing the plan, in fear of damaging these treasures, but he fought back the urge.
He pulled the flatbed to a stop and watched in his side mirror as the mercenary slid the massive door closed. He and Isabel jumped down from the truck and greeted their guests.
Loria and Yoshida stood to one side of the garage. A small balcony surrounded the entire outer ring of the building, and mercenaries with assault rifles stood watch over the proceedings. Kruger and the blonde woman stood beside a nondescript white panel van parked on the right of the garage. The back doors of the van were open, and Burke could see what was likely the miracle battery still resting in the back of the van. Apparently, they had arrived soon after Kruger and his companion.
Yoshida shook his head and stepped forward. “Dr. Burke. I have to say that I couldn’t have been more surprised if the gate guards had called in that Wayne Newton had just pulled up. What’s with the truck?”
“I stole it,” Burke said. “That’s how I roll.”
Yoshida laughed, but the others just eyed him warily. “Do any of your friends know that you’re here?”
“No. My companion, Isabel, kidnapped me and made me bring her here.”
He looked over at Isabel. She stared at Kruger as if she was one step from running at him and biting out his jugular.
“You see, Constable Price lost a son in your little experiment at the squatter camp,” Burke explained.
Yoshida’s face fell. “You’re much more clever than you look.”
“I like to think so.”
“The deaths of those people were a tragedy. I was only tangentially connected, but their deaths still haunt me. So, Constable Price, have you merely come here to kill us all?”
Isabel didn’t take her eyes off Kruger. “Pretty much,” she said.
Yoshida laughed. “And how exactly did you intend to accomplish that feat? As you can see, we’re well-protected.”
Isabel didn’t speak, but Burke said, “May I explain?”
Kruger stepped forward and said, “This is a waste of time. Kill them both and be done with it. If they know we’re here, the police won’t be far behind.”
“Don’t worry. The police won’t be coming here without a warrant or probable cause,” Yoshida replied. “And to be honest, I’m fascinated by what he has to say before he dies. Not to mention that it’s bad karma to rob the condemned of their final words.”
Still standing in front of the truck and surrounded by a group of men ready to strike at the slightest provocation, Burke smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Yoshida,” he said, as if Yoshida had just introduced him as the next speaker at a conference. “I’m going to tell you all a story.”
Loria twitched, blinked, and said, “Just kill them and be done with it.”
“I think you especially will want to hear this story, Mr. Loria,” Burke said.
Loria’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t object further.
“This all started when Mr. Kruger and Dr. Raskin were tasked with conducting an experiment at a South African squatter camp,” Burke said. “My guess is that they were only planning to harm a few of the residents, but something went wrong. This created a massive breach that threatened to expose the biological weapons research being conducted there, which was overseen by you, Mr. Yoshida, and funded by you, Mr. Loria.”
No one said a word, and so Burke continued, “But you aren’t the top of the food chain, and your superiors started asking questions about what exactly you were doing in Johannesburg. Knowing that you were about to be terminated or exposed, you hatched a plan with a two-fold objective. Stop me if I’m wrong.”
“Have you told your friends at the FBI all this?” Yoshida said.
“No, I’ve been piecing it all together as we went along. But I haven’t shared my full analysis until now.”
Burke saw Loria talking into a radio, probably confirming with the perimeter guards that a throng of federal agents weren’t waiting in the wings.
“So, Mr. Yoshida, you wanted to set up a fall guy to take the blame for the screw up,” he said. “And who better than Dr. Raskin, whom you likely blinded with the promise of untold riches. She enlisted the aid of the mercenary she worked with previously, who had likely been having problems dealing with the incident, his own form of PTSD.”
Kruger looked at him like a piece of meat ready to be devoured, but Burke ignored the giant. “So, objective number one is to release the same biological agent on US citizens, proving that Dr. Raskin was responsible for the massacre. Then objective number two was to steal the revolutionary battery technology being developed by the CIA to power its own drone program.”
Burke paused for comments. He felt a bit like a professor giving a lecture, and the looks of hatred and confusion of his adversaries added to his confidence. He should have been scared to death at that moment, but oddly, he felt no fear at all. No anxiety. No worries about hurting the feelings of the other people in the room. He hoped he did hurt their feelings. And the longer they allowed him to talk, the odds of success for his plan increased.
“Now, here’s where it gets a bit hairy for all of you. Because you see, none of you are on the same team. You’re a group of wild dogs all thrown into a pit. When that happens, the dogs don’t band together. They devour one another.”
Yoshida raised a pistol to Burke’s head and said, “I think we’ve heard enough.”
But from behind him, Loria said, “I’d like to catch the rest of what he has to say.”
“He’s trying to turn us against one another. And Kruger’s right. We’re wasting time.”
Loria, in a commanding voice that held an edge of a threat, said, “Let him speak.”
With a large grin, Burke said, “Okay, so let’s start with Mr. Kruger. He plans to kill all of you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Kruger shouted.
“Allow me to explain. Kruger had been employed by a crime boss called Mobius. That man was upset that Kr
uger had breached some of his contracts, and so he sent Constable Price and a trained assassin to America to hunt and eliminate Mr. Kruger. However, as they were closing in on their prey, Mobius rescinded the kill order on Mr. Kruger. Now, class, why might he do that?”
Yoshida’s brow furrowed, and he looked to Kruger. “What’s he talking about?”
“I’ll tell you why. You’re all too stupid to figure it out on your own anyway,” Burke continued. “Mobius has too much invested in the current oil and power infrastructures. A battery like this on the open market would cost him a great deal of money. So Mr. Kruger made a back-end deal with him to eliminate the battery technology while still keeping the money you paid him to steal it. Because, you see, no matter how much money someone has, when they have powerful enemies who want them dead, they’ll always be looking over their shoulders. And from what I’ve heard about this Mobius, there would be no hiding from him. Kruger’s plan has been to betray all of you from the start, in order to satisfy his former master.”
“That’s absurd. Why are we allowing this madness to poison our minds? Let’s get on with our business,” Kruger said.
“And how did he intend to betray us, Dr. Burke?” Yoshida asked.
“My guess would be that, as the battery has clearly been removed from its original container, he’s loaded a hidden partition at the bottom of that crate with C-4 explosive. Then, once your business is concluded, he’ll detonate the bomb. He may have even damaged the battery to be safe. Search the crate. Run a diagnostic on the battery. That will prove whether or not I’m right.”
Kruger’s lips curled up in disgust, but he said nothing.
“But don’t judge him too harshly, because he’s not the only one here who plans to betray the others,” Burke said. “I assume, Mr. Loria, that your part of this was to bankroll Kruger and Raskin to steal the device, and then you would make back your money exponentially when you sell the battery technology to someone like the Chinese or an international corporation or whomever wants to pay the most.”