Gemini Series Boxset

by Ty Patterson

  She had griped all day about the lack of entertainment, being cut off from her friends, the lack of activity.

  ‘You don’t even talk,’ she had shouted at him.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘That’s not conversation.’ She had stomped her foot.

  He had prepared a simple dinner for them: beans, rice, slices of chicken in a thick gravy. She had looked at her plate dubiously, an eyebrow rising when she found it palatable.

  ‘Where did you learn to cook?’

  ‘I live alone,’ he said, as if that explained it.

  ‘No wife?’ she cocked her head and looked at his left hand. No ring. ‘No girlfriend? Boyfriend?’

  He ignored her. He had checked out all the cars on the street, many of them registered to the houses on the avenue.

  ‘Have your friends found anything?’

  ‘It’s too early.’

  ‘I thought they were good.’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘I can see why you are alone,’ she said spitefully.

  Zeb didn’t rise to the bait.

  She flung herself on the couch after dinner and flicked through a magazine, throwing angry glances at him as he read a book.

  ‘Is this how you spend your time?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She glared at him as she put in earbuds and turned the music volume to high on her iPod, the only device Zeb permitted for her.

  Her irritation disappeared as she lost herself in the lyrics, her head bobbing, foot tapping, eyes closed. An hour later she mumbled inarticulately and disappeared into her room.

  Zeb checked the windows. All quiet on the outside.

  He took out a burner phone and called Meghan on a number she had messaged him. They would be using throwaway phones and numbers to communicate with one another until they closed the case.

  ‘You’re alive?’

  Her rich, warm voice washed over him.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘She’s difficult?’

  ‘You can say that.’

  ‘With you, right now?’

  ‘Nope. Gone to bed.’

  She briefed him swiftly on developments and waited for his reaction.

  ‘What if Nikolai calls Hidalgo?’

  ‘Hidalgo is sure he won’t. In any case, we’ll bug the Blue River tonight … however, it won’t be of any use if that dude makes contact elsewhere.’

  ‘It’s the best you can do,’ Zeb said. ‘Those PIs … they could be checking out your routine.’

  Once Nikolai knew that, he could attack Beth and Meghan. That’s assuming it’s him behind all these attempts.

  ‘We’ll be careful,’ Meghan reassured him, knowing where he was going. ‘How long will you be there?’

  ‘Two nights. The day after, I’ll move.’

  He lay down on the couch when he had hung up and stared at the ceiling for a while, but it had no answers.

  The attack came at two am.

  Chapter Twenty

  The front window splintered and a dark shape came through it.

  Zeb was awake in an instant, diving to the floor, rolling desperately as rounds blew out the cushions and tracked him.

  His Glock came to his hand, and he fired over his shoulder, crawling towards the dining table, a stout, wooden piece.

  A round singed his back. He ignored it.

  Just one shooter. No attempts to go upstairs.

  A voice screamed. Angie’s.

  ‘Stay inside,’ he roared. She squeaked a response which he took for a yes.

  The attacker changed mags as he came deeper into the living room. He was moving cautiously, trying to get Zeb in his sights. Zeb lunged off the floor, triggering blindly in the general direction of the intruder, crashed into the table, rolled over it, fell to the floor and, with a heave, turned it to its side.

  Now, I’ve got cover.

  The shooter had sprayed the floor as he followed Zeb’s dive, and now he was peppering the table.

  He was expecting his rounds — an AR15, Zeb guessed — to penetrate the furniture and get through. He fired left to right. Exclaimed in surprise and then ducked when Zeb sent a chair flying, throwing with one hand.

  This attack doesn’t make sense. Angie could escape through the window. Why isn’t the shooter worried about that?

  Zeb got his answer when a second dark figure raced from within the kitchen and headed to the stairs. He threw another chair, snapped a rapid look, saw the shooter swiveling in his direction, seven or eight feet away, well away from the flying furniture.

  And then Zeb kicked at the table with all his strength. It slid on carpet, a heavy missile already slowing down, but it drew the shooter’s attention, who poured rounds at it, none of which penetrated. And then Zeb was firing, his Glock sounding like rolling thunder, triggering from the side of the table, using memory to place the shooter, hearing the slap of rounds hitting flesh.

  An eye on the second shadow, who was now up the stairs, who wasn’t firing, but held something long and angular in his hand.

  Zeb grabbed his second Glock, which had been tucked behind his waist and dived to the side after leaving the cover of the table.

  The shooter was falling, and that saved Zeb. Still, a round burned his shoulder and another whizzed past his cheek.

  His Glock spoke thrice, slamming into the attacker, putting him down.

  Zeb fired one last round at the first intruder’s forehead, dug into his pocket for a spare mag, changed it mid-leap as he dived over the fallen body, and rushed up the stairs.

  ‘LOCK YOUR DOOR!’ he shouted.

  A scream from Angie, but he heard the bolts sliding through.

  The second figure was nearing the landing. A short hallway that led to three bedrooms and a bathroom. Angie was in the largest room, to the left, which had its own bath.

  Need him alive.

  The masked head looked back at Zeb, who attempted a dive on the steps. He landed heavily, groaning as the carpeted edges dug into his ribs.

  But he got his left hand on the attacker’s leg. It slowed the assailant, who attempted to kick Zeb off.

  Zeb lost his hold, but the grab bought him time, and he lunged again and grabbed the intruder’s clothing, something thick and heavy, and pulled.

  The man grunted, whirled around and slammed the stock of his rifle toward Zeb’s face, but he turned just in time to take the blow on his shoulder.

  The force of it sent him crashing to the floor, and for one moment the intruder stood at full height, looking down from the landing. That was the opening Zeb needed. He brought his Glock up and sent three rounds through the body mass of the shooter, who collapsed and rolled down the stairs.

  Zeb slithered out of the way, fired again to be sure, and then leaned against a wall to catch his breath.

  He straightened when he heard a sound at the top. A bolt sliding.

  ‘Is it over?’ Angie’s trembling voice.

  ‘Yeah but stay inside until I call you.’

  ‘Oh my God, Ihaveneverbeensoscared —’ hyperventilating, adrenaline hitting her.

  ‘Stay inside. Stay quiet.’

  She sobbed, but the bolt slid back and her door stayed shut.

  Zeb got to his feet and cocked his head when he heard a siren in the distance.

  A neighbor must have called in.

  He checked the shooter in the living room. He seemed to be the more dangerous.

  Dead.

  He checked the man who had been climbing the stairs.

  Dead.

  He loaded both his Glocks as he stood in the darkness of the living room and peered out of the broken window.

  Houses were lit up and a couple of heads were peering out cautiously.

  No one on the street.

  He went through the hallway leading to the kitchen, Glock raised. The rear door was open, a large hole where the lock had been.

  Second shooter must have come through the park, cut that hole while the first one kept me busy or killed me.

&nb
sp; Angie’s room had a window that overlooked the rear. He ran up the stairs and knocked on her door.

  ‘Angie?’

  The bolt slid back, the door shot open and a shivering, shuddering woman grabbed him tight.

  ‘Isitover? Thosesounds. Icouldn’tbreathe. I wassoscared.’

  He held her until her shivering subsided and her sniffling stopped. She stepped back, embarrassed, and wiped her eyes with her fists.

  He brushed past her and went inside her room. Bed showing signs she had been sleeping. Her earbuds snaking out from beneath a pillow.

  He killed the light, caught her by the shoulder and nudged her to a side wall. ‘Never stand in front of a window. Until this blows over.’

  She didn’t protest.

  He stood to the side and looked out.

  Nothing that he could see. Just the night enveloping the rear yard and the park beyond.

  There could be an army there and I wouldn’t see it.

  The house was lit suddenly by flashing blue and red as cruisers rolled up.

  ‘Stay here,’ he told her and went down the stairs, threw his Glocks to the floor and raised his hands as flashlights hit him and cops aimed weapons at him.

  Someone sighed.

  ‘Beats me how you stay alive.’

  Pizaka stepped through the armed officers. ‘I know him,’ he told the cops. ‘He’s working with us.’

  Zeb lowered his hands and squinted when the lights came on suddenly. Turned on by Chang, who stood silently, chewing his lower lip, hands on hips, as he surveyed the wreckage that was the living room.

  ‘Angie?’ he asked.

  ‘Safe. Upstairs.’

  ‘How many?’

  Zeb pointed at the two bodies. ‘Just them.’ He stood back for more cops to enter. ‘One came through the front. That one, at the bottom of the stairs, came through the rear.’

  Chang grunted and walked through the house. Pizaka stood still, his shades flashing in the light, observing, saying nothing.

  ‘Sir,’ a cop called out, drawing Chang back.

  ‘This one,’ the officer leaned over the second shooter, whose mask had slipped off as he slid down the steps. ‘I recognize him.’

  Chang sucked his breath sharply when he bent over the dead man. ‘Just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Pizaka asked sharply.

  ‘That’s Terrence Kloops.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘The millionaire?’ Zeb asked, stunned.

  ‘Yeah. He came to one of our fundraisers last month. I spoke to him for a few minutes.’

  ‘Chang, are you sure?’ Pizaka joined his partner.

  ‘He’s correct, sir,’ answered the officer who had drawn their attention. ‘I recognize him too.’

  ‘Why the hell is a man like that involved in all of this?’

  Nobody had an answer to Pizaka’s question.

  Two hours later, the crowd remained the same size, but with different people. A forensic team had arrived, as had Meghan and Beth. Hiram Konstantin, Angie’s assistant, and someone who introduced himself as their lawyer were present, too.

  Angie was huddled with her father; the twins were with Zeb, sipping from paper cups of coffee.

  ‘This isn’t what we were expecting when we got your call, Zeb,’ Beth said, her eyes twinkling. ‘Kloops makes headlines every day.’

  ‘He’ll have another one tomorrow. Not that he’ll be around to enjoy it.’

  Kloops had made his money in real estate speculation. He had been a flamboyant figure who courted the limelight by dating glamorous models and Hollywood stars.

  In his business life, he was rumored to play fast and loose with the law, but nothing had been proven. There were dark mutterings of threats, blackmail, physical assault on both business associates and the women he dated; however, no one had filed a police complaint or gone public, at least in the U.S.

  He was suspected of having mob links, and there were claims that he’d had a falling-out with a Mafia boss who had funded him initially. None of that could be proven, and the millionaire himself refused to answer any such questions.

  Two South American countries had arrest warrants for him, for allegedly killing prostitutes in sexual acts. Neither country had an extradition treaty with the U.S. South Africa had shut down his business interests in that country because of bribery and corruption claims.

  ‘What can I say?’ he used to respond, flashing a megawatt smile whenever confronted by reporters. ‘I am a soft target just because I am rich and visible. I am innocent of all charges.’

  ‘You knew him?’ Zeb asked Konstantin when the billionaire came towards them. The father’s face was grey, bags under his eyes; his hair, normally perfectly groomed, was now tousled.

  ‘I met him a few times.’ Konstantin didn’t look at the body. ‘He approached me with a plan, redevelopment of a waterfront complex in Florida. A big project. Offices, houses, water parks. I turned him down.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘His reputation.’

  ‘Those accusations were true?’ Chang asked, the cops listening in with interest.

  ‘No idea. However, no one in my circle did business with him. We didn’t need the baggage.’

  ‘We’ll need details of those meetings.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did your daughter meet him?’

  ‘No. I asked her. Why would he do this?’ Konstantin asked, his voice shaking.

  ‘We’ll find out, sir,’ Meghan promised him.

  I hope, she thought bleakly. The previous attacks didn’t get us anywhere.

  ‘There’s no we anymore,’ the father stated. ‘Kloops is dead. No doubt he was behind the previous attacks. I won’t be needing you anymore. I’m sure the cops will investigate and find out his motivation.’

  Meghan stared at him, aware that Beth was turning red in the face at Konstantin’s abruptness. Pizaka looked at the floor. Chang found something fascinating in the ceiling. Zeb was his usual expressionless self.

  ‘What?’ the billionaire rumbled in the ensuing silence.

  ‘It isn’t over, sir.’ Pizaka removed his shades. ‘We don’t know Kloops was the mastermind. Until we know that —’

  Konstantin sighed heavily, his face drawn. ‘This will go on for some time?’

  ‘If you mean Angie should be —’

  ‘You said she would be safe,’ the father rounded angrily on Zeb. ‘I shouldn’t have listened to all of you.’

  ‘She’s not harmed in any way, sir,’ Zeb stiffened.

  ‘Yeah?’ Konstantin laughed mirthlessly, ‘This,’ he gestured at the mayhem in the house, ‘is what you call safe?’

  ‘Dad!’

  Everyone looked at Angie, her eyes flashing, hair rippling as she strode over to them.

  ‘Meghan is right. Zeb, too. He would have died before these two men got to me.’

  ‘That doesn’t make me feel better,’ her father argued.

  ‘It is more than what Kerry, Carlos or Quincy would have done. I was with them. I was just a day with Zeb. I can see the difference.’

  Whoa! Is this the same spoiled heiress who didn’t want to go along with us? Meghan’s eyes narrowed, wondering if the daughter was playing some kind of game.

  ‘You sure, honey?’ Konstantin was eyeing her doubtfully, apparently having the same thought Meghan had. ‘I can hire another firm. Have an army around you.’

  ‘I don’t need an army. I trust Beth and Meghan … and Zeb.’

  ‘Maybe you should listen to your father,’ Zeb told her, moving out of the way of white-coated technicians. ‘If these attacks continue, and we should assume they will, these people need to get lucky just once.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘Honey —’

  ‘It’s my life, Dad.’

  ‘I don’t talk,’ Zeb reminded her.

  ‘I know,’ Angie’s lips quirked.

  ‘We’ll still be hiding out in such houses unt
il we get to the bottom of these attempts.’

  ‘I guessed that.’

  ‘What’s changed your mind?’ Meghan gave her a searching look. ‘You weren’t exactly thrilled when your father appointed us.’

  ‘Those three dudes —’ Angie began. ‘Kerry, Carlos, Quincy,’ she clarified when she saw the frowns on the sisters’ faces. ‘— They weren’t my first protection detail. I had a few others. There’s something Zeb did that the others didn’t.’

  ‘Enlighten us,’ Beth demanded.

  ‘Well, it’s something he didn’t do.’

  ‘Get to it, Angie,’ the younger sister couldn’t help sighing.

  ‘Zeb didn’t stare at my ass.’

  Beth rolled her eyes, while Pizaka gasped and Chang snorted.

  ‘Sir, it’s your decision,’ she told Hiram Konstantin.

  ‘It’s mine,’ Angie asserted. ‘The three of you stay.’ And with that, Hiram Konstantin folded.

  ‘You figured out how?’ Beth asked Zeb.

  ‘How, what?’ Angie asked, confused.

  ‘How did these shooters know you were here?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Beats me,’ Zeb admitted. ‘I’ve been thinking of that for a while.’

  Meghan raised a warning finger and pointed towards the kitchen. Beth caught on immediately and herded father and daughter to that room, as Pizaka, Chang and Zeb followed.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Konstantin asked.

  Meghan looked out at the bunch of cops and technicians in the living room. Hidalgo had told them Nikolai had snitches in the NYPD. Konstantin doesn’t need to know that.

  ‘Quieter here,’ Zeb replied. ‘Angie’s phone is with me. Dead. It can’t be traced. Nothing on her clothing. I checked.’

  ‘They could have followed you?’ the father asked.

  ‘No, sir. We took … elaborate precautions.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ Angie snorted, remembering the complex route Zeb had taken before arriving at the safe house.

  ‘Your vehicle’s distinctive,’ the billionaire persisted, referring to Zeb’s SUV.

  ‘We weren’t followed. That vehicle wasn’t tracked,’ Zeb said flatly. He wasn’t going into how he was sure.