Текст книги "Firestorm "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

11

Jesus, she was hungry.

It would go away, Carmela thought as she made her way carefully up the rickety staircase to the third floor of the warehouse. Just think of something else right now. Tomorrow she'd go down to the Salvation Army on Third Street and let them feed her.

God, she hated the idea of being a charity case. She'd had such big hopes when she left her mom's place in Louisville. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was going to be on her own and not have to take all the lies her mom and her new boyfriend had thrown at her. She'd had enough money to last a couple weeks, and getting a job would be a cinch.

But the money hadn't lasted more than a few days, and no one wanted to hire a fifteen-year-old for anything but sex. Yeah, she'd run across plenty of pimps who were willing to help her sell her body.

Screw them. She wasn't stupid. She knew that whoring was a one-way street, and she wasn't going down it. She'd take the charity and then she'd keep on looking for work. She wasn't beaten yet.

Not beaten, but chilled and lonely and scared. This dark, drafty warehouse smelled of tobacco that had been stored here years ago and the sour stench of rot. Every step she took caused the wood floor to creak, and there were other sounds, she thought with a shiver. Rats scurrying in the walls, and last night she'd thought she heard footsteps when she was roused from sleep.

Imagination. No one but her would be desperate enough to stay in this condemned building. But it had made her frightened enough to go out to the park this morning to find a branch to use as a club. Her hand tightened around it now as she pushed open the door to the tiny accounting office where she'd set up her quarters.

She lifted the flashlight, and the beam danced around the room.

Nothing was there but a desk, chair, and the pallet she'd made of the clothes she'd pulled from her suitcase. No reason for her to be scared. She grabbed the chair and pushed it under the handle of the door before she moved across the room and huddled down on the pallet. She forced herself to turn off her flashlight to save the batteries, and darkness overwhelmed her. Don't panic. She was safe. There was nothing here that could hurt her, except maybe those rats she could hear scampering in the walls.

If she could sleep tonight, she'd get stronger, and tomorrow she'd have a meal and she'd be stronger still. She'd find a job and everything would start going her way. Life didn't always suck. It was just pretty lousy right now.

But, Jesus, she was hungry.

Fourteen hundred commercial warehouses in the D.C. area,” George said as he came into the library. “At least two hundred thirty-four are unoccupied at present. There may be more. Some owners don't like to report a lack of occupants to the insurance company.”

“Shit.” Silver grimaced. “No wonder he felt safe telling Kerry a warehouse was the target.”

“He's not safe,” Kerry said. “You told the Secret Service they had to search those warehouses right away, George?”

“I didn't have to tell them. They want Trask as much as we do. But that's a lot of territory to cover.” He looked at the pile of telephone books on the desk in front of Kerry. “And you're not going to find him in the yellow pages.”

“I don't know that. I think he wants me to find that warehouse. But he won't make it easy. I thought maybe I might see something that would strike a chord.” She rubbed her eyes. “But no luck so far.”

“Then what's next?” Silver asked.

“We go driving around and see if I can sense the son of a bitch.”

“Sense?” George asked.

She ignored the question. She had made a slip, but she was too tired to follow it with a lie. “Will you get us the list of unoccupied warehouses, George?”

“I have it printing from the list Ledbruk gave me right now.” He turned and left the room.

She turned to Silver. “Will I be able to sense Trask?”

“Possibly. If he's around. He may be waiting until the last moment to put in an appearance.”

“We've got to try. I can't wait until he—” She broke off as her cell phone rang.

“Her name is Carmela,” Trask said when she picked up the phone. “She's not of Italian descent after all. She's Hispanic.”

She went rigid. “I thought you weren't going to call me back, Trask.”

Silver straightened in his chair.

“I couldn't resist when Dick—when my employee called to tell me that he'd found out some information about our sweet little girl.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He followed her around town today. She's trying to get a job, but she's only fifteen and she evidently doesn't have the money to buy phony papers. Poor child. She's having a hard time.”

“Then why don't you give her a break?”

“Because she's perfect. She's turning out to be everything that I could want for Firestorm.”

“You're sick.”

“And knowing Carmela is trying so hard to make her way in the world is making you admire her and want to keep her alive. It's giving you additional incentive, isn't it?”

“I didn't need incentive.” She paused. “At least tell me a general location.”

“Are you getting discouraged? I told you that it wasn't going to be easy. So many warehouses . . .”

“You want me to know, dammit. You want me there.”

“Maybe I'd get just as much satisfaction out of having you find Carmela after the fact. No, you have to work for it, Kerry. Now, don't sulk. After all, you can always have the wonder dog try to sniff her out.”

She tried another tack. “Who is Helen?”

“Helen—” He was silent a moment. “That's right, I did mention her, didn't I? It shouldn't surprise me. I've been thinking of her a good deal since you came on the scene.”

“Why? Do I look like her?”

“Not at all. She was brunette and quite beautiful. Don't be offended, but you're merely interesting-looking.”

“Who is she?”

“An exceptional woman. She loved Firestorm almost more than she did me.”

“Past tense? Did she leave you?”

“Don't be inquisitive.”

“You're the one who barged into my life and turned it into hell. Don't I have the right to know about you?”

“Only what I wish you to know. But it encourages me to realize that I'm dominating your thoughts. We're growing closer, aren't we?” He hung up.

She turned to Silver. “Her name is Carmela. She's fifteen, Hispanic, and looking for a job.” She swallowed hard. “And he can't wait to feed her to Firestorm.”

“He didn't tell you a general location?”

She shook her head. “The bastard told me to tell Sam to sniff it out. Dammit, there's not much time. One more day if he told me the truth. It could be sooner.” She had to drown the panic fostered by that thought. What else had he said that might help? “One of his employees was following Carmela. He broke off right away but I think he said . . . Dick.”

“A first name?”

“I don't think so. It sounded like he cut it off. Maybe a last name with that as first syllable?” She shook her head in frustration. “I don't know. It could be a first name. Even if it's not, it may not be a help.”

“And then again it may. Anything else?”

“He spoke of this Helen in the past tense. She was brunette and beautiful and had some involvement with Firestorm. Trask said she loved it almost more than she did him. If they were that close, why isn't there a mention in the dossier?”

“Travis is trying to find out,” Silver said. “He'll get back to us as quick as he can. Carmela. No last name?”

“No, but if she's fifteen and a runaway, somebody must have reported her missing. There are all kinds of databases these days for missing children. We have to find her. Maybe she called somebody and told them where she was and what she was doing. Probably not her parents, but maybe a friend?”

“It's a long shot.” Silver got to his feet. “But I'll get George working right away. In the meantime, we'll get busy on those warehouses. I'll meet you at the car in ten minutes.”

It's time to go home, Kerry,” Silver said quietly. “It's almost three A.M. and we both need some sleep. We'll start out again in a few hours.”

Kerry shook her head. “We should keep on going. We've only covered seventeen warehouses in all these hours. There are so many to—” She broke off and gazed at him in despair. “Too many. We're not going to be able to find her, are we?”

“We may have to get lucky,” Silver said gently. “Maybe Ledbruk's team will locate her.”

“And maybe they won't.” She stared blindly out the window of the car. “I thought we might have a chance. But even if he'd been at any of those warehouses we went through, I might not have been able to sense him.”

“No guarantees.”

“Then what good is this damn talent?” she asked fiercely. “You'd think that there would be some benefit, something worthwhile connected with it.”

“For God's sake, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Silver said. “Don't you think your years of zeroing in on arsonists were worthwhile? You wouldn't have been nearly as successful if you hadn't used your talent. You have to take the bad with the good.”

The bluntness of his words jarred her, and for an instant anger flared. “I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I just don't—” She stopped and ruefully shook her head. “Maybe I was feeling a little sorry for myself. That's not allowed?”

He shook his head. “It's self-destructive. You know that. That's why you fight so hard. That's why you've made yourself into one tough lady.” He started the car. “Now do we go back to the house and get some rest? We may need it later.”

He thought she was tough, but she didn't feel tough right now. She was scared and discouraged, and he wasn't helping.

Or maybe he was. Maybe he knew that his harshness would be a prod that would spur her onward. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't respond nearly as well to pity.

Pity? The mere thought caused her hackles to rise. She drew a deep breath and straightened in the seat. “Not yet. Two more warehouses. Then we go back to the house and hope that George has been able to find out something to narrow down the search.”

“Okay. That sounds like a plan.” He smiled faintly as he backed out of the parking space. “Check the list and tell me where we go next.”

Any luck?” George asked as he met them at the front door.

“That's what we were going to ask you,” Silver said. “We came up with nada.”

“Too bad.” His glance shifted to Kerry. “You didn't ‘sense' the bastard?”

She had almost forgotten the slip she had made last evening. “I'm not in a mood to have you make fun of me, George.”

“Perish the thought. I wouldn't think of mocking you. I'm merely intrigued.” He smiled. “And I can see you're a tad despondent. Maybe I can raise your spirits.”

“Progress?” Silver asked.

“Not a breakthrough or I would have called you. But definitely progress.”

Hope flared. “They've found the warehouse?” Kerry asked.

He shook his head. “No, but the results have come in on the missing-child database. Only three Carmelas are on the missing-person list. One was reported in 1997 and would be twenty now. The other one is seventeen and was reported missing in Dallas. The last was Carmela Ruiz from Louisville, Kentucky. That's not all that far from here.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen. Her mother reported her missing over a month ago.” He held up his hand as Kerry opened her mouth to speak. “Ledbruk's already sent someone to interview her mother and try to find out if she's been contacted and get the names of Carmela's friends. We should be getting a report back anytime.”

“Thank God.”

He nodded. “I'll second that.” He turned back and moved toward the library. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to my command post and see if I can find out anything more from the agents in the field. I hope you realize it's not easy to balance running a perfect household and acting as a listening post as an extracurricular duty.”

“We're duly impressed,” Silver said. “Anything from Ledbruk's men?”

“No. Except a good deal of frustration and obscenities. The larger warehouses are like rabbit warrens.” His voice trailed off as he went into the library. “Not at all easy to search . . .”

“But we have progress.” Silver turned to Kerry. “Carmela has a last name and a mother. We just have to hope her mother knew her friends and that Carmela wasn't a loner.”

And her mother might not be aware of who her daughter's friends were, Kerry thought. If they'd been close, then Carmela would probably never have run away.

She wouldn't be pessimistic. They'd found out a treasure trove of information about Carmela, and there was still time to find out more.

She hoped.

“Take a nap,” Silver said. “I'll stay here and call you if we hear anything.”

She wasn't going to be able to sleep, but she'd try to rest. She started up the stairs. “And I'll call you if I hear anything from Trask.” But she didn't think he'd call again. Trask had given her all the help he was going to give her. It was up to them to sort through the bits and pieces and come up with answers.

And cross her fingers and hope that everything would go right for Carmela.

He was following her.

Carmela's heart jumped as she saw the tall man in the suede jacket standing by the Starbucks shop across the street.

It was the third time she'd seen him today. It was now late afternoon and she'd first noticed him this morning at a bus stop and again at the hot dog stand in the park.

A thief? Some sexual weirdo who preyed on girls like her?

It didn't matter. Just walk fast and try to lose him.

She turned down the next street and broke into a run. Two blocks later she turned left and then right again.

She waited.

No sign of him. She must have lost him, she thought with relief. Just to be sure, she'd go another three blocks down this street before she turned back and started for the warehouse. It was only six blocks away.

Funny how things changed. Last night she'd been scared to death of the darkness and creaking of the warehouse. She'd been thinking of trying to find someplace else to stay. But now she couldn't wait to get inside her little room on the third floor, where she'd be safe.

Baltimore,” Silver said when he threw open Kerry's door. “Carmela Ruiz was in Baltimore two weeks ago.”

Kerry jumped to her feet. “How do you know? Her mother?”

He shook his head. “Carmela has a sister, Rosa, and she was there when Ledbruk's man, Bushly, was questioning her mother. Evidently he was pretty convincing about the seriousness of Carmela's situation. He said Rosa didn't say anything while he was talking to her mother, but she ran after him and caught him at his car. She was pretty scared. She told him Carmela had called her twice and told her she was in Baltimore and having trouble getting work.”

“Did she tell her where she was staying?”

He shook his head. “Just that it was Baltimore.”

“How many of those warehouses on our list were in Baltimore?”

“Forty-seven. Come on. Let's go. Ledbruk's men are already on their way to start a search, and he's called in some of the local police to help, but time's running out. We have four hours if Trask wasn't lying to you.”

She was already on her way to the door with Sam at her heels. “Where's Ledbruk starting?”

“South. We'll begin in the north side of town.” He was running down the stairs. “Unless you have a better idea.”

She shook her head. “I don't have a clue.” She made a face as she glanced at Sam, who was skidding down the staircase at top speed. “Hell, maybe we should follow Trask's advice and take Sam to sniff out the son of a bitch.”

“Not a good idea.” Silver smiled as he opened the front door. “I'd rather rely on you.”

“So would I.” She turned to George, who had just come out of the library. “Will you have someone take care of—” She stopped. “Never mind. We're taking Sam with us.”

“Why?” George asked.

“I'm not sure.” A hunch? She signaled to Sam. “But it just occurred to me that Trask mentioned Sam in both conversations with me. It probably didn't mean anything, but I don't want to take a chance that he might have been trying to—” She headed for the door. “We're taking him.”

Sam was barking in ecstatic greeting as Kerry and Silver climbed back into the SUV.

“Oh, for Pete's sake, shut up, Sam,” Kerry said in exasperation. “You just saw us fifteen minutes ago.” And it was fifteen minutes too long. This was the fourth warehouse they'd searched, and they weren't moving fast enough. She grabbed the list and checked off the two warehouses they'd searched on this block. “There's another warehouse ten minutes from here. Giliad Storage on Baker Street.”

Silver nodded as he started the SUV. “Call George and check and see if Ledbruk has found anything.”

“He said he'd let us know.” She dialed the phone anyway. Maybe they'd gone through a dead-zone area for her cell. At this point she'd reach for any straw.

“No break,” George said when she reached him. “I contacted Ledbruk ten minutes ago. They hadn't found anything, and he was pretty uptight.” He was silent. “It's getting close to the wire.”

“We know that,” she said jerkily. “Let us know if you hear anything.” She hung up. “Ledbruk hasn't found anything. Hurry.”

“I'm hurrying.” He glanced at her. “We still have an hour. A lot can happen in an hour.”

“Yeah, Carmela Ruiz could burn up in that warehouse.” She aimed her flashlight on the list. “There's another warehouse about ten minutes from Giliad. We should try– Stop that, Sam.” The dog had jumped up on the back of the seat and was nuzzling her ear. “I don't want to play. No games.”

“We should have left him at home,” Silver said. “We don't need—”

“Game.” Kerry sat upright in the seat. “This is a game Trask is playing with me, and he had to give me a clue if he wanted me to find that warehouse. He wouldn't want me to bring Sam to muddy up the situation, but he suggested I do it twice. Why?”

Silver's eyes narrowed on her face. “You tell me.”

Her gaze was flying down the list. “I don't know. But maybe he– Samson Tobacco Storage.” Her eyes widened with excitement. “Sam. Samson.”

“It's a stretch.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He shook his head. “Where is this warehouse?”

She checked the address against the map. “On the waterfront. Thirty minutes.”

“Get on the phone and have Ledbruk send some agents there.” His foot pressed the accelerator, and the SUV jumped forward. “They might be able to reach it before we do.”

Trask checked his watch.

Ten more minutes.

She should be here by now, he thought in disappointment. Perhaps she wasn't as clever as he'd thought. He'd been sure that she would make the connection. He would have put two and two together, and they were so much alike.

Come on, Kerry. Let me show you my power.

Five more minutes passed.

He made a final adjustment of the dish that he'd aimed at the window of the third floor of the warehouse across the street. Carmela was in a little cubbyhole down the hall, but if the dish was working properly, the fire would block her exit route.

Where are you, Kerry?

Ten more minutes.” Silver's foot pressed on the accelerator. “And Ledbruk may already be there, Kerry.”

“And he may not.” Kerry's teeth bit down on her lower lip. “All I could tell him was that I had a hunch. He may not consider a hunch valid enough to rush over there.”

“He's not an ass. Trust him.”

She shook her head, reached for her telephone, and started to dial.

“Who are you calling?” Silver asked.

“Someone I do trust.”

Sirens.

Trask went still, his gaze on the flashing red lights of the three fire trucks at least seven blocks away. There was no question they were coming in this direction.

“Good girl,” he murmured. She hadn't failed the test—yet. Kerry had figured out where the warehouse was located, but she wasn't going to get here in time to save the target. All he had to do was press the switch in his hand and get out of here. Too bad he couldn't stay and enjoy the fruits of his planning, but there would be firemen and police all over the place in minutes.

Kerry had cheated him out of that pleasure. It was strange that he felt no anger toward her. In fact, there was pride mixed with his disappointment. A pride resembling the way he felt when he saw Firestorm at work.

But he had to inflict the same disappointment, to make her realize that she hadn't really succeeded. It was only fair.

He pressed the red switch.

Smoke!

Carmela woke with a start, struggling for breath.

The office was filled with smoke so thick she could barely see. But what she did see terrified her. A red glare outlined the door across the room.

Fire.

Holy Mother of God, she was going to die.

No. She wouldn't die. Find a way out.

She was on her feet, running toward the door.

She threw it open.

The hall was a blazing inferno. The flames were eating the stairs going down to the first floor like a hungry beast. The fire was traveling at an incredible speed, already igniting the second floor.

But the stairs going up to the roof were untouched—so far.

She started toward the staircase.

Heat.

Searing heat.

She reached the stairs and started up them. She could see a door at the top of the winding staircase.

What if that door was locked?

No choice.

Sweet Jesus, the steps behind her were blazing.

Oh, God, let the door be unlocked.

Kerry and Silver were still five minutes away when Kerry heard the distant wail of sirens.

Relief soared through her. “They're on their way. They must be almost—”

Pain.

Tearing through her temples.

Swirling down into darkness.

Ugliness.

Filth.

Fire. Fire. Fire.

“Kerry?”

She couldn't answer. Fire was licking, swirling around her and . . . him. Trask. They were together, and Firestorm was—

“Kerry.” This time it was a demand from Silver. “Fight it. Fight him.”

Fight him. Yes, she couldn't be pulled into that darkness. She struggled. Hard. So hard.

Free.

Yet not free.

“What's happening?” Silver asked.

“He's done it,” Kerry whispered. “He wanted to wait until I got there, but he was worried about being discovered.”

“He ignited the warehouse?”

“Yes. He was in the building across from the warehouse, but he's out in the street now.”

“Where?”

“Back door. Not the street where the warehouse—” She closed her eyes. “Jesus, he's thinking about Carmela. He's wishing– No way out for her. But he wanted to see it.”

“Why isn't there a way out for her?”

“He started the fire on the floor where she was sleeping. Firestorm travels too fast . . .” She was shaking. “She's going to die. He knows she's going to die.”

“I'm going to call Ledbruk and see if he can intercept Trask. Tell me where he is.”

“She's going to die,” she whispered.

“Kerry.”

“He's two blocks away and getting into a dark-gray van. He's driving away. He's looking back over his shoulder and he can see the warehouse. It looks like one big pillar of fire. No one could get out of that building. He's very satisfied. He's imagining Carmela in the fire. Her flesh is burning, blackening—”

“Okay, get away from him.”

“She's going to die.”

“Kerry, can you see the license number of his van?”

“No, I can only see what he sees.”

She was vaguely aware of Silver dialing, talking on the phone. Then she couldn't hear anything but Trask.

Firestorm. Biting, tearing, devouring. The child was doing well. He hoped Kerry had reached the fire and could feel the power. Someday they would have to stand together and watch—

He was gone.

And the darkness and pain vanished with him.

“Out of range?”

She realized Silver's gaze was fastened on her face. “I guess. He's not there anymore.”

“You stayed with him a long time.”

“Did I?” She hadn't been aware of the passage of time. “Did you reach Ledbruk?”

“Yes. They've put an all-points bulletin out on a gray van. Can you remember any of the streets he passed?”

She shook her head. “Not when he was thinking about Carmela. It was too– Oh, my God.” They had turned the corner and she saw the warehouse. “He's right,” she whispered. “A pillar of flame.” She could feel her stomach knot. How could anyone survive in that fire?

Stop being a defeatist. She'd fought enough fires to know that many times people miraculously survived in conditions that seemed impossible.

Carmela needed a miracle.

“She's not dead yet,” Silver said as he parked a short distance behind the fire truck. “Scared shitless, but not dead.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “You're sure?”

“I couldn't help but be sure. Her mind's screaming bloody murder. I couldn't close her out if I wanted to.”

In Kerry's desperation she'd forgotten for the moment that Trask's ability to block Silver's intrusion was the rare exception. Of course he'd be able to reach Carmela. “She's all right?”

“Her back is burned. She couldn't get the door to the roof open. She thought it was locked, but it was only stuck. But it took her long enough that the fire reached her. She had to roll on the cement once she broke out onto the roof.”

Her gaze searched the top of the building. The entire warehouse was engulfed, and she could barely see the low brick parapet surrounding the roof for the billowing clouds of smoke. “She's up there? Why doesn't she come to the edge and try to call out?”

“She's scared and almost in shock. She's curled up in the corner behind an air-conditioning unit.” He paused. “But she doesn't have much time. She's thinking the roof is hot beneath her legs. She doesn't realize it's going to cave.”

“Then tell her.”

“It's not that easy. I'm dealing with hysteria, and I'm not familiar with her mind.”

“You said you liked to fix things. Well, fix her, dammit. Save her. Make her do what you want her to do.”

“Then tell me how those firemen can get her down.”

She tried to think. “No helicopter. Too dangerous with those flames practically engulfing the roof. No ladder. She'll have to jump.”

“Where?”

“Not much choice. South side of the building would allow them more room to set up. If the wall keeps standing.”

“And if I can talk her into jumping. The parapet has to be scorching hot, and there are flames licking at it. She'll know there's a good chance she'll be burned.”

“Are you saying you won't try?”

“No.” He got out of the car. “I'm saying that you'd better get your ass in gear and try to talk those firemen into setting up for a jump. If I do get her off that roof, I want someone ready to catch her.” He leaned against the SUV, his gaze on the roof. “Move.”