Текст книги "What Lies Behind"
Автор книги: J. T. Ellison
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Chapter 51
Georgetown
CRIME SCENE TECHS were cautiously assessing Samantha’s kitchen, and Fletcher watched the clock, drumming his fingers on the table. They should have called by now. He’d managed to stall the team heading to Kruger’s place, but they would get there soon, and there was nothing he could do.
Heedles had been taken to GW, and the media had their videocassette back. There would be no holding the story down. He was just thankful it was the middle of the night, or they would have already been paraded onto the morning news shows like chickens to the slaughter. It was going to be bad enough when the sun came up.
Armstrong had shown up on scene furious to find Fletcher giving directions, but when he explained what had happened, Armstrong calmed down. He sent Fletcher back to babysit the crime scene at Sam’s place with extreme injunctions to stay put and not move an inch and to get Xander Whitfield back to the scene, then started working with Marcos Daniels to keep the media firestorm under control.
Fletch was tired as hell. The adrenaline spikes throughout the day, the lack of sleep, not enough food and not enough caffeine—it was all catching up to him. He’d hiked across N Street, gotten back to Sam’s, avoided the mess in the kitchen and found Denon grieving alone in the darkened living room. Mouse had stayed nearby, lending quiet comfort, her face glowing in the screen of her computer—didn’t that girl ever get tired?
It was almost quiet when his cell rang. Finally.
“Sam. What did you find?”
“Robin Souleyret, for starters. We know what’s going on. We’re looking for a man named Riley Dixon. Fletcher, we need to drop everything and get everyone in town looking for him. I’m pretty sure he has the vaccines from Cattafi’s place, and he is armed and exceptionally dangerous.”
“Do we have a file on him?”
“He’s CIA black ops. I doubt they’ll let you see it. But I’m sending a picture your way.”
“Where the hell might this guy be, Sam? What’s he up to?”
“He’s going for the aquifer, Fletch. They’re going to release this pathogen into the water supply. It works like cholera, and apparently they’ve developed a strain that is resistant to the treatment they do at the plants. It could already be in the water supply. We’re heading there right now.”
“I’m right behind you.”
“Fletcher. You have to stay there. Send Chalk. Send everyone you have.”
“Samantha, I appreciate you being concerned for my well-being, but there’s no way I’m staying here. MacArthur Road is residential. You’re going to have a lot of scared people if we go in there with lights and sirens. Word gets out, and we’ll have more than a panic on our hands. We could scare him off, and he’ll just find another place to empty his poison into the water.”
“We can’t take this guy ourselves, Fletch. He’s a trained assassin. We need SWAT. And HRT. And every other acronym with a bunch of guns we can find.”
“We have Xander and Chalk. They’re probably more capable than half a dozen SWAT officers. By the time I make the call, rally these guys, this could be over. We have to stop them ourselves. I’ll make the call from the car, get everyone rolling, but we’re going, now.”
“I’m glad you have so much faith in their abilities.”
“Sam, you’re wasting time. To hell with protocol. We’re trying to stop a terror attack. I’m back in the game. Meet me at the aquifer. I’m on my way.”
He heard her curse once before he turned off the phone.
He had no desire to be a hero, but now was the time for them to strap it on and stop this Riley Dixon character before it was too late.
* * *
The D.C. aquifer was quiet, the humming of the engines the only noise. Those who lived in the area were asleep in their beds, completely unaware that a potential terrorist attack was under way.
Fletcher and Chalk headed northwest on the divided highway, driving slowly, watching for anything that might be out of place.
Fletcher had always worried about the aquifer. Though it was well-guarded and the water treated so thoroughly and deeply that pathogens couldn’t possibly pass through, it was open and exposed. If there was a weaponized pathogen that could be distributed in water, where it would grow into something bigger, maintain its effectiveness and manage not to be killed by the treatment itself—this was the perfect place to attack.
Sam had emailed a photo of Riley Dixon, so at least they knew who they were looking for.
Fletcher pulled to the side of the road, parked. He and Chalk got out and started toward the plant. A few moments later, Sam, Xander and Robin Souleyret drove up. They converged a block away from the aquifer.
Sam had Robin fill them in on her information—that her source assured her there were at least three methods being tested to get the superbug into the general population, and they were going for the water tonight.
Chalk handed Xander another clip for his M4. “Why do you think he’s here? He could be anywhere.”
“It’s just a feeling,” Robin said. “Something Riley said to me this morning. He asked me if I’d seen today’s bulletin. It’s the daily threat risk assessment we get. There was a story about a white paper done several years ago on terrorism and water supplies. A reminder of the threats we face, asking them to tighten security at all the water treatment plants across the country. We have threats like this all the time, but he’s never once mentioned the bulletin to me, and my boss mentioned the possibility of a water attack. It was clearly on everyone’s minds today, but I think it was more. I think he was trying to tell me something.”
“You never saw this coming?” Fletcher asked.
Robin shook her head. “I haven’t seen much past the end of my nose for a long time, Lieutenant. And if you’d asked me two hours ago if Riley Dixon could be involved in a terrorist attack on this country, I would have shot you just for being stupid. But I’m seeing clearly now. He removed his GPS tracker, he shut down our company’s satellites and he’s off the grid entirely. And that thought frightens me more than anything else. Now. Shall we?”
“One last thing,” Chalk said. “Do you think he’s alone?”
Robin paused a second, then shook her head. “Probably not. We normally operate alone, yes, but with a job this big? If it were me, I’d bring backup. At least a few people to cover me. But I like our odds.”
Xander gave Sam a smile. It was a compliment, one operator to another. He liked Robin, she could tell. She was tough and ballsy and ruthless. All things he respected.
With a glance at Chalk, Xander spun his finger in the air. He took the lead and they bled into the darkness, weapons drawn, a silent black wedge moving toward the treatment plant.
Chapter 52
The D.C. aquifer
THE TEAM RILEY had assembled was small, but lethal. They’d lost time getting the superbug out of the vials and into the weaponized containers that would leak the poison into the water supply. There were so many ways to do this, but Riley had done a risk analysis on every aquifer in the area, and determined this one was the best chance they had to make a devastating statement.
For the thousandth time since he’d been forced into this mess, he shrugged off the voices in his head that screamed, Don’t do this—if you do this, you’re lost forever.
He had no choice. He’d fucked up. The Pyramid owned him, and he wasn’t willing to give up his own life when it could be lived out in relative comfort and happiness half a world away. He’d spent his entire adult life being pulled through the machine that was his government, watching it disintegrate into a mocking portrait of itself.
An attack of this scale, when they weren’t looking, weren’t expecting it, would wake them up, if nothing else.
The attack had been exceptionally well coordinated from the first. The team had spread out, eliminated everyone who might be a problem. James Denon had gotten lucky, having a sharpshooter protecting him. Riley himself was one of the few people who could have made that shot this morning, across the roofs of two buildings with a SIG. He was duly impressed.
His guards watched him, balaclavas dropped over their dark-skinned faces, with something akin to wonder and mistrust in their sloe eyes. They’d killed the plant manager on duty, and all the security guards they’d come across, quickly and silently, but he could tell they hungered for more. Death was never enough to a jihadist. They wouldn’t be satisfied with blood, not until it ran in the rivers across the US. They’d been on him for three weeks now, as everything was being put into place. He knew they were ruthless. He knew they wouldn’t give a second thought to putting bullet in his head. If he tried to back out, or even hesitated, they would simply shoot him and finish the job themselves.
He was better than them. He only killed for his own purpose, not to answer the call of another.
As he loaded the canisters, each bearing waves of death, he told himself that, over and over and over.
Chapter 53
SAM PACED HER steps with Xander, the Glock tight in her hand. Her shoulders were already starting to ache from holding up the weapon, a knot forming between her scapulae. Fletcher was behind her. Robin and Chalk brought up the eastern edge of their triangle.
They were moving fast, low and tight, and it only took a minute to get past the perimeter and into the plant itself. Someone had cut the chain on the fence. They were definitely in the right place. Sam wondered for a brief moment how Robin had known it would be this particular plant, or if it was a lucky guess, then all thoughts were pushed away when she smelled the blood.
She touched Xander’s back, made him stop. They all halted. “Over there,” she whispered, and he broke off silently, returning a minute later, his lips drawn tight together.
“Five down. Executed. Stripped of weapons. Must have been the night shift.” He turned to Chalk and murmured in his ear.
“What did you tell him?” Sam whispered.
“That we might have more than one bad guy in here. Come on.”
Great, she thought. Just what I need, more bad guys. Started off after him again.
The whir and hum of the machinery covered their tracks, but it wasn’t until Xander suddenly fired into the darkness that Sam heard anything unnatural. The foopt of the silenced bullet seemed overly loud and out of place. Chalk was right there, catching the body before it hit the ground, and Robin stepped into the breach and took another silenced shot. Fletcher worked with her, and Sam felt so oddly out of place, watching them eliminate threat after threat, the terrorists falling like chess pieces.
The men who guarded Riley were lazy and undisciplined. They assumed they were safe because they’d killed the people on duty. They hadn’t expected a threat from outside. It was their only advantage.
Sam kept moving, pushing forward in the darkness. There were small lights on the ceiling that gave her the direction she needed to go. Xander stepped to her side, their flying V complete again. They wound in, farther and farther, and the hall opened into a great room, with three large water tanks draining into pools, and huge metal arms swirling through the water so it didn’t stagnate.
Riley Dixon was standing over the middle pool, dropping steel canisters into the water. Sam tripped over something metallic, sent it skittering into the darkness. It was their first stroke of bad luck. Dixon froze, then dove away.
Sam thought Robin was the one who yelled first. “Riley! Riley, stop!”
And then it was a cacophony, voices and bullets echoing off the steel containers. Xander pushed her down onto the ground, practically kneeled on her back as he emptied his magazine into the darkness, calling directions in a bizarre military shorthand that everyone but her seemed to understand.
There was a brief pause in the gunfire. He hauled her to her feet and pushed her behind a huge steel vat. She could smell the chemicals, something akin to chlorine, almost like the pool she used to swim in as a child. He whispered harshly, “Stay put,” and disappeared into the darkness.
She had every intention of listening to him. The firefight was moving away from her, deeper into the plant. She grasped her Glock hard. Her fingers started to sweat on the trigger.
She heard a shuffling sound. Someone was running toward her. The footsteps coming closer. Friend or foe?
She didn’t have a choice. She had to stop whoever it was. She swallowed hard, then whipped out to her left, into Riley Dixon’s path.
He was huge, taller than Xander, bulkier and desperate. The lights above showed his face, eyes wild, mouth grim. An enraged bull on the run.
She didn’t think. She didn’t move. She held her ground and squeezed the trigger, three times, in quick succession, just as she’d been taught.
Riley’s momentum carried him right into Sam, and they both went down hard on the cement floor. He was on top of her. He must have weighed two hundred twenty-five pounds. He was big. Really big. So big he was starting to crush her.
She could hear him wheezing, and felt wetness begin to seep onto her chest. She’d definitely hit him at least once.
Center mass. She’d gone for center mass, and Riley hadn’t been wearing body armor.
He must have been stunned, or bordering on unconscious. He was laid out flat on top of her, breathing stentoriously, arms dangling to the side. She was trapped, and she started to panic.
She tried pushing him off her, but two-hundred-plus pounds of dead weight was too much to shove from the angle she had without help. Finally, she was able to wiggle out, scraping her fingers and back on the hard floor.
She wanted to call out to Xander, listened hard for the rest of the team. She couldn’t hear anything but Riley’s heavy wheezing. Out of habit, she put her hand on his neck, feeling for a pulse. It was fast, but steady. He wasn’t about to die on her.
She couldn’t see the gunshot wound, though she knew vaguely where it must be. She tugged at his shoulder, braced her feet and rolled him onto his back. He flopped over, and his head smacked the floor. It sounded like a knock against a ripe cantaloupe. Serves you right, she thought. I hope that hurt.
She skimmed her hands along his chest until she found the wettest spot. Ripped his shirt open. Without good light, she had to feel her way through the wounds. She was surprised; she’d hit him all three times. Two bullets had passed through his side. She could feel the exit wounds in the back, but one had landed more centrally, breaking a rib, which must have punctured his lung when he fell.
“Leave him be.” Robin Souleyret was standing over her, gun pointed at Riley’s head. She kicked away his weapon, and Sam heard it skitter away into the darkness.
“Did you get the canisters?” she asked.
“We did. We stopped him. The stupid, arrogant fucking bastard. Don’t you dare try to help him. Let him bleed out like the animal he is.”
“I’m half tempted to listen to you, but I’m afraid I have to help him.”
Then Xander was there. “No, you don’t. Leave him. Fletcher’s called for backup—they’ll send an ambulance.”
She wanted to argue, but acquiesced. She stood, feeling slightly dizzy. She’d just shot a man. She, who was honor bound to save lives, had very nearly taken one. From scalpel to gun, she thought dimly.
Robin was staring at her strangely. “Dr. Owens? Dr. Owens?”
Sam heard the words, saw Robin’s mouth working. But she suddenly sounded so far away, almost as if she were in a tunnel. She could hear Xander shouting, and saw his face, a kaleidoscope of horror. There was pain then, sharp and awful. It took her breath away. From far away, she heard other voices raised in alarm, but then she was floating, and felt nothing but warmth, and peace...
Chapter 54
George Washington University Hospital
SAM WOKE TO sunlight streaming aggressively through an unfamiliar window. She was on her side, facing this explosion of light, and it hurt her eyes. Groaning at the intrusion, she tried to roll away, and a fire started in her ribs and spread into her left arm, leaving her breathless.
“Sam? Samantha? Honey, are you awake?”
Her eyes began to focus again. Xander was standing over her like an avenging angel, his hair sticking out at all angles, face bruised and blackened, deep shadows of worry under his eyes.
“You look like hell,” she croaked. He started to laugh, and she slipped away.
* * *
When she woke again, she felt much more lucid. It was dark outside the window, but there was a humming white light over her head, long and strangely artificial. A fluorescent bulb. Lord, she was in the hospital. She recognized the smells and the noises, the faint beeping of her heart monitor. Her hand went to her face. She felt the soft whish of oxygen shooting up her nose, burning as it went.
Xander was asleep in the chair to her right, his head at an awkward angle. She hated to wake him, but her side ached, and inside, too, a pain she’d never felt before, and she wanted to know what was happening.
“Xander,” she said, voice like gravel. He didn’t move. She cleared her throat, and the ripping noise woke him. He smiled at her and scooted over to the bed. His voice was gentle, soft, completely at odds with the wild man he looked.
“Hi, babe. You’re back.”
“What happened?”
“Who told you it would be a good idea to step in the path of a bullet?”
“I was shot?”
“Yeah. Nicked a few organs, but you’re okay. They got all of it, though it took them a while. It fragmented against a rib when it ricocheted out. You’re gonna have a couple of kick-ass scars.”
He sat on the edge of the bed gingerly, wiped her hair back from her face.
“Did we stop him? I shot Riley, but that’s all I remember.”
He nodded. “He’d managed to get three canisters into position in the water, but Fletcher—that man’s smart, and quick—called for Metro to kill the power grid. The emergency generators kicked on, but not before we pulled the canisters out of the water. Then we shut down the whole plant. They are monitoring the water closely. They’ve advised no one to drink it for a while.”
“Dixon? Is he alive?”
Xander’s face hardened. “Yes. I really need to teach you to shoot better. You hit him three times, but none of them counted.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him, just stop him.”
“Like I said, I really need to teach you better.” But the tenderness of his touch belied the gruffness of his words. “The shithead managed to get a shot off as he was going down. We think it ricocheted, came up at an angle, nicked your spleen and liver, hit your rib, then came out your side and buried in your bicep. You’re kind of a wuss, you totally fainted on me. So we got you here to GW lickety-split, and they fixed you up.”
“I’m a wuss, huh? Where’s Fletcher?”
“He went to grab us some coffee. You should taste it. I swear, I think they make it vile on purpose.”
“Chalk? And Robin? Is everyone okay?”
“We’re all fine, baby. We saved the world. It’s you we’re worried about.”
She shifted, felt the knife-hot pain in her side, decided she’d stay right where she was. “Ouch.”
“Let me get the nurse. She wanted to know when you woke up.”
Fletcher came in the door then, saw her awake. A huge grin split his face. He handed Xander his coffee, kissed Sam on the forehead, then stood over her with a mock frown on his face, shaking a finger. “You are not allowed to do that to us ever again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
He softened. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have left you there alone. I thought you’d be safe.”
“Then next time, don’t chase a big scary man into my path.”
“No next time. Deal?”
“Deal,” she said, smiling. She didn’t dare laugh; she had the feeling it would hurt like hell. “When do I get to go home?”
“Doc says a day or two. They want to make sure you don’t leak anywhere by surprise,” Xander said, grimacing as he tasted the coffee.
“What an elegant concept.” Her head went back onto the pillow, the crackling barrenness of it hard under her neck. “So we saved the day. That’s good.”
Her nurse came in, clucked over her a bit, then shot something wonderful into her IV, and admonished her to hit the red button if she needed anything.
Sam recognized the strange softening of the edges that came from the pain medication. She started to float and didn’t fight it.
Fletcher’s phone rang. “Jesus, it’s like Grand Central around here. I’m going to throw this thing in the trash.” But he put his ear to the phone, and a moment later, a grin erupted on his face. The effect of the medicine made it seem like the edges of his lips were exceptionally wide, and Sam stifled a giggle.
He thanked whoever it was and hung up. He patted her on the knee.
“Our luck’s changing, Doc. Not only did we save the world, that was Dr. Bayer up in ICU. He has good news. Thomas Cattafi just woke up.”
