Breeders (10 page)

Alexa watched in frustration as the injured man sat at the table, rocking back and forth on the chair, his hands planted firmly beneath his bottom. He kept on mumbling the same sentence over and over, rocking as he spoke.
 

A doctor had attended to his wounds. His ankle was busted up where Alexa had shot him, but he would live. His colleagues hadn’t been as fortunate.
 

Neil gave him a sandwich, some coffee, and a cigarette. The coffee and cigarette stood steaming and smoking on the table in front of him, untouched. The sandwich was still in its plastic wrapper.

She turned to Neil with an exasperated sigh. He shrugged. “I think he’s saying that someone wants to kill him.”

Neil pulled a chair closer. “Who’s going to kill you?” he asked, enunciating the words.

The man looked up at Neil then pulled a face and continued with the gibberish.

Alexa had had enough. She circled the man like he was her prey, her sneakers squelching on the polished linoleum tiles of the interrogation room. This piece of shit knew something, her gut told her so.
 

She involuntarily rubbed her arms at the memory of her dive in the icy depths. The tiny bodies, her and Neil carefully feeding them into the body bags, gently laying them out on the harbor wall. The memories were like a festering sore; she knew they were clouding her judgment, but she didn’t care. She needed answers, now. She strode to the small table in the center of the drab room and grabbed the edges, leaning over the man.

“Listen to me,” she hissed.

He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, repeating the phrase, “He’s going to kill me,” like a meditating monk, shaking his head, trying to drown her voice out of his mind.

Alexa slammed the table with her palm, toppling the coffee over. It spilled onto the table and started dripping into the man’s lap. His shoulders jerked back, but he shook his head and kept his eyes scrunched closed, unwilling to say anything.

Alexa lost it. She snarled as she grabbed the guy by the throat and pulled him toward her. Now she had his damn attention. His eyes flew open and he grabbed her arm with both hands, trying to pull himself free. “Talk, you piece of shit,” she growled, slamming her palm into his face.

Neil jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor behind him, then grabbed her shoulder. “Alexa, no, let go,” he said, catching her arm before she could strike the man again.

“He knows something, Neil, he’s wasting our damn time!” she shouted and ripped her arm free. She clamped her hand tighter around the man’s throat, his eyes bulging and his tongue starting to stick out of his mouth. The same way the kids’ eyes stared at her from their hollow sockets. The same way her eyes had probably bulged when she had been tied up and abused in Dabbort Creek by Andy Fitch. The red mist appeared, blurring her vision.

Moolman strode forward and tried to pry her hand from the man’s neck, but she slammed her fist into his nose.
 

“What the hell?” he gasped as he fell back, clutching his face, blood trickling between his fingers and dripping onto his crisp white shirt.
 

She turned back to the prisoner. “Tell me what you know,” she growled, jerking him around by his throat.

The man squealed and managed to pry her hand free, trailing four bloody claw marks on his neck. The red mist became overpowering. For a second she lost her vision, the mist having transformed into a deluge of sticky, red blood. She grabbed him by the hair and shoved the table aside then slammed a fist into the man’s stomach. The same way Fitch had hit her in the stomach, repeatedly. The same way Fitch had killed her baby. The man doubled over, wheezing, clutching his stomach.
 

She brought a knee up to smash his face, but Neil grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. She wriggled and twisted until she felt Neil losing his grip on her. He clamped a powerful arm around her neck and pulled her head toward his chest.
 

“Alexa, no!” he shouted, holding onto her. She sucked in rasping breaths through her nose then lowered herself, preparing to smash her head into Neil’s chin.

“Alexa, please, don’t!” Neil shouted, loosening his grip around her neck.

She pulled free and pushed him away with a snarl. She poked an accusing finger in his face. “You ever do that again, you better be prepared to get hurt, boy.”

Neil blinked, once, twice, then nodded. “Sorry.”

The mist was slowly clearing. She breathed in a couple of deep breaths then lowered her finger. “
I’m
sorry,” she whispered.

He gave her a wide-eyed nod.

She ground her teeth. “Argh!” she shouted, lifting her arms and shaking her fists in front of her face. She strode to the door and slammed it shut behind her.

Neil watched Moolman run his finger around the polystyrene cup then tenderly touch the duct tape Neil had stuck across the bridge of his nose. The man had been lucky. If Alexa had put any more effort into the blow, doctors would now be removing his septum from his brain.

When she became like that, you had to stay out of her away. Like you stayed out of the way of an angry jaguar. He sighed. It happened often lately. Neil and Bruce were the only people that could snap her out of that murdering trance. It worried him. Bruce said she was angry about what had happened, but for how long could this kind of anger last?

She was captured then tortured for an entire day. She told Neil that the only way she could deal with the pain was by biting her lip and concentrating on that pain. She had bitten right through her lower lip; she still carried a small scar. A man called Anderson Fitch had beaten her with his cane. She was pissing blood for weeks after the incident.

Moolman shook his head and sighed then looked up from the cup. Neil knew what he wanted to ask.
 

“What happened today?”
 

Neil thought for a while. This was going to be difficult. “Alexa is . . . different than anyone you know.”

“Different? How?”

“She is a brilliant soldier and an even better investigator.”

“I know that. But what the hell happened today?”

“She doesn’t react to stressful situations the way you and I do.”

“How does she?”

“She stays calm and rational. It used to amaze me how she could always be so calm while the world around her was falling apart.”

“She didn’t look too calm to me today.”

“Lately she hasn’t been herself. She becomes angry and then explodes.”

“But why? What’s changed?”

Neil planted his elbows on the table then massaged his brow with his fingers. “It’s a long story, Inspector.”

“I have time.”

Neil sat back in his chair. “Alexa saw someone murder her father when she was a kid. Since then she and her mother have been on the run. Colonel Bruce Bryden, her adoptive father, decided to take her under his wing. He taught her how to protect herself. Taught her to act, not wait, to attack, not defend. She always reacts to situations, she doesn’t wait for something to happen. She’s been doing exactly that since she was a young girl.”

Moolman pondered this over. “I don’t understand how that led to today’s events.”

Neil sat up. “Moolman, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I want you to understand.”

An uncomfortable silence. Then Moolman nodded.

“On our previous mission, Alexa was severely beaten. We thought she was going to die. She’s had…,” Neil said and hesitated. “
Anger issues
ever since.”

Moolman’s brow furrowed with concern. “How long ago?”

“A month.”

“But shouldn’t she be recovering?”

Neil stood up. “That decision is up to General Laiveaux, our supreme commander.” He turned to face Moolman. “Personally, I feel that it’s better for her to be back in the field again, working cases.”

Moolman took a second before answering. “But then she isn’t qualified to lead the investigation.”

“She isn’t leading the investigation. Bruce Bryden is.”

He smiled incredulously. “But she shouldn’t be on the team.”

The guy just wasn’t getting it. Neil strode to Moolman then grabbed his chair’s armrest. He pushed his face into Moolman’s. “Look, Moolman, Alexa Guerra is the best of the best. Her methods may seem extreme, but she has a perfect track record.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said and shoved Moolman’s chair back, almost pushing him over.

There was a soft rap on the door. “In,” Neil called.

Alexa ambled inside then softly closed the door behind her. She leaned back against the door, studying both men silently, a faint smile on her lips. She walked up to Moolman, brushing the side of his face lightly with the back of her hand. “Sorry about your nose,” she said, sounding like she meant it.

Moolman rubbed the side of his nose then pulled a tissue from his nostril and tossed it in the trash. “That’s OK.”

Alexa leaned over him the same way Neil had a couple of seconds earlier. The man flinched.
 

“No, it’s not OK. I went over the top.”

“OK, lady. I accept your apology,” Moolman said, cowering back in his chair.

“I’m not apologizing. I’m simply saying that I went over the top. But can I ask you a favor, Inspector?” Alexa asked, leaning even closer until their noses almost touched.

Moolman put his thumb in his collar and pulled his shirt from his neck, unable to pull his eyes away from hers. “Why, certainly.”

“Please do not interfere the next time I interrogate a suspect.”

Moolman swallowed then nodded. “No problem.”

Alexa smiled, gave him a peck on the cheek, then stood up straight. “Glad that’s sorted out.” She turned to Neil, tucking her bangs behind an ear. “Now, what did the suspect tell you when I left?” she asked, sliding a chair toward the table.

“What did he tell us?” Moolman asked, surprise on his face.

“Yes,” Alexa said. “I assume you played the good cop?”

“I did,” Neil said. “Moolman was temporarily, let’s say, debilitated.”

She nodded and bit her lower lip. Shit, she was beautiful. Serene. The calm after the storm.

Neil chuckled. “I couldn’t stop the guy from talking even if I wanted to.” He handed her a sheet of paper. “A transcript from the recording.”

Alexa scanned the page then looked up with a sweet smile. “Summarize it, Sergeant.”

Moolman had recovered and was sitting up straight in his chair, seemingly interested in what Neil had to say.

“The guy works for PEP as a security guard.”

“What else?”

“His name is Andy Peterson.”

“Shit, Neil, don’t let me get over there and beat it out of you.”

Neil smiled. “OK, OK. He was supposed to guard the pipeline that led from the PEP fracking site up to Mueller’s Dam. Some people had been sabotaging the water pipes.”

Alexa frowned. “Why would they sabotage the pipes?”

Moolman cleared his throat. “Many people are not in favor of PEP exploring for gas. Damage to the environment, toxins in the water, you know, that kind of greeny beany stuff.” He sat up in his chair, looking a tad more comfortable now. “Also, they hold many patents on the drilling technologies used. PEP is afraid of industrial espionage; it has happened that someone broke in before.”

“What happened?” Alexa asked.

 
“Someone managed to get into the plant and almost had access to the computer network, but the security guards caught him before he could get any information.”

Neil nodded. “Take a wild guess who Peterson’s boss is.”

“Tell me.”

“Dr. Hannes Petzer.”

Alexa turned to Moolman. “Jake’s father?”

“I think so.” Moolman punched a number into his phone. “Let’s find out.”

A short, animated discussion ensued, and Moolman pressed the disconnect button a minute later. “Well, he sounds pissed off.”

Neil stood up. “Why? They shot first. We could arrest him for obstruction of justice.”

Moolman shrugged. “Well, he’s on his way. I guess we’ll tell that to him personally.”

Hannes Petzer arrived half an hour later and marched into Moolman’s office. “Where is he?” he asked without greeting.

Alexa stood up. “You mean Andy Peterson?”

“Yes, where’s he?”

“Locked up. He tried to shoot us,” Alexa said.

“Bullshit,” Hannes roared. “They were provoked. As they always are. It’s high time the riffraff in these damn villages were taught a lesson,” he said then pursed his lips.

Alexa walked up to him. “You ordered them to shoot at the ‘riffraff,’ Doctor?”

“Yes, but . . .” he stammered, then stomped the floor with his foot. “My men were provoked.”

Alexa stuck a finger in Petzer’s face. “
They
followed us.
They
rammed into our vehicle.
They
fired the first shots.”

Petzer’s jaw clenched together. “They wouldn’t have, that would be disobeying orders.” He looked around the room. “Where are the other men?”