Catch & Neutralize (21 page)

A joyless laugh rumbled from Angie’s open mouth. “I’ll need at least ten more of these,” she held her glass up, “to even get a buzz.” After stifling a belch, Angie continued, “With the way things are going, I probably won’t be lucky enough to get a buzz no matter how much I drink tonight.” She indulged another swig and ripped another burp without bothering to hide it this time. “I’m telling you, Tiffany, something bizarre is going on and Kyle is at the center of it. I can feel it. He looks like he could be Mark’s long lost brother. Except Mark doesn’t have any brothers, just three older sisters, and the oldest died of brain cancer years ago.”

Setting her drink down and with a push to her glasses, Tiffany spoke softly. “Alcohol withdrawal can cause anxiety, confusion, delusional thoughts. These worries you’re having about Kyle and Mark sound irrational, Angie. I know you’ve just downed a couple, but these thoughts started before. In my professional opinion, you need treatment for alcoholism and paranoia. As your friend, I’d be happy to help you.”

Angie finished her 3
rd
cocktail and slammed the glass on the countertop. “I am
not
paranoid or crazy. Something’s going on. I do
not
require your services, Tiffany. Thank you very much for your professional opinion,
friend
.” Using her hand like a beak, Angie tapped her thumb against closed fingers. “Quack, quack, quack.”

Chapter 39

Leaning her head back and closing eyes, Tiffany collected her thoughts before responding. Not having known Angie for long but having counseled many alcoholics, she decided to let the insult go. Fly away little insult, fly, fly away. But still, it stung. In reality, it didn’t matter because Angie was here for a reason.

Tiffany chose to ignore Angie’s unkind exhibit, let it mingle with others in the meaningless abyss of Who-Gives-a-Shit.

Instead, Tiffany responded with, “Yep, this duck is going to grab a platter so we can get these drinks out in one trip. Will you do me the favor of opening doors?”

“Yep.” Angie started fixing herself another Bahama Mama with the attitude of a disrespectful twelve-year-old, slamming bottles and leaving them uncapped. “Whatever.”

Tiffany was looking forward to the night’s events more than ever.

One bad little lawyer and one bad little police officer were in for a surprise.

And so was one bad little alcoholic soldier.

Chapter 40

Angie held doors as requested, but the grudge towards Tiffany clung like skunk stink. Something seriously strange was going on. She wasn’t sure what the deal was with Kyle, but certainly something. Tiffany was also acting unusual.

Angie needed to check her compact for messages. She needed clarity, needed instructions. The Institute ordered her to keep an eye on Tiffany, which seemed fair enough. She’d not received any information about a third target. The only instructions she’d gotten for Kyle Caldwell was to delay him, and that was yesterday. Neutralizing or eliminating him hadn’t been ordered.

Why would Tiffany the counselor have instructions from The Institute to eliminate Kyle Caldwell rather than me, a soldier… or better yet, why not a member of the elimination team?

That didn’t make any sense. Angie decided to go with another of The Institute’s rules: When in Doubt, Do Nothing.

Tiffany handed out drinks, the best counseling cocktail waitress in the place. Over compliments and laughter, the door chime boomed low and hollow.

“Must be dinner,” Tiffany announced. “Be right back and then we’ll head to the dining room.” Her boots tapped the hardwood as she headed out.

“So, Kyle,” Angie said, “I have a question.”

“Go ahead,” he mimicked, “I’ve got an answer.”

Laura giggled rubbing his arm.

“Just one or two questions for now. Anymore, we’ll save for dinner.” Kyle slipped his hand over Laura’s. “Don’t worry, kitty button. I’m ‘an open book’ as they say.” He returned attention to Angie. “Go ahead with your question.”

Angie took a sip of her drink before asking: “Where are you from originally? Your accent is different, not New Mexican.”

Kyle glanced at Laura. “No, it’s not. I’m originally from Florida, the Panhandle area.”

“Interesting. I’m also from Florida, the Northeastern part.”

“Lots of people come from Florida.” Kyle’s sapphire eyes lifted with his smile. “One more question?”

“What are you doing?” Angie asked gently, trying to hide her suspicions. “Why are you here?”

“I moved here for the money, pure and simple. Do you have any idea how many people are arrested daily in New Mexico? I’m a criminal lawyer. It’s quite profitable for me here.” Kyle’s stare was fierce. “You’ve reached your question limit. My turn, Angie.”

Ice tinked inside Laura’s glass, her shoulders bouncing with silent laughter.

Angie shot Laura a glance before continuing with Kyle. “No thanks, Kyle. I don’t care about answering your questions.” She finished her drink and set the glass down. “Wonder what’s taking Tiffany so long. I want another drink.” Angie leaned back into her chair and stared at the fire. Glowing oak sizzled and popped.

The room remained devoid of conversation until Laura spoke up. To Angie: “Would you mind showing me where the bathroom is? This drink went straight through me.”

“Yeah, this way,” Angie guided her out the door.

When they reached the bathroom, Laura looked down both sides of the hallway and spoke in a hushed tone. “I need to speak with you privately. Come inside.”

Angie carefully shut the door behind her. “What’s up?”

“Have you checked your messages lately?” Laura asked showing concern.

Angie shook her head, interested in Laura’s personality change. A few minutes ago she was a snooty twit, and now she was acting like a concerned sweetheart. She said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can stop pretending with me, Angie. I’m with The Institute too. I figured you hadn’t checked messages. That’s why I needed to speak with you alone,” Laura said softly. “Tiffany is not who she says she is. We’re not really cousins, not related at all. And from the way she’s behaving, I bet she told you this was her house. Not true either.”

Angie’s head bobbed. She whispered, “I knew something was off, but couldn’t figure it out. Tell me what’s going on.”

“The short of it is: Tiffany’s lost it. She’s been poisoned by one you’ve been hunting. She thinks she’s in love with him. The Institute found out this morning. Tiffany has blisters erupting on her hands. Don’t touch them. I’m here to secure and hold her for pickup.”

“Oh my God.” Angie’s eyes were wide. “I’ve been listening to her, following her lead.”

“I figured that much.” Laura placed a hand on Angie’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up too much about it. The only way you could’ve known was by checking messages. If you felt secure with Tiffany and listened to her…” Laura nodded understanding. “She’s mentally unstable due to the toxins in her system. I can’t believe she’d fall for a criminal. I feel responsible for this mess-up because I vouched for her, got her into CAN Institute.”

“What?” Angie couldn’t believe it. “How? What’re you saying?”

“Tiffany and I used to be neighbors, played together as kids.” Laura held a hand down, palm open indicating the approximate height of an 8 to 10-year-old. “Think about two best friends living next-door to each other with the same last name. We wanted to tell people we were sisters, but sisters that age live together. Didn’t think we could pull it off, so we started telling people we were cousins.”

“That sounds like regular childhood fun,” Angie said. She used her hands to indicate the house and asked, “Tiffany doesn’t own this?”

Laura shook her head. “No. It belongs to my family, but it’s primarily used for CAN Institute business. Tiffany’s been authorized to stay here for a year or until she finds a place of her own, whichever comes first.”

“Well, that explains why there aren’t any family portraits or personal items. One mystery solved,” Angie said.

“We recently found out about Tiffany’s indiscretion. We believe she’s in a relationship with a criminal, helping him from inside The Institute trying to get soldiers removed from the program. Now that she’s done what he wants, we believe he’s trying to get rid of her.

“She’s diagnosed the last six of our soldiers with paranoid schizophrenia and alcoholism. I suppose it’s possible but highly improbable. There wouldn’t have been as much concern about Tiffany if her repeated diagnosis had been something more believable, like as PTSD. You know, soldiers dealing with the issues and stresses of CAN Institute missions. As you’ve already experienced, sometimes these assignments can be demanding.”

“Yes, I’m learning that the hard way,” Angie agreed. “So, what now?”

“Tiffany was never supposed to have contacted you. The opposite, in fact. We have reason to believe she wants you eliminated, probably for her boyfriend. Right now we need to keep an eye on her, keep her out of trouble until The Institute makes contact.”

“I don’t understand.” Angie squinted with confusion, her hand rubbing an ear. “Why would she want to harm me?”

“No idea, but we’re working on it.”

“What about Kyle?”

“He’s a good guy. He’s working with us.”

Angie nodded and tried pushing the puzzlement away. She had no idea who to trust, no proof, no communication from The Institute.

Her mind whirled with questions:
Why is Tiffany after me? What’s Tiffany’s connection to Stockton? Did he poison her? Was Scott a part of Tiffany’s plan? Was he the boyfriend? Where does Kyle fit into all this? And, who the hell is Laura anyway?

She followed Laura back towards the sitting room until hearing a struggle from behind a closed door. They stopped, listening and drawing pistols.

Laura looked Angie in the eyes, pointed to herself and held up one finger. Next, she pointed at Angie and held up two fingers.

Angie nodded understanding. Laura was to go first followed by Angie.

From behind the door came a muffled scream.

Angie backed sideways away from the door, out of view. Laura turned the knob, swung the door open.

“Freeze!” Laura called, gun held out with both hands.

The room was a library/office combo decorated in pirate inspired weaponry. Tiffany sat rigid in a rustic wooden chair. Duct tape covered her mouth. Her face flushed and wet with tears. Glasses askew, her eyes appeared to be bulging from their sockets.

Two guys dressed in pizza delivery outfits had her confined. One, tall and lanky, stood behind Tiffany holding her arms back at an uncomfortable angle. He wore an unkempt Mohawk dyed black and a scraggly goatee in an unimpressive shade of brown, most likely his natural color.

The other guy, shorter and muscular, his head shaved clean. A skull tattoo covered his face and neck done intricately in 3D body modification style. The color indicated a fairly new addition. He held a semiautomatic hunting pistol to Tiffany’s temple.

Eyes traveling the length of Laura, Skull Face let go a drawn-out wolf whistle.

“Well, well, well.” In a distinctively Mexican accent, eyes attached to Laura, “Officer Wood didn’t tell us anything about you.”

Laura ignored Skull Face’s display. She stared at him without expression; she’d seen and dealt with worse. “Apparently, Officer Wood forgot to tell you many things, many
important
things. For instance, I’m authorized to eliminate you. I have no regard for your fancy tattoo, how much it cost, or how much pain you went through to get it. In fact, I’d be happy to give it a permanent position on the wall behind you.”

Skull Face seemed to contemplate this. “Those are harsh words for a pretty little lady.” He licked his lips, clicked his tongue. “I’ll make you a sweet deal, little lady. You hand over Wood; I’ll let Miss Nerd here go. If not…” He paused pushing the pistol hard against Tiffany’s head, licked his lips, and then mimicked the sound of a gun being fired.

“That’s too bad. I’m unable to meet your demands. Officer Wood is no longer with us.”

Skull Face frowned making his appearance more intimidating. “What do you mean, ‘no longer with us’?” He tapped the gun against Tiffany’s head, causing a whimper and fresh set of tears from her.

“Figure it out, smart guy. Officer Wood was tortured, skin peeled like a rotten banana, both Achilles tendons sawed through. His ankles swelled like…well…I’m not sure how to describe it, but it looked quite painful.” Laura’s tone was even, her finger hovering at the trigger. “And now, Officer Wood is…”

Laura pulled the trigger, the sound deafening.

Blood and gore arched, splaying against the wall and bookshelves. It sprayed like raindrops over Tiffany’s head, sweater, and lap.

Skull Face hit the floor with a loud
thwack
followed by the heavy clank of his gun.

“…dead,” Laura finished, aiming her pistol at Mohawk’s chest. “Anything you’d like to add?”

“Fuck you!” Mohawk called, dropping Tiffany’s arms and reaching into his jacket. He produced the same gun type as Skull Face.

Laura shot once, dropping Mohawk to the floor. A dark hole centered his chest followed by a crimson stain spreading over his pizza delivery shirt.

“Not what I would’ve said,” Laura informed the corpse.

She turned her attention to Tiffany, still in the chair and trembling, mouth open as if silently screaming. A bleeding gash traced a thin line across her cheek. She’d been hit by Mohawk’s single gunshot.

Angie came into the room.

Footsteps pounded urgently down the hall.

“Oh Lord!” Kyle said from the doorway, pistol in hand. “What just happened?”

“Sneak attack,” Laura said. “These two bozos were here to collect Stockton Wood, mistakenly thought they’d use Dr. Bell for collateral. Hopefully, that’s the last of Wood’s brigade.” She turned to Tiffany: “Gently remove the tape from your mouth and fold the tape into itself so all sides stick together.”

A sticky, red rash shone across Tiffany’s cheeks where the Duct tape had been. The wound across her cheek leaked ruby tears. The blisters on her finger had spread up her hand and a few were starting to surface on her face. “Is he really dead?” She asked.

“No, but Officer Wood is in bad shape. The cleanup crew transferred him to CAN Institute Medical. They’ll doctor him up and get him in decent shape for trial. We’ve got enough evidence to keep him locked up forever. Those who hurt children generally don’t last long in prison anyway.” Laura pushed a curl from Tiffany’s face, inspecting her cheek gash. “We’ve got him. Don’t worry, cuz, everything’s going to be okay.”

“But I saw him locked in the dungeon after the crew left. He’s still down there.”

Laura shook her head. “That’s not Stockton. It’s a rubber replica. I should know; I made it. The Crew placed it in the dungeon after getting him out of here. It was supposed to be used as a prop in that Halloween movie I’m doing. But trust me, Officer Stockton Wood is no longer on the premises.”

Tiffany’s lips arched into a sad smile, tears flowed mixing with the blood and dripped from her chin.

Angie pulled a tissue from the flowery box on the desk and leaned towards Tiffany.

Laura pulled her arm back. “Don’t touch the blisters.”

Angie backed away. She was already leery of Tiffany considering what Laura had said earlier, and now this warning against blisters.

WTF is going on?

Laura urged Tiffany: “We need to get you out of here for a while. You have toxins in your system. That’s what’s causing the blisters. After that, let’s give you some time off to get your mind right. How does a mental reboot followed by a Caribbean vacation sound?”