Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (33 page)

Tungsten glanced down with an uncertain expression.

"Then we'll have to be tricky," Andrew said. "What if we just shook him up real bad? He might call for help, and we can see who he calls."

Tungsten nodded. "That's a good idea."

"I'll give you some bugs to plant," Weasel said.

Andrew turned to him. "You have bugs?"

Weasel smiled.

* * *

Andrew, Charley, and Tungsten were walking down a street which looked more like a back alley. Dilapidated homes made of wood and brick were packed together on tiny lots. The lawns were more weeds than grass. Some window frames were filled with cardboard, plywood, or garbage bags instead of glass.

"I'll take the lead," Tungsten said. "Stay back. If the gangsters pull guns on us, just dive for the nearest cover."

"What will you do?" Charley said.

"Respond appropriately."

The team had switched back to the blue suits of federal agents. They were well armed and wearing vests underneath their shirts, but Andrew still didn't feel safe. He was happy to let Tungsten be the tough guy this time.

They came to a two-story, green house. Stucco walls were so badly cracked, chunks had fallen out. Iron burglar bars covered all the windows, making the home look like a tiny jail.

Tungsten walked up a concrete staircase and pounded on the door with his fist. Andrew and Charley hung back a few paces. Tungsten took a handful of jumbo nylon cable ties out of his pocket.

The door opened, and a Hispanic teenager looked out. He was shirtless despite the cool weather, and tattoos covered his hairless chest.

"What do you want?" the teenager barked.

Tungsten kicked the door open, grabbed the teenager by the neck, and threw him violently to the floor. The victim was too stunned to get back up. Tungsten walked into the house and used a cable tie to bind the teenager's hands behind his back.

"A dramatic entrance," Andrew said.

"Very," Charley replied in an unhappy tone.

They followed Tungsten inside, and Andrew immediately smelled cigarette smoke. The front room had a couch covered with stained, torn fabric. Drug paraphernalia and beer cans covered a coffee table. The television was suspiciously large and new.

Tungsten was moving quickly through the house. Andrew could follow his progress by the banging and yelling mixed with sharp cries of pain. It sounded like an entire team was assaulting the house instead of just one man.

"I thought we weren't going to resort to violence," Charley said. "You heard me say that, right?"

Andrew nodded. "You definitely said something like that."

"Good."

The teenager who had come to the door was stirring. He clumsily pulled up his right pant leg to reveal a small, cheap revolver in a holster. Andrew kicked the teenager in the ribs, grabbed the revolver, and threw it across the room.

Charley clucked unhappily and shook her head.

Tungsten returned to the front room with a captive. Andrew recognized the scarred, ugly face of Fernando Martinez from the exploration of Miranda's mind. Fernando was wearing a yellow nylon windbreaker and black pants. Loops of gold chain hung from his neck. He was tall and skinny.

"Look what I got here," Tungsten said with a grin.

Fernando struggled, but Tungsten had him in a brutal arm lock. Three fingers on Fernando's right hand were obviously broken.

"What the hell do you want?" Fernando said. "I'm not saying a damn thing. I have rights! This is police brutality!"

"We're feds, not the police," Tungsten said. "We want to talk to you about biological weapons."

Fernando furrowed his brow.

Tungsten went on, "An informant told us you ordered Miranda Torres to fake a news report. Now, worthless garbage like you didn't come up with that idea on your own. You probably don't even know what a biological weapon is."

"That bitch told you?"

"No," Tungsten said, "an
informant
did. Pay more attention. Who gives you your marching orders?"

Fernando stubbornly clenched his jaw.

Tungsten looked at Andrew and Charley. "I already swept the house, but sweep it again. Find some evidence."

Andrew knew Tungsten was really telling him to plant the bugs. The apprentices walked off.

They went into a kitchen which smelled of rotten food. A garbage can was overflowing with cardboard boxes which had once contained frozen meals.

A man was lying on the floor. He had a cut on his forehead and was unconscious. Cable ties bound his wrists and ankles.

"This upsets me," Charley said.

"What did you expect Tungsten to do?" Andrew said. "We just busted into a house full of gangsters. Some violence was inevitable. At least he's not killing them. Come on. Let's just plant the bugs."

A clear plastic bag was taped to the back of his shirt under his jacket. He pulled the bag free and opened it up. It contained an assortment of electronic devices.

Charley grabbed two and hid them in the kitchen, one under the sink and another in a high cabinet. They were sensitive enough to pick up sound through a closed door.

The apprentices continued through the house, planting more bugs as they went. The living conditions inside the house sickened Andrew. Garbage was strewn across the floor, and the bathrooms were horrifying. Stains on the walls and carpet defied explanation.

He and Charley stepped around the gangsters. Tungsten had left them on the floor, tied with cable ties and helpless. They were unconscious, injured, or both.

Andrew was very impressed. Presumably, the gangsters knew how to fight, but Tungsten had ripped through them like they were practice dummies.

The last task was planting the "base station," a device the size of a paperback novel. It controlled all the other bugs and also detected radio transmissions. Andrew placed it on the top shelf of a linen closet. He turned on the base station to activate the entire system and then covered it with a towel.

The apprentices went back to the front room and found Fernando cowering in a corner. His right eye was puffy, and his lips were bleeding. He was desperately trying to protect his face with his arms.

"Feel like talking yet?" Tungsten said.

"Go to hell," Fernando grunted.

"Been there. I wasn't impressed."

"
Mis hermanos
will cut your throat."

Tungsten smirked. "You mean the guys I just trashed?"

Andrew stepped up and reported, "We didn't find anything useful."

"OK. Let's get out of here."

Tungsten kicked Fernando in the gut before leaving. Charley muttered under her breath.

Tungsten, Andrew, and Charley left the house at a swift pace. They walked down to the street, turned, and headed towards the car.

"We agreed to avoid violence," Charley said angrily.

"I don't remember agreeing to that," Tungsten said. "Guys like that only understand violence. I was nice. I didn't break anything that wouldn't heal."

She made a sound of disgust.

They arrived at the car, a blue sedan with government plates. Tungsten sat in front, and Andrew and Charley sat in back.

Tungsten made a call and put his phone in speaker mode. "Weasel," Tungsten said, "the bugs are in place."

"I know," Weasel replied through the phone. "I'm seeing the data stream. Hold on. I'm picking up audio now. I'll pipe it through."

Fernando's voice came next. "I got trouble." The sound was muffled, but Andrew could still understand the words. "Some federal
bastardos
just came in here and cleaned house. They knew about Miranda Torres and the biological weapons."

"What?" another man responded. "How did they know?" His voice was calm and professional.

"A snitch."

There was a pause. "What's your situation now?"

"We're hurt. We need a doctor."

"I'll send one over. Don't go anywhere. If you show up at a hospital, you might get arrested."

"OK," Fernando said. "Make sure it's a good doctor."

"Of course. Bye."

Andrew heard a click.

"Who was Fernando talking to?" Tungsten asked.

"Unknown," Weasel said. "My system picked up a coded transmission at 300 MHz. It wasn't a regular phone call. Fernando was using an advanced military radio of some kind."

"I didn't see a radio."

"Then it was hidden."

Tungsten frowned. "Do you have any idea who received the transmission?"

"No," Weasel said. "We're lucky I got as much as I did. If you gave me the actual radio, I might be able to tell you more."

Charley leaned forward and said, "Maybe the doctor will know something."

Tungsten smiled as if she had told a joke. "A doctor isn't coming."

"But we heard..."

"Your innocence is adorable, but you're right about one thing. The people who come will have information we want. Let's go watch."

The three of them left the car again. Tungsten led Andrew and Charley back to the house, but instead of going to the front door, Tungsten crossed the street. They hid behind a bush in a dark, narrow space between two homes.

"Call Webster," Tungsten murmured. "Tell him Miranda Torres is in immediate danger. Bad guys might be coming for her."

Andrew's eyes widened. He took out his phone and dialed Webster's number.

"Yes?" Webster answered.

"This is Andrew. Miranda Torres needs protection. Her life is in immediate danger."

"Why?"

"Um." Andrew paused. "You probably don't want to know how we got the information."

"Well, the BPI doesn't assign agents to protect ordinary civilians, but I'll certainly let the police know."

Andrew had hoped for a more enthusiastic response. "The police might be too slow."

"I'll encourage them to be quick," Webster said. "I gather you don't want to talk about your situation."

"Not really. I'll tell you when we get some useful information."

"Fair enough. I won't keep you. Bye."

Andrew put away his phone. Charley had a concerned expression.

Fifteen minutes later, a black Cadillac parked in front of the green house at an odd angle. Two men wearing black suits hopped out. They ran to the front door, checked for witnesses, drew pistols with suppressors, and entered the house.

"Those doctors make house calls," Tungsten said.

"But you'd better pay your bill on time," Andrew replied with a smile.

"Mass murder isn't a joke," Charley said.

"Right," Tungsten said. "Wait here."

He glanced up and down the street. Then he ran across to the house, but instead of entering through the front door, he went around the side and vanished from sight.

"Is he brave or foolhardy?" Charley said.

Andrew shrugged.

A few minutes later, Tungsten appeared at the front door. Blood had sprayed onto the legs of his pants, but none of it appeared to be his. He waved for the apprentices to join him.

Andrew and Charley checked for witnesses again and then ran across. They followed Tungsten into the house.

The sight stopped Andrew in his tracks. Fernando and the teenage gangster were dead from well-placed shots in the forehead and the heart.

One of the hitmen was also in the front room. Deep, ghastly cuts all over his body were oozing blood. His hamstrings were slashed, crippling him, and his right wrist was partially severed. His lips and chin were laid open down to the bone.

Charley made a choking noise. When she got her breath back, she said, "What did you do to him?"

"He pulled a knife and got frisky with me," Tungsten said. "I showed him how to wield a blade properly."

She looked at the other bodies. "Is anybody else still alive?"

"No. The hitmen killed the gangsters, and I killed the other hitman. It's a house full of corpses except for this asshole." He kicked the surviving hitman's injured leg.

The man moaned in pain.

"What do we do now?" Andrew said.

"We got three options," Tungsten said. "Option 'A' is I interrogate the prisoner until he tells us everything he knows."

"Do you mean torture?" Charley said.

"He's a hired killer, little girl," Tungsten said. "Your tears are wasted. Interrogations can be messy and time consuming though. Some guys are hard to break. And I probably don't need to mention that it's highly illegal."

None of this is clean,
Andrew thought. "What's the next option?"

"Option 'B' is we haul this sack of garbage to Manassas," Tungsten said. "You extract the information the quick and easy way, just like this morning."

"Also illegal and unethical," Charley said.

"What's in Manassas?" the hitman asked.

Tungsten kicked him in the leg again. "Shut up."

"I'm more worried about facing Richard," Andrew said. "He won't be pleased."

"That's very true." Tungsten nodded.

"Any other options?" Charley said.

"We search for evidence and forget about the prisoner."

"That seems like the only acceptable choice." She looked to Andrew for confirmation.

He chewed his lip. He actually liked option 'B' a little better despite the issue of dealing with Richard. It was the quickest, surest way to make forward progress, and time was running short.

"What if we used another seam?" Andrew suggested. "A small one?"

Charley raised her eyebrows. He hated to see the look of disapproval on her face.

"Fine," he said, "we'll do it the nice, legal way this time."

Tungsten shrugged. "Your choice."

He used cable ties to bind the prisoner so he wouldn't crawl away. Tungsten searched the man's pockets to find a set of car keys.

Tungsten tossed the keys to Andrew. "You two check the car. I'll give the house another once over. I want to find that radio."

Andrew and Charley hurried to the black Cadillac parked on the street. It was a handsome car and obviously brand new. Wide tires and a bulging hood suggested plenty of horsepower.

"Crooks always drive the best cars," Andrew said.

"That's probably not true," Charley said. "It just seems that way in the movies."

They opened the car doors and checked the interior. It was surprisingly clean. The only piece of garbage was a coffee cup in a drink holder. There wasn't as much as a smudge on any of the tinted windows. Andrew opened the glove box and found the registration and insurance papers.