Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (27 page)

Tucking
the pistol back into the rear of his waistband, the killer closed
the door, then turned and walked back up the half-flight of stairs
towards 14.

One
down; one to go.

The
remaining officer had his back to Vargas’ door when he saw the
doctor reappear, his partner nowhere to be seen.

‘
What happened, doc?’ he asked. ‘Where’s Cornell?’

‘
There was a problem,’ the doctor replied, walking towards
him.

‘
What is it?’

Stopping, the doctor suddenly grabbed the cop’s shoulder,
jabbing a silenced weapon into his stomach, pushing it hard into
the man’s gut.

‘
Your partner died,’ he whispered. ‘And don’t even think about
it.’

The
cop’s hand paused, an inch from his sidearm. As the officer stared
at him, the doctor pushed him back towards the door to the
room.

‘
Open it, Hudson,’ he ordered quietly, looking at the
policeman’s tag on his chest.

With no
choice, the cop obeyed, turning as far as the man would allow him
and opening the door.

‘
You pull that trigger, you’re finished,’ Hudson told him. ‘You
realise that?’

‘
It’s not me who’s finished,’ the man in the coat said with a
grin, pushing the cop into Detective Vargas’ room and aiming the
silenced FN.45 at the officer’s head.

THIRTY THREE

Re-entering Conference Room 4, Shepherd, Marquez and Archer
joined Ethan and April closely followed by Hendricks, Shepherd
having whistled at him from the walkway. He shut the door behind
him and stood beside Palmer, who was standing just to the right of
the door.

‘
What have we got?’ he asked.

As he
spoke, a mug-shot appeared on the main screen. Archer immediately
recognised the guy as the larger of the two. He had jet black hair,
brown eyes and stubble, the photo taken a few years ago when he was
younger. He looked sullen and a tough son of a bitch.

‘
Found them in the California Department of Corrections
database,’ Ethan said. ‘This one is Nicolas Dean Henderson. Twenty
six years old, six foot five, two hundred and twenty five pounds.
Parents unknown, attended high school in Pittsburgh, was arrested
in San Diego for weapons charges. Served a year in
Lompoc.’

‘
From Pittsburgh,’ Archer said. ‘Like Lister.’

‘
And arrested in San Diego like her too,’ Marquez
noted.

‘
SDPD currently have a warrant out for his arrest for skipping
parole,’ Ethan continued.

‘
How old?’ Hendricks asked.

‘
Six years.’

‘
What about the other guy?’ Shepherd asked.

The
screen changed to the slighter man, the one who’d almost shot
Archer in the head when he broke into the restroom. Physically he
was much smaller than Henderson but Archer knew he possessed a wiry
strength that made up for his lack of stature. He was all sinew and
aggression, the veins on his neck pronounced, his head closely
shaved, his eyes angry as he held the placard for the
mug-shot.

‘
Sebastian Tully; twenty four years old. Went to the same high
school as Henderson in Pittsburgh, DOB and parents unknown. Five
ten, a hundred and sixty five pounds. Got busted with his friend
for possession of unlicensed firearms in Cali and did a stretch
too.’

‘
What about since?’ Shepherd said.

‘
Suspect in a homicide but the case is still ongoing. San Diego
too.’

‘
And it’s six years old,’ Shepherd said, looking at the screen.
‘That long?’

Ethan
nodded. ‘They’ve been keeping a low profile.’

‘
Why the hell did they go from Pittsburgh to San Diego?’ Palmer
asked. ‘People like this tend to stay in places they know. And
why’d they come back east?’

‘
Whatever the reason, they must have left a trail,’ Marquez
said. ‘They’d need money and these two don’t strike me as the nine
to five type. No easy legal way to fund a three thousand mile trip
without some kind of illegal activity.’

‘
Maybe they just got lucky and were never caught,’ Archer
said.

‘
Ethan, run a check on the National Crime Info Centre,’
Shepherd said, nodding in agreement with his two
detectives.

‘
What for, sir?’

‘
Traces of lye at national crime-scenes in the last six years.
These sons of bitches must have left something in their wake. That
body disposal method is so slick I’m thinking they must have had
some practice.’

As Ethan
set to work, Palmer pulled her cell phone. ‘I’ll run them through
our system too. See if our people in California have anything on
these guys.’

As she
stepped outside, Hendricks went to follow but then the phone on the
desk rang, grabbing everyone’s attention.

‘
Shepherd,’ the Sergeant said, answering.

‘
Sergeant, its Barton with CSU. I’ve got some bad news I’m
afraid.’

‘
Go on.’

‘
We’ve checked out six of those addresses Sergeant Hendricks
gave us. We’ve swabbed the tubs and that lye solution is showing up
at each one so far.’

Shepherd
stared grimly at the phone as everyone in the room fell
silent.

‘
I spoke to the team down on Rivington who told me what you
guys found over there in the bathroom. I know this isn’t what you
wanted to hear.’

Pause.

‘
OK. Thanks.’

Ending
the call, Shepherd paused for a moment. Then he looked at
April.

‘
I’m sorry.’

She
nodded. ‘Deep down I already knew, I guess.’

Beside
her, Archer swore. ‘Why the hell did they kill the women? I can’t
figure it out. This isn’t mindless serial killing. There’s a
purpose here.’

His face
dark, Shepherd looked at him for a moment then turned and studied
the faces of the two killers on the screen, the suspects in a list
of homicides that seemed to be growing by the hour, up to fourteen
by his reckoning; ten women, Valdez, Carvalho, Goya all flushed
down a tub and Santiago on the way before they
intervened.

‘
Where the hell are you, you sons of bitches?’ he
muttered.

Inside
her room at St Luke’s, Alice Vargas was fast asleep.

She was lying under a sheet in a hospital gown, her head
turned to one side, her eyes closed, the room quiet apart from the
sound of her heart monitor, which was providing a slow,
constant
beep
. Her
black hair was a stark contrast to the white gown and sheets, her
breathing rhythmic, her face expressionless but peaceful, a small
white dressing on the side of her neck.

Wearing
their stolen porter’s uniform and doctor’s coat, Henderson and
Tully stood side-by-side next to her bed, staring down at her,
Henderson having just come up in the elevator with the gurney after
Tully called and told him they were on. Glancing to his left,
ignoring the body of the second cop who Tully had just shot,
Henderson lifted away the sheet covering the gurney, five of their
lye canisters lying on the top.

Walking
past the dead cop and easing back the door to the bathroom, Tully
checked inside then glanced at his partner and nodded before
walking back across the room and letting himself out quietly. He
needed to secure the closet with the two dead bodies and make sure
there were no other cops lurking before they got to
work.

Now
alone with the woman, Henderson stared down at her as she slept; he
had a flashback to Nina taking the shotgun blast from this bitch’s
boyfriend and his anger rose.

Less
than an hour from now, there wouldn’t be a trace that she’d ever
existed.

As he
looked down at her, his phone vibrated in his pocket with an
incoming message. He pulled the cell out, checking the screen and
seeing it was a message from the fourth member of their operation,
wanting know what was happening with the Russians.

He
tapped in a reply, the only movement in the room Henderson’s
fingers as they hit the keys. However, with his head down he didn’t
notice something.

Vargas’
eyes opened.

It took
her a few seconds to register the large figure standing there
beside her bed, his head down as he concentrated on his
screen.

Blinking
from the effect of the sleeping pill she’d been given, it took her
a few moments to focus. She studied the large man at the end of her
bed, seeing a silenced pistol tucked into his belt.

Then the
beeping of her heart-rate monitor suddenly increased in
speed.

Henderson heard the change and looked up from his phone.
Reacting immediately, Vargas’ hand lunged for the emergency call
button but she wasn’t fast enough and Henderson just managed to get
there first, blocking her. Vargas tried to roll out of the bed the
other side and escape into the adjoining bathroom, but was too weak
and fell to the floor as her legs gave out under her, knocking
things off the bedside table as she fell, an IV ripped from her
hand.

As she
hit the floor she saw a cop facing her against the wall; he’d been
shot in the head, blood pooling under him. Shocked, Vargas opened
her mouth to shout for help but Henderson was already on her and
clamped his hand over her mouth, stifling her scream.

Tully
suddenly re-entered the room, having heard the crash of the table
going over, and drew his pistol. However, as adrenaline pulsed
through her for the first time in weeks, Vargas found new strength.
She bit down on Henderson’s hand as hard as she could, drawing
blood, then hammered her elbow back into the side of his jaw,
sending him reeling back.

Scrambling forward, she desperately tried to make it to the
bathroom but Tully stepped forward and hit her over the head with
his handgun, stunning her. As she fought to stay conscious, he
quickly overpowered and restrained her by zip-tying her wrists
behind her back. After ripping off a strip of duct tape and pulling
it over her mouth, Tully started dragging her into the bathroom as
Henderson got to his feet.

‘
Bitch!’
he hissed, drawing his pistol
and moving over to the door, taking a quick look outside in case
anyone had heard the noise.

Inside
the bathroom, Tully let go of Vargas when he reached the tub,
turning the knob to lower the metal plug. Then he picked up one of
the canisters, unscrewed the lid and quickly started pouring the
lye solution into the bath.

However,
as he worked the dead cop’s radio suddenly burst into life across
the room.

‘
Hudson, Cornell, report.’

Tully
immediately paused in what he was doing, looking at
Henderson.

‘
Hudson, Cornell, report.’

The two
men looked at each for a long moment; then Tully continued to fill
the tub, tossing the canister aside when it was empty and opening
up another one.

Bound
and helpless beside him, Vargas heard the unanswered transmission
from Dispatch repeat for a third time as she watched the man in the
doctor’s coat in confusion, trying to work out what he was
doing.

Then her
eyes started to water as a strong chemical smell filled the
room.

THIRTY FOUR

Two
hours behind New York City, the sun was just starting to go down in
Colorado, Lieutenant Jack Rosario of the Denver Police Department
watching it through the blinds as he sat alone in his
office.

Fifty
one years old with short grey-hair and a slight paunch that seemed
to have appeared out of nowhere in the last couple of years,
Rosario was extremely well-liked and respected in the Department, a
distinguished career behind him with the finishing-line of
retirement now in sight. He’d been a cop for twenty nine years and
was in charge of four Homicide squads, was paid a good salary and
thoroughly enjoyed his work. However, there was one case that he’d
never managed to solve, something which even now several years
later still bothered him.

Eight
people who’d disappeared without a trace six years ago and who
neither Rosario nor the Department had ever been able to
locate.

It’d
begun with a woman who’d come to the District 2 station where
Rosario worked, to report that her boyfriend hadn’t come home in
five days. Given that he’d been a relatively high-profile pimp
based on East Colfax with a bad history and lot of people who would
have been only too happy to hear that he was dead, no-one had been
particularly surprised or interested.

However,
when reports of two more missing men came in within a week,
Rosario’s Precinct had started to take notice, concerned they had
some kind of gang war starting on their patch.

Over the
next two weeks, three more were added to the list, all of these
people linked, and squad cars had patrolled Colfax, looking for any
sign of trouble. But everything had seemed pretty normal. Officers
had located two low-level pimps who were associates of the missing
men, but they said they didn’t know what had happened and didn’t
seem to care either.