Kill on Command (11 page)

She coasted down the garage ramp to the exit and turned right.  She once again took back streets heading towards Pitt, purposely avoiding Fifth.  Coming up behind the Pittsburgh Athletic Club, she coasted, hopped off the bike and put it on her shoulder, entering the club from the rear.

Sandy chose the club because she liked the building and that it also was the perfect safe house.  She shared Sean’s passion for history and character and The Pittsburgh Athletic Club did not disappoint.  It was built in 1908 by Pittsburgh real estate developer, Frank Nicola. 

Nicola thought of everything when constructing the building.  Amenities that were sought after in 1908 and the flexibility to adapt as the times changed.    It was home to a bowling alley in the basement.  A dinner club on the first floor.  A pool on the top floor.  A top of the line gym.  The floors in between had rooms very much like a hotel.  Sandy had one.  She walked the bike to the elevator and took it to the 4
th
floor.  She had rented a room when she had returned to Pittsburgh six months ago from an assignment.  She went through a third party to get it done.  No one knew about it.    It had cost several thousand dollars, but today was the day that investment paid off.  She got off the elevator, turned left and found #427.  She pulled a key out of the bike pack and opened the door.  Even though this was the second time she had seen the room, she was again surprised.  She initially expected a youth hostel, but found something closer to the Westin.  She rolled the bike in and leaned it against the wall and immediately walked the room to ensure nothing had been disturbed.  Satisfied, she walked to the window and looked outside.  It was still a nice sunny day.  However, she felt a dark cloud was still hanging over her head.  She had a plan to make it go away.

Between two windows was a queen size bed.  A tasteful comforter and six white pillows were at the head of the bed.  Small bedside tables were on either side.  Opposite was a dresser with a flat screen TV on top.  The bathroom, off to the left side of the room, contained a small single sink, toilet and tub.  The usual appointment of twelve individual towels completed the room.  The carpet was neutral, but expensive.  Her room overlooked the Pitt Campus.  Against the other wall, next to the bike, was a closet.  She walked over to it and opened the door revealing a safe. On the floor were a 4x4x4 trunk and a black duffel bag.  A huge master lock secured the trunk.  She pushed the empty clothes hangers aside so she could have easier access to the safe.  She entered a code and opened the safe, which held two black bags. She put the bags on the bed.  Next she lifted the trunk and slung it onto the bed.  Then she placed the duffel on bed next to the trunk.  She took one of the bags and emptied it.  $100,000 US dollars and $50,000 in Euros spilled out.  She placed the cash on the nightstand.  She turned back to the bed and dumped out the second bag.   Eight passports spilled out.  Two US, two Canadian, two French, two Russian. Along with the passports were matching drivers licenses and credit cards.  She stacked them on the nightstand.  She unzipped the duffel and looked inside.  She took out an empty backpack and tossed it on the floor, and then she pulled out one of the expensive wigs that had been created for her.  It was brown.  “Blonde or brunette?” she thought.  She took five unused burner phones out and put her hands on her hips and looked at them.  Pushing back her hair she looked back out the window for a moment.  She picked one of the phones up and dialed a number.  She looked at herself in the mirror as she waited for the voice on the other end.

“Da?” the thick voice answered.

In Russian she said, “I need your help.”  She looked at her feet as she spoke.  It felt good to speak in the tongue she grew up with, even if she was rusty.

In Russian, he responded, with a bit of concern, “You prepared as I taught you?”

“Da,” she said, now looking at her face in the mirror.

“Your Russian is rusty.  I will see you where we agreed.  Monday.  Noon.”  He hung up.  A seventeen-second conversation.  Sandy popped the back off the phone, removed the battery and then removed the SIM card and tossed it in the toilet.  She smashed the phone.  As she sat on the end of the bed, she decided to make her move early in the next morning around 3 A.M.   It was Saturday, just past 2 P.M.  She had more than twelve hours to kill.  She needed food.  She looked at what she was wearing.  No chance she was walking into the Grill Room.  The club had very strict etiquette.  She picked up the phone and dialed the Trent Room.  She ordered a Bigelow Salad, Calamari, and a burger, loaded, and three bottles of water.  She went to the bathroom and washed her face with one of the dozen towels that were provided. 

Taking her Glock out of her bike pack, she stuck it in the waistband of her pants, opened the door and walked down the hall.  She still had her confident stride but she was noticeably more wary.  She took the elevator down to the basement and walked up to the bar.

“Hey, I placed an order a minute ago,” she said.  He nodded slid a bag across the bar to Sandy.

“$38.”

She took the bag, and handed him a $50.  He just took the money without a second thought.

When the elevator opened to the 4
th
floor, she cautiously moved down the hall.  She took out the Glock and held it flat against her leg and put the bag down and opened the door wide, looking inside quickly.  Nobody there.  She picked up the bag and went inside. She was famished.  Manners went out the window.  She climbed up on the bed and devoured the meal.  Satisfied, she stood up and stripped off her clothes, stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  The room started fogging up.  She placed the gun on the counter and stepped into the hot water.  She put her hands on the wall and let the water run down her back.  What she was about to do was going to take all she had, physically and emotionally.  She let the water run over her. 

It would never wash away the guilt.

It would never wash away the pain. 

It would never wash away the blood. 

She knew what she was going to do would heal her.  She felt it in her bones.

Sandy stepped out of the shower and toweled off.   She took advantage of the robe the club supplied. Gun in hand, she snatched a bottle of water off the dresser, opened it and knocked it back.  She moved the trunk and duffel off the bed, pulled the shades and lay down in the bed.  She needed the rest.

VII
I

Lost Her

Pittsburgh

Bill and Bob’s afternoon was not going as smoothly as Sandy’s. They had lost her and the last thing they wanted to do was call it in, but they did.

“What?” Robert Waters answered.

“She’s gone,” Bill replied.

“What do you mean gone?  How could you screw this up?”

“She didn’t come back to the duplex and the techs have not been able to track her.  We doubt she’s going to head to the airport,” Bill responded.

“Well, no shit!  She trashed that phone the moment it lost service!”  Waters screamed, his voice cracking.

“Yeah,” Bill mumbled. 

“Yeah?  Yeah?  Damn it!  Just take care of Garrison and get back here!” Waters screamed again and hung up.

Bill looked at Bob and motioned to the car.  They drove off to meet the second team that they saw as babysitters. 

IX

What’s wrong with Sean?

Pittsburgh - UPMC

Sean was rushed straight to
the hospital.  Michelle had called the neurosurgical team from the ambulance.  It was the team she worked on and was the apex of the discipline.  Since he was stable, they immediately wanted a MRI to assess any head or spinal injuries.  The helmet, sans facemask was left in place, as were his cleats and shorts.  Michelle watched anxiously from the other room. 

The scan showed no damage to Sean’s neck or spine.  He appeared to be in no danger of paralysis.  The nurses rolled him down the hall to an ICU unit.  Michelle followed.  The nurses pulled the curtain and began cutting away his shorts, jock strap and compression shorts.  They pulled off his helmet, shoes and socks and covered him with a blanket.  Michelle stared at his face.  He had a smirk on his face, which she felt was odd.  A doctor stuck his head in.

“Doctor Wilson?  Doctor Wilson?” he said, looking at Michelle.  She was lost in thought - she’d known Sean since college, fell in love with him there and part of her still loved him.  She loved the quick smile.  However, she hated the irresponsible behavior. Looking up, she noticed her colleague.

“Yes?’ she answered and moving into the hallway.

“I’d like to run him through another scan.  The new scanner was just installed.  The detail is like nothing we have seen.  We can get that done within the hour.”  Michelle nodded.  The doctor instructed the nurses to move Sean to the 5
th
floor.  Michelle walked down the hall to the waiting area for the ICU.  Most of Sean’s teammates were crammed into the small space.  They all looked up when she came in.  Brian stood.  The room smelled of athletic tape, sweat and worry.

“He ok?” Brian asked.

“His spine and neck are fine.  His vitals are good.  He’s unconscious.  He’s in a coma,” she said, while trying to hold her tears back.  The group was quiet.  The only sound was the uncomfortable shifting of cleats on the tile floor.

“Can I wait here?”  Brian inquired.  Michelle nodded.

“I don’t know how long he is going to be out,” she replied.

“I understand.  I still want to wait,” Brian said. 

“Ok.  We are going to run a couple of tests on him.  He’s in good hands.”  She looked past Brain’s shoulder towards the team.  “Thank you for being here.  I know Sean would be flattered.”

“No problem,” a couple of them mumbled.  None of them had ever been in a situation like this and really did not know how to respond.  As Michelle turned to go back into the ICU, Brian spoke to the team.

“I am going to stay for awhile.  You guys can leave.  I will send you all a text when I know more.”

Some nodded and started walking out. 

“Brian, I am going home, but I am coming back,” Tom said to Brian.

“Thanks Tom,” Brian answered.

X

Moons Over My Hammy

Pittsburgh

Bill and Bob had efficiently cleaned out the duplex.  Their “help” met them at a Denny’s on Penn Avenue.  The second team got out of their vehicle and started walking to the Tahoe.  One carried a paper bag.  The kind you picked up at Bloomingdales.  Bob and Bill un-holstered their Beretta 92FS pistols, keeping them in their hands down between their legs and nodded at the two approaching the truck.   The other two men got into the back of the Tahoe.  One was African American, the other was white.   Bob spoke first.

“We are going to take out Garrison at the hospital.  We checked on him.  He’s in some sort of a coma.  You guys head to the airport.  Sandy will be heading there.”

“We’re going with you to the hospital to make sure you don’t fuck it up,” the white guy said.

“What did you just say?” Bob said raising his arm.  The guy behind him thrust his gun into the back of Bob’s head.

“You move one more inch and I will send three rounds through your thick skull.”  The guy looked into Bob’s eyes through the rearview mirror.  Bob returned the stare.  Bill glanced over his left shoulder.  He had seen those eyes before.  Sandy had them.

“All four of us will go to the hospital.  You two will take care of the target.  We back you up.  We will then go after the person you call ‘Sandy’,” the white guy said.  They did not offer their names and Bob and Bill did not bother asking.  They would get lies back anyway.  The agent continued to speak.

“You both will enter the hospital at 3:00 A.M.  That’s the ideal time.”  He handed Bob a small zipped case.  Inside was a hypodermic needle and syringe filled with a clear liquid. 

“Inject this into his IV.  He will never wake up.” 

He pointed at Bill.  “You will monitor the floor.”  He handed them a large paper bag.  “You will need these.”  A set of scrubs and IDs were inside the bag.  They also produced a new tracking monitor, similar to the one Sandy used. 

The man continued, “The cop, Ippolito, will probably be there.  If he causes trouble, kill him.  We will be watching you.  After you take care of Garrison, meet us in Moon Township at the Red Roof Inn.  Room 125.”

Bob nodded.  The two men got out.  Bill and Bob watched them get into their car and drive out of the lot.  Bill looked at Bob.

“I don’t like those guys,” Bill said.  Bob shrugged his shoulders.

“You hungry?”  Bob asked.

“Yeah.” 

“Let’s get some eggs.” 

Both exited the truck and walked into the Denny’s.