Killer of Killers (32 page)

Trent lowered his brow. “I’m not so sure I
trust either of you assholes.”

“It’s our best chance,” Manoukian said
again.

Trent remained silent for several moments. He
recalled his conversation at Rick’s Coffee Shop that very morning.
He remembered Samantha’s last words and the promise he failed to
make. Then he looked at Josh and said, “I’ll do it for
Samantha.”

* * * *

The flight from Minneapolis to Bemidji was
short, but for Trent it wasn’t sweet. The tension during the trip
precluded dialogue. When the private jet landed, an Eternity Labs
chauffeur greeted them. “Hello, Dennis,” Manoukian said. Trent
noted that Manoukian acted like he knew the chauffeur.

The chauffeur responded, “Good evening, Mr.
Manoukian. Gentlemen.” His blue coat reminded Trent of the one he
borrowed in New York City, although it had no tails and no matching
hat.

During the long drive, Manoukian explained
the lab’s security procedures and its multi-faceted physical
layout. Trent saw that Josh listened only intermittently. He
figured it was because Josh was already familiar with the complex,
and once he was close enough, his heavily muscled physique could
snap Soriah’s fragile neck in an instant.

Trent, on the other hand, sponged the
information and tried his best to envision the different wings as
Manoukian described them. He had no intention of letting himself be
captured so readily, nor did he expect to receive help from
Manoukian or Josh when he’d need it the most. He would trust no one
at the end of this road.

* * * *

Inside the executive suite at Eternity Labs,
Abraham Soriah sat with Charles Morgan, and their eyes were fixed
on dual monitors behind opened panels in the wall. They were
watching images of an ivory limousine bouncing its way over a
winding dirt road. Abraham said, “I have to hand it to you,
Charles. It’s unfolding just as you predicted.”

Charles firmed his mouth. “I still think this
is a bad idea.”

“Now, Charles. Trent Smith is one man against
six Specials. Then there’s our entire security force, and you know
how Toka feels. You don’t expect him to beat those odds.”

“I put nothing past him.”

“And our ace in the hole?”

“It’s a bad idea.”

Abraham turned off the monitor, after which
descending panels closed off the wall. “I appreciate your
sentiment, Charles, but if he was present when Benson died, as you
say... Well, we can’t pass on this opportunity.”

* * * *

The limousine stopped at the front gate,
which was manned by two guards in the security tower. From his seat
in the limo, Trent observed a fair-haired security guard reach
through the tower’s first floor window and receive a magnetic card
from the driver. At the same time, the other security guard emerged
from the tower. He was a black-haired brute who looked very much
like the swarthy types Trent had been running into lately. The
guard opened the limo’s passenger door, looked at Manoukian, and
said, “I’m sorry, sir, but the three of you will have to step
outside the vehicle. Mr. Soriah’s orders.” He spoke with an accent
and Trent recognized it. The secretary in the Transamerica building
spoke like that. And to a lesser degree, so did Manoukian.

The guard passed a metal-scanning wand over
their bodies, and while doing so, Manoukian slipped him a very
small electronic object. Trent spied the awkward maneuver. He
guessed it was some kind of microchip but decided to say nothing,
as Manoukian and Josh were returning to the limo.

When Trent stepped inside, the blue-clad
bruiser stopped him with a grip of his arm. Trent exchanged a long
stare with the guard and planned a move that would disable him. It
wasn’t lost on Trent, however, that if he started fighting now, he
may never get inside the facility.

As Trent struggled with the quandary, the
guard tossed a glance to Manoukian. Trent noticed Manoukian shake
his head. It was a quick and fleeting shake, as if Manoukian was
trying to signal the guard to avoid a confrontation. The scowling
guard looked back at Trent and released him. Trent swiped his hand
over his offended appendage and then resumed his seat. He was
relieved for the postponed conflict. Apparently, Manoukian still
had some pull with the laboratory guards.
Or was it just this
one?

The chauffeur drove into the complex, parked
next to the hub, and opened the passenger door. Trent stepped out
and witnessed the parting of the lobby’s all-glass entrance. It was
Charles Morgan who emerged, accompanied by a half dozen
black-suited titans. Trent appreciated the fact that, unlike the
surly guard at the gate, none of them even remotely resembled the
dark behemoths he had been fighting the past two days.

“Mr. Soriah welcomes you,” Charles said. He
looked at Trent with eyes that were both gracious and wary.

Josh and Manoukian stepped next from the
limo, and Josh commented, “This is some welcoming committee.”

“It is,” Charles agreed. “If you’ll come with
me, please.”

Trent noted that half of the lofty ushers
walked ahead of them, and half behind. Charles walked next to
Manoukian, who asked, “May I visit my office before we see
Abraham?”

“Of course,” Charles answered.

They crossed the lobby and detoured into B
Wing. Charles entered Soriah’s office, and the men following took
positions astride the entrance. The men in front took positions at
Manoukian’s door opposite the hall. Trent followed Manoukian into
his office with Josh and watched him flip through collected papers
and power up his computer.

“It’s true,” Manoukian said. “All classified
sites are off line. I still have email, but otherwise, the
computers are useless.”

“The hell with the computers,” Josh grumbled.
“When are we going to meet with Soriah?”

“Right now,” a uniformed colossus said at the
doorway. He was a Pacific Islander nearly as tall as Charles, but
much heavier. Muscles corded his neck, and his massive torso forced
him to enter the room sideways. He wore the dark blue threads of
security, and multiple emblems signified a rank of command. Dark
eyes seethed in his full, brown face, and Trent could have sworn he
was a twin of the bodyguard he killed at the club in Manhattan.

“Hello, Mr. Manoukian,” the blue-clad giant
said in a heavy voice. Then, he looked eye to eye with Josh and
extended his hand. “It’s been a while.”

Josh shook his hand and said, “Hello,
Toka.”

The gigantic Polynesian lowered a glare to
the much shorter Trent. His features contorted, and he snarled in a
low, disapproving tone, “You must be Trent Smith.”

Trent remained aloof. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”
He jutted out his hand and gripped Trent’s in a vise, but Trent
gave him a grip in return. It was a deadlock, and Trent knew he
could endure it indefinitely. He was trained to neutralize a
handshake intended to be harmful and how to counter it if he chose
to do so.

Appearing surprised by the stalemate, the
Samoan squeezed even harder, and at the same time said, “My name is
Toka Tacau, and I’m the security chief here at Eternity Labs.”

Trent replied, “With a get up like that, what
else could you be?”

“Topu was my brother,” the security chief
growled.

“So what,” Trent said.

“So what? Why you...”

The electronic voice of Abraham Soriah
interrupted the exchange.
Bzzzt.
“Please escort our visitors
to my office, Mr. Tacau, if you don’t mind.”
Bzzzt.

The message was clear, but the loud buzzing
evidenced an intercom malfunction growing worse by each word.

The security chief released Trent’s hand and
responded, “Right away, Mr. Soriah.” He resumed his spite-filled
glare at Trent and hissed, “I’m not finished with you, Smith.”

Trent responded, “Neither was your
brother.”

Toka’s face turned purple and twisted into an
ugly mass of lumps. “If I didn’t have to follow orders, I’d—”

“You’d what?” Trent jeered. “Chumps have to
follow orders, like you and your dead brother. So follow your
orders, chump.”

With that, Toka charged Trent in a murderous
fury. Trent braced himself for an
Ogoshi
. He turned his body
and threw the Samoan over his hip, using the man’s size and
momentum as leverage.

Upended by the hip throw, Toka slammed into
the wall and dropped headfirst to the floor. He leaped to his feet,
his face twisted in rage, and charged again. This time Trent
charged him, also, with a full force front kick that caught the
surprised security chief square in his solar plexus. It sent him
back and over Manoukian’s desk, knocking down the computer, which
crashed to the floor amidst whipping cords, leaping notepads, and
flying papers.

Toka couldn’t stand up because he couldn’t
breathe. Trent knew he had knocked the wind out of the giant
Polynesian, and watched him hunch over his knee, trying to refill
his lungs by strength of will alone.

Meanwhile, Trent waited with his feet spread,
his knees bent, and his fists clenched, hoping for a third round.
But then three of the black-suited Specials rushed single file
through the door. Another half dozen security guards, all big and
burly, followed. Mouths agape, Josh and Manoukian stood aside and
made no effort to hinder the human stampede.

Trent was not so relenting. He refused to be
taken quickly or easily. The black suits reached him first, but a
front jump-kick to the midsection of the first man put him on all
fours, gasping for air. Trent followed with a forceful side-kick to
the knee of the second man, which tore the anterior cruciate and
medial collateral ligaments, leaving him disabled and screaming in
pain. The third man, hustling between the first two, received a pop
up back-kick, which sent him reeling into the onrushing security
team.

The first three blue-shirts took the brunt of
the toppling Special, whose large body impeded their progress.
Trent, however, didn’t waste a moment. He blasted straight through
the disoriented security guards, pelting them in all directions and
out of his way.

In the main hallway, Trent found himself face
to face with the men guarding Soriah’s door. For a second, he
thought about taking them on. Handguns pulled from within their
coats dispelled the notion. Instead, he darted through the lobby
and into the main lab where he encountered the two Chinese
specialists Samantha had mentioned during their talk that night in
his hotel room. “What’s going on?” one of them asked.

“Ask them,” Trent answered, tilting his head
toward the quivering doors. He knew a posse would plow through them
any moment, so he dashed across the room and past the doors that
led to A Wing.

* * * *

In a rage, Toka, with his security team,
burst into the main lab. Viewing only the two Asian scientists, he
removed the radio from his belt and hollered, “Base, are you
tracking him? Where did he go?”

“We’ve lost the cameras,” a voice responded.
“All surveillance is off line.”

“
Fuck!”
Toka roared with his face to
the ceiling. Again, he put the radio to his mouth. “Well, get them
back
on line and call me when they’re working.”

Returning his radio to its holster, he glared
at the pair of doctors and bellowed, “Which way did he go?”

A trembling Dr. Lee pointed at the A Wing
doors.

* * * *

Several seconds passed, and Trent was sure
he’d put some distance between himself and his many pursuers. It
was his intention to unveil as much of the complex as he could. He
entered a large office containing several young women sitting
behind desks arranged in rows. Trent slowed to cross at the head of
the room, and as the women ogled him, Soriah’s electronic voice
sounded over the malfunctioning intercom.
Bzzzt!
“We have an
intruder.”
Bzzzzt!
“If you see anyone who looks suspicious,
call security imme—”
Bvvsst!
The system went dead, and the
room fell silent.

The women looked at each other and then back
at Trent. No one seemed willing to speak until a pretty brunette
inquired, “Are you the suspicious guy they’re talking about?”

“Who, me?” Trent asked. “Do I look suspicious
to you?”

“No,” she answered. “You’re kinda cute.”

“Um... Thank you.”

The young woman smiled. “I’m Debra.”

“Well, then. I’m pleased to meet you,
Debra.”

“And this is Betty,” she added with a gesture
to the young woman sitting at the desk next to hers.

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too,
Betty.”

Betty smiled with a blush, and then remarked,
“Say, I know who you are.”

On edge, Trent responded, “You do?”

“Sure, you’re one of the inspectors!”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right.”

“So, where’s your lab coat?”

From the adjacent room, the sound of stomping
feet convinced Trent to cut his reply to “Gotta go,” and he bolted
though the opposite doors.

* * * *

Debra was still thinking about the pleasant
inspector when the doors to the word processing room burst open and
the giant chief of security rushed in. His entire support team
followed. Most were bent over, panting with their hands on their
knees. Debra and her fellow secretaries sat startled and silent as
a result of the disturbance. The security chief took a moment to
pan the room, and then he hollered, “Did he come this way?”

Debra asked, “Do you mean the inspector?”

The chief exploded,
“Which way did he
go?”

Debra pointed at the far doors, and the chief
and his guards hustled away. Once the doors sealed behind them,
Debra commented, “What a rude man. I like the inspector much
better.”

“Mm-hhmm,” Betty agreed. “He can inspect
me
, anytime.”