Luthecker (42 page)

“I only have one question for you.” He began. “The nurse who came in here; she was innocent. Why did you have to kill her?” Alex asked, and then he braced himself.

“Fuck you.”

Brown swung the stick at Alex’ head, a death strike.

Alex barely got his arm up in time to deflect. The pain was like a thousand bee stings, and every muscle in his body convulsed. He found himself face down on the floor again, this time not remembering how he got there. Through force of will alone he stayed conscious.

“You don’t know, the things I’ve had to do, to keep this country safe. To protect its lifestyle
.
Do you think, that these things are free? Do you think, the fast cars, the big houses, the boats, the vacations, the cheap oil that floats it all, doesn’t have a real cost? Well it does. We’re all in this together, Alex. No one’s innocent. We all participate. I’m just the one who makes sure the bill is paid. I’m the one who makes sure we stay on top.”

Brown raised the stick again.

“You said you wanted to know your options.” Alex said, holding his hands up in defense.

He saw in Brown’s eyes his intent to kill. He remembered Master Winn’s words: Trust your training.

“We both know that there aren’t any options. With all of your supposed abilities, can’t you read that?”

“You have one—Change.”

“Never.”

Alex sprung from the couch just as Brown swung the stick. He caught Brown at the knees, and forced the man to crash to the floor, flat on his back.

Brown immediately swung the baton towards Alex, but Alex stayed low and close to Brown’s torso, allowing him to deflect the strike at the arm below the stick. He then locked his arm around Brown’s elbow, and lifted up against the joint with all his strength. He heard the snap of bone and the scream of pain in quick succession.

The baton dropped to the floor, and Alex picked it up. He got to his feet and stood over Brown.

• • •

Every analyst in the Coalition Properties Information Center was dead quiet. They all stared at a monitor, either at their desk or on a wall, in complete shock. Less than ten minutes ago, some hacker had hijacked all the screens in the building, and had re-routed all the audio-visual feeds to pick up the signal from one room in the building, the one that held Alex Luthecker. They had all witnessed and heard the CEO of their company beat a man and admit to murder.

Director Stephens sat in his office, stunned. He had just watched Alex take a beating from Richard Brown, before Luthecker got the better of him, breaking the CEO’s arm in the process. Stephens didn’t move. He had no idea what to do. The line of succession at Coalition Properties West after Brown was him.

Stephens finally picked up his office phone, dialed a number.

“Abort.” He yelled into the receiver, without any greeting. “You heard me. Pull them

back. It’s all over the News, and that looks bad for the Company.” He briefly listened to a protest on the other end of the line. “Look, the situation has changed,” he interrupted. “Richard Brown is no longer in charge. In his absence, I am, and I’m telling you, pull your entire unit back, now.”

He hung up the phone. Doctor Lansky appeared in Stephens office doorway, Lax right behind him.

“Did you see that?” Lansky asked.

“Everybody saw that.”

“Siobhan Parker is missing. That son of a bitch, do you think he—? “

“I don’t know.” Stephens cut him off. “All I know is that we’ve been lied to.”

“What do we do?”

“We hold him. We hold Brown. And call the police.”

“But what about…Luthecker?”

Stephens thought a moment before answering. He looked at Lax, Lansky.

“We hold him too.”

“But he didn’t do anything.”

“This is a criminal matter. We’ll let the police sort it all out.”

The muscles in Lax’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to protest.

He and Lansky looked at one another.

“Yes sir.” Lansky replied, before the two men left Stephens office.

• • •

“Abort. I repeat. Abort.” Labaton screamed into his earpiece. He hoped that he wasn’t too late. He watched as the Black Hawk, missiles visible, hovered less than two hundred feet above him.

He let out a sigh of relief as he watched the Bird suddenly pull up hard and bank left.

“Stand down. Everyone stand down.” Labaton continued. “Let’s pack up and go home.” He finished, before he turned to Harris.

“Brown is out at Coalition,” he told him. “Thank God.” he added.

• • •

“They’re packin’ up.” Rooker thought out loud, as he watched Coalition Soldiers pile into the transport and Hum Vees before driving off.

He turned to Winn.

“What the hell happened?”

Winn smiled.

“A bit of luck.”

• • •

“Brown is a psychopath.” Isabella replied to Stern, his voice strained and shaky. “He’s been obsessed with this Luthecker character for years. But as far as I can tell, the guy hasn’t done anything. But who’s going to argue with Brown?”

Stern looked over the man who stood in surrender-pose in front of him. He was short, with a slight build, and wore thick glasses and a cheap suit. He looked like an accountant, and Stern didn’t buy for a second he was simply wandering the halls.

“Just take me to his cell.” He said, wary.

“This way.” Isabella said, before turning back in the direction he came, and moving briskly down the hall with a part jog, part walk pace. Stern kept the Streetwise stun gun ready in the palm of his hand as he followed.

Stern took note as they passed several doors before taking a quick left into a six-foot hallway recess that led to a dead end door.

“He’s in here.” Isabella said.

Stern sensed the set up just as the attack happened.

Jones approached from behind and thrust a short blade at Stern’s left kidney, slashing his back and ripping the skin open as Stern spun around and slapped him across the face with five million volts. Jones rocketed across the hallway from the intensity of the discharge and slammed into the wall before crashing to the floor in a dead body drop. His eyes were frozen wide open in a permanent shock glare, the side of his face burnt and smoking from the massive blast of current emanating from the Streetwise.

Isabella pulled his blade free from the shoulder holster he had hidden under his jacket as he watched Jones being electrocuted. He timed the slash of his blade across the neck perfectly as Stern turned back to face him. He watched with curiosity as Stern grabbed ahold of his neck with his free hand, eyes wide with shock, and tried with futility to stem the flow of blood. He stepped back as Stern dropped to his knees, the blood oozing between his fingers until the red liquid obscured his entire hand. He slumped forward, face first, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

Isabella carefully wiped his blade clean on Stern’s shirt before stepping over his body and back out into the open hallway.

He had passed Luthecker’s cell on the way to the trap point, and once he had re-holstered his knife, he began to make his way back.

Brown had told him to report to Luthecker’s cell once the intrusion threat had been neutralized. There had been only two intruders, and the body of the other had been found at the bottom of the elevator, apparently the result of a fall. Although luck was never something that could be counted on, it was also never something to be discounted. Climbing through the elevator service systems was not something he and his now late partner had accounted for, and the breach would have to be addressed in his final report. Still, the mission overall had been a success.

He stopped in front of the door to Luthecker’s cell. He slid back the door on the eye level view slot, and saw through the small Plexiglas window that Luthecker appeared to be sitting quietly on the couch, unaware of any of the on goings out in the hall. Brown had given him the code to enter, and his instructions clear and to the point—after eliminating the intruders, if he’d not heard different from Brown, he was to close the Luthecker account and then dispose of the body. Once this was done his mission would be complete, and Isabella’s account would be wired the proper compensation, double the original amount due to the fact that Jones had not survived. He intended to visit Italy, the Amalfi Coast perhaps, for a much-deserved vacation.

Isabella punched the numbers on the keypad in proper sequence, and the door lock LED turned green. He carefully opened the door, and stepped inside Luthecker’s cell.

“Mr. Luthecker.” He gently called out.

Alex slowly got to his feet, and turned towards the sound of the voice.

“My name is Mr. Isabella.” The assassin announced, as he calmly approached Luthecker.

He froze when he saw Richard Brown’s bound and gagged body lying in front of the couch.

Brown’s eyes were wide with pain and shock as they locked onto Isabella’s. His mouth was gagged with a pillowcase, and held back the indecipherable roar of anger. His hands and feet had been tied together with a bed sheet. His right arm appeared to be severely broken.

Isabella turned to Alex. He noticed the man held a stun baton.

“Thank goodness you’re okay, Alex.” Isabella said, immediately adapting to the new circumstance. “I’m the lead doctor at Coalition Properties, and I am appalled at what has happened to you here.”

Alex just stared at him.

“Let’s get you out of here. Get you some place safe.”

Isabella took a reactionary step back as he watched Alex eyes oscillate back and forth in a way he had never seen before. He had seen enough to know Alex wasn’t fooled by his story in the least.

He didn’t hesitate to adjust his tactics once again. With deceptive speed, he pulled his knife free from its holster and slashed it at Alex.

Alex barely reacted in time, side stepping the strike, and parrying it with the baton.

Alex twisted the handle of the stun baton, and the weapon crackled to life. He began to circle.

Isabella began moving the blade back and forth to either hand with well-rehearsed speed and technique as he counter-circled Alex.

He jumped forward at Alex with a left to right slash that had such unexpected velocity that Alex barely had the time to move clear. Alex felt a sharp pain on his chin, and felt it with his left hand. It felt slick with blood.

Alex decided he would switch tactics. He twisted the handle of the stun baton with both hands, turning it off. He began to spin the stick in his right hand, like his Kali training taught him.

He read his opponent. The man who stood across from him was unlike any other individual he had ever encountered. His actions were not fueled by the constant reinforcement of the emotional loops developed over time that created the patterns of human behavior. What set him apart was that he was completely incapable of compassion. That definitive part of the human condition was literally missing in his psyche. He was unable to bond with other human beings, and that, combined with an isolated childhood filled with countless hours of television, filled that emptiness with the cold darkness of entropy. His life became defined by the death of others at his hand, not because there was any grand purpose or joy, but because the simple logic of the patterns he chose dictated to him what nature had shown him, that all things must end. Alex was facing a true sociopath, and it made reading his each and every move in order to anticipate what he would do next much more difficult.

But training was training. Alex remembered to stay in the moment. Isabella slashed again with his knife, but this time Alex was ready. He met Isabella’s move with a strike from the end of the stick on the wrist, shattering the multitude of small bones that allowed for movement and causing Isabella’s hand to release the knife. Alex immediately bounced the stick off the wrist onto the jaw, breaking it just below the hinge.

Isabella stepped back but did not fall, did not cry out. He lunged at Alex without hesitation, shoulder into Alex’s chest and wrapping his arms around his midsection and knocking Alex backward. Isabella immediately released one arm from Alex’s midsection and grabbed one Alex legs, instantly putting Alex on his back. Sitting on top of Alex, Isabella reached for another blade holstered to his ankle.

Alex kicked up his hips, throwing his attacker off balance. He hit Isabella with a palm heel strike, hard and flat just below the breastbone as Isabella pitched forward, knocking the wind from the assassin’s lungs. Alex took the microsecond of time where Isabella’s body went slack in response to the blow and pushed the one hundred and forty-five pound man off him and to his left, crawling out from underneath, barely avoiding a slash from the ankle blade of an already recovered Isabella. The men rolled to their feet simultaneous, and Isabella kicked the stun baton out of reach. He let out a smile, barely perceptible, one that indicated recognition that the odds had just shifted significantly in his favor. The men began to circle one another once again.

“I don’t know why Brown focused all of this attention on you.” Isabella commented. “I honestly don’t see it. But he’s a psychopath. And in the end it just doesn’t matter.”

Alex studied Isabella intently as the man talked. He searched for something, anything in the man’s behavior that might indicate his next move.

His attacker had slashed at Alex twice. Both times Alex had parried. His attacker would more than likely adjust his attack. He had tossed the knife back and forth between hands exactly five times on each occasion before attacking. He wore suit jacket that was cheap, and therefore tailored incorrectly. It visibly constricted his movement.

Currently, he held the blade firmly in his right hand. Alex was weaponless, and the lines on his opponent’s face and the movement of his eyes indicated that he felt safe enough to plan a straight thrust of his blade for the kill. Alex let Isabella edge closer in to confirm in Isabella’s mind that this was the right decision. Isabella shrugged his shoulders in a small subconscious move, to adjust his jacket. That was the final tell that Alex needed.