Surveillance (Ghost Targets Book 1) (24 page)

"Oh, yeah?" Martin was petulant, sarcastic.

Velez took him at face value.

"Like a charm," he said, but then he scowled. "Sort of. I've got something wrong. It bogs down trying to over-saturate a single point, instead of cascading outward like I'd intended. I probably just have a sign backward somewhere, but I need you to—"

"Dammit, Velez, can't you be human for a moment? I'm not going to help you. You just admitted you ghosted the man who killed my niece!"

"And I'm glad I did," Velez said, puffing his chest out. "It got you here, right when I needed you. Talk about providence. That's going to prove more valuable than anything else." He kicked Katie lightly in the side, just below the ribs, to make her open her eyes. "Your other girl here is going to die if you don't figure out what I did wrong. Fix it, and I'll ship her straight to Memorial-o Hospital-o up on the hill. Got it?" He took two long strides to the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob and looked back at Martin.

"She's gone, pal. Let her go and live in the now. I need this done tonight."

Velez left them alone in the room, and Martin went immediately to Katie's side. He knelt by her side and brushed the hair out of her face with a deep concern in his eyes. "Are you alive, Katie?"

She coughed weakly, but forced a smile. "I'm alive, Martin. Help me sit up."

"I'm not sure you should—"

"I've been lying on the floor like a rag doll. It's undignified and uncomfortable, and I don't want Velez kicking me anymore. Help me up."

"
Up
?"

She nodded to the couch. "It's my turn on the couch," she said. "You can sleep on the floor tonight."

He still looked doubtful, and when she climbed up onto her knees, her whole body tensed hard against the pain. He didn't argue, but ducked under her left arm and wrapped his right arm around her waist, lifting her as he rose. Together they hobbled to the couch, and then she sank down on it gingerly. Once she was settled, he said, "Is that better?"

"No." She spoke through gritted teeth. "It hurts like hell, but at least I'm off the floor." She spent several minutes just breathing, trying to control the pain, and it finally faded into the background again. When she could think again, she looked up to meet Martin's worried eyes.

"I'm fine," she said. "What's your plan to get us out of here?"

"I'm going to fix his code tonight. The way I see it, that's our only shot."

"That's a death sentence, Martin, and you know it. Don't ever trust a man with enough experience to say, 'I hate killing people.' That's a dead giveaway right there."

Martin shook his head. "Katie, I don't know what we can do. I can't just let you—"

"Don't do it, Martin." Her voice was firm. She was starting to feel better, sitting up. Her head seemed like it was finally working again. "I may not be a programmer, but I know enough to understand what Velez is talking about, and I'd rather die than help him accomplish that. Governments are built on Hathor at this point. Society can't survive without it. If he's as close as he says he is, you need to find some way to slow him down. Buy us some time."

"Katie, you don't have time—"

"I know!" She felt bad at the hurt look her retort brought to his face, but she was tired of his concern. "Dammit, Martin, I'm telling you. I'm prepared to make the sacrifice, so let's stop talking about it. I need you to delay Velez long enough for Rick to get here."

Martin frowned, obviously confused, then he shook his head. "Katie, I know you tried to contact him earlier, but these recorders aren't repeating anything out to Hathor." He touched the headset still on his ear. "Velez is capturing any data addressed to Hathor and routing it back into his own system, or I wouldn't still be wearing this. We're in containment here."

It was her turn to shake her head. "I'm not talking about that. Rick was already on our trail. We shook him, but there's no way we lost him. Once he caught his cool, got back to the office with all his agents, all his resources ready to hand, I guarantee you he'll be able to track us. That should lead him right here."

"I don't think so, Katie." The look on Martin's face said he really didn't want to break Katie's hope, but he wasn't prepared to lie to her. "I doubt Rick will have much luck."

"Oh, don't judge him off what I can do," Katie said. "I've only been with the bureau five days. Maybe six now." She frowned. "Maybe seven. I don't know. Rick is the boss. He has tricks I can't dream of."

"Not really," Martin said, and forestalled her argument. "Katie, I've been watching Rick in action for five years now. You might have been green at the start of last week, but if you've been paying any attention at all, I've taught you more in that time than Rick could have taught you in all your years in the service." When her eyes widened in surprise, he shrugged. "That's not pride, it's just the situation. Rick is guessing blind, and I know all the important function calls. Hell, I've stayed off his radar all these years, and I'm just a scripter. If Velez doesn't want to be found, Rick doesn't stand a chance."

Katie fell silent. After a while, a tear leaked from her eye, and he reached up to brush it away. She batted his hand down. "There has to be something—"

"He's holding all the cards, Katie." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Whatever it is he's missed, it can't be anything major. He'll spot it eventually." He leaned in close, until their heads were almost touching. "He's going to figure it out, no matter what we do. I have a chance to get you help—"

"No," she said. "You don't. I'm FBI, and he knows it. There's no way he lets me out of this alive."

"Don't say that."

She pushed away from him and caught his eyes. "It's true," she said. "You need to understand that. You need to accept it and make your decisions accordingly. No matter what he promises, he's not letting me go."

He caught her hands in his, still trying to comfort her, but something else caught her attention. She said, "I think I have an idea." She hoped the drugs weren't leading her astray again.

He put a finger on her lips, and when her eyes widened he leaned close again, pretending to kiss her, and whispered in her ear, "He can hear everything we say." Before she could mention the pad of paper, he shot down that suggestion, too. "And he could read any notes you wrote me. We're in a cage, here. If you have a plan, if you think it might work...try. But don't say it out loud."

He sat back, and she held his eyes for a moment, trying to think of a way to warn him what she had in mind, but nothing came to her. It might have foiled the plan, anyway. At last she said, "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

She said, "You could get hurt."

He shrugged. "I think it's my turn."

"Then turn around." His eyes narrowed and he frowned, confused, but he turned where he sat, his back to her. She sidled up close to him on the couch and leaned up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. Taking a cue from him, she whispered in his ear, "This might not even work."

He chuckled. "Whatever it is, just try it."

She gave him no more warning. It might not have worked if she had. She shifted quickly, forcing her weight onto her right knee. She lifted herself up off the couch, behind him. She shifted her grip around his neck, and bent her right elbow around his throat. It was the same choker hold she'd tried on Velez the day before. She crushed his throat with a squeeze, cutting off his air, and his hands came up instinctively to claw at her arm. "Katie!" he choked. "What are you—"

"Call for help," she said in his ear. She could feel him start to panic in her grip, and she repeated herself more firmly. "Say, 'help.'"

"Help!" It came out a grunt, but clear enough.

"Good," she said. "Now say my name."

"Katie, please—"

"My full name, Martin. Say my name."

"Katie...Katie Pratt." His eyes rolled wildly. He struggled to get a glimpse at her face, to comprehend what was going on. She could feel his pulse pounding, feel the strength going out of his fingers as he scrabbled to pull her forearm off his throat. Another tear escaped her eye, and she said softly in his ear, "I'm sorry, Martin."

A moment before he would have passed out, the door swung open and Velez strode in. As he entered the room he said, "Lock target on the girl." The camera above the door swung to point at her, aiming center mass on her chest, and she could imagine the one above the computer desk pointing at the back of her head. For his part, Velez was carrying a baseball bat, but he was swinging it freely, more like Charlie Chaplin's cane than the deadly club he intended it for. Velez's voice was cool. "Let him go."

She did, and he fell forward off the couch and landed on the floor on his hands and knees, coughing violently. He tilted down until his forehead was on the ground and put a hand to his throat, massaging it lightly. She could just hear him weeping through his gasped breaths.

She looked up to find Velez eying her. "What was that about?" he said. She tilted her chin up, unwilling to answer, and his mouth twisted into a smile. "On your feet." When she didn't respond right away, he looked menacingly toward the camera high on the wall behind her.

She gulped down her fear and gingerly lowered her feet to the floor, then pushed herself up off the couch to stand. Even with all her weight on her right leg, the pain shot up her other leg in waves, crashing thunderously at the base of her skull, and she had to bite back her own whimper. She saw Velez's smile widen.

"You're dangerous, aren't you, Katie?" He looked down to Martin, still collapsed on the floor. "Not to me. You should know that. Here, in my lair, you're no threat at all. All it takes is a word, and you're nothing but a puddle of leaky meat on my floor. I could break your bones or burst your head. Name an organ and I can put a hole through it with surgical precision. My cameras have an amazing grasp of human anatomy." Tears leaked from her eyes, at Martin still helpless on the ground as much as from the pain in her leg, but she made it clear in her expression that she wasn't impressed with Velez's speech.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Look, I heard your conversation. You know that, right? All your precious plotting. You should have listened to Martin. Killing him wouldn't have done you any good, anyway. I
can
 figure this out without him. It's just faster with his help." He glanced up at the camera again, and sighed with obvious regret. "And I can get his help more easily if you're about to die than if you're dead. I can't let behavior like that go unpunished, though."

He hefted the bat, and she reacted in fear. "No!" she said, reaching out a hand to him, but he ignored her plea. He stepped into the swing, throwing the bat at her ruined calf. She tried to turn away, but her leg gave under her and she fell. She caught the full impact of the swing on her hip, then an instant later her knee crashed into the floor. The pain that accompanied the dual blows doubled her over with a sob. Her stomach cramped in a dry heave and she fought desperately to catch her breath.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Velez's foot fall as he stepped closer. She glanced up and saw the bat coming down. This time she couldn't dodge at all. It slammed into her skull, and the world flickered scarlet. And blinding white. And then totally, blissfully black.

She woke to a pounding. With no windows to let in light from the world, no clocks on the walls and her watch stripped from her, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed. This prison was outside the real world, outside of time and hidden from the eyes of gods and men. A shiver chased down her spine, and she yelped at the pain that accompanied movement. Her head pounded, and the wound in her leg stabbed at her.

It took some time to realize the pounding wasn't only in her head. A steady thunder, muted by distance, broke the silence that otherwise reigned in Velez's subterranean stronghold. She opened her eyes, forced them to focus, and found herself lying on her side once more on the bedroom floor, her face inches away from the door, which stood slightly ajar. She titled her head down to get a good look through the crack, and saw Velez hurrying across from left to right—from his computers to the doorway that led upstairs.

At last she placed the pounding. Someone was knocking on the closet door in the rundown apartment up above. Insistent and strong, the thudding knocks echoed down the spiral stairway and slipped past the closed door downstairs, refusing to be ignored. She could tell from Velez's gait that he was irritated.

He yanked open the door at the bottom of the stairs and shouted up the stairwell, "What?"

A voice answered, muffled by the echo, but Katie thought she heard, "I'm coming down."

Velez stepped back a pace, and a moment later his visitor came through the door. Rick Goodall, her boss, her white knight, her cavalry. Her heart soared, and she bit down a cheer, realizing at the last moment that Velez still didn't know she was awake. His cameras were still armed, too, which meant Rick would have to be careful making his move. She couldn't think of a way to warn him about that without giving away her position.

As Rick stepped into the workshop, his eyes must have fallen on Martin, out of sight to her left, because he froze. His eyes darted to Velez. "What's going on here?"

"Rick, this is Martin Door," Velez said, making polite introductions. She remembered her own arrival in this basement, Velez playing the part of polite host, bragging about his technology until he'd shot her where she stood. He played out the same game with Rick. "He's my old partner in crime. He's here because someone murdered his
niece
. Your girl Katie was working on the case."

"Pratt?" he said. In just the one syllable she heard the disgust in his voice begin to change to comprehension. "They tracked you here—"

"I invited them here," Velez said, condescending. "Because I needed Martin's help with something."

"He's in pretty bad shape for an invited guest," Rick said, irritated now. He towered over Velez, threatening, but Velez turned his back and walked back over to his computer desks. Rick followed him, barking angrily, "Just what do you think you're doing here, Jesus?" He didn't bother with the Spanish pronunciation, but leaned on the long "e," pronouncing it "Jee-zus." He dropped a heavy hand on Velez's shoulder, heavy enough to make the smaller man wince as he pulled away. "What have you done with Pratt?"