The Assassin's Case (7 page)

“I see.”

The doctor moved back into the hall.

“Wait, Doctor,” Grant instructed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m getting my bag. In a very short time you’re going to become very ill.”

Grant nodded his assent. Now that he thought about it he felt a stirring in his gut, and he was beginning to sweat.

Morgan returned with a black bag, much like the doctors you used to see on TV carried when they made house calls. He opened it and reached in.

“Easy there, Doc.” Grant motioned with the gun.

The doctor slowly extracted a hypodermic and removed a plastic cap from the needle. “Take off your coat. I need to inject this in your arm.”

Grant turned to Tedesco, silent throughout the exchange. “Sit down. Keep your hands still.”

He nodded and plopped into his chair.

Moving to the bar, Grant shrugged out of the coat, switching the gun from the right to left hand to keep from having to lay it down. “If I feel anything the least bit funny, the slightest twinge of doubt, I’ll shoot you both.” The fact is Grant believed them. All the non-verbal clues indicated they were both telling the truth. Or at least what they perceived as the truth. “All right. Stick me.” Grant held out his left arm.

The doctor tapped the syringe with a finger to clear any air bubbles, and pressed the plunger until a small stream spurted from the needle. He grasped Grant’s bicep and squeezed. Veins popped up in Grant’s forearm and Morgan jabbed in the needle, injecting a clear and thick fluid. He finished and moved away, stowing the empty needle in his bag.

Grant scanned both their faces for signs of treachery, he paid close attention to his body. Within a minute he stopped sweating and the acrobatic troupe in his stomach ceased their tumbling. Neither of the two men spoke for the couple of minutes it took for the antidote to kick in.

“Do you still have the case?” Tedesco asked.

“I do. It’s close.”

“Please.” Morgan’s tone indicated he would beg if necessary. “Help us. Give me the case, so I can get my family back.”

“There’s still a few things I need cleared up,” Grant said. “Why aren’t your people helping you, Doctor.”

“I’m a security risk, now. They don’t care about my family. Just their pet project. They would see them dead. Kill me, kill us all, before they’ll allow the project to be compromised. When the kidnappers contacted me with instructions, I went to them. Colonel Ethan Cane, the head of Biodyne security, told me he would get my family back.” Morgan moved to stand next to Grant at the bar. The old man’s hands gripped its edge hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “I’ve never completely trusted him. Then, I overheard him talking to our superiors.” Morgan released his grip on the bar and smacked his palms on its top. Anger and grief made his voice course. “He was about to lock the base down. Me included. I sneaked behind him and hit him over the head. Before he woke up and raised the alarm, I took what I needed and left.”

“So, the case actually contains the virus?”

“Yes and no. I only took the samples of the virus because at that point I knew the only way the kidnappers could know about me, or the project, was from someone on the inside. If I left without it they would know. My family would be killed. The case has most of the formula and instructions on how to produce it, with some key sequences missing. The vials contained in it are actually the botulism you were infected with. I love my family, Mr. Sawyer. But even for them I couldn’t allow my weapon into the hands of terrorists. And I feel sure that’s where it would have ended up.”

Morgan caught Grant’s eye. “You should also know that Colonel Cane will be after all of us. He’ll kill us. You too, if he thinks you know anything.”

“I think we may have met,” Grant said. “Muscular? Short-cropped gray hair?”

Morgan nodded.

“He knows about me.” Grant tucked the gun into the waist of his jeans and turned to Tedesco. He looked downright penitent. This hadn’t gone at all the way Grant imagined it. Even with the man’s obvious remorse all Grant saw were the fireballs that ripped all he loved from this world.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair and yelled. “Aaaagghh!” Unable to find any other words to articulate his frustration.

He grabbed a bar stool and flung it across the room, smashing a mirror. Tears came, he didn’t care. He pointed a finger at Tedesco. “After all you’ve done, you son of a bitch. All you’ve taken from me. And now you’re trying to steal my chance for vengeance.” Grant turned and placed his hands on the bar. “I’m going to help the Doctor get his family back. So, I guess I have no choice but to help you by extension.” He turned and locked eyes with his family’s killer, dropping his voice to a near whisper, throat raspy with emotion. “But when it’s over. No power on heaven or earth will keep me from sending you to hell.” No idle threat this, but a promise.

TEN

The moisture dripping down the sides of the beer mug puddled on the bar. Grant traced a finger through it before lifting the glass to his lips. The ice cold beer, a Shinerbock draft, cooled his parched throat. As good as it tasted he could afford only one glass. He drained the mug and placed it on the bar before turning in his stool to face the room.

              After the initial confrontation Grant finally reached his sister and verified she was okay. She didn’t seem pleased to hear from him, especially when he refused to tell her the reason behind his frantic message. Tedesco, still serving as the Doctor’s intermediary, set up a new exchange. But the kidnappers set the time and place and refused to negotiate. Tedesco would be forced to meet them on their terms. Instructions were to contact them within forty-eight hours from the hotel Krystal in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Once there, further instructions would be issued.

              Grant, Tedesco, nor the Doctor liked the arrangement but had little choice. They were in the process of formulating a plan. The Doctor sat near Grant and drained his own beer, one hand resting on the case. Tedesco paced and talked on his cell.  

              The front door burst open. Grant whipped up his pistol and stepped in front of the Doctor. Two men in suits stepped through the door, guns out and pointed toward the ceiling in two-handed grips, law enforcement shields clipped to their belts. FBI.

They saw the gun leveled in their direction and began to aim their own.

“Put ‘em away, guys.”

Grant knew the voice before the woman stepped between her companions, pressing their arms down as she passed.

Jaime Pendleton.

For a second Grant forgot to breathe, his breath stolen as she stepped into the room. So that’s what they meant by breathtaking. Even beneath the confines of the drab black suit, it was evident she still possessed a lean athletic body with curves in just the right places. The ravages of time hadn’t touched her face. A trace of freckles on her aquiline nose only served to enhance her beauty. The brown eyes, the same color as her hair, stared at Grant.

“Well?” She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re not going to shoot me are you?”

Grant ripped his gaze from hers and realized his SIG was aimed at her chest. “Oh … uh … sorry.” He set the gun on the bar, barrel pointed toward the wall.

A smile beamed from her face, lighting the room. Or maybe, just maybe, it simply lit some dark corner of Grant’s bleak world. “Whatever you’re thinking, Jaime, it’s not true.”

“I know. It didn’t take the Gulf Shores PD very long to figure out the body they found didn’t belong to Dr. Morgan. Of course now they have more questions than answers. Besides, since he’s standing right by you, well, it stands to reason you didn’t kill him.” Jaime leaned against the bar and met the Doctor’s startled gaze. “Apparently, he and his sister both wanted it to appear as if he were dead. Anybody want to explain what’s going on?”

Grant noticed that Tedesco was clenching and un-clenching his fists. “It’s all right, Boom.” Grant turned to Jaime. “First, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

“Steve Jenson. When the Gulf Shores police contacted us about your involvement in a homicide investigation, he sent me down to check on you. We traced your call to Steve. After we lost you, we were still pretty sure where you must be headed.” She nodded toward Tedesco. “I must say, I’m shocked he’s still breathing.”

Tedesco stared at her. “What? How did you—?”

“Oh, we’ve known where you were for quite some time, Mr. Tedesco. Or is it Rivers? Don’t look so surprised. We’ve kept tabs on you.” Jaime turned to Grant. “I must say, this is
not
what I expected to walk into.” She inclined her head toward Tedesco. “I mean, there’s not a mark on him. There must be hope for you yet, Grant. Now. Your turn.” Jamie crossed her arms and glared at each of them in turn.

Doctor Morgan appeared shaken. His face pale, his eyes were moist and seemed about to spill tears. Grant placed a hand on his arm and whispered. “Don’t worry. We
are
going to get your family back. I trust her. She’s a stand up lady. I promise you.” Grant turned, settled in his seat, and leaned an elbow on the bar. “Can you ask your guys to guard the door?”

Jaime nodded, and turned to her companions. “Why don’t you wait for me outside?”

When the two men left, Grant recounted the tale of the events which led him here. She listened, without interruption. When Grant finished she asked. “What do you need me to do?”

              “Let us walk out. Get this man’s family back.”

              “Okay. But not without me.”

              “Oh, no. You’re not coming.” Grant shook his head for emphasis. “Too dangerous. But, I promise as soon as we get back I’ll call you.”

              Before she could respond the Doctor spoke. His fear suddenly seemed to be amplified. “Agent Pendleton, did you call anyone about where you were going? What you were doing?”

              “Well … yes. But, why?”

              “Oh, dear Lord.”

              “What’s wrong, Doctor.” Grant caught himself, he had almost said,
What’s up, Doc?

              “Colonel Cane. He’ll find us. We’ve got to go. Now.”

              Jaime was opening her mouth to speak but Grant held up a hand.
Whop-whop-whop.
The thrum of approaching helicopter blades gave the Doctor’s statement a tinge of the prophetic.

              Tedesco, quiet during the exchange, assumed command. “We’re leaving. My Bronco’s out back. We’ll take it to the airfield.”

              Doctor Morgan had a private jet waiting for them in Lordsburg, a town about twenty five miles north of Animas.

              “What’s going on?” Jaime asked.

              “Cane’s found us,” Morgan said. “You better get your people out of here.”

              “But, we’re federal agents. We can clear this up.”

              “No matter. He’ll kill you just as quickly as anyone else.”

              The sounds of the chopper grew loud and the backwash of the blades rattled the roof. Grant grabbed his gun from the counter. “Tedesco, get the doc and Jaime to the Bronco. I’ll see to the agents out front.”

              Tedesco nodded, grabbed the case from the bar and urged Jaime toward the door with a hand on her arm.

She started to jerk away but Grant shook his head. “Go.” When the trio moved to the rear of the bar, Grant moved to the front door. He grabbed his cane with his free hand as he went. Although he may not trust Tedesco, he believed Morgan. But still, he couldn’t accept that Colonel Cane would just murder anyone in his path. Judging by the roar, the helicopter was either hovering or about to land. Grant pushed through the glass doors and rushed across the foyer to peer over the swinging wood doors. Air and grit blasted his face from the sleek black helicopter settling to the parking lot.

Jaime’s companions shielded their eyes and moved toward the chopper as the rear door flew open. The FBI men flashed their badges toward four armed men in black fatigues as they jumped out. All of Grant’s doubts about Cane’s intentions were instantly eradicated. Without hesitation the two lead soldiers raised MP-5 submachine guns. Each gun spit bullets.
Spat-spat-spat.
Three shots to each agents torso and they dropped. No need to check. They were dead. Or would be very soon.

Though it had been years, the skills honed from hours upon hours of CQB, close quarter combat drills, and real life missions, remained a part of Grant. Shooting skills kept sharp on the firing range. Obliterating targets serving as both entertainment and therapy. All that and a whole boatload of luck might allow him to live longer than the next thirty seconds.

Grant ducked to the left and aimed his gun over the doors. His first shot staggered the man closest to him but he didn’t go down. Body armor. Bullets ripped into the foyer, the thin wood siding doing little to slow the barrage.

Grant dove to the floor, releasing the cane as he fell, and rolled onto his side. Gripping the SIG in both hands he shot beneath the swinging doors. His first two shots tore into the flesh of the lead men’s legs. Their companions halted their advance and took up firing positions. The first man fell from the leg wound, landing on his side, placing him in a position with a clear field of fire on Grant’s position. The wounded man aimed his weapon. With no other option, Grant squeezed off a shot, aimed at the head. The bullet struck the man in the forehead and he went limp.

Colonel Cane threw the front door of the helicopter open and stepped onto the parking lot, an MP-5 in hand. He glared toward Grant as he raised his weapon.

Grant moved. He rushed into the bar and sprinted toward the back door. Gunfire erupted from the rear of the building. He shoved through the door and jumped to the right to get clear of the rectangle of light beaming out of the bar.

Tedesco had produced a pistol from somewhere. It appeared to be a forty-five semi-automatic. He fired with one hand while using the other to hold Jaime and the Doctor behind him, shielding them. Three black-clad members of Cane’s team advanced from the desert at the edge of the parking lot. Tedesco held them at bay with a barrage from the large handgun. Some of his shots scored hits in the men’s torsos.

“They have body armor,” Grant yelled. “Aim for the head or legs.”

Tedesco ushered his charges behind the Bronco, his attempt at protection keeping Jaime from getting her own gun into play. “I know.” He shoved Jaime and Doctor Morgan to the ground in front of the SUV’s grille. The Doctor clutched the case to his chest.

Grant moved, spurred ahead by a volley of return fire. He ran to the front of the Bronco and ducked down. Tedesco continued to blast away. “You’re just going to piss them off!” Grant shouted again. “Aim for the head dammit.”

“I can’t.” The hit man dropped behind the vehicle after he emptied his clip. Concentrated fire from the MP-5’s banged and whined against the Bronco’s sturdy metal body. Tedesco ejected the clip and rammed in a new one. His eyes locked on Grant’s. “I’ll never again take a human life unless I have to.”

“Have too?” Grant ripped the gun from the murderer’s fingers and looked at Jaime. “Cover me.” Grant didn’t have time to contemplate the man’s last statement. He hefted the forty-five in his left hand to gain a feel for its balance, he held the SIG in his right. These bastards wanted blood. They would get it.

“Jaime, cover the sides of the building. There’re more of them in front. They’ll be coming.” Grant edged to the right side of the Bronco. For the moment the big vehicle shielded them from the MP-5 fire, but the soldiers would eventually move to a superior angle of fire and pin them down. Grant eased along the side of the vehicle, guns pointed up. He took a breath. Here goes nothin’.

He stepped from the rear of the Bronco, tracking with his eyes and the barrel of the SIG. The forty-five ready as backup. Two of the soldiers moved across the parking lot to his left, the other one sprinted directly at him. They saw each other at the same instant. The man was quick. But Grant was quicker. Before the soldier’s MP-5 could spit death, Grant ripped him from this world with a shot to the head.

The man’s cohorts turned their guns on Grant. He dove to the side and rolled to a crouched firing position, bullets strafing the ground around him. With no time for pinpoint shooting, he blasted shots toward the midriff of his attackers. The hits to their armored torsos ruined their aim and their equilibrium. Grant stood, holding both guns before him. He fired a continuous barrage, alternating his shots between the gun in his left hand and the one in his right as he walked toward them. The onslaught forced them back. Slugs tore into their vests, knocking them to the ground. He stood over them, and took aim, pistol barrels centered on their foreheads, his fingers reeling in the slack on the triggers.

“Get in the car, now!” Grant didn’t risk looking to see if his companions obeyed. He stared at the young men on the ground before him. He could see it in their eyes, calculating their chances. He should just kill them, but they were following orders, and for the moment they were at his mercy. He heard doors slam and the Bronco turn over, before the engine revved with a throaty roar. Gravel crunched beneath its large tires and it pulled along side him.

“Get in.” Jaime shouted over the rumble of the engine. “I’ve got them covered.”

Grant peeled his eyes from the two men and turned, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret the decision not to kill them. From the backseat Jaime leaned through the passenger door, her gun trained on Grant’s prisoners. As he jumped into the front more men charged around the building their submachine guns blazing a path before them.

“Go!” Grant shouted.

Tedesco jammed the accelerator and the SUV shot forward, slamming the passenger door. Bullets sprayed the driver’s side of the vehicle.

Grant shouted again. “Everybody down.”

Rather than take the obvious route through the parking lot Tedesco guided the Bronco away from the bar and into the desert. The back glass erupted as their tires chewed through the sand on a small incline, gaining speed.

“Hold on.” Tedesco clutched the steering wheel with both hands and they crested the hill. The four wheel drive ramped over the edge, hanging in the air a moment before they dropped. The vehicle hit the ground and bounced forward, rocking its occupants, Tedesco’s arms fought for control as the tires battled for purchase. Once he regained control Tedesco mashed the accelerator again and jerked the wheel to the right, angling back to the north.