Winter's Storm: Retribution (Winter's Saga #2) (23 page)

“
Mom?”

“
Alik?”

“
Oh, thank God, you’re okay.”

“
I’m fine, but why are you calling? Is Meg okay?”

“
She’s stable. We’re still flying over the Pacific.”

“
Oh, thank God. I thought you were calling to tell me…”

“
No, mom. Listen, I have to tell you something really important.”

“
What’s going on?”

“
You need to go into hiding, immediately.”

“
What are you talking about?”

“
Mom, Williams has a meta already on the island that was sent there to kill you.”

“
How much time do I have?”

“
None. Get out of the house now. Take the truck, drive and don’t stop until you’re sure no one has followed you.”

“
What about Theo and Cole and Paulie?”

“
They should disappear, too. She might use them to get to you.”

“
She?”

“
Yes, the meta is female. Her name is Farrow and she’s deadly. Mom, grab your purse, the car keys, take Maze for protection, and get out of the house right now! I’m going to call you in exactly thirty minutes to check on you. It’s 6:05; I’ll call you at 6:35. Do you understand?”

“
How do you know about the meta, Alik?”

“
Creed. He’s trying to earn his soul back. I’ll explain later. Just
go
!”

“
I love you, Ali. Tell Evan I love him.”

“
We love you too, mom.
Now, go!
”

42 Farrow’s Pursuit

The humidity and heat were extreme, but she had already calculated for that. The home of Dr. St. Paul was thirty-nine meters south, southeast of the position she chose because of its dense foliage and easy line-of-sight to the front door of the house where the doctor’s vehicle was parked. Dr. Winter, the primary target, had not shown her face yet, but she would eventually, and when she did, Farrow would be waiting.

Lying in wait for nearly three hours now had left Farrow’s usually steady nerves somewhat frazzled. Under ordinary circumstances, she could stalk her target as long as necessary without the slightest unease, but this was different. Something about this assignment made the hair on the back of her neck bristle. Three hours felt like three days.

Sure she was just psyching herself out, she allowed herself a moment to look away from the sniper rifle’s telescopic lens and rub her eyes.

Get it together, soldier,
she scolded herself.
This is just another assignment. You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. Come on. One shot, one kill. One shot, one kill. One shot, one kill.

Her mental brow-beating was halted the moment she saw movement at the back door. A male with white hair was exiting the house with a long surf board tucked under his left arm. It was Dr. St. Paul. Right at his heels was the bizarre pet the Winter family kept. She had seen him before—back in California when she was sent to the hospital to count dead bodies. That was the growling thing that looked at her like fresh meat. Even through her scope, she got a clear picture of the coyote. He was huge—probably fifty-five or sixty pounds. And it behaved like a loyal dog, not a wild canine. Not wanting to alarm her primary target, Farrow chose not to fire at the aging man or the coyote, but observed them instead.

The old man walked toward the beach. He lifted his right hand to his brow to block the sunlight so he could see more clearly the waves as they broke. The coyote had wandered away from the water’s edge following instead an interesting scent back up toward the trail that ran beside the house. His nose was to the ground as his silver coat shinned in the Hawaiian sunlight.

Not wanting to get distracted, Farrow repositioned her scope to the house. There was no movement there. By the time she panned back to the old surfer, he was already on his board and paddling out into the water. The coyote was almost completely obscured by the undergrowth along the trail. He was really after something, but it hadn’t occurred to Farrow that he may have been tracking a very familiar scent. Not until it was too late.

Just as the coyote began to howl mournfully with intermittent barks, an image darted across her mind. That spot was the exact location on the trail where M57 was running days before when she had delivered Dr. Williams’ “gift.” The coyote must have been tracking the girl’s scent. She was, after all, his owner.

He was howling like a bloody demon now. It was clear he found something, but what would he have found that had Meg’s scent on it? Did she drop something that day? Farrow didn’t think so. Was she bleeding? Doubtful. It would have left a very small mark where the dart impacted her neck. Maybe there would have been a negligible spot of redness at the injection site itself once the dart was removed and…that’s when she realized what was causing the coyote to howl.

The dart.

Creed, the incompetent, moony-eyed, idiot! He must have left the dart in the grass!
Farrow was mentally screaming in fury over Creed’s misstep that could cost them their objective. Her one last glimmer of hope was lost when it was Dr. Andrews who came running out of the house to check on the coyote, and not Dr. Winter.

With an anger that seethed hotter and hotter inside her, the metasoldier watched the man run to the coyote, lean down and pick something up. The coyote jumped up and down excitedly beside him as he frowned at the object in his hand, yelled to Dr. St. Paul, who was already on his way back to shore with all the ruckus from the canine, and ran back into the house. Within seconds, all the subjects were out of sight and the gift was in their hands.

This was bad.

Only afterwards did Farrow kick herself realizing she should have taken her chances and killed everyone in her scope, including the flea-bitten mongrel they called Maze. It didn’t matter, because after taking a breather to regroup her thoughts, she decided her next step would be to wait until dark when she would finish this, once and for all. She had a life, and she was anxious to get back to it.

Later that afternoon, when Dr. Williams’ name showed up on her cell phone, she ignored it. She didn’t want to talk with him until her mission was complete, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tell him Dr. Winter had the “gift” that had so perfectly given him the upper hand in his quest.

Oh, hell no.
She thought to herself, cleaning her favorite handgun with deft movements. She was not going to take the fall for Creed’s sloppiness.

43 Oldham’s Plot

“
Commander Oldham, sir.” Esther stood at attention the moment she realized he was walking down the hospital corridor. He stopped directly in front of her, standing a little too close for a comfortable conversation. Esther felt instantly wary of her superior officer as goose-bumps formed on her arms beneath her standard issue uniform. Not letting any of her feelings show, she saluted.

“
At ease, soldier.”

As it was ingrained in her, Esther immediately clasped her hands behind her back and spread her stance slightly. Her heart was pounding, but her facial expression gave nothing away. The commander never had been down here. Esther wasn’t even aware he knew of Dr. Williams’ daughter or her condition.

“
Sir.”

“
Soldier, I’m here to perform an inspection of the patient to which you are assigned.”

“
An inspection, sir? I have not received any notification of an inspection.” If Esther’s guard was up before, it was screaming a warning now.

“
The Director himself sent me.” He flashed an important looking document in front of the young soldier.

Esther frowned at the document. Never having encountered anything like this in the past, her mind was racing with possible protocol she was to follow. Maybe this is a test, she thought quickly.

“
Sir, my orders are clear. I am not to allow anyone entry into this room without explicit orders from Dr. Kenneth Williams, himself. No exceptions.” Esther tried to speak with strength and purpose, when inside she was shaking with fear.

“
I understand you’re just trying to do your job, soldier. You have to understand that I’m just trying to do mine, too.” He showed his teeth in a bizarre attempt at what was supposed to be a smile.

“
Sir, no disrespect intended. I will have to make a phone call to confirm these orders.” Esther’s acting skills couldn’t stop her voice from quivering this time. Her hand reached to her pocket to retrieve her phone.

“
I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.” His face curled malevolently and he moved even closer to the girl and grabbed her wrist with one hand and with his other hand, zapped her with a tazor.

With the fluidity of a highly trained Special Forces soldier, he caught her slumping body, opened the door to the patient’s room and dragged her body inside. He closed the door behind him softly.

The room was dimly lit by a side table lamp. He saw the small frame of a girl lying on the hospital bed. She did not move or make a sound. He walked to her bedside and looked into the face of the reason his Director was losing his edge. This weak, useless excuse for a human stood between himself and all his goals. The commander shook his head in disgust. Why didn’t Williams understand that this diseased body was his anchor, his Achilles heel, a thorn in his brilliant lion’s paw?

Weakness has no place in my Facility,
the commander thought to himself.
Nothing good can come from this gangrene.

As any loyal soldier would, he was feeling compelled to help his leader in any way so their end objective was achieved. Rudolph Oldham needed to help remove the thorn in his master’s paw; cut off the gangrene before it spread any further.

Yes, this had to be done.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve a small black case. Carefully, he opened it and removed a pair of large latex gloves. After slipping them onto each of his thick hands, his fingers returned to the case and found a specific syringe. He popped the yellow plastic cap off carefully placing the small piece back into the case before reaching for the I.V. tubing attached to June Williams.

Satisfied with himself that the entire dose was rapidly rushing through the sickly body, he grabbed his black case, turned and walked back to the female meta, Esther. She was still lying on the ground where he left her. He strategically placed her fingers around the syringe he just used on the girl being sure her prints would be found all over it, including the thumbprint on the plunger itself. He then dropped it on the floor beside her.

He grabbed her arm and unbuttoned the cuff of her sleeve. With absolute irreverence, Oldham yanked her sleeve above her elbow. He slapped her arm looking for a healthy vein. Finding one, he retrieved a second syringe from his case. This one had a red cap he deftly removed. Finding the vein he was looking for, he slipped the needle into place injecting the woman with the contents of the syringe. He repeated the process of putting this syringe into her hand, making it look as though she dosed herself.

The final touch, he grabbed the folded, typed note from the black case. He left it peeking out of Esther’s breast pocket; sure it would be found and read by the right person.

Oldham grabbed his black case and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Retracing his steps, he double-checked that he didn’t touch anything that could have collected his fingerprints. His final chore was to clean off the doorknob to the room itself. All this, he accomplished inside three minutes, just as he planned.

Everything went perfectly
, he thought happily to himself, as he removed his gloves and slipped them into his pocket before he reached the first floor. He was smiling and whistling an unrecognizable tune as he exited the hospital and walked through the courtyard with the kind of bounce in his step that could have only been achieved by a well-planned and executed assignment.

44 The “Gift” That Keeps Giving

“
Mom?”

“
Yes, honey. I’m here.”

“
Where are you?”

“
I’m safe, Alik. I’m at Paulie’s still.”

“
What?”

“
Alik, listen to me. There’s been a development I need to talk to you about.”

“
A ‘development?’ Are you crazy? Farrow is probably outside the house right now just waiting for you to try to get to your car!”

“
That’s exactly why I’m not leaving the house, Alik.”

“
Mom,…”

“
You listen to me, Alik Winter. You’d better calm down because I need you clear-headed. Meg needs you clear-headed!”

Alik’s face was beet-red and that vein in his forehead was bulging, again. Creed and Evan watched Alik and listened to his one-sided conversation. It was clear things weren’t going as planned.

“
What could possibly be so important that you are risking your life?”

“
You, Alik. You and Evan and Meggie.”

Feeling a flash of shame, Alik looked down at his feet and listened.