Bloodletting (33 page)

There was a thud of the deadbolt disengaging, the click of the turning handle.

"The protein coat would remain intact, even directly exposed to air, for several minutes," Kajika said. "They would just need to keep it packaged for under seventy-two hours. Maybe even more. That's plenty of time to distribute it. My God."

Ellie glanced to her left as Locke opened the door. He looked back over his shoulder to check on them one final time before exiting. A shadow passed across the open doorway ahead of him. Locke raised his sidearm, but he was too slow. She heard a snap and then a sizzle of current that sounded like high-tension wires. Locke stiffened. His whole body twitched and she saw faint ribbons of smoke rise over his shoulder a moment before she smelled something burning. He tried to say something, but only ropes of saliva slipped from his mouth.

Ellie jerked on Kajika's hand, pulling him off the bed. She was already running toward the adjoining room when she heard Locke's body hit the ground. She blew through the doorway into the other room and felt a moment of indecision. The bathroom door was closer than the front. They could barricade themselves inside and hope someone had heard the commotion, but if no one had, the thin door and pathetic lock wouldn't hold for long. She gambled and led Kajika straight for the front door, snapping the deadbolt and yanking the handle in one motion. She saw the man a heartbeat before she darted out. A black hooded sweatshirt cast shadows over his eyes, leaving only his grin and stubbled chin exposed. Even from so little, she recognized him immediately. She threw her body against the door to close it, but the man had already crossed the threshold. Kajika shouldered the door beside her. The man on the other side was too strong and he had leverage. His right arm was through the doorway. Ellie felt a sharp tug on her hair and cried out. She jerked her head away until she freed it.

"We can't hold him out!" Kajika said.

The door bucked against them and Ellie could see the man was nearly through. His entire right leg and shoulder were in the room. It wouldn't be long before the rest of him followed.

"Make a run for the bathroom and scream as loud as you can," Kajika said. "See if you can squeeze through the window."

"We're three stories up," she sobbed.

"Just go!"

Ellie saw the strain on his face. They were fighting a losing battle. Much as she hated to abandon him, it might be the only chance for both of them.

She turned from the door and ran.

There was a crashing sound behind her as the door exploded inward, the thud of Kajika slamming into the wall behind.

Ellie focused on the bathroom and the ten feet separating them.

She opened her mouth to scream and felt twin serpents strike her back, the fangs looping under her skin. Her legs locked, but her momentum carried her forward. The bathroom swung upward and out of sight, replaced by the beige carpet a split-second before her head hit the ground. Vision black, marred by white sparkles at the periphery, she tried to crawl, but her body was unresponsive. She felt like she was on fire, could smell something burning. Voltage crackled from the wires attached to her back, her prone form snapping in whip fashion.

There was another thud from behind her. Kajika shouted something, but his words were abruptly silenced by a sharp
crack
.

The electricity coursing through her finally abated. She still twitched and smoldered. She tried to scream, tried to grab hold of the carpet to pull herself forward. Her arms barely moved and her vision returned as only a blur of colors. She thought she saw Locke crawling toward her through the doorway to her right, saw him struggling to hold his gun out in front of him.

An astringent scent cut through the smell of smoke.

A pair of legs blocked her view of Locke, who made a muffled grunting sound before collapsing to the floor.

Feeling slowly returned to her extremities and she pushed herself up on trembling arms, zeroing in on the bathroom.

She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't turn.

All she could do was struggle forward, knowing her only hope was to lock herself inside and pray someone had heard the ruckus.

The chemical smell returned full force, reminiscent of ether, bringing tears to her eyes. A hand closed over her mouth and nose, and she tasted the wet fabric, felt the sting of the vapors in her nostrils. She knew not to breathe, but in her panic, she was already hyperventilating.

"Shh," a voice whispered from behind her. "It will all be over soon."

Darkness rose from somewhere inside her, dragging her down into its cold black depths.

VI

Portland, Oregon

The silence that followed was more than Carver could bear. Surely they'd heard him. Wolfe and Hawthorne looked at each other, and then back at the road. Carver was about to demand an answer when Hawthorne finally spoke.

"We know nothing about him beyond the murders."

"I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter what you believe. These people just pop up out of nowhere. No one knew a thing about Ross until the campers went missing and we tracked him to his basement. You can imagine my surprise when I saw his face. Prior to that, best we can tell, he didn't even exist. No past of any kind. Nothing. All of a sudden he just appeared. Same with Covington. Rent paid in cash, suitcases filled with it in a bedroom closet. We don't know where they got the money and weren't able to trace it by the serial numbers. The only way we knew about your brother was because of a random speed trap, one of those automated units that takes pictures of the speeders from the side of the road. The plates matched a Dodge Intrepid reported missing from long-term parking at DIA. It was later found in a cornfield outside Fort Morgan, Colorado, abandoned for several days by the time it was found. There were several hairs in the trunk, strands belonging to the as-of-then unidentified Jasmine Rivers. As soon as you discovered her body, we made the connection and tracked down the photograph."

"What happened to the car? The evidence?"

"Evidence? There were fingerprints, but none we could trace. No DNA. Nothing but a picture. A picture that for all intents and purposes showed you, Special Agent Carver, driving the stolen vehicle used to abduct a dead little girl. What do you think would have happened if anyone saw the picture?"

Carver was silent. He knew exactly what would have happened.

"The picture no longer exists, and neither does the car. I understand the owner was so pleased with the settlement that he'd never even think of mentioning it again."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

It was Wolfe who answered.

"This isn't the kind of thing you can just accept at someone's word. You have to do the legwork, learn for yourself. That's just the way it is, the way it was for all of us. What would you have said yesterday morning if one of us came to you out of the blue and said it was your genetically-altered twin who was responsible for the killings?"

Carver nodded. He would have told them in no uncertain terms that they were out of their minds and never would have considered flying down to Arizona.

"How did you know the murders down there were related?" Carver asked.

"We didn't at first, not for sure anyway, until Ellie's passport was stamped in Mexico City and we determined her ultimate destination. And it looked as though she was in a big hurry to get there."

"We had also lost track of Schwartz for more than two months when he moved to Colorado," Hawthorne said. "They did a remarkable job of concealing his whereabouts until he turned up in your house. Within hours we were able to ascertain his address and that he had taken overnight delivery of several packages, two of which were sent via DHL Worldwide Express from Phoenix. We never found any trace of the blood, but the same silver canisters we found in the bedroom of that old house in the valley were tucked away in his closet. They could only have been used to ship biological samples."

"The little ranch with the smokehouse was purchased with cash," Wolfe said. "The name on the title is Winn Darby. There's no record of him anywhere at all prior to the purchase in January 2001, and nothing at all afterwards either."

"So someone out there is financing them," Carver said. "Setting them up with money and new lives to see what they're going to do."

"Or maybe setting them up with new lives every so often when they start getting themselves into trouble," Hawthorne said. "Four years before we tracked down Ross, three families vanished from KOA Campgrounds in West Virginia over a six month span. None of them were ever found."

"Wait. If you didn't know about this Winn Darby, why did you say you've been looking for him for so long? Why did you really think you needed me to find him?"

"The DGS has been looking for him since the night he was abducted in utero. Your father spent every waking minute trying to locate him, using every resource available to him as the Deputy Director of the FBI. And we never so much as caught a whiff of him until you found the Rivers girl's body. For whatever reason, he's chosen to play this game with you. He's revealed himself to you on two separate occasions--"

"The messages on the mirrors."

"--and we suspect he will do so again. He wants you to know that he's responsible for all of the murders. We would never have come this close to him were it not for your involvement."

"So what are we supposed to do now?"

"We play this thing out and see what comes," Hawthorne said. "I don't imagine it will be very long before he shows his face again, do you?"

Carver was certain that was the case. Ever since finding what little remained of Jasmine in that awful cellar, he had felt a definite sense of escalation, as though they were speeding toward some violent end. He only hoped that when the time came they would prevail. Their enemy had been preparing for this moment for a lifetime, planning every minute detail, and they were only now beginning to reveal the true plot. There was still so much they didn't know about the virus and its intended route of exposure. They were outmatched, outmaneuvered every step of the way. Carver wondered if they truly stood a chance, but the stakes were so high they couldn't afford to fail. Countless innocent lives were in their hands.

Wolfe slowed the car as the corporate offices of Dreck-Windham came into view. The picture online hadn't done the massive structure justice. It was a monolithic creation designed to emanate power. Six stories of black glass and gray brick towered over the surrounding landscape. Save a large parking lot fifty yards back from the road, the acreage was a stunning showcase of greens from the mature deciduous and pine trees to the immaculate juniper shrubs and rosebushes. There was a manmade lake to the north of the building complete with a fountain programmed to put on a choreographed show of shooting water spotlighted in red, blue, and gold.

They turned into the drive leading toward the building and paused only long enough for Wolfe to flash his badge at the guard standing outside the gate. Carver watched the uniformed man head back into the shack and grab the phone as they pulled into the lot.

"If they didn't know we were coming before," Carver said, "they do now."

Wolfe parked at the front in one of the four spaces reserved for visitors, the government vehicle a sore thumb amidst the seemingly staged display of luxury sedans and SUVs. They climbed out and headed up the walk toward the front doors. Carver looked up at the building rising above him and had the distinct impression that it had somehow been sharpened.

The lobby was completely enclosed by glass, right down to the slanted roof three stories above them. The reception desk was straight ahead. To either side, plush chairs encircled polished tables to form impromptu meeting areas. The massive atrium was essentially a large greenhouse, from the potted ferns to the palm trees that nearly reached the smoked panes above. Twin waterfalls flowed straight down the granite walls to either side of reception. The lights directed upward from below turned the water different colors in time with the faint classical background music.

Two women were stationed at the long marble desk, both young and attractive, wearing matching skirt suits cut low in the front to accentuate the reasons they were hired.

"Welcome to Dreck-Windham Pharmaceuticals," a blonde with a flawless complexion and rich red lips that shimmered when she spoke said. Her smile was practiced and comfortable, yet her unease showed in her eyes. "How may I help you?"

"We're here to see Avram Dreck," Hawthorne said.

"Is
Doctor
Dreck expecting you?" She enunciated doctor for their benefit.

"I have a hunch he is."

"Whom may I say wishes to see him?"

Hawthorne flashed his badge and the woman's smile faltered, if only momentarily. She picked up one of the phones and dialed, turning away from them in the process. Carver noticed she glanced back and to the right to an open doorway a moment before a pair of security guards emerged, hands poised near their hip holsters like old western gunslingers. Carver couldn't help but wonder if they had ever used them before. He shook his head at them and they crossed their arms over their chests.

"It appears as though Dr. Dreck is out of his office," she said after a moment. "I would be happy to schedule an appointment at his earliest convenience, if you would like."

She smiled as she typed on the keyboard, presumably accessing said schedule.

"I don't believe that will be necessary," Carver said. "I think we'll just head up there ourselves."

"As I said, Dr. Dreck isn't available at the moment. I would be more than happy--"

"To schedule an appointment. I know. But we're going to go upstairs now anyway."

Carver smiled right back at her and headed for the bank of elevators at the right side of the lobby. He pressed the button and waited. Hawthorne and Wolfe joined him just before there was a chime and the reflective doors opened. They stepped inside and pressed the button for the top floor. Before the doors could close again, the two security guards slipped inside.