Authors: Duane Swierczynski,Anthony E. Zuiker
Dark Revelations (19 page)
Hans Roeding loaded his weapons while Deckland O’Brian used his tablet computer to watch
The Jane Talbot Show
Webcast at the same time he hacked into their billing servers. No matter how supposedly “secret” the remote studio location, if the producers of
The Jane Talbot Show
used it, there had to be a bill for it somewhere. There were only a few places accountants could hide a certain line item, and fairly predictable ways for them to disguise it. O’Brian had seen it all before.
The Jane Talbot Show
Webcast at the same time he hacked into their billing servers. No matter how supposedly “secret” the remote studio location, if the producers of
The Jane Talbot Show
used it, there had to be a bill for it somewhere. There were only a few places accountants could hide a certain line item, and fairly predictable ways for them to disguise it. O’Brian had seen it all before.
“Got anything?” Roeding asked.
“Patience, my steroid-addled friend, patience . . .”
“Give me direction at least.”
“Straight for now. Until I tell you to turn, big guy.”
O’Brian tried to keep a playful exterior, but inside he was seething. This was not the way Global Alliance was supposed to work. Blair should have stuck to his guns and at least sent Natasha along—a third team member would have made a huge difference on the ground. A fourth would have been brilliant, too, but so far Dark was a crushing disappointment. All this talk from Blair about how the American manhunter would complete the team and take it to the next level. Platitudes and shite, that’s what it was. O’Brian would rather shoulder an extra part of the burden than have to deal with that prima donna.
On-screen, O’Brian’s search yielded three remote studios scattered throughout Johannesburg. He ruled two of them out for being too large; his gut told him Labyrinth would want to control all aspects of the production. Someplace small.
“Okay, Hans. Turn right.”
“Right where?”
“Right
here
, right fucking
now
!” O’Brian yelled. His partner made a hairpin turn. O’Brian tightened his grip on the tablet. He saw how many miles were between them and the studio. A ridiculous number of miles. But he didn’t want to depress Hans. Not yet, anyway . . .
here
, right fucking
now
!” O’Brian yelled. His partner made a hairpin turn. O’Brian tightened his grip on the tablet. He saw how many miles were between them and the studio. A ridiculous number of miles. But he didn’t want to depress Hans. Not yet, anyway . . .
But it would be
so good
to be the team that apprehended Labyrinth. Just the two of them.
so good
to be the team that apprehended Labyrinth. Just the two of them.
chapter 33
O
’Brian and Roeding made it to the station while Labyrinth was still on the air.
’Brian and Roeding made it to the station while Labyrinth was still on the air.
They didn’t go ask permission or liaise with local police or any of that nonsense. Roeding smashed in the front door of the studio with a boot, submachine gun in hand; O’Brian covered him. The staffers at this tiny remote studio—little more than three rooms, no bigger than a fast food restaurant—looked pale and terrified. O’Brian knew that questioning the staff would result in unreliable information. They’d be either too nervous to be of any real help, or they’d lie, thinking they were protecting the life of their boss. So as Roeding had raced that last mile through the streets of Johannesburg, O’Brian found a schematic of the building, and based on old production notes, knew which studio would contain Jane Talbot, and which would contain Labyrinth.
Plan?
There was no plan, other than the Global Alliance standard operating procedure in these kinds of high-tension, no-time-left-on-the-clock situations:
Stop the maniac.
Roeding would pounce on Labyrinth and incapacitate him before he had the chance to detonate any bomb.
O’Brian would forcibly remove Jane Talbot from the studio as quickly as possible, in case Roeding was a few seconds too late.
O’Brian also knew they’d need at least two seconds to blind Labyrinth right before the strike. With a press of a button on his cell, he jammed the signal, both externally and internally, with a microwave blast.
Yes,
O’Brian noted to himself drily,
they have an app for that.
Yes,
O’Brian noted to himself drily,
they have an app for that.
Then he smashed through the studio door.
Inside the main studio was Jane Talbot, wet hot tears streaking down her cheeks and looking like she’d just been involved in a major collision on the highway. She fought O’Brian, too, God love her, clutching the edges of her chair in a death grip. O’Brian had no choice but to punch a nerve bundle in her upper chest, numbing both arms so that he could pry her loose. They stumbled backward into the hallway, Talbot screaming the whole time. O’Brian dragged her toward the exit.
By that time, Roeding had subdued Labyrinth.
The man looked strangely normal. Handsome, except for all of the blood and the contusions on his face.
“They have him,” Natasha said, “as of five minutes ago. He was captured at a small television studio in Johannesburg. Roeding and O’Brian made the arrest, and the Johannesburg police arrived shortly after. They’re bringing him to another location for questioning.”
Dark listened to her silently.
“Did you hear me?” Natasha said. “It’s over. We can go back now to get properly reamed out.”
“No. This is not over.”
“What do you mean, not over?”
“I think we should keep going.”
“Why?”
Dark looked at her, thinking of Riggins. If it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t right. How many times had he said that? While Dark preferred to ponder a case in a dim, cold, quiet room, Riggins had been all about fire in the blood, breaking down doors, pushing further and further.
“My gut,” Dark said.
chapter 34
A
s it turned out, there had been no bomb under Jane Talbot’s chair in the studio. Labyrinth, apparently, had been bluffing.
s it turned out, there had been no bomb under Jane Talbot’s chair in the studio. Labyrinth, apparently, had been bluffing.
Still, damage far worse than any bomb had been done. In the frenzied hours that followed, reporters began to pick apart the evidence that Labyrinth had posted online in a thousand different places. Every few minutes a new piece of evidence would surface, spread by curated news orgs and social network posts—fodder for endless discussion and snide comments and sarcasm. Labyrinth’s on-air allegations were just the beginning. Jane Talbot was finished, and immediately went into seclusion while her lawyers sprung into action. Even though Talbot’s show only syndicated in South Africa, the UK, Australia, New Zealand, and a handful of European stations, the worldwide impact was huge. If you hadn’t heard of Jane Talbot before, you’d certainly heard of her now.
She was worse than infamous.
She was
Internet-infamous
.
Internet-infamous
.
Unbelievable! Never heard of Jane Talbot until now, but . . . what a scumbag.3 minutes agoAnyone else notice that he promised not to kill her . . . and he didn’t?2 minutes agoHe should have killed her. I would have enjoyed watching that.2 minutes agoI really thought it was going there, but didn’t. Maybe Lab has a heart?1 minute agoShe’s worse than dead—she’s been exposed as a phony. Help me expose others.1 minute ago
Labyrinth himself was brought to Johannesburg Metropolitan Police Department HQ by a military elite response unit and a bomb squad detail. The lessons of Los Angeles would not be forgotten. The mass murderer couldn’t be trusted, and might have packed his own body with the same explosives that had been packed inside the homeless man in Los Angeles. Instead of the usual cells, Labyrinth was brought to an empty police vehicle bay—reinforced concrete walls, no windows, and a good distance away from any civilian structure. Doctors, paired with bomb squad techs, stripped Labyrinth naked and gave him a full exam, from blood work to MRIs, to detect anything that could be considered explosive.
There was nothing.
Labyrinth said nothing the entire time.
Despite being verbose in the studio, the man refused to speak or ask for legal representation. Instead he gestured for a writing instrument. When he was supplied with a dull pencil, he wrote three words, block-style, on a piece of legal paper:
I WANT BLAIR
No one knew who he was talking about—except the head of the JMPD, who had been working with Global Alliance since the delivery of the South African package. The man wanted to speak to Damien Blair, in person.
After they landed at JFK, Natasha relayed the news to Dark.
“Blair’s going to Johannesburg to interview the suspect. He wants the complete team together as soon as possible. We’re to fly down there immediately—tickets are waiting for us at the gate. All is forgiven if we leave now.”
“Why the hurry?” Dark said. “Blair’s convinced he has his man. What else can we possibly do?”
“Blair doesn’t know if this is the real Labyrinth or not—either way, he may not be working alone. Other threats may already be in the works, and squeezing him is our only chance.”
“Good luck,” Dark said. “I’m staying here. Because there’s definitely another package coming to New York City, if it’s not here already.”
Natasha squinted, as if trying to read Dark’s mind. “What makes you so sure?”
“Did you hear what ‘Labyrinth’ said on the Talbot show?
Education shouldn’t be a business.
Right there, he’s telling us where he’s going to strike next. The heart of the business community.”
Education shouldn’t be a business.
Right there, he’s telling us where he’s going to strike next. The heart of the business community.”
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