Headhunters (19 page)

“These things happen,” Kendrick replied, eyes pleading.
“She’s just upset. You can understand that, can’t you?”

If I had doubted whether or not Kendrick had lost his mind,
it was confirmed to me now. He was pushing his empire out in front of him. His
legacy was in motion in his own mind. All he needed was for everyone to agree
to his grand scheme and I seemed to be the only one who didn’t see the wisdom
of his ways.

I felt hands on my neck then and fought back the urge to
throw them off, to jump up and start swinging, but I could not forget my
purpose here. The hands were warm and small and fine boned. It was Isabelle.

I could smell her perfume, jasmine, before I saw her or felt
the brush of her black hair on my cheek. I felt the heat of her kiss where
she’d hit me.

“Sorry about that,” she purred. “I overreacted. Forgive me?”

I looked at Kendrick and saw him smile. It was a wolfish
smile of a man who was seeing his dream play together just the way that he’d
intended.

I looked up at Isabelle and smiled.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I said. “We all care for your
dad.”

She hugged me and I thought I was going to be sick. She
stepped away just as my earpiece came to life.

“Simon?” It was Billy.  “We’re breaching the firewall now.
We should be able to shut down external security in your building shortly.”

I wanted to shout, to cheer on my team, but I was seated in
a proverbial den of lions and dared not. But what I saw next concerned me a
great deal.

Agent Brock put his hand to the side of his head and I
realized that he had an earpiece as well. I watched him converse with someone
briefly, then he waved at Agent Vaughn and the two of them quickly walked out
of the room.

I prayed that the two agents were called away to deal with
Burr’s security team and not the firewall breach. I needed to find out.

“Randall,” I said. “When is Burr going to be here?”

Kendrick checked his watch.

“Anytime now,” he replied.

We sat waiting and I tried to plan my next move. I had very
few options and a lot more threats than I was comfortable with. From where I
sat, I could see the door to the hallway, the wet bar in the office and the
bathroom. My options were not good. I’d have to change the hand I’d been dealt.

I stood and walked for the hallway door.

“Where are you going, son?” Kendrick asked.

“I don’t like being caught sitting on my haunches,” I said.
“Let’s go meet this guy when he gets off the elevator.”

Kendrick made to say something, but I was already to the
door. The agent there opened it for me and so I went from prisoner to operative
once more. I was independent within Blackthorn, back in the field on an
operation.

Isabelle followed me out to the hallway and Kendrick was
behind her. I saw neither Brock nor Vaughn and that concerned me. If they
weren’t here, where had they gone? They were the only two agents as far as I
knew who were aware of what I was capable of doing.

“Sir, Mr. Burr is on his way up,” I heard a radio crackle
beside me.

Kendrick grabbed the radio and thanked the man. We stood in
front of the twin elevator doors, waiting for the arrival of Mitchell Burr. I
could feel my pulse pounding in my temples, the heat rising from my gut in fear
and anger and anticipation.

I watched the numbers rise as the elevator car ascended to
the 13th floor.

“Simon, we’ve got a problem…” It was Billy again over my
earpiece. “We can kill the security system for Ron and Geoff, but the security
system is rigged to the lights. If the lights go out, you’ve got 15 seconds of
blackout until the backup lights come on.”

“Perfect…” I said under my breath.

“Pardon me?” Isabelle asked from beside me. I hadn’t seen
her there.

“I said you look perfect,” I whispered with mock affection.
She smiled and blushed a little.

I put my hands in my pockets, but besides looking casual, I
was getting ready for the attack. In the center of my money clip in my right
pocket, I kept my credit cards. And in the center of the stack of cards, I kept
a Toollogic Credit Card Companion. It’s slightly thicker than a credit card but
contains a number of handy little tools, not the least of which is a two-inch
punch dagger. I managed to free the flat piece of plastic with one hand, then
found the blade and eased that out inside my pocket, using only my fingertips.
At last, I held the blade in my fist, the two-inch blade protruding between my
index and middle finger.

“Simon, we’ve got thirty seconds to lights out,” Billy
warned.

However this went down, the timing was critical and would be
close. If I messed up, Isabelle would shoot me in the back.

The elevator doors opened and Mitchell Burr walked out. His
head was shaved down close to the scalp. His bull neck started at his jaw line
and seemed to spread laterally out to his shoulders. Burr wore a black t-shirt
and his muscular arms were covered in tattoos. On either side of him, were two
bodyguards, but Burr still liked to be his own man, lead the way. It was fine
with me.

Kendrick stepped forward.

“Mr. Burr, I’m Randall Kendrick and this is my associate
Simon Parks,” Burr’s eyes flicked from Kendrick to me. He decided we were okay
and extended his hand for Kendrick to shake. His left hand. Kendrick never
missed a beat. He shifted and shook lefty.

“Simon, we’re going black in five seconds,” Billy reported
in my ear.

Burr turned toward me and extended his left hand. I felt my
left hand move on instinct and reach to grasp his hand.

“Four seconds…” Billy counted down.

I looked Burr in the eyes, knowing this was the man that I’d
been focused on when I’d lost control of my life. When Claire had killed
herself because of me.

“Three…”

I shook Burr’s hand and tried to say something clever but
all that came out was a mumble.

“Two…”

“What did you say?” Burr asked, leaning closer.

“One…”

“I said you’re fucking dead,” I replied.

The lights went out and the room pitched into utter
blackness. I could feel everyone stand still for a moment in shock. Everyone
but me.

I jerked the blade out of my pocket and punched Burr in the
throat with it, aiming for the artery in the side of his neck. He never
expected the attack, his brain still processing the words I’d said a second
before when I sunk the blade in to the hilt. Burr’s body jerked backward and
his arms flew up and knocked my hand away, sending the blade flying. Blood
spurted from his neck and I could feel the sticky wetness spray onto my hand,
my sleeve.

I pushed Burr to the left and felt him fall to the floor
without resistance. I lowered my head and ran for where his guard had been to
his right. I drove my shoulder into his sternum and heard the air explode from
his lungs. With a jolt, I ran him into the door frame of the elevator car. The
guard grunted in pain and I let him fall.

The darkness still surrounded us, and I had been counting in
my head and figured the emergency lights should come on in less than ten
seconds. I was oriented enough in the dark to know where the back of the
elevator car was and ran to it, hands out in front of me. My hands slapped the
back wall and I jumped up onto the hand rail and felt for the ceiling access
panel. I found it at last and could hear the shouts of confusion behind me.

The panel pushed upward and I boosted myself up and through
the opening just as the emergency backup lights came on. I saw that the cables
for the second elevator car were within reach and I jumped for them. The cable
bit into my hand with a greasy pain, but the feeling of being out, of being
free made it worth whatever sweet agony I had to endure.

And just as I began to slide down the cable, I could hear
Randall Kendrick screaming from the 13th floor.

“It’s Simon Parks! He’s killed Mitchell Burr! He’s somewhere
in the building! Hunt him down and bring me his head!"

Chapter Eighteen

I was running. And all the world was
hunting me.

“Ron! Come in, Ron!” I growled into the microphone that was
hidden in my jacket. I prayed that it still worked as I slid down the cables of
the elevator car. The woven wires of the cable bit and snagged at the flesh of
my hands. I tried to brake my descent by jamming the soles of my shoes together
to pinch the wires I clung to with desperation. I slowed but only minimally and
the sound of wires on leather gave a harsh hiss. I could feel the heat of the
friction through the shoe’s uppers and prayed for a reprieve. I looked down
into the darkness of the elevator shaft and saw none. In truth, saw nothing.

“Ron! Geoff! Do you copy?” I felt a scream rising in my
throat and as I fell down the shaft, and my stomach rose up, I had to fight
back the bile that threatened to overtake the scream. In one helpless, hopeless
moment, I wondered if the radio signal was lost in the cavernous elevator shaft.
If that were the case, I’d never find those two and I’d be on my own. It was
one thing to rage against the world that chased you. It was something else all
together to do it alone.

A moment before my grip came loose and I gave up hope of
surviving, I heard an electronic crackle over my earpiece.

“—come in! This is Ron! Simon, are you there?” It was Ron,
trying to reach me.

“I’m here!” I yelled. My grip was slipping. I wasn’t slowing
anymore. I was falling faster now. I tried to say something to Ron, to let him
know, but my grip broke and my shoes slipped and I fell. My shoulder bounced
off the cable and I felt myself turn and for one clear moment, wondered how far
it would be to the bottom.

My feet hit the elevator car below me with a resounding bang
that reverberated through my ears, rang through the shaft and seemed to return
to assault me again in echoes. I opened my eyes and saw only blackness. My legs
had buckled at the impact and I collapsed onto the top of the car. I was
convinced that I should hurt worse than I did. I contemplated the possibility
that I hadn’t fallen as far as I’d thought. Perhaps it had only seemed further.
I managed to roll onto my back. I could work my hands and my arms. I inhaled
deeply and didn’t feel the stabbing pain of a broken rib. That was something.

I tried to flex my feet and found that I could, but the
ankle I’d hurt earlier in the parking garage was screaming for attention again
and had been joined by an ache in my knee. I managed to pull myself up into a
sitting position.

The elevator wasn’t moving. That was something.

“Simon?” Ron asked. “Simon? Are you there?”

“I am,” I grunted finally.

“Are you alright?”

I thought a moment. Tried to find an answer.

“I think so,” was the best I could offer. “Where are you?”

“We’ve breached the building and we’re on the fifth floor,”
Ron replied.

I subtracted four from the number Ron had mentioned. It was
the code we’d worked out before beginning the operation, in case our radio
signals were intercepted.

“I’ll be right there,” I managed and signed off.

I found the shape of the ceiling hatch for the elevator car
and lifted, but my fingers lost their purchase. I tried again, digging my
fingers deeper under the edge of the hatch. I heaved and the hatch opened with
a grind of metal. I squinted into the light of the car below. Empty.

I lowered myself down, dangled a moment, then let go, the
strength in my arms gone. I fell to the floor and my legs crumpled under me and
I slumped to the floor like a bag of potatoes. I wanted so badly to just lie
there, not move. Just rest, but that wasn’t an option that day. I grabbed the
railing and stood. I looked at the control panel and considered taking the car
down for a moment, before deciding against it.

They would see, my brain screamed at me through the fog of
pain. They would see the elevator car move and then they would come…

I opened the door and peered out into the hallway. I
expected a bullet, but received… nothing. No one waited to ambush me. They
would come, I was sure. But now was the time for me to move and so I did.

I hobbled to the staircase, opened the door and listened. No
footsteps fell. No voices from up above. They did not know where I had gotten
off, where I’d managed to escape and so they had no option but to search for me
floor by floor. It might just give me enough time to slip away.

I limped down the staircase, leaning heavily against it,
praying that it would keep me upright long enough that I wouldn’t slip and fall
and brain myself. I went down then, floor by floor, the monotony of the
switchback staircase making me lose count. Finally I came to the first floor
and edged the door open. Still no ambush.

“I’m here…” I whispered.

“Thirty yards to the south,” Ron replied. It would have done
us irreparable harm if he’d said that he and Geoff were hunkered down behind a
planter, but that’s where I found them none the less.

“You look like hell,” Geoff said cheerily as I stumbled
over.

I gave him the finger before sitting down hard beside him.
He only laughed it off and handed me a radio headset. We had planned to use
them to keep in touch during this phase of the project. Each of us would carry
our own secure radio and that way we wouldn’t be broadcasting cell phone
conversations over the open airways. I put mine on and keyed the transmit
button.

“Jess, are you there?” I managed. I wanted to cry out for
her, plead for her to answer, but I managed to control my voice.

The radio squawked and I heard static and then nothing.

“I’m here,” I heard Jessica’s voice finally, but she sounded
remote, removed from reality. A world apart. I wanted to be with her then. To
see her and hold her. But it wasn’t to be. Not just then.

“They killed him,” I said finally. “They killed Max…”

Ron and Geoff looked up from their preparations. They looked
at me, then each other.

“Who did it?” she finally asked.

“Isabelle… Kendrick had Isabelle do it… she’s his…” My mouth
was dry and I struggled to speak the words. “She’s his daughter.”

Silence rode the airwaves. After a long moment, she
returned.

“Are you okay?” she asked. This sounded more like her. I
knew Jessica was shielding herself during this operation, prepared for the
worst.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “How’s the hack coming?”

Nan’s voice cut in suddenly.

“It’s a tough nut to crack,” she said. “The firewall was a
royal bitch, but we’re past that and downloading the files now.”

“Will we be able to tag the data and show where it came
from?” I asked.

“Not a problem,” Nan replied. “The download should be done
in about… eight minutes give or take.”

“We’ve got a problem.” This was Billy now cutting in.

“What is it?” I asked.

“We’ve grown a tail,” he said. I could hear the stress in
his voice.

“What’s it look like?” I asked.

“Black sedan, government plates, two agents,” Billy
reported. “They’re a few cars back, but they’re there.”

Brock and Vaughn… so that’s where they’d gotten off to…

“Keep going,” I said. “The op is still on. Finish the hack
and stay in the open. Jess, don’t get stuck in traffic. Whatever you do, don’t
get boxed in. Stay in the public spaces where you can be seen. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, seeming anything but okay.

“We’ll finish the incursion here and regroup as soon as
possible,” I said.

“Simon…” Jess broke in.

“Yes?” “Be safe…” she said.

“Of course,” I replied.

The transmission ended and I looked up at Ron and Geoff.

“What’s the plan, guvner?” Geoff asked.

“Give me that pistol,” I said. “We’ve got work to do…”

***

I was out of my element. I’ve made
my living on the phone, talking to people. Face to face negotiations, I
understand. Tactical assaults were slightly beyond my scope of expertise.

There is an expression, however, about sinking or swimming.
If I sank, we would all die. Every one of us. Either in this building or hunted
down like fugitives afterwards. I planned to swim, or at the very least, not go
without kicking and screaming.

The problem with making an enemy like Randall Kendrick is
the same problem that a hunter has when he goes after big game like a bear. If
you don’t kill the animal, it will go mad and kill you and most likely those
around you as well.

Randall Kendrick was sick and the task had fallen to me to
put him down, friend or no friend. I didn’t relish it. I didn’t like it, let
alone have a taste for it. In truth, just before I saw him that day, I was
convinced that I couldn’t… perhaps, wouldn’t do it. Now, I saw no alternative.
The game was afoot.

I was thankful to have Ron and Geoff with me. Ron knew these
kinds of operations intimately. He was our point man. Geoff, despite his less
than honorable history, knew how to protect people. I was in good hands with
him. With them both.

We all wore tactical communications radios now. Geoff and
Ron had breached the building through a loading dock  and set up in the atrium
where I’d found them.

Now, we stood together, ready for our mission. I wore a
Kevlar vest and was armed with a Cornershot equipped with a Glock 9mm pistol. I
also had a backup Glock in a shoulder holster. Ron and Geoff were similarly
equipped.

Ron led the way and we moved together, the three of us, in a
low crouch. I stayed between the two men. Geoff watched our back, walking
backwards, sweeping the muzzle of his CS rifle back and forth, searching for
intruders.

We approached the stairs and paused before opening the door.
Ron used hand signals to communicate with Geoff and while I was lost, I guessed
that he was planning how to enter through the door. Before I could ponder any
further on it, Ron put his shoulder to the door and entered. He covered the
stairwell with his rifle, then moved smoothly to his right, looking further up
the stairs, exploring the angles, searching out anyone who might be hiding.
When he saw no one, he motioned us in.

I moved ahead, careful not to point my CS at my teammates.
Geoff followed behind. Once we were all in the stairwell, Ron raised his hand,
fingers together and motioned that we were going to move forward. He lead the
way, CS always searching. I moved quietly, more intent on not making noise. My
team mates moved in complete silence and the last thing I wanted was to stumble
or trip and give away our position. Geoff swept the lower staircase and
backtracked behind us.

We continued on that way until we reached the tenth floor.
Ron clenched his fist at shoulder height, and I took that to mean that we
should hold our position, to stop where we were. I did and Ron raised his hand
to his throat mike and transmitted.

“Nan, come in…” he said, his voice hardly a whisper.

“I’m here, big boy,” Nan shot back. “Howzit?”

“I need a 20 on the data center,” Ron said.

“A twenty…?” Nan repeated. “Oh… one sec… tenth floor, room
10E.”

“Roger…” Ron breathed and released the transmit button.

Ron edged the door open two inches, then held it there with
his foot. He aimed the CS out the door and flipped open the small LCD display
screen. The image it broadcast was transmitted from a camera under the muzzle
of the gun. Ron could see out the door easily. He then took the fore-end of the
CS rifle and turned it ninety degrees to the left. It looked unworldly… like
some prop from a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. In truth, it would let us scope out
the areas ahead of us without drawing gunfire. Ron opened the door a bit further
and angled the CS muzzle out.

He turned it slowly and I saw from his monitor that there
was no one in the hall to the left. The display gave me an odd detached feeling
of somehow working remotely, but I knew that imminent danger awaited us. There
was no room for error. Ron repeated the operation to the right and the hall
appeared to be clear.

Ron stood and we lined up behind him. I’d learned from these
two men in the short time that I’d been with them that when they “stacked on a
door” like this as they called it, the last man in line would squeeze the
shoulder of the man in front of him to let him know he was ready. This process
continued man to man to the front of the line until the leader felt his
shoulder squeezed and then knew every man behind him was ready. It made sense
to me and we did that now. Geoff squeezed my shoulder, I squeezed Ron’s and a
moment later, we crept into the hallway with guns up.

It didn’t take us long to find the room. That wasn’t the
problem. The problem was that the door was locked. Ron and Geoff exchanged
positions and Geoff set to work on picking the lock in the office. I knew how
to pick a lock. Had in fact, needed to do so once on an apartment in New Jersey
years before, but Geoff was certainly more practiced than I. His fingers coaxed
the lock into doing his bidding and I could hear the muffled clicking of the
tumblers being pushed into place. At last he turned the knob and the door swung
open.

Geoff entered first, sweeping left. I entered next, going
right. Ron followed. The room was empty, save for computer equipment and files.

“Nan, I need an ETA on the hack,” Ron said into his radio.

“We’re just… finishing… right… now!” Nan reported.

“Nan, Billy, I need to know that you have secured that
download as well as tags for the IP address you took it from,” I said.

“We’ve got everything we need,” Billy cut in. “The
electronic copy is enough evidence to try Kendrick and his people for treason. In
addition to that, we have the digital audiotape of the Max Donovan shooting.
We’ve got him for murder, too, Simon.”

The news should have made me happy, but in the end, I felt
like I’d sealed Randall’s fate. I was driving the last nail into his coffin and
prepared to start shoveling dirt. Once I began, there was no turning back.