Jayne and Steelie - 01 - Freezing (34 page)

He leaned down toward her face. ‘I lied when I said I hadn't kept up with where you went after Kigali. I heard about Kosovo and the mine your team blew, so you should enjoy this. You'll get to watch Houston and Steelie bite it. You'll probably survive it with a few limbs intact. Now, you start the show by calling Lover Boy to reel him in. If you tip him off to the grenade, I pull the pin the second the words come out of your mouth. You don't mind if I frisk you now, do you?' He began going through her pockets.

Jayne panicked. She didn't want to die and she knew Scott wouldn't be the one to come through that door. It would be the FBI driver. Another innocent, just like Benni in Kosovo; there because she was there. She had to stop this. Gene had located her phone and rocked back as he held it aloft, compressing her tailbone against the tile floor. And suddenly all the fear and pain mixed with his weight on her hips to trigger an old, old memory – she'd been young, on a mat, in a class, being taught –
defend yourself
.

She screamed with all her might and Gene reacted just as she'd hoped, lunging to push the gag back into her mouth, his weight now forward and, crucially, off her hips. Using strength she didn't know she had left, she thrust her hips up as hard and high as she could, sending him head-first toward the cold, hard toilet bowl, shutting her eyes a millisecond before his knees smashed into her face.

Scott attempted to be patient as he watched Angie from the doorway of her office.

When she finally slammed down her phone, she shouted, ‘We got it! Guys, we got it.' She looked up at Scott in triumph.

He felt warmth spread across his chest and went to her, his hand up for a high five. She hit it and merged it into a down low, followed by one of their old handgrips.

Eric popped his head in from the hallway. ‘You got the location?'

‘Not yet,' she replied, breaking free from Scott and grabbing an FBI windbreaker from the back of her chair. ‘It's in Northeast. We can go mobile and I'll keep in cell phone contact for them to give us the one hundred-foot radius.'

‘OK, I got the warrant underway, so I'm coming with you.'

Mark was out of his seat. ‘I'm driving.'

The four agents ran down the stairs and out the back of the building to the motor pool. Mark shouted, ‘Four-eight-six' and the others diverted course to the black Suburban with the corresponding license plate. ‘It's got the flak jackets and shotguns.'

Within seconds, Mark had reversed out of the parking space and activated the red and blue flashers in the front and rear windows. They entered the roadway at speed.

Angie's cell phone rang and she listened, then said, ‘OK, head southeast. We're keeping the line open.'

Mark swerved around a double-parked delivery truck and then braked hard as a taxi veered into their lane. ‘Come
on
!'

Angie's voice came loud. ‘We got him! Last ping is from near Eden and Forty-Fifth. We're almost there.'

Mark slowed as they approached that intersection and turned off the lights. He halted at the corner so they could scan the cross street and take in the buildings.

Scott looked out the front window, saw the motel across the street, dismissed it, and then did a double-take. ‘Holy shit!'

Mark followed his gaze, and then threw the vehicle into reverse, parking it out of sight from the motel. Scott dialed a number on his phone as the other agents jumped out and opened the rear doors.

Scott joined them a moment later, his phone still in his hand. ‘This is the motel where Travel put Jayne and Steelie last night. Carter's here, in the parking lot. He arrived early to pick them up, was able to hear water running, assumed someone was bathing, so was waiting until the appointed time to go back and knock.'

Eric cut in, ‘King's got to be in there with them; no way one of 'em's having a bath when they're due to leave.'

Scott nodded. ‘Get your gear on. We're going in on the presumption that he is armed. We are
not
waiting for further backup. Got it?'

The others assented and they ran to the building, splitting into two pairs to take the separate exterior staircases up to the second floor. They positioned themselves on either side of Jayne and Steelie's door, guns drawn as Mark held a small battering ram. Scott nodded at him and he rammed the door. It slammed open with a crack and they all shouted, ‘Federal Agents! Drop your weapon!!'

They were met with silence so they charged the room.

Scott saw Eric rush to the bed, where Steelie was on the floor against the wall, but his eyes were taking in the emptiness of the rest of the room. He felt rising panic as he imagined King taking Jayne away with him. Then he heard a shout from his left.

‘Call a medic!'

He spun around and Angie's concerned expression gave him a stab of worry. He pushed past Mark to get to Angie in the bathroom doorway, then heard a squelching noise and looked down. The threshold was soaking; his eyes followed a film of bloody water across the floor. He saw two bodies by the toilet: a man collapsed around the toilet, his knees obscuring the head of someone contorted underneath.
Jayne
. Scott figured the water was coming from the overflowing bath. That left the blood. He desperately hoped none of it was coming from her. He stepped into the room and got down on his knees. He was going to get her out.

THIRTY-TWO

S
cott stood next to Jayne's hospital bed, looking at the clipboard he'd removed from the door of her room. She murmured and he looked at her, but her eyes remained closed. She was semi-reclined under a blanket and her forehead looked discolored. He could see abrasions on her arms where the short sleeves of the hospital gown ended. When he heard footsteps in the hallway, he darted out in time to stop a nurse, who gave him a polite, interrogative smile.

He held up his Bureau badge and the clipboard. ‘What does all of this stuff mean? Why is she out cold?'

‘She's not out cold. She's sleeping.' She took possession of the clipboard and slotted it back into the holder on the door. ‘There's nothing to be concerned about, sir. She took a knock on the head that had a mild concussive effect and the doctor wanted to keep her in for observation. He cleared her half an hour ago and she is now sleeping. Please don't disturb her.'

Scott sighed and ran his hands through his hair. ‘What about Lander? Steelie Lander? They would have come in together.'

‘Around the corner in eight-oh-eight. I believe one of your colleagues is already there.' The nurse continued down the hall.

Scott turned to look at Jayne again. Her mouth was hanging open slightly and the fluorescent bar above the bed was shining bright on her forehead. He walked back in to lean over her and switch off the light, half hoping the noise would wake her. He wanted to ascertain that she was really all right, to apologize for putting her in danger.

He reached down to her cheek but remembered what had happened when he'd picked her up off that bathroom floor and pulled the gag from her mouth. She'd opened her eyes but hadn't been able to focus on him. Even when he'd repeated her name, she hadn't recognized him and then the paramedics called in by Agent Carter had arrived, pushing Scott aside while castigating him for moving someone without first establishing the nature of their injuries.

He had been forced to stand on the sidelines, watching them tend to both Jayne and an unconscious Eugene King, and he hadn't even thought about the effect the same sight would be having on Steelie, who was standing just behind him, supported by Mark and Eric. He should talk to Steelie.

Scott stepped away from Jayne's bed and saw that Angie was watching him from the doorway.

She looked him up and down as he approached. ‘You got a chance to change clothes?' She kept her voice low.

‘When I logged the evidence at HQ.'

‘Any sign of Franks?'

Scott shook his head.

Angie's eyes went to Jayne. ‘How's she doing?'

‘Nurse says she's fine. Just sleeping. What's the word on King?'

‘The Doc won't let us have him yet. Seems he's experienced two separate traumatic “events” involving his head in the last twenty-four hours. He won't be out of the woods for a day or two.' She paused. ‘She's tough. Wouldn't think it to look at her.'

Angie made to leave, then turned back. ‘Don't let that one get away.'

Scott tried to acknowledge this suddenly personal directive with a casual response but only succeeded in producing a strangled noise.

Angie regarded him with a smile for a moment, then set off down the hallway.

Scott took a final look at Jayne before going in search of Steelie's room.

When he looked in her door, he saw Eric sitting on the side of Steelie's bed, his hand closed over her fist. He was saying, ‘Keep the thumb on top. That's key.'

Scott took in the bruise coming up on Steelie's chin. Her hair was unruly, making her head look huge over a thin body lost in a voluminous hospital gown.

She noticed Scott and said, ‘Welcome to Fight Club.'

She raised her fist. ‘The first rule of fight club is . . . know how to fight.' She pointed at Eric, ‘
That's
key.' She leaned back against the pillows.

Scott sat down in the chair just inside the door. ‘Eric giving you lessons?'

‘Yeah, which beats him giving me medical tests. A minute ago, he asked me how many fingers he was holding up. It was just the one – the middle one.'

Eric smiled as he stood up. ‘I don't get to run that joke too often.' He crossed to the door. ‘I'll be back in five.'

Steelie regarded Scott for a moment, then asked, ‘Is Gene here as well?'

He nodded.

‘You've got him under guard, right?'

‘He's not going anywhere.' He cast around for something to say. ‘I just came from Jayne's room. She was sleeping. She's going to be fine.'

‘The doctor told me.'

They fell silent. Scott leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. He was uncomfortable but spoke anyway. ‘Steelie, I owe you both an apology. I should have known—' He broke off to see why she was groaning.

Steelie had sat up. ‘Should have known what?' she challenged. ‘That Gene was lying in wait for us? That he's got a mean right hook? What are you, a mind reader?' She sank back on to the pillows.

He had never seen her look so angry. ‘Point taken.' Waiting for her to compose herself, he averted his eyes and took in the IV stand next to her bed. The nametag appeared to read,
Lander, Sandra
. He frowned and tried to focus on the name and then quickly looked over at her, hoping she hadn't clocked him reading it, which he was almost sure had her name as Sandra. She wasn't looking at him. He got up and came to the side of her bed.

‘Look, Steelie, when I was driving back from Phoenix with Jayne, I had a . . . situation.'

‘Yeah, I heard.'

‘Right. Well, then you'll know she bailed me out. Which made me wonder who bails her out, when she needs it. Is it you or is there someone else?'

She didn't respond.

He continued. ‘Because I think she needs it. At least to deal with the seriously bad dreams I think she's having.' He waited. ‘I'm only asking because I care. No one should be alone on this . . . or groping in the dark. In the Bureau, we don't even get a choice about getting debriefed. So who do you guys talk to?'

She seemed to assess him. ‘We never got debriefings. But I don't think Jayne would have these repercussions if it weren't for one particular incident, which jumbled up some of her reactions to other, normal things. That's my opinion, anyway.' She exhaled. ‘Look, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, though not as wrong a place as our escort. His name was Benni, a French soldier, all of twenty years old. We were looking for a gravesite in Kos. He tripped a wire, a mine blew, and he bled out a few feet from Jayne, who was on orders to stay put by the deminers, who were trying to get a handle on the situation.'

She paused. ‘I've heard you've got a good six hours to intervene before a traumatic memory fixes itself like fucking concrete in your brain. No one got to Jayne, or anyone else, for three days. So,' she reached for her bedside control and began reclining the mattress, ‘you know anything that can break up concrete?'

After a moment, he met her gaze. ‘Freeze-thaw usually works.'

She gave him a slight nod before she closed her eyes and settled back on the pillows. ‘Now, I'm an invalid and I know my rights, so stop harassing me. Sheesh.'

He took a chance and looked at the name on the IV bag again from much closer. Then he pulled the covers above her shoulders, looking at her bruised chin one more time. ‘It's good to have you back, Steelie.'

‘Yeah, I'm great,' she mumbled.

Outside the room, he saw Eric emerge from the elevator at the far end of the hallway. His partner shook his head as he walked.

‘What's happening?' Scott asked, assuming the worst and that King had managed to die in the last half-hour.

‘You won't believe this,' Eric murmured as he drew him back toward the elevators. ‘You know the cell phone sim cards the criminalists found at King's house?'

Scott nodded.

‘Tech Support's pulled the numbers off them to cross-check against those suspect numbers on our missing prostitutes' call records.'

‘He called the vics,' Scott deduced.

‘Nope.' Eric glanced at him. ‘He called our old boss Franks.'

‘
What?
' Scott halted.

Eric pulled on his arm to get him into an elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. ‘One of the sims shows a call to our anonymous tip line and two show a call each to Franks.'

‘Direct to Franks?'

Eric nodded. ‘They date to after you started the media campaign for information on the van. Each call is about six months apart. We don't know the content yet but Franks is going to have to give up his own phone log. My bet is that King was the anonymous tipster Turner referred to when he quizzed me in LA – the guy whose tips Franks was relying on to crucify you and get us transferred out of here.'