Night and Day (Book 2): Bleeding Sky (43 page)

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Authors: Ken White

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BOOK: Night and Day (Book 2): Bleeding Sky
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“I
know that,” he said. “But I’m afraid I still can’t help you out. You know, I
think if you all aim and fire at once, the pistol will come out of my hand
on it’s own.”

“I
think we’d like to do this without you dead on the roof,” I said.

“No
doubt, Charlie,” he said. “But I just can’t do it.” He smiled. “By the way,
nothing personal down on the street tonight. When I saw you behind Harb and
Roger at the airport, I knew I was burned. The only way to get clear was to
take you out, fast.”

“You
had to know I’d have some kind of backup,” I said.

“Sure,
but I was supposed to hit you dead on, maybe kill you in the initial impact.
Then Roger could come over and hose the car down with that sub-machinegun
Harb stashed in the cab. You know, just to make sure. Then we’d be off. I
figured thirty seconds, max, we’d be gone.”

“Wouldn’t
have helped,” I said. “I had cars all around.”

He
nodded slowly. “Yeah, guess I should have asked about multi-car surveillance
techniques when you were training me. We work in teams, but everybody has a
specific job. Very few group activities, if you know what I mean, and we
don’t generally work with anyone outside the team.”

Takeda
took a step forward. “Put down the pistol, Mr. Brenner.”

“Sorry.”

She
slowly moved toward him, pistol aimed at his chest, sword held out at a
ninety-degree angle from her body. Brenner watched, but did nothing. Shuster
and I followed, spreading out a little on other side of her.

“Getting
in my face isn’t gonna change my mind, Miss Takeda,” he said.

“Put
down the weapon.”

He
stared up at her. “Would you?”

She
stopped about a foot in front of him. “Put it down,” she said.

“You’ve
got that sword,” he said. He tapped the side of his neck with his free hand.
“Right here is about right, I think. Of course you’re the
expert.”

She
looked down at him silently, motionless.

Brenner
nodded, then moved, fast. He pressed the pistol to the center of his chest,
arm and wrist at right-angles. It didn’t look very comfortable.

“If
you won’t, I guess I have to.”

Takeda
said nothing.

He
sat there for a few moments, lips tightly compressed, then shook his head.
“Goddammit,” he said. “The fucking blood won’t let me pull the
trigger.”

“I
have faced the same problem,” Takeda said softly. “Without that option, I
had no choice but to find a way to live.”

Brenner
used his legs to slowly push himself up the side of the air-conditioning
unit until he was standing, pistol still pressed to his chest. “Yeah, well,
that might have been a choice for you, but not for me.”

His
arm came forward, almost faster than I could see. The barrel of the pistol
was now pressed against the center of Takeda’s chest.

“You’re
not my enemy anymore, Miss Takeda,” he said. “I’d rather not kill you or
anyone else for that matter. No point. The job’s a bust. I’m done.” He
paused. “But if I have to kill you to get Glenn and Charlie to fire, I won’t
hesitate.”

“Put
down the pistol and I’ll do it, JJ,” Shuster said.

Brenner
shook his head. “Can’t trust you at all, Glenn,” he said. “You want me alive
more than anybody.”

“I’ll
make an exception,” Shuster replied. “For old times sake.”

“Wish
I could believe you, but I can’t. Sorry.”

The
chatter of rotor blades washed over the roof as the helicopter Takeda had
ordered swooped in. A spotlight came on, bathing us all in a bright circle
of blinding white.

Brenner
kept his eyes on Takeda. “Your choice.”

Takeda
slowly raised her pistol and tapped her throat mic with the sight at the end
of the barrel. “This is Takeda,” she said. “Hold your fire.” She lowered the
pistol.

He
smiled. “I don’t know if Glenn’s mentioned it to you, but you’re well known
in our circles. There are a lot of people who would love to see you in
Special Collections. You’d be an asset to any team.”

“The
offer has been made in the past,” she said. “I enjoy my current
assignment.”

“Pity,”
he said. “Well?”

“You’re
correct, Mr. Brenner,” she said. “I could not lower my weapon
either.”

He
smiled. She brought her right arm back, raising the sword over her right
shoulder. From my angle, I saw him slip his finger off the trigger and rest
it on the barrel.

She
swung. His body wavered for a moment, then collapsed and fell to the ground
next to his head.

 

 

 

 

Chapter
Twenty-Six

 

Martinez
was sitting on the back bumper of the ambulance when I walked out of the
building, her pants cut off at the knee, a large white bandage on her right
calf. I went over to her.

“How’s
the leg?”

“Hurts
like a bitch, sir,” she said. “But I can sorta walk on it. And I don’t want
to go to the hospital. Just get me to your apartment so I can grab a new
pair of uniform pants from my ditty bag and I’m ready to go back on
duty.”

I
could see the female medic leaning against the side of the ambulance near
the front of the rig, writing on a clipboard. “Be right back,” I
said.

When
I approached the medic, she looked up. “That girl needs to go to the
hospital,” she said flatly. “I’m a medic, not a doctor.”

“What’s
the score?”

“The
wound itself wasn’t serious. Missed the bone, didn’t hit any major blood
vessels. Tore the muscle a little.” She paused. “But a doctor should check
it out. That’s protocol.”

“My
protocol is different,” I said. “ She doesn’t want to go. If it was serious
and she absolutely had to, I’d give her the order. She’d follow it. Does she
absolutely need to see a doctor right now?”

“Is
she going to die?” the medic said harshly. “Probably not. Is she going to
have diminished capacity in her right leg as a result of the wound? I can’t
say.”

“Guess,”
I said.

“I
don’t guess.”

“Try.”

She
looked back at her clipboard. “Probably. Not.”

“Good.
Then take her to 1145 Bacon Street. Get her inside and make her
comfortable.”

“We’re
not a transport service,” she said flatly.

“You
are now,” I replied. I paused. “Look, lady, I don’t like being a dick about
this, and I don’t want to pull rank, but you need to do what I’m
asking.”

She
didn’t say another for a few seconds, then spat, “Right.” As she turned to
get her partner, I heard her mutter, “Fucking area government.”

I
smiled and went back to Martinez. “Okay, they’re going to take you back to
my apartment. I have a few things to do here, then I’ll head over. Get
yourself on the couch and off the leg, and wait. If anybody but me comes
through the front door, kill them.”

“Yes,
sir,” she said with a smile.

Shuster
was still on the roof with Brenner’s corpse. He said he’d wait there until
they came for the body. It was some kind of Special Collections
fallen-comrade thing, I think. Even when the fallen comrade was on the other
side.

I
saw Takeda at the foot of the steps talking with the four troopers from the
Humvee. I caught her eye and she came over. “How is Sergeant Martinez?” she
asked, looking down at Lita.

“She’ll
live. I’m having her taken to my apartment to get some rest. It’s been a
busy night.”

Takeda
nodded. “And a successful one,” she said.

I
hadn’t had a chance to talk to Takeda about the problem with Chief Muldoon
and Lt. Robinson. She’d been too busy to worry about it so far, but if I
knew her, she’d be polishing her sword for the next round when we got back
to Jackson Square. And there were a couple of other things on my
mind.

“Take
a walk with me,” I said. “There are a few things I want to talk to you
about.”

 

Heymann’s
trailer was gently swaying, about five feet in the air at the end of the
crane’s hoist line, when Martinez and I pulled up at the square Sunday
morning. Beneath it, half a dozen troopers were carefully removing greyish
blocks from the underside of the trailer. Probably plastic explosives. Lt.
Johnson of the EOD team was supervising.

Martinez
was limping, but mobile. I’d driven the Jeep from my apartment since,
frankly, I didn’t trust her bad leg on the accelerator. She seemed okay, and
the bandaged wound didn’t seem to be bleeding, but I’d have the Security
Force medic take a look.

Clay
stood a few yards back from the trailer, watching them remove the
explosives, cigarette between his lips. As I got close, I asked,
“Heymann?”

“Inside.
In bed.”

“What’s
on the schedule for today?”

“Not
a thing,” he said. “His fact-finding mission here is done. After yesterday,
he doesn’t want any contact with any locals. We’d be out of here when they
finish removing the explosives, but I hear Deputy Area Governor Bain is
coming in tonight to pay his respects. So we pack it up and hit the road in
the morning.”

He
smiled. “Heymann will be over it by the time we get to San Antonio. He’s
been talking about seeing the Alamo since we left Hamburg.”

“I’m
kind of surprised,” I said. “He seemed like he was willing to risk his life
to do what he was sent to do.”

Clay
nodded. “Yeah, it’s easy to talk about when you’re snug in your chair,
sipping brandy. Little different when people are actively trying to kill
you.” He paused. “So what did you and Anna talk about yesterday while you
babysat the bomb?”

“Religion,”
I said. “Genealogy.”

“Heymann
was concerned she’d talked about things best left unsaid,” he said. “Had
some harsh words with her last night.”

“What
kind of things?”

He
smiled. “Things best left unsaid.”

“Shuster
told me about a certain pushy immigration agent in New York, so I guess it
didn’t go beyond words.”

“You
guess right,” he said. “Heymann’s a blowhard, but he ain’t stupid.” He
glanced around the square. “So I hear you took out the bad guys.”

“Yeah,
only the Resistance to worry about now.” I looked at the troopers in their
defensive positions. “But I think we can handle a straight-up
fight.”

“I
wouldn’t worry too much about the Resistance,” he said. “They got nothing to
win and everything to lose if Heymann dies.”

“We’ll
see,” I said. “Just don’t get too relaxed.”

“I
don’t know how to relax,” he said with a thin smile, then turned back to the
trailer.

Shuster
sat on the steps of the command trailer. He stood when we approached. “You
took your sweet time getting here this morning, old buddy.”

“Just
giving Martinez a little more time off her leg,” I said. And giving myself
another hour or two of sleep.

He
nodded. “Yeah, right,” he said.

“Want
to come in?”

Shuster
shook his head. “Nah, there’s a cop in your office waiting for you. He
looked pissed. Anyway, I have a flight out in an hour and a half. Heavy
lifting is done here. Next stop, Texas.”

“Sending
your team in with the transporter?”

He
smiled. “Yeah, crew chief probably already got the call. Two more coming in
tonight to fill out his crew.” He held out his hand. “Good seeing you again,
Charlie.”

“It
was good to see you too, Shuster,” I said as we shook. “Circumstances being
what they were.”

He
grinned. “Welcome to my world,” he said. “And don’t forget, if you want to
make it your world too, just say the word. I wasn’t kidding about us being a
good team.”

“Thanks
for the offer,” I said. “I’ll keep it in mind if I get bored
here.”

“Suit
yourself,” he said. He looked at Martinez. “Sergeant, next time I hope
you’re shooting with me, not at me.”

“I
hope there isn’t a next time, sir,” Martinez replied.

“Amen
to that,” he said. “I’ll seeya.”

I
watched him walk away, then turned to Martinez. “You going to be able to
take these stairs okay, Lita? Or do I need to carry you up?”

“I
think I can handle them, sir,” she said with a slight smile.

 

I
expected to find Jimmy Mutz in my office, angry about being left out of the
action the day before. Instead it was Daryl Northport, waiting
impatiently.

“I
talked to Takeda about Muldoon and Robinson,” I said as Martinez and I came
through the door. “Explained the situation and she’s willing to let you
handle it.”

He
nodded. “That’s not my problem at the moment,” he said. “You seen Jimmy
Mutz, CW?”

“No,” I said,
stopping. “Last time I saw him was here at the briefing yesterday morning.
Why?”

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