Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (27 page)

“No, should I?”

“He was another one of the test subjects in the files.”

“Oh, no. No telling what he’s capable of doing.”

Jo nodded. “Exactly.”

John briefly forgot his aching head and felt a hard lump in his chest. “My God.” For a moment, he couldn’t say anything else. His mind whirled with thoughts of all the damaged lives. Finally, he said, “I vaguely remember reaching out for Frisco, to check his pulse …”

“Yeah, well, that’s when I lost my focus and Candleworth’s goons made their move.”

John had a sour taste in his mouth. I acted without thinking, just like Candleworth wanted. Jo would never have lost her concentration if I hadn’t reacted. “You mean you were distracted because of me. You mean it was my fault …”

Jo interrupted. “No. It was
my
error. For God’s sake, I’ve been trained to keep an eye on the bad guy. Been taught that from day one. All I could think about was you and the weapon coming down on your head.”

John didn’t agree with Jo’s assessment that it was her fault. This was exactly the type of situation that makes our relationship a bad idea. Jo can’t do her job if she is worried about me.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he realized that Jo hadn’t mentioned Belinda Peterson. “What’s happened to Ms. Peterson? What did they do to her?”

“They loaded her into the front of the van. She put up a pretty good fight. Candleworth pulled out some kind of gadget—it looked like a primitive remote control. He pushed a button and then she went into a seizure.” Jo’s voice grew brittle. “It was horrible to watch. He was controlling the microchip. The pain she must have been in …”

John clenched his jaw. “This ends now. I’m not watching that son-of-a-bitch get away with killing and torturing people anymore.” He rocked to one side. “Can you help me sit up? I’m tired of feeling like a victim lying on the floor of this van.”

Jo maneuvered herself around and helped him get some leverage. After several false starts, John sat upright and he leaned against the wall of the van. His body was drenched in sweat from the exertion, and his head felt like it was exploding, but he felt more in control.

He gave Jo a small triumphant smile, and then said, “So, any brilliant plans to get us out of this mess?”

“I think we’d better do as they say until we get inside. Thompson is in the front of the van with Candleworth and Belinda. I doubt Belinda will be very helpful to us in her condition. That basically leaves two bad guys against the two of us. Not bad odds, but we’re a little hobbled with these damn restraints. Before you came to, I tried to get myself loose, but they used plastic cuff-ties. The more I struggled, the tighter they got. Once we’re inside, maybe we can distract them.”

The brakes of the van screeched as it slowed and then came to a stop. John said, “Here we go.”

The door of the van creaked open a moment later. A blast of frigid air rushed into the vehicle and he saw that Jo’s lips had turned blue with the cold. John squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight bouncing off the snow outside. When he could see clearly, he saw that Candleworth stood in the open doorway.

“So glad you decided to join us, Dr. Goodman. You’ve missed quite a bit of the excitement while you were resting.”

John flexed his fists behind his back.
Just you wait.
“What do you want?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

When one of the guys from Belinda’s house came around to the back of the van, the CEO spoke to him, never taking his eyes off of Jo and John. “Thompson, please show Special Agent Schwann our accommodations. Keep a close eye on her. We wouldn’t want any nasty surprises.”

Thompson pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket and flicked open the blade. John sucked in a breath, wondering what Candleworth’s man would do to her. Thompson reached into the van and sliced through the ties that bound Jo’s feet together and then unceremoniously hauled her out of the van by her arms.

Jo’s green eyes blazed, but she said nothing. Seeing Jo’s anger calmed him.
If she can tuck away her fear, then so can I.
Panic and guilt would not fix this problem. He had to have a clear head.

He watched as Jo was marched toward the headquarters building, walking carefully on the frozen ground. A gun to her back. A part of him willed her to make a run for it, but he realized that it would be too dangerous. Assuming she somehow managed to avoid being shot in the back, in her current state of dress, hypothermia would rapidly set in and she would die in the secluded woods.

John studied the CEO. He hadn’t seen Charles Candleworth for over a decade. In other circumstances, he would have almost felt sorry for the guy. The years had not been kind. He had to be in his mid-thirties, like John, but he looked to be in his late fifties. His carefully sculpted blonde hair blew up in the wind, showing the shiny scalp beneath. A paunch pushed at the buttons of his jacket. His nose was red and bulbous, with spider veins creeping across his considerable cheeks. The man clearly enjoyed more than just a social drink or two in his evenings.

Candleworth reached in and sliced off the plastic ties at John’s ankles. Fishing a gun out of his jacket pocket, he pointed it at John’s head and said, “Just keep this gun in mind in case you decide to be a hero.”

John stumbled out of the vehicle, his feet burning with the sudden release of blood flow. Candleworth pushed him forward, towards the building. The gun dug into his back.

The sharp wind bit into John’s face and cut through his sweater. As they walked, John decided to keep Candleworth talking, to find out what he could. “Where is Ms. Peterson?”

“She’s already inside. Cooperative as a little lamb, now.” John heard the CEO chuckle behind him, “I have to say, after you told her our little secret, she was not too happy with me. However, in the end, my methods were quite convincing.”

John spat out, “I’ll bet. Hard to disagree when someone is threatening to blow an artery in your head.” He briefly lost his balance on a patch of ice, but caught himself just in time. “What are you going to do with us?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” He cleared his throat. “I have to say, I’m really quite honored that a highly esteemed specialist such as yourself has taken an interest in the goings on of my humble little company.”

John forced his voice to be steady when he responded. “Charles, false modesty from you? What you’ve done is hardly humble. Tell me, are you doing it for the money? Or is living out your God complex reason enough?”

Wheezy laughter came from the CEO. “John, John. Always a bit of a wise-ass. I’m glad you’ve joined us. Very few people could truly appreciate what we’ve achieved. Look at Ms. Peterson, for example. I took a perfectly normal, ambitious mother of two and made her into a criminal. Her money-laundering talents are elegant in their complexity. Even you have to admit that’s quite a feat.”

John gritted his teeth and said, “You think it takes talent to destroy people’s lives? All it takes is a psychopathic mind like yours. What kind of monster are you?”

He felt the muzzle of the gun dig into his back. “Name calling won’t get you anywhere. Not very polite.”

They had reached the building. Candleworth stepped to the side of John and yanked open the door. Heat enveloped them and for a moment John was relieved to be inside. The polished floors squeaked beneath their wet boots as the CEO led John down one hallway, then another.

Finally, they stopped when they came to a set of locked double doors. Candleworth reached around John and touched a pad with his palm. There was an audible
click
and then the doors swung open. They walked down another hallway, this one more brightly lit and sterile-looking than the others. Charles stopped him at the last door on the left. John felt his arms being tugged as Charles spoke. “I’m going to untie you now. I’ve got something in mind for you, but don’t forget for one second that I have a gun centered on your back.”

John turned toward the CEO. He was sorely tempted to take a swing at Candleworth. He would take great pleasure in beating him, not stopping until the breath left his body. John could picture landing the first punch in the man’s mouth and he would savor the welcome pain to his knuckles. However, he knew that Candleworth would probably shoot him before he had a chance to move.

Candleworth studied him. “You know, for such a civilized man, you enjoy this violence. I can see it in your eyes.” He tilted his head to the side. “You want to kill me, don’t you?” He looked down at John’s clenched hands.

John rubbed the back of his hand in the palm of the other. “The thought crossed my mind.” Pointing to the gun, he said, “Call off your thugs and maybe I’ll leave you for the courts.”

Candleworth’s burst of laughter was loud in the hallway. “Where would be the fun in that?”

John’s tone was dry. “Forgive me if I don’t find this amusing.”

“Ah, but you may be interested to know that Belinda is under my full control now. Does that bother you?”

Cocking his head, John said, “I’m curious. How can you be so sure that Ms. Peterson will do anything you tell her? She clearly knows what you’ve done to her.”

Charles pulled an item out of his pocket, about the size of a small cell phone and held it up. It had a large, green button in the middle, with three smaller red buttons below. His grin was devilish. “My little insurance policy. This remote sends out waves to the microchip in Belinda’s head. If she disobeys, she gets a zap. One jolt will cause excruciating pain. Several will cause an aneurysm and certain death.”

John felt dread course through his body. “What are you going to do with Agent Schwann?”

“It’ll be much more thrilling to show you. Patience, Dr. Goodman, patience.”

Feeling like he didn’t have much choice but to humor the CEO, John tried another tactic. “We found the financial files, you know. They show all your contracts with known terrorists and drug lords all over the world. You’re building an army of people who can’t think for themselves, who will do what they are programmed to do. It must be quite a lucrative business for you.”

Candleworth’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, very. You know, I’m really quite pleased that you and Agent Schwann nosed around. Half the fun is having friends to share it with, wouldn’t you agree?”

John crinkled his nose, as if he had smelled something particularly offensive. “You really are a slimy bastard, aren’t you? You think that everyone thinks the way you do, crawls in the same sewers as you do.”

He was rewarded when Candleworth’s face turned a deep burgundy. “Enough. Time to teach you some manners.” He looked down at his watch. “They should be just about ready for us now.”

John sucked in a breath. “What do you mean, ‘just about ready for us’?”

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Moments later, Thompson stepped through the doorway. “They’re waiting for you, Dr. Candleworth. Do you need me for anything else?”

“Make sure that all the other employees have gone for the day. We don’t want anyone to distract us. Once you are sure the building is empty, you may wait in your office in case I require any further assistance.”

“Yes, sir.” He walked down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

Candleworth stepped aside, allowing John to walk in front of him.

His thoughts raced as they walked through the doorway. For the first time, he noticed a sign to the right of the door that simply said “Procedures.” A chill swept up John’s spine.
Surely they didn’t mean to operate on Jo?

As if he’d heard John’s silent question, Charles spoke again. “Don’t you think that a special agent of the FBI would make a superb assassin? The U.S. government has already spent so much money on her training. Would be a shame to waste that talent.” He smiled. “I know a very wealthy man down in South America who’d be willing to pay top dollar for her.”

John’s stomach lurched. The chilly air circulating through the room cooled the sweat clinging to John’s body, making him shiver. Across the way Belinda Peterson stood next to an operating table. He roared when he saw Jo on the table. Running towards her, he thought of nothing but setting her free. Candleworth tossed his gun to Belinda. Catching it, she stepped in front of John, and rammed the barrel into his ribs. John came to an abrupt halt.

Charles chuckled. “I don’t think I’d try anything, if I were you. Belinda would not hesitate to shoot you in her current state of mind.”

John studied her carefully. She no longer resembled the woman they had seen a short time ago. There were deep, dark circles under eyes that held no spark of life. She resembled a robot, without compassion, without remorse. He wondered just how much longer she would live with the damage to her brain. There was nothing left of her but a shell.

Looking over the woman’s shoulder, he stared at Jo. She was stretched out on her stomach on a padded operating table, with her face jammed into a hole at one end. Straps around her waist, arms and legs restrained her. She was dressed in a surgical gown with the tie strings loosened around her upper back. An IV snaked from her arm to a bag of fluids next to the table.

Her head was also tied down. Jo’s hair was pulled up in a knot at the top of her head and covered with a cap. The lower half at the base of her neck had been shaved. Lovely red curls lay in a puddle at the base of the table leg. Jo was tacked in place like a specimen.

She grunted once and wriggled to no avail. The restraints were cinched tight. Bile rose in John’s throat. He twisted away from the gun in his side, only to feel it jammed in the small of his back. He looked back at Candleworth and spat out, “You son-of-a-bitch!”

From the website photos, John recognized the man standing next to the table as Malcolm Steward, NeuroDynamics’s chief surgeon. He was dressed in scrubs and a surgical mask, administering a local anesthesia at the base of Jo’s skull. John noticed that the surgeon’s hands shook as he worked.

A nervous smile appeared on his face when he saw John. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Goodman. I’m a huge fan. I attended the symposium on cerebrovascular diseases in Boston last October and heard you speak.” His eyes slid to Candleworth, his face crimson.