The Patrick Bowers Files - 05 - The Queen (56 page)

Tessa slid the nail in, jiggled it, and within seconds the lock clicked.

She threw open the door.

And saw Amber lying unconscious on the floor, an empty bottle beside her left hand.

No, God, please, please, please!

Tessa ran to her, called her name, but Amber didn't move. Tessa shook her, and Amber's head lolled listlessly to the side.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening!

Tessa felt for a pulse. It was there, thready, but present, and Amber was breathing, but Tessa didn't know how long she'd survive, how serious an overdose it was.

Obviously it's serious! The pills are all gone!

She snapped out her cell, found the number for the hospital in Woodborough, and when a woman finally answered, Tessa blurted, “Get me a doctor, now!”

“What's the emergency, ma'am?”

“An overdose! I need to wake someone from an overdose!”

She expected the woman at the hospital to ask her what kind of pills had been ingested, or how many had been taken, or the victim's sex or build, but instead she said, “Just a moment,” and put Tessa on hold.

On hold!

Tessa set down the phone, turned on the speaker, said to Amber, “You're gonna be okay.” After a quick search, she assured herself there were no more empty bottles around. The bottles of depression meds were still nearly full.

You need to get her to the hospital.

Amber's car was in the driveway. She could—

No, Amber might stop breathing on the way. You have to wake her up before you do anything!

Tessa had a friend who'd overdosed last year. She'd survived only because they got her stomach pumped in time.

Still no doctor.

Still on hold!

Tessa couldn't make Amber regurgitate while she was still unconscious—she'd aspirate on her own vomit.

Wake her up, you have to wake her up!

Tessa's eyes fell on the shower stall.

She grabbed Amber's armpits and dragged her across the floor.

Alexei reached the command level, found a militant waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

Using the eight-inch blade Ka-Bar Tanto he'd acquired from the man he'd disabled a few moments ago, he put the militant down—in less than a second, the blade was red, his adversary's neck was open, and with a soft and susurrus gurgle, he was fading to the ground.

Alexei allowed himself no time for regret but started through the electromagnetic production room toward the hallway to the control center—then heard footsteps on his left, readied the knife, and slipped behind a generator.

The female FBI agent he'd met a few minutes ago appeared at the doorway carrying an assault rifle, but an Eco-Tech militant burst from the side of the room, delivering a fierce punch that sent the rifle spinning to the ground. She went at the man with a powerful inner edge crescent kick, then a butterfly kick to the jaw, driving him backward.

So, it looked like she could handle things from here.

Alexei charged down the hallway to the command center.

Someone at the top of the stairwell shot at me, and I ducked low, spun around the corner. “Drop your weapon!” I yelled.

In reply he fired again.

I didn't have time for this. I did not have time!

A quick breath and I rounded the corner again, but another burst of gunfire sent me pivoting behind the wall.

My watch's alarm went off.

One minute left.

Solstice stared at the screen. “What did you do?” she yelled at Donnie.

“I set it up for a retinal scan. And I won't initiate it unless I know Lizzie is okay. Unless I talk to her.”

Without hesitation, Solstice whipped out her FN 5.7 and fired a round through Donnie's left knee. He screamed in pain.

“Lizzie is already dead. I killed her on Wednesday. Killed your wife too.”

A dark cloud of confusion, of desperation. “What?”

She drew out her knife. “Send the signal now or I'll cut out your eyeball and send it myself.”

No more time.

I raced toward the stairwell. When the shooter flashed out with his gun raised, I fired at him until he was no longer a threat, then bolted past his body and down the stairs, reloading my weapon as I did.

Tessa sat in the shower, her stepaunt's head on her lap, cool water spraying down on them both.

But Amber did not wake up.

Oh, God, please. Don't let Amber die. Please don't—

A sweep of headlights washed across the bathroom window.

Someone was coming up the driveway to the house.

Patrick?

Sean?

Yes, good.

One of them had returned.

At the bottom of the steps I found a man's body, a pool of blood spilling from his slashed neck.

Hearing a harsh grunt in the machinery room to my left, I immediately peered inside and saw that on the other side of a wire mesh partition Lien-hua was fighting one of the terrorists. “Lien-hua!”

Too much machinery. Too much movement. I had no shot at her assailant.

Blade hidden behind his wrist, he feinted toward her, then whipped it out and went for her abdomen, slashing in a figure eight. “Get back!” I yelled.

She leaned to the right, away from the blade, then blocked his arm, backed into position for a kick. “Go!” she hollered to me. “I'm fine!”

I wanted to help her, wanted to—

She can take care of herself.

“I'll come back for you!” I shouted.

The control room lay at the end of the hall.

I dashed toward it.

The door was closed. I heard shouting inside, then a sharp crash.

A strangled scream.

And a dead stretch of dull, eerie silence.

I kicked open the door. “Do not move!”

Gun steady in both hands, I took in the room.

Workstations, control panels, computer displays, wall monitors. In the far corner, Cassandra Lillo was crouched behind a rolling chair on which Donnie Pickron sat clutching his knee, a fierce bruise on the side of his head, a look of horror on his face.

She held an FN 5.7 to his chin.

Alexei stood close to them, poised, bone gun in one hand, a bloody combat knife in the other. Just past him, an obese man lay unconscious atop a collapsed table.

Two other men stood near Cassandra. I recognized them from the photos Alexei had sent me: the Eco-Tech members Becker Hahn and Ted Rusk. They appeared to be armed only with Tasers.

“Put down the gun, Cassandra,” I called.

“You first, Agent Bowers.”

Donnie was in the way and I had no shot
.

She held up her left hand to show me the remote control detonator for the TATP ordnance. “Put down the gun or I'll do it. If I press this button, the whole base comes down.”

I didn't move.

A cursor was flashing on an expansive high-def screen mounted on the wall to her left, and a message:
Ready to transmit. Awaiting signal verification.

Beside a keyboard on the desk in front of Donnie, a retinal scanner was futilely surveying empty air.

The signal hasn't been sent. The missile hasn't been fired.

“She killed my wife,” Donnie screamed. “She killed my daughter!”

“Why Jerusalem?” I asked Cassandra.

“I said set down your gun!”

“You killed Tatiana as well.” Alexei's voice was cool. Unflinching.

“I've killed lots of people.” Cassandra's eyes flicked toward the screen. “Set down your gun, Bowers, or Donnie dies. And I'll blow the whole base if I need to.”

I didn't have many cards. I threw one on the table. “We know about Terry. He wants to talk to you, to call it off.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Who's Terry?” Becker Hahn muttered. “What's going on? Who's Cassandra?”

“The CIA is willing to negotiate,” I told her, making this up as I went, trying to buy time. “You don't want to kill those people in Israel. It's never been about that for you, for either of you. It's the challenge. I know that. The money.”

Alexei edged forward. Honestly, he might have a better chance of taking out Cassandra than I did, and for a fraction of a second I was tempted to let him loose on her.

“Terry's in Egypt.” I gestured toward one of the computers. “His interrogators have him online right now. They're—”

“Quiet! Put the gun down or we all die. You have five seconds.”

I hated the thought that came next—

“Four . . .” she said.

—but it did come, and I had to balance it with the severity of the situation.
If this is really about a missile launch, you need to stop—

“Three . . .”

—
her even if she detonates those explosives, even if the base goes down, you can save hundreds of thousands of lives if you—

“Two—”

—shoot through Donnie. You have to shoot through the hostage; you have to end this!
Hating what I was doing, but with no alternative, I took aim.