Catch & Neutralize (25 page)

He did as Mark commanded, eyelids barely open.

“If you’re not having an affair with my wife, why did she leave here in your shirt?”

“Wine,” Tristan’s mouth barely moved. His lips appeared heavy and thick.

“Wine? What do you mean, ‘wine’?”

“Wine spilled on her shirt. She packed a change of clothes but forgot a shirt. So, I lent her one of mine. She changed in the bathroom. Nothing’s going on.”

“Why are you hanging out with my wife then?” Two fine lines appeared between Mark’s brows.

“She buys a lot of drugs, cocaine mostly. I don’t think she uses. But, it’s not my business.”

Mark couldn’t believe it.

Drugs? Angie buys drugs? A lot of drugs?

“Since when? How long has my wife been buying drugs from you?”

Tristan’s chest moved with deep, rhythmic breathing. The Xanax had taken hold. There’d be no more answers.

Mark pulled his mask, removing silicone pieces and placing them inside a large Ziploc baggie. Earlier, Laura requested he bring back the mask, and he agreed knowing full well there’d be no need. Mark planned on removing all traces of the mask’s existence as soon as he’d finished with Tristan.

Mark wiped the remaining make-up away with baby wipes and stuffed them into the baggie. Next, he removed shoes and clothes and stuffed them into another baggie. This was a job best done in the nude. Nude, except for gloves, socks, and underwear. Mark had gone to strenuous lengths to avoid leaving evidence. With the exception of his head, he’d shaved his entire body to ensure not a single hair would be left behind. When the presumed lover of a spouse is found murdered, it’s reasonable for detectives to question the other spouse. Mark didn’t want to give any extra push in his direction by leaving a careless crime scene.

Mark looped the roll of tape around Tristan’s wrists. Probably unnecessary with all the pills, but Mark never killed a person and didn’t want any surprises. Once Tristan was secure, Mark dug inside the case for a small bottle of moist roots. They looked like tiny octopus tentacles. Roots from the plant known as Aconite (sometimes called wolfsbane) were known to cause erratic heart rhythm, muscle paralysis, inability to breathe, and death.

“Time for phase II,” Mark said in a tone devoid of excitement. Killing his wife’s lover wasn’t as enjoyable as he’d thought it would be. There’d been a moment of in-your-face satisfaction, but that moment was long gone.

Mark left the bedroom in search of alcohol. The rest of this procedure required a few drinks. Movement caught his eye. The mirror: a black man with zero body hair wearing blue gloves and a shiny black G-string. Mark’s reflection caused a bout of laughter. Life was getting stranger and stranger. Angie had put all of this into motion. Getting back at her was going to make it worthwhile, or so he hoped.

He found a fully stocked bar in the kitchen, all top shelf brands. Mark grabbed an unopened bottle of bourbon, one of his favorites, and took a couple swigs. He planned on taking the entire thing anyway, a great excuse for using the bottle as his glass. Mark made his way back to the body in the bed, feeling a touch more relaxed.

He retrieved a knife from his case. He planned to make an incision in Tristan’s chest and slip the toxic roots inside. Not as easy as it sounded since he wasn’t used to working with live specimens or mutilating bodies. His job required tiny cells and microscopes, experimentation and scientific data.

Maybe it would be better to slit Tristan’s throat. There’d be blood, but Mark wouldn’t have to watch the effects of poisoning. Would there be convulsions or vomiting or both?

Mark grabbed a handful of Tristan’s hair and pulled his head down, allowing full protrusion of a lumpy Adam’s apple. So far, his task wasn’t so gross. Tristan’s face looked wrinkle and worry free. Lying there, he appeared to be a snoozing man with a baby face. Pressing a finger to Tristan’s throat, Mark found a steady pulse, strong and regular. With his other hand, Mark brought the knife up and pressed it against his throat. Just one little slice, and it’d be all over.

A line of blood ran down Tristan’s pale chest. Mark watched the mysterious life fluid trickle onto the sheets. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t finish the unpleasant task. The thought of sawing flesh made Mark uneasy, made him feel less of a man. This was a sneak attack, not a fair fight. Murder was not the answer. This was a mistake.

Mark’s stomach flopped. He wasn’t sure he’d get through this without getting sick. Not good. That would create potential of leaving evidence. Unacceptable.

A feeling, rather than sound, caused Mark to turn. Laura stood in the bedroom doorway. She wore an all-black bodysuit, Catwoman without the mask. She held a pistol.

“What’re you doing here, Laura?” His eyes grew large, more surprised by her intrusion than embarrassed about being seen in the G-string.

“I’d ask you the same thing, Dr. Carter, but it’s obvious.” No humor shown in her eyes, no smile on her lips. “You can’t do this, Mark. The Institute won’t allow it. There’s also Angie’s career to think about. She’s worked hard to get where she is. As her spouse, doing this will make her a liability. She’ll be let go. If you stop now, Mark, and leave quietly, everything will be okay. Nobody needs to know about your interference.”

“You’re a part of this secret society too?” Mark’s jaw tightened. “How many of you are there?”

“I can’t tell you that. But, I can tell you this: you don’t want to be here when the Extraction Team shows up.”

“Why? What’ll they do? Kill me?”

“I can’t tell you that either.”

“Can you tell me why you allowed me to come here if you were planning on stopping me in the act? Why did you help me with the mask? It doesn’t make any sense, Laura. I thought you were on my side.”

“I’m on The Institute’s side, Mark. I was hoping you’d realize what you were doing. It seems like you were too focused on hurting your wife to see all the hints I was dropping. I was hoping you’d put it all together, change your mind. That’s why I followed you. I can’t allow you to interfere with our targets.” She waved her gun towards the back exit. “Please, Mark, just go.”

“But this guy,” he pointed his knife at Tristan’s chest, “has been sleeping with my wife. He needs to be taught a lesson.
I
need to teach him that lesson.”

Laura took a step closer. “No, Mark. Angie is not sleeping with Pilfer, Tristan, whatever he’s calling himself these days. The Catch & Neutralize Team never asks that of agents. Never. Angie’s out doing her job. That’s it.” She took another step. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Mark. You need to leave. Now.”

Mark looked at Tristan, his lips tight. “All right,” he said collecting his things.

Laura closed the gap between them, taking Mark’s knife. “Just leave it, leave everything. Get dressed and get out of here.”

“Wait. Evidence. I need…”

“We’ll take care of all that. James Dean Pilfer, aka Tristan Bellamy, is simply going to disappear,” Laura insisted. “How much and what did you give him?”

“Six Xanax. Why?”

“He’s to be neutralized. Not eliminated.” She dug through an old-fashioned medical bag slung over her shoulder, pulled out a prefilled syringe, and jammed it into Tristan’s thigh. Clear colored liquid disappeared into his flesh.

Laura’s actions: quick, self-confident, well-trained.

“I didn’t give enough to cause elimination. Glad you’re waking him, though. I hadn’t been able to finish asking questions before he passed out. Damn lightweight.” Mark leaned closer inspecting Tristan. “How long does it take to work?”

Tristan’s eyes flew open. He attempted to sit up, struggling with his taped wrists. His breathing increased, chest pumping with rapid intake and release.

“Fast,” Laura said. Then to Tristan: “How’re you feeling?”

“Like this crazy fuck,” he nodded at Mark, “is trying to kill me. Who are you people?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,
Mr. Pilfer
. You’ve been caught and neutralized, awaiting pickup.”

“Hey,” Mark said to Tristan, “why…”

Laura interrupted. “You need to leave, Dr. Carter. This is your last warning.” She pointed her pistol at Mark. “Now go.”

His hands shot up. “Okay, okay. I’m out.”

Mark turned, started to the back exit. A sharp pain sliced through his thigh. He fell gripping his leg, face scrunched, teeth clenched. Blood seeped between his fingers. Looking up, his eyes followed Laura’s gun swing towards the bathroom.

“You should’ve left the first time I told you,” she yelled at Mark. To Tristan: “Who else is here?”

“I don’t know.” Tristan’s legs drew back as though trying to protect his chest from gunfire. “Nobody.”

“Very funny,” she said rolling her eyes. Calling towards the bathroom: “Toss your weapon and come out now!”

No response from the bathroom.

“Last time,” Laura called, “or it’s gonna get real ugly up in here!”

Still aiming at the bathroom, Laura crept around Mark and the bed. She stood at the headboard behind Tristan. She rummaged in the bag and retrieved the knife she’d taken from Mark and held it to Tristan’s throat.

“I’m going to slice your buddy’s neck if you’re not out here in three seconds. One… Two…” Laura put pressure on the knife causing Tristan to call out.

“Okay,” a female voice shouted. “Don’t hurt him. Here’s my gun.”

A 9mm pistol slid from the bathroom door, over the hardwood floor, stopping in front of Mark. His hand swooped down and up, aiming at the bathroom in one fluid motion.

From the cave-like opening, a shadowy figure emerged, hands held up.

“I’m going to switch on the lights,” the voice said. One hand inched over and clicked the switch. In the bright lights stood a female figure, dressed in black, dark hair pulled back, eyeglasses perched atop a delicate nose.

Laura laughed a sound of condescending sarcasm. “Tiffany?” She sighed. “What the hell?”

Tristan spoke up, eyebrows raised: “Lilly. You mean Lilly. Why did you call her Tiffany?”

Tiffany shifted, left hand poking her glasses up. The enormous diamond on her finger twinkled in the light. Red, draining pustules ran from fingers up her arm, making their way up her neck. “Lilly is my middle name. I thought you’d like it better than Tiffany.”

“I love you for who you are, Lilly, not for your name.”

Laura pressed the knife harder, sending a second line of blood down Tristan’s chest. “Isn’t that just too sweet? Two criminals in love. Sounds like a pathetic chick flick… until you get to the part where your fiancée is trying to poison you.”

Mark chuckled from the floor. “Now it’s turned into an episode from the Investigation Discovery channel.”

“Please,” Tiffany whined. “He didn’t poison me. He…”

“Zip it. I always thought you were a little odd, Tiffany, but a really good friend. A great friend, in fact. You were always there for me when we were kids. Because of that, I got you a job with The Institute, with
my
family’s business.” Laura’s voice rose. “And now this? This is how you thank me? By embarrassing me? What happened to you? How’d you slip into the piss pot of humanity?” She pointed the gun at Tiffany’s disfigured hand. “Engaged to a drug dealer that’s slowly killing you? The Institute investigated your office, Tiffany. The toxins were put there on purpose by this jerkoff.” She pressed the knife deeper into Tristan’s throat. “Don’t you know you should never trust a bad guy? You need to be eliminated on principle alone! Unbelievable!”

Tiffany looked away, red-faced behind tiny blisters, shoulders slumping. “He treats me like a lady,” she mumbled towards the doorjamb. “He’s good to me, better than any man.”

“That’s nice, Tiffany.” Laura’s lips depressed, eyes narrowing. “You two can write each other from prison if you make it that far. The toxin he gave you is turning your blood to jelly. Notice how hard it’s getting to use the arm with blisters? They’re spreading to your neck and face. I can see them. Next, they’ll move deeper into your head and fry your brain, Tiffany. You don’t have much time left if we don’t get you to Medical. Now walk towards me. Slowly. Keep your hands above your head.”

Tiffany did as instructed with head down, eyes to the floor.

Laura took the knife away from Tristan’s neck and slipped it back into the bag. She dug out zip ties.

Tiffany rounded the bed, sidestepped Mark. She lifted her foot, slammed her heel into Mark’s temple, grabbing the gun before Mark’s head hit the floor. She turned, pointing the pistol at Laura.

“You would’ve made an excellent soldier for The Institute, Tiffany. Excitement, intellect, great pay, and good people. Too bad you chose to side with criminals.”

“Your turn to zip it,” Tiffany mocked. “Now that you’ve put the knife away, what’re you going to do? The way I see it, you can kill me or Tristan. Not both of us, and I’ll shoot you before you get the chance. Now, place the gun in the bag, then drop the bag and push it to me with your foot.” She slid her glasses up with a middle finger, flipping off her former best friend and surrogate cousin in the process.

Laura’s eyes lit up, a smile lifted her cheeks. “Not happening. This is getting boring.” She faked a yawn. “Any other demands before I take out you and your wannabe gangster boyfriend?”