Countermeasure (27 page)

“You already are. Bristol knows it was you. They have you on video. Where is it? Hand it over now!” Carl looked around the small room and Allison realized her mistake when his eyes locked on the hard drive sitting on the coffee table. They moved for it at the same time, but Carl’s reach was longer. Realizing instantly that his fingers would reach it before she could, Allison yelled, “NO!” and jumped on his back, pulling on his hair and ears.

Carl tried to dislodge her by twisting his body left and right. When she wouldn’t let go he growled and reached for the hard drive again. Desperate now, Allison reached around his head and started clawing at his face. Yelling in pain, Carl bucked even harder. When he tried to shake her off his back, she rode him like a bull, tightening her thighs and holding on for all she was worth. Carl carried her weight, inched forward, and reached for the drive a third time. With a sob, Allison wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. When that didn’t faze him, she did the first thing that came to mind—she bit down hard on the shell of his ear, tearing his flesh and drawing blood.

“You bitch!” he yelled as he reached for his ear and came away with blood—blood that now dripped from his earlobe, down his cheek, and onto his shirt.

“Fucking whore!” he yelled, and lost all control.

He reached over his shoulder, grabbed her by the hair, and jerked hard, twisting and turning until her legs were forced loose from his waist. Screaming in pain, she cried out for help.
Didn’t anybody hear her? Where was everybody in this place?

With a grunt, Carl reached up with both hands, grabbed her head, and swung hard to the right, using their momentum to throw her off his back and to the floor between the coffee table and the chair. Her head hit the corner of the table on the way down and she landed with a hard thud, the wind knocked from her lungs. A whimper and a loud moan escaped her. She shook her head from side to side to clear her sight, but the pain was blinding and black clouded her vision.

Carl squatted, covered her mouth with his hand, and tried to muffle her cries as they continued to struggle. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

Pain pierced her stomach and she let out a muffled scream. Her eyes, wide and startled, snapped to Carl’s face. She never saw it coming. Never in a million years had she imagined that it would come to that. She looked down between their bodies and watched as he pulled the blade out. Blood pulsed from the wound dripping down her sides.

“I told you to shut up! I told you to cooperate! You didn’t fucking listen!” he yelled at her, stabbing her a second time.

She grunted when his hand pressed against her chest and his knife hand twisted the blade, pulling it out again to wipe it on her blouse. She heard the buzz of the intercom in the background at the same time Carl stood, straightening his clothes. She could only stare at him and the knife in his hand while he looked down on her with a mix of emotions on his face she couldn’t quite identify. She was growing numb. Her eyes were so heavy she could barely keep them open.

Her head fell back to rest against the rug and she whispered, “Help me…”

“You should have done what you were told.” Carl’s voice was full of contempt.

Through lowered lids, she watched Carl pick up the hard drive and stuff it in his pocket. Tears slid down the sides of her face. She knew she was dying. She tracked the sound of his movements through the house—the water being turned on in the small bathroom by the front door, the sound of his footsteps briskly walking down the hall, and the silence that engulfed her when he left.

She turned her head to the side and noticed her cell on the floor near the chair. She reached out for it but it was too far away. Lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, she knew she was a goner. Then she remembered the buzz of the intercom and hope filled her. A hope that someone would find her before it was too late.

****

Standing in the doorway of the apartment building, Trevor pressed the button imprinted with Allison’s apartment number. After several buzzes and no response, Cassandra’s face registered concern.

Looking through the glass door, they could see a man coming from the elevator toward them. Quickly, Cassandra pulled open her bag and began rummaging through it with a flustered look on her face. When the man pushed open the door and barreled past them with barely a glance, Trevor stuck his foot out to stop the door from shutting. He then grabbed Cassandra’s arm to pull her through the door, but Cassandra hesitated. The man was about her height with dark hair closely cut to his head and piercing eyes. What struck her was the state of his clothes; the hair on her arms stood on end as she noticed the dark blotches on his shirt and jacket.

Trevor yanked on her arm and pulled her out of her stupor. With one last look at the man’s retreating back, she followed Trevor through the door. They took the elevator to the third floor where the apartment was located. Reaching the landing with its four doors, they checked each one for the number Allison gave them. The second one to the left of the stairs was the one they wanted. Walking to the door, Trevor rapped on it and they were both surprised when it popped open slightly on first contact.

For the second time that night, Cassandra’s hair stood on end, but this time on the back of her neck. Something was terribly wrong. Like clockwork, they were both instantly on alert. Trevor pushed the door open slowly with his elbow and stepped into the apartment. Cassandra followed close behind, missing the comfort of her Glock in her hand. Once inside, they closed the door behind them and moved cautiously into the hall toward the large room at the end.

Cassandra caught up with Trevor and tugged on his jacket. He turned his head toward her and she mouthed, “Be careful. And don’t touch anything.” The grim set of her mouth let him know she was expecting this to be bad.

The hall opened into a sitting room with a small kitchen attached. The room was a mess, everything tossed about like a hurricane had hit. Hearing a moan, Trevor quickly moved toward the sound. Cassandra scanned the room and approached the kitchen to make sure it was clear, noticing the bottle and puddle of water on the floor.
She
was caught by surprise
, she thought, sensing no one else in the place.

“Cassandra! I found her!” she heard Trevor calling.

Quickly joining him in the sitting area, she reached him just as he lifted Allison’s shirt and revealed a deep wound to her abdomen. Falling to her knees, Cassandra gripped Allison’s hand tightly. There was a metallic tang in the air and a dark pool of blood soaked the rug underneath her body. Cassandra was surprised that Allison was still hanging on, considering the blood loss she had sustained from her wounds.

“Call 911!” Trevor prompted her as he shrugged out of his jacket and tried to stanch the blood with it.

Cassandra pulled out her cell and called emergency services while Trevor tried to make Allison comfortable.

“Allison! Hold on, help is coming! Can you tell us what happened?” Trevor leaned over and asked her.

Allison was pale and her breathing was coming in shallow puffs. Hearing Trevor’s voice, her eyelids fluttered and she groaned slightly. “Carl Kenyon,” she whispered.

“Carl Kenyon? Who is he? Can you tell us more?” Allison grimaced in pain and Trevor’s face contorted into a grimace of his own. “Hang tight, Allison. The ambulance will be here soon.”

Cassandra watched as Trevor’s eyes became glassy. She had to hand it to him. She had seen her share of horrible, heartbreaking scenes during her years with the CIA, but this was his first. Although he appeared to be deeply affected by the sight of Allison, wounded and bloodied, he was holding up pretty well.

“Trevor? Are you good?” she asked, worried he might be going into shock.

Trevor’s mouth formed a grim line and he nodded. Slightly assured and filled with admiration for him, she settled back again and continued to hold Allison’s hand, hoping to give her as much comfort as possible while Trevor continued to talk to Allison in a soothing voice.

“He took it. He took the hard drive,” Allison peeped, gulping for breath before adding, “My cell phone.”

She motioned with a flutter of her fingers. Looking in the direction Allison indicated, Cassandra noticed the side table. She released Allison’s hand and slid on her knees toward it. She searched for the device and found it lying on the floor, partially hidden under the chair where it must have fallen during what appeared to have been a very violent struggle. Cassandra handed the phone to Trevor and returned to Allison’s side to hold her hand again.

“Where the fuck is the EMS truck? Why are they taking so long?” Trevor mumbled under his breath, pocketing the device.

“They’ll be here soon.” Her words were a feeble attempt to reassure them both. Glancing down at Allison, Cassandra could tell she was fading fast and running out of time. Her face had blanched, her lips had turned a bluish color, and the hollows under her eyes had deepened since they’d found her. Signs she had seen before, and they weren’t good.

Allison’s breath suddenly came in halting gasps and Trevor sternly yelled at her, “Hang on, Allison!” His voice broke and Cassandra wondered at the compassion he showed to a total stranger.

The few minutes they had been there felt like hours. Trevor’s eyes were trained on Allison’s face, totally focused on her as if willing her to live. “Hold on Allison, look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Help is on its way!”

Allison’s hand went slack in hers. Cassandra looked down and noticed that Allison’s body was shaking and her breath had almost completely halted. Cassandra’s heart filled with sorrow when Allison’s eyes dimmed, body stilled, and hand fell away from hers.

Looking back at Trevor she saw his head bow and his chin rest against his chest. “She’s gone.”

“I know,” he whispered, reaching out a hand and gently closing the lids over Allison’s sightless eyes.

Trevor struggled to contain his anger. Based on all the information they’d gathered since he joined the search for Allison, he had come to realize she had been nothing more than a small pawn in a sadistic game of chess between powerful companies.

Allison had been pulled into the scheme by people who knew how to take advantage of her weaknesses and manipulate her. She was just someone who had lost sight of reality when given the opportunity to make a dream come true; in her case, it had been to benefit others, not fame and fortune.

“Allison was a good person,” Trevor said through clenched teeth. “Why would they kill her for a fucking hard drive?” He couldn’t grasp the reasoning behind such a senseless act.

“Money,” Cassandra said quietly. “Allison was just a stone in their path. They wanted the contents of the drive at any cost. Nothing would stop them from getting it.”

With shaky hands, Trevor crossed Allison’s hands on her stomach. He had never been exposed to such a tragic display of death before. Although he had attended funerals back in Ireland, they had usually been for the elderly who had lived life to its fullest, or for those who had been taken down by illness. He couldn’t recall ever seeing that much blood in his life, other than in movies. The reality of it, the tang of it, had been a huge shock to his senses.

The sirens approaching in the distance were getting louder. Trevor’s eyes snapped to Cassandra. “We need to get out of here. Now!”

Although they had committed no crime, Cassandra shared Trevor’s urge to leave the apartment before EMS and the police arrived. If they stayed, it would be hard to explain what they were doing in a dead woman’s apartment, especially in a foreign country, and when they had ties to Allison, who had been in possession of something they wanted. Everything would point to them as suspects, and they would be caught up in red tape, losing precious time. By the time they would be cleared of charges, the Kenyon guy would be long gone and the formula would have been sold to the highest bidder, making their job harder and putting Bristol through an avoidable legal battle.

Cassandra quickly pushed herself from the floor and stood, searching the area for anything that could incriminate them, making sure they left nothing behind. She rushed to the kitchen and returned with a plastic bag. With an apologetic look at Trevor, she reached down and grabbed his jacket from Allison’s chest and stuffed it into it.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t leave it,” she commented as she knotted the bag and stuffed it inside her own jacket.

Cassandra quickly made one last scan of the room and then met Trevor’s eyes with hers. His burned with a mix of anger and purpose.

“Did you touch anything?”

“Only her,” he responded before she could even finish. Taking her hand in his, he pulled her out of the room and down the hall to the elevator; however, the dying of the loud sirens indicated that the paramedics had already arrived.

“Shite! This way!” Trevor pulled her in the opposite direction, toward the back of the building. At the end of the corridor was a window, which, after a quick check, he was able to confirm was an emergency exit to a fire escape. Opening the window, they climbed out onto the metal grate. When they made it down to the second level, they heard more sirens approaching in the distance.

“They might have already declared her DOA and called in the cavalry. We need to ditch the car,” Cassandra commented in a breathless voice as they made their way down the stairs to street level and took off at a clipped pace in the direction of their hotel. They fled, taking the longest and windiest route they could, clutching each other’s hands, their lifeline while being tossed in the ocean of chaos their little mission had become.