Deadly News: A Thriller (19 page)

“No,” Emily said glaring at him. “This is her choice, and she has to know that.” She looked at Abby again, and Abby didn’t like the kindness she saw there, the remorse; a look asking for forgiveness. “We can’t force you because you haven’t confess to anything—”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“We can’t force you,” Emily said again, giving Abby that pitiful look, “but just know that Ecks’s life isn’t the only one on the line here. I can’t say anything else, but I want you to know you’d be saving two people, not just one.”

“Screw you,” Abby said. “Trying to guilt me in to doing it. I don’t need your shit-story, I was already going to do it.” She laughed, and the two agents who had remained in the room with her cast worried glances at each other. She noted their hands hovering near their guns, and laughed again. She couldn’t help it. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Laugh. “Maybe they’ll waterboard me, wouldn’t that be a relief!” Laugh. “At least my clothes won’t get wet!”

“Abby…”

Abby shook her head, fell onto the bed. “I thought you had eyes on Ecks. Why can’t you just grab him?”

“It’s not that simple,” Silverback said. “We can’t just pick him up, there are logistical difficulties.”

She stared at him. “Logistical difficulties? That sounds awfully politic.” She frowned, tilted her head. “You’re getting something out of this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying—”

“The FBI”—she gestured around—“is getting something out of this.” She squinted at Emily. “Saving more than Ecks, you said.”

“Ms Melcer—” Silverback began.

“Just do what you have to do. I confess. I did it! Whatever ‘it’ is.”

He stared at her like he wanted to say something, but remained silent.

Abby thought he looked even more like a gorilla now, his nose subtly flaring, and laughed.

Oddly, this seemed to calm him rather than enrage. Maybe it made it easier for him to think she was crazy, and there’s no arguing with crazy, so who cared what they thought!

Abby looked away, at the curtains covering the non-window and hoped Silverback wouldn’t be here when she did what she had to.

After some discussion—mostly letting Abby know what was expected of her—followed by protests and threats from Silverback—mostly pertaining to how he needed to monitor the operation—the instructions Agent Mills had been given were followed exactly: A camera was brought in, then everyone left the room save for Agent Mills, Emily, and Abby herself. The door was shut, and Agent Mills filmed her while she confessed, then Emily placed her under arrest, reading her her rights in a loud, clear voice. She was then strip-searched, and handcuffed.

They then left the room, Mills following and still recording as Abby was led out. Almost everyone else was already gone, since the building was now considered compromised, even though ‘They’ gave no hint they knew where it was. Besides, once they had the video that was currently being made, it wouldn’t take much to figure it out.

Abby was placed into the back of an SUV, at which point Emily took the camera and got in the backseat while Mills drove.

They passed the car with Silverback and the two other agents as they left. Emily had somehow gotten him to listen to her and wait outside, which Abby appreciated.

She tried to ignore the camera pointed at her face as they headed to their destination, which she hadn’t been told.

They drove for a few miles, to a small bridge. On the bridge, as, it turned out, had been promised, was a man, hooded, but otherwise naked. His arms and legs had been strip-cuffed together, and when Abby approached him, he did not move.

Emily removed the cuffs from Abby, and handed her the small camera, which was still filming.

“Unconscious,” Mills said, kneeling by the hooded man.

The other cars were waiting several hundred yards away, their headlights dimly lighting the scene. Abby guessed that had been part of the instructions, but didn’t know for sure.

Emily nodded at Mills, then looked at Abby. “I’m—”

“Don’t.” Abby said.

“You’ll be safe, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

Abby gestured to herself. “Really?”

Emily looked away.

“I’ll probably die from hypothermia first anyway.”

“Actually it’s not cold enough for—” Emily stopped herself. “Thirty minutes.”

Abby didn’t respond, just held the camera out in front of her, turned, and walked away.

After walking for roughly eleven minutes, according to the camera’s recording time display, Abby saw the cluster of lights.

A few more minutes and she was there. She looked up at the surveillance cameras covering the area. They were little comfort; a promise of safety she could no longer believe in.

She was hesitant to go into the store that had once upon a time been a Kinko’s, but the bite of the cold was enough to give her the resolve to enter.

The clerk looked up briefly, then returned her gaze to her phone as Abby pushed through the doors.

Abby approached the counter. She ended the recording and placed the video camera on the counter. “I need to use a computer.”

The women was typing something on her phone. It looked long, and she seemed to have been crying. She looked up at Abby. “Sure, sorry. Just—” She frowned at Abby. “You’re topless.”

“Computer,” Abby said. “This is important. I need to upload something. You’re expecting it?”

“Oh,” the woman grabbed a piece of paper from the counter. “Yes.” She put down her phone and came out from behind the counter. She stared at Abby. “You…”

“Computer?”

After a moment, the woman said, “Okay. Follow me.”

As the woman logged on to a computer and attached the camera, Abby wondered if she’d be asked to pay, and laughed.

The woman notably did not look at her.

She gave Abby the scrap of paper with the internet address on it, then hovered.

“Thanks,” Abby said. “I can take it from here.”

The woman nodded and went back behind the counter, glancing at Abby every few seconds.

She better not call the cops, Abby thought. She went to MediaFire, logged in with the account information on the paper, removed the SD card from the camera, slotted into the computer and selected the file from it. The upload would take several minutes.

Abby sat, hoping no one else would come in this late. She slouched down as low as she could without actually hiding under the desk.

It finished, and Abby looked at the clock. Wait three minutes, and she was supposed to go back to the counter. She wondered how much of the video they would watch.

A few seconds before it was time, she stood, leaving the camera behind. She was supposed to leave it and the memory card there. This somehow seemed nefarious, but it was among the least of her worries.

The woman looked up from her phone and stared at Abby as she approached. “So, are you, like, protesting something?”

“I wish. You’re going to get a call—”

The phone rang, and the woman’s mouth dropped open. She looked from phone to Abby several times.

“Answer!”

She fumbled with the phone, got it to her ear. “Hello? Uh, FedEx Office, can I—

“Yes.” A pause. “Uh, sure.” She held out the phone to Abby.

“Hello Abby.” It was the man again.

“I did what you said.”

“That you did, to a tee this time. I must say, I’m proud. Now, next steps—” There was some kind of noise. It was muted by the caller’s noise suppression, turned into a tinny wash of white noise. That meant he was probably calling from a cellphone, Abby thought. “Oh, my, look at the time. Have to go.” The line went dead.

“Hello?” Abby grunted. “Fuck!”

The woman’s cell phone rang. She recoiled and stared at it in fear.

Abby reached over the counter and grabbed it. “Hello?” she said in as normal of voice as she could manage. It could just be coincidence. She didn’t know why she cared about freaking someone out, but she did.

But it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Yes, you’re there. Good. Now walk outside.” It was a woman this time. It sounded like the same one she’d talked to before, the snippy tone standing out as much as the tone of the voice itself. Abby wondered why they kept switching.

“I can’t—”

“I will not say it again. If you question anything else I say, our business will be terminated.”

Abby left. The FedEx clerk didn’t even try to stop her, just watched her go.

Abby was about to say she was outside, but the woman on the phone went on. “There is a gas station. No, other way. Yes. Enter it. I’ll wait.”

Abby did. It didn’t even surprise her anymore that they could see her.

The few people in the store stared at her. The clerk, who looked like a boy to Abby, grinned widely at her from under his long hair. “Hey there.”

Abby ignored him and waited for further instructions.

“There is a man in a hat, he’s wearing red. Do you see him?”

Abby looked around and spotted someone in a red plaid shirt. “Yes.”

“Approach him, he will take it from there. Oh, and Abby? Leave the phone with that boy behind the counter, he’ll know what to do with it.” She hung up.

Abby reappraised the boy, was he involved? She approached, and his smile seemed to grow. She held out the phone for him. “You know what to do with this?”

He looked at it, still smiling. “I could find a use, if that’s what you’re into.”

“What?” She shook her head. “Do you know who it belongs to?”

“Um.”

“She works at the printing shop. She’s there now.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He took the phone. “She put you up to this? Technically my birthday’s not till tomorrow, but I’m not—” He stopped and looked behind her.

There was a tap at Abby’s back. It was the man in the red plaid shirt.

“Can we get this over with? Come on.”

Abby followed him out of the store. The boy behind the counter said something, but she didn’t really hear it. She was focused on the man in front of her, the red plaid of his shirt.

He led them toward a truck parked by one of the pumps. The screen in the pump was playing ads. Life insurance. Abby laughed. She wondered why ads were playing when the pump wasn’t in use. This somehow seemed more important than anything else.

A door clicked, distracting her from the talking head telling her how important it was to leave something for your loved ones. The man in plaid had opened the passenger door. Abby could smell stale cigar smoke drift out.

She didn’t know what she expected, blood? Tools of torture? But the inside of the cab looked normal. There was a jacket on the seat, a coffee from somewhere that wasn’t Starbucks in the cupholder. The ashtray was open, but it was currently empty.

The man in plaid crawling partway in, and came out with a flash drive and some tape. Abby had gotten close to look inside, and he bumped into her as turned around. He let out a little cry, and almost fell back into the cab. He caught himself before going all the way down. “Sorry. Can you back up?”

Abby did. He seemed very uncomfortable with the proximity.

He bent and picked up the tape he’d dropped, then said, “Sorry about this.”

“About what?” Abby said. Her voice wavered, and she took a deep breath to prevent it from happening again.

“I have to tape this to you.”

“Oh,” Abby said. That was weird, but at least she wouldn’t lose it.

He licked his lips. “And…” He looked away, then back at her face, which he fixated on. “Your hands too.”

“Just get it over with. I’m freezing.”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

He placed the flash drive against the hollow of her throat, then asked her to hold up her hair. She hesitated, but remembered the woman’s words and did as asked.

He wrapped the tape around her neck loosely, securing the drive in place. Then he told her to sit down and hold out her hands, which he secured at the wrists.

“I have to cover your mouth now. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing and just do it. The sooner you do, the sooner this will be over.” Then she couldn’t speak.

He went to the back of his truck and got a chain and two large locks. He wrapped this once around the gas pump—life insurance ad still playing, the talking head still dumbly going on—then around one of her ankles. “You, uh,” he swallowed. “Jesus, I’m sorry. You need to—” He looked away. When he looked back, Abby saw tears in his eyes. “You need to spread your legs apart.”

The cold became her. Starting in her chest, it spread through her whole body, and for some reason the air she was breathing wasn’t enough to satisfy her lungs.

She must have done as she was asked though, because she found herself lying on the ground, the smell of duct tape and gasoline—two very useful things, she thought—competing in her nostrils.

She only vaguely felt the burning of her gracilis muscles as her legs were abducted to their limit.

She heard sobbing, and felt something even colder, though this seemed impossible, touch her. It was all very distant, like it was touching someone else, and she was being notified of it over a bad connection.

The cold seeped inside her, liquid nitrogen being sprayed on a snowman.

She wondered who was crying.

Vision faded away, and the night grew darker still. That was okay, she was having a hard time making sense of the things she saw.

There was a sense of falling, of resting, of time passing.

She blinked several times, a rapid succession of images. The different images she saw each time confused her. There were taillights, heading off into the dark. Then long dark hair, with a loud voice coming from beyond it. Then a person, and some kind of roof, and she was warm. Then a blast of cold. Automatic doors. Emily holding a hand—was it hers? And then darkness again.

Before she’d even fully come to, she already knew she was in a hospital room. She didn’t know how, but opening her eyes confirmed she was right. There was someone else in the room, she could tell, right over there. She couldn’t make her head turn that way, though.

The figure stood, emanated noise.

Speech, she realized.

Abby blinked, and the figure was hovering over her. It was like an insect.