Fade (2005) (30 page)

"Oh, come on, sweetie!"

Karen spun toward the voice and watched a man with a .45 step fro m behind her car.

"Obviously, Fade thinks if he blubbers enough, you're going to le t him get in your pants."

Karen glanced over at Fade, who was standing completely motionless , watching the man with an almost perplexed expression. "Look, I don'
t know who you are but I'm a cop "

"I know who the fuck you are, Karen,"
t he man said, moving cautiously toward her, but keeping his gun traine d on Fade. "And I believe it's more accurate to say that you're a forme r cop."

He stopped about ten feet away and tossed her a couple of zip ties. "I t hink you know how to use those. Down on your face, Fade."

He didn't move until the man swung his gun level with Karen's head.

"Hillel doesn't want you killed until he talks to you, but I don't hav e orders one way or another about the bitch."

Fade sunk to his knees and then lay facedown on the ground. The ma n waved his gun, prompting Karen to walk over and kneel beside Fade.

"A friend of yours?"

"Roy Buckner. Army Delta."

"Shut up!"

Karen tightened a zip tie around Fade's wrists and then looped th e other around his ankles. He didn't react at all to being bound, h e just lay there with his cheek pressed into the dirt and his eyes fixe d on nothing.

"Why don't you give that one around his hands another tug," Buckne r said.

She glared at him for a moment, but in light of the gun aimed at her , did as he asked.

Buckner stepped a little closer. "One more."

"It'll cut off his circulation."

"He's not going to need his hands anymore."

"Fuck you."

He was pretty fast, but she still saw the kick coming and managed t o get an arm up, partially blocking it. Still, the force sent he r sprawling to the ground. She heard a quiet ratcheting as Buckner gav e the zip tie one last pull and then felt him grab the back of her nec k and shove her face into the dirt. She was in the process of using hi s momentum to roll him off her when the unmistakable coldness of a gu n barrel pressed against the back of her head.

"Now you wouldn't be armed, would you?" he said, not letting the fac t that she wasn't wearing enough to conceal a weapon keep him fro m entertaining himself by searching her thoroughly. After about a minut e of having his knee in her back and his hands all over her, he slappe d her on the butt.

"Looks like she's clean, Fade. But she could just be tricky, huh? Wha t do you think? Maybe I missed a spot."

Fade remained silent, eyes still focused on nothing but the air. H
e didn't react at all when Buckner knelt beside him and conducted an onl y slightly less thorough search. He seemed a little worried that h e didn't find anything.

"You look like a strong little thing," he said, stepping back an d pointing the gun at Karen again. "Tell you what I want you to do. I w ant you to pick up our friend here and throw him in the back seat o f his car."

She did as she was told, rolling Fade onto his back and dragging hi m across the clearing. He didn't seem interested in being helpful and i t was clear that Buckner didn't want to get within ten feet of hi s prisoner, so Karen found herself having to use a combination of brut e strength and leverage to get Fade's dead weight off the ground.

When she started tipping him forward over the side of the convertible , Buckner ran up behind them and threw a vicious kick to his lower back.

Karen got partially in the way of it and took some of the blow with he r own back, but Fade still absorbed enough force to flip him over th e side of the car and into the back seat.

"How's the ol' spine?" Buckner said, looking down at Fade's motionles s body. "Still bothering you?"

"You son of a bitch!" Karen shouted, taking a step toward him but the n stopping when he aimed his gun between her eyes.

"Get his keys."

She didn't move immediately, instead standing there grinding her teeth.

Finally, she crawled into the back seat and began fishing around i n Fade's pockets. "Are you all right?"

His eyes were closed now and his muscles seemed completely slack.

"Get behind the wheel and put your seat belt on," Buckner ordered.

When she'd complied, he slid into the passenger seat and slammed th e door shut.

"Pretty stupid to set me up like this, Fade," he said, turning in th e seat so he could watch both of them at the same time. "I mean if yo u had a hard-on for this bitch, why didn't you do something about it whe n you had the chance? You can be a sneaky bastard and you're a prett y good shot I'll give you that. But I swear you were always a littl e soft in the head."

Chapter
Thirty-Nine.

It had been a classic no-win situation. Strand could have stayed a t the hospital but Banes and Despain had made it clear that they couldn'
t guarantee his safety there. The only other option was to return to th e office, ensuring his physical survival but also guaranteeing a political showdown that he wasn't prepared for.

He sat quietly as Darren Crenshaw, the recently appointed director o f Homeland Security, put a foot up on one of the drawers in his desk an d tapped out a monotonous rhythm with a pencil.

Crenshaw was a former Marine general and Rhodes Scholar who saw n o reason to evolve personally to better fit his new political role. Hi s spacious office was sparsely decorated with government-issue furniture , his hair was chopped in a ruler-straight flattop, and his dark suit ha d the look of a dress uniform stripped of its emblems and medals. He ha d been a surprise appointee considering the fact that he didn't bother t o hide his distaste for political reality and his bias toward people wh o had, in his words, "been in the trenches."

To make matters even worse, Crenshaw was strangely unpredictable. Man y of the men who had enjoyed success in the military were quit e brilliant, but most could be counted on to have a somewhat plodding an d easily anticipated thought process.

"I'm not sure I completely understand this cake thing," Crenshaw sai d finally.

Obviously, there had been no way to keep that incident quiet. The bes t Strand could hope to do was massage the truth in a way that would kee p him out of harm's way until al Fayed could be dealt with.

"We believe now that the perpetrator broke into my assistant's hous e and found a note she'd written to remind herself to pick up a cake fo r my birthday. He held the baker hostage and forced her to poison tha t cake."

"The world 'poison' might be a little strong," Crenshaw pointed out.

"Best guess is that this guy just wanted to make you real sick."

"Yes, sir. He obviously wanted to get us to the hospital where h e could kill us face to face ..."

The timing of this meeting couldn't have been worse. Strand's head wa s pounding mercilessly and his stomach felt like it was twisted in a vise. In a conversation that demanded complete mental agility, it wa s taking everything he had to just track on what was being said.

"I wonder. Why deal with all that uncertainty when you could just dum p a bunch of shoe polish or something in there and get you all fo r sure."

"This way was more public. The description of the perpetrator suggest s that he could have been Arab."

"But with blond hair and no accent."

"Yes, sir."

The only path Strand could take was to suggest that he and his peopl e were attacked by an unknown terrorist who had discovered the existenc e of their unit. Reasonably plausible and difficult to disprove.

"And Matt somehow figured out the hospital was the place to be an d intercepted the guy there."

"Yes, sir. He talked to "

"How did he know this wasn't a biological attack?"

"Excuse me?" Strand said, trying to give himself time to adjust to th e sudden change in subject.

"From what I hear, he walked into the office after you were hauled of f and not too gently threw our haz-mat people out. Now, I don't kno w Matt well, but I know him well enough to say he's not careless o r stupid."

?

Strand kept his expression passive, but felt the anger building insid e him. Egan had fucked up badly bursting in like that.

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that. He's out chasing leads and I've no t talked to him. My assumption is that he spoke with one of the doctor s and they told him what we'd ingested, but I just had the strength t o follow up on "

"So would it be fair to say that, in your delicate condition, you'v e put Matt in charge of this investigation?"

"I'm in the process of getting back up to speed, sir. I "

"But you're not yet."

"Obviously, I'm still feeling the effects of "

"I don't want to hear it, Hillel. We've got an attack on a Homelan d Security division that no one's supposed to know about and for goo d goddamn reason by a guy who may or may not be of Arab extraction. I w ant to know who this guy is, where he is, and how the hell he foun d out about you. But you don't seem to be able to tell me any of thos e things."

Strand felt his phone begin to vibrate. "Excuse me, sir." He pulle d the phone from his pocket and looked down at the incoming number. Ro y Buckner. "This could be an update on the situation, sir. Do you min d if I take it?"

Crenshaw waved a hand dismissively and began nipping through a file o n the desk.

"Hello?" Strand said, pressing the phone to his ear hard enough t o ensure that Crenshaw wouldn't be able to hear the other side of th e conversation.

"I got him."

Strand let out a long, quiet breath and slumped slightly in his chair.

Thank God. This was finally going to be over.

"I also got the lady cop."

Crenshaw glanced up at him when he suddenly snapped straight in hi s chair.

"What?" Strand said, keeping his tone even. "You were breaking up."

"I got Manning. There was no avoiding it they were talking about yo u when I found them. Sounds like she's heard his whole life story."

Strand felt the beads of sweat begin on his forehead and resisted th e urge to wipe them away. Why in the fuck couldn't anything just b e simple? Why couldn't things just work out the way they were suppose d to?

"Easiest way," Buckner continued, "is if I do her here and then he ca n either, uh, commit suicide or I can bring him in so you can talk to hi m first."

"Was there any communication with anyone else?"

"Nah. She was jogging in the woods. No cell phone."

"You're sure."

"Believe me. I checked."

Strand slowly turned Buckner's report over in his mind. There was n o way to know how much al Fayed had told her and no way to guarantee sh e would remain silent. Particularly when his body turned up.

Unable to stay in his chair any longer, he stood and turned toward th e wall, running a hand through his hair.

The risk of killing the woman seemed minimal. Al Fayed had murdere d nearly her entire team and it didn't stretch credibility that he migh t try to finish the job and then kill himself. It seemed almost certai n that no one would pursue the issue any further than his dead body. I n fact, the police hierarchy would be ecstatic to see Manning silenced.

Of course, Egan would have his suspicions but what could he do wit h them?

When he turned back around, Crenshaw had abandoned the pretense o f reading the file in front of him and was staring impatiently in hi s direction.

"I'm going to have to call you back on this," Strand said. "I'm in a meeting." He couldn't let himself be rushed into this kind of a decision without time to think it through.

"What the fuck are you talking about, a meeting? Jesus Christ, I'
m sitting out here in the goddamn woods ..."

Strand hung up the phone and sat down again. "I'm sorry, sir. Nothin g conclusive yet."

Chapter
Forty.

"Can you believe that asshole?" Buckner said, leaning against the ca r door and snapping off a branch that was hanging next to him. "He want s to think about it. No wonder you want to kill him."

At Buckner's orders, Karen Manning had eased the Cadillac into th e woods, scraping along the trees and rocks for twenty yards until th e forest became an impassable barrier. It was far enough, though the y would be completely invisible to anyone who might show up in th e clearing her car was still parked in.

Fade was lying motionless on his stomach in the back seat trying t o concentrate, but there wasn't really that much to think about. Buckne r was a sadistic asshole, but he was well trained and clearly had th e upper hand.

Apparently his life as a clinically depressed cabinetmaker had left hi m stupid, careless, and slow. After everything he'd been through, he wa s going to be shot like a dog by one of the biggest losers the Specia l Forces had ever produced. The really strange thing, though, was tha t he couldn't bring himself to care.

Fade tried to move his completely numb right leg, but the blow he'
d taken to his back had pretty much paralyzed it. His left still worke d okay, but there was a pins and needles sensation in it that he'd neve r felt before. He tried his fingers next, but couldn't be certai n whether or not they functioned. The zip ties around his wrists ha d turned them into what felt like lumps of dead flesh.