Multiples of Six (18 page)

“I’m glad one of us can think,” James said.

“I think better in the rain,” Kevin said, then he started down the slope without a word to James, who followed his brother, remaining a couple steps behind.

They crossed the parking lot and James’ stomach lurched when a car rounded the corner of the building a bit too quickly. They stopped momentarily in the road, then Kevin broke out into a jog to the door. It took James a moment to overcome the urge to
not
run forward. Paynter’s waiting for us, he thought, and his feet unlocked from the ground. Kevin had reached the door before looking back. He beckoned impatiently and James hurried his pace. Kevin pulled the door open and the two slipped inside. James had barely scanned their surroundings when a voice called out.

“Excuse me?”

A female nurse about halfway down the hall had spotted the pair. She made toward them.

“C’mon, this way…move!” Kevin said, and pulled at James’ arm, half dragging him into a stairwell.

Kevin scaled the steps three at a time, and in wet shoes, it took every ounce of James’ energy to keep up and stay on his feet. Kevin threw open the door on the second landing then continued up to the next landing, where he caught James and held him, motioning for him to be quiet. They heard the footsteps of the nurse come up the stairs and stop at the landing below. James looked down and saw the puddle forming at their feet. Kevin seemed to notice it at the same time, but shook his head. If the nurse was that observant, then they probably deserved to be caught. They listened as the door to the second floor was pulled open again and the nurse went through. No sooner had the door closed than Kevin moved up the stairs at a slower pace.

“I wonder if Nic and Doug had a hard time,” James thought aloud.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kevin said, “That’s why they’re role-playing. Just in case.”

“What was our ‘just in case’?” James said.

“I don’t know…I’da thoughta somethin’,” Kevin said as they reached the third landing.

“Three forty-six,” James said.

“Thank you,” came a voice from the next floor, and both brothers jumped. They both moved to the edge of the stairs leading up to get a view of the speaker. There, at the base of the next landing, an elderly-looking man stood, a straw fedora with a red plaid band perched atop wispy white hair. His red jacket was a stark contrast to the white shirt and pants he wore. James noticed that the man wore no socks with his loafers. The sunken eyes had a sense of energy and madness in them.

“Jesus, mister. You scared us,” Kevin said.

“I said, ‘Thank you’,” the man said.

As he approached the edge of the landing above, James took an involuntary step backward. The man was dressed for a summer stroll through a park in Florida. There was something oddly familiar about him, James thought.

“Why would you thank us,” James said.

“Because, you see…dearest James, we’re looking for the same person, you and I.”

He spoke in such a creepy tone that James shuddered. He and Kevin turned to look at one another and were caught flat footed as the old man quickly reached the edge of the landing in two strides and threw himself down onto them from eight steps above. His open hand landed squarely in Kevin’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying across the floor, while his left fist caught James’ nose and cheek, throwing him to the ground at the man’s feet.

“What a couple of dumbass pussies,” the man said, looming over the two, now withdrawing a long-barreled gun from an inside pocket of his red sport coat.

“I thought maybe you’d put up some kind of fight at least.”

James made to get up, wiping and tasting the blood from his upper lip. The man quickly pointed the gun at Kevin, who lay clutching his chest and gasping for breath.

“Not if you want to watch your brother die,” he said. “Now, back over here.”

He waved the gun in James’ face until he had moved across the landing.

“Who the fuck are you?” James said.

James looked at Kevin who seemed to have no sense of what was going on. His only concern was regaining the breath that had been knocked out of him. He made loud gulping sounds.

“If you’ve hurt him…,” James began.

“You’ll what,” the man said, and a look of disgust crossed his misshapen face. James looked at the sunken eyes that belonged to a face that seemed to lack any muscle tissue at all. In fact, it seemed like the man before him had walked out of a concentration camp photo. He was taught skin on bone, every one of which should have broken in that jump. He looked 80, but there was something in the eyes. Something younger.

“You’ll kill me?” the man asked. “You’re standing on the wrong end of the gun to be saying that. Besides…you can’t kill something that died a long time ago,” he said.

“So what are you going to do?” James asked

“We’re going to go visit your friend, the good Dr. Paynter.”

“You think they’ll just let you walk through the ward like that?”

The man drew closer to James, the barrel of the gun the only thing between them. James could smell agedness pouring out of him.

“You think they’ll stop me?” he whispered, the beginnings of a wicked smile creeping up the corner of his mouth.

The man’s head suddenly turned, but the door to James’ left burst open so quickly, neither had a chance to move. It caught the old man full on the shoulder and the body that hurtled through the door took the old man with him. But, whoever it was had overestimated his speed and angle and James watched as the two plunged over the edge of the landing. The old man’s face flickered fear for a moment and the two were gone, landing in a tumbling, bone wrenching heap at the bottom of the stairs. The trance broke and James bolted for Kevin and, helping him to his feet, he didn’t look back as they went through the door onto the third floor ward.

Chapter 33

The door to Norris’ motel room slammed closed behind him. He stood beneath the small awning, relishing what little cover it was providing from the downpour. He pulled up the collar on his coat and spoke into the cell phone.

“Say again?” Norris said.

“That Chrysler from last night,” Dennis said.

“What of it?”

“Might have a connection to an incident over in New Jersey. Connected with a murder.”

“Murder? Can’t be the same.”

“Elderly man found dead after the homeowner called and said someone had broken in. The owner beat feet, but left his car. Interesting side comment here. Says that someone had called 911 the
previous
night from the same house. When police showed up, the house was empty. Owner’s car was still there. They waited around, but no one ever showed up. One witness described seeing a bunch of kids and an old man hop in a Chrysler. Some signs of forced entry at the rear of the house, but no signs of a struggle,” Dennis said.

“Bunch of kids and an old man?” Norris asked.

“Coincidence?”

“Doubtful. Who was the old man?”

“Neighbor who lived alone. He wasn’t exactly breaking in. I mean, the guy had on some PJs, slippers, and was carrying his newspaper,” Dennis said.

“So, he walks in for a neighborly visit.”

“And the kid shoots him.”

“The 911 call makes it pretty clear that it’s the owner, though. You can hear the old man call him by name. Voice is a bit scratchy for a young guy, but there you have it” Dennis said.

“But, then why does he still pull the trigger?”

“Don’t know, but he says ‘thank you’ right before he does it.”

“That ain’t right,” Norris said.

“Not at all. So, his name’s already been out there. His photo has even been plastered all over as a person of interest. He’s actually listed as armed and dangerous here.”

“Somethin’ ain’t right, Den. They don’t send ex-CIA assassins after kids with guns. What’s the kid’s name?”

“Masterson. James Masterson. Twenty-four…”

“Jesus…”

This time the cough that interrupted Norris came out in full and he hacked till the pain seared his chest and the urge to cough was abated by fear; he smacked his tongue on the fresh taste of blood in his mouth.

“Yeah…brown hair, green eyes, six one, medium build. I’ll send a photo to your phone,” Dennis said.

“Huh…hey, this didn’t synch with the shells from the hotel, did it?” Norris asked.

“The Jersey shells were high caliber but there’s nothing back on yours yet. You know how ballistics can be. There is something interesting on this. A file posted to this just two days before was given the highest security level,” Dennis said.

“How do you know it’s the highest?” Norris asked.

“Trade secret,” Dennis said.

“On a kid? Can you find out anything?” Norris asked.

“I’m already on it. You know I like nothing better than a ‘do not enter’ sign,” Dennis said.

“And, text me those specs. I’ve got a memory like a sieve lately.”

“John…be careful. At this level, bad things can happen in a hurry.”

“I read that. Thanks, Den.”

Norris placed the phone securely in the pocket inside his coat. He coughed again, this time spitting a stream onto the stoop of his room, the rain washing it away. He jogged lightly over to his car and got in, cursing the wet and cold. His phone rang again.

“Norris,” he said.

“Agent, this is Lieutenant Fields. You’d better get over to the hospital in Lewiston. Seems all hell has broken out. We’ve had calls coming in reporting security breaches. We’ve also had a sighting of the Barracuda…”

“Say no more…I’m on my way,” Norris said and hung up the phone.

Norris propped the blue light on the roof and covered the seven miles in minutes. He pulled into the parking lot and found two marked cars with their lights on. Robinson and Fields were standing on the curb wearing their full rain gear. Norris pulled in behind the first car and leaped out, his 9 mm Glock in hand.

“Agent…is that necessary?” Fields said looking warily at Norris’ sidearm.

“Where’s the Barracuda?” ignoring his question.

Fields pointed to the rear of the building.

“In a lot adjacent to the rear parking lot. Beat up pretty bad. Looks like it was in a wreck or two.”

“He’s here then,” Norris said. “Lieutenant, I suggest all of your men take the safety off. This man will kill without a second thought.”

“I’ve got two men up on the car,” Fields said.

Norris looked the man in the eye.

“Can you spare more?” Norris asked.

“No sir, those are the only other men I’ve got. State said they’re sending some of their own, but who knows how long that’ll take…”

“Get those men back down here, Lieutenant. You’ll just risk losing them if you don’t,” Norris said.

Fields nodded and Robinson radioed the two deputies to come back.

“Does this place have security?” Norris asked.

“A single guard who normally sits at a bank of monitors on the first floor,” Fields said.

“Sounds efficient,” Norris replied.

“Said he got spooked after a rear entrance suddenly became a high traffic area. Also said they’ve got a nurse who’s missing from his post. When we arrived, the guard had left his post and now we can’t find him either. There’s been scattered reports coming into the front desk from around the building. Someone reported a fight. Someone else thought she saw a man with a gun. There seems to be several groups of people roaming around the building. We just can’t seem to pin it down to one particular location.”

“If there’s only five of us, I don’t want us split up. None of your officers is to go it alone. Trust me, bad things happen that way. Got me, Lieutenant?” Norris said.

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Who does that leave us?”

“Cruz and Jacobs,” Fields said, and pointed to the two officers who had just rounded the corner of the building.

Norris strode towards them with Fields and Robinson close behind. Even in the downpour, he could tell neither was over the age of twenty-five.

“Jesus, Fields. You file your help wanted ads in the high school paper?” Norris asked, looking the two men up and down.

Cruz opened his mouth to respond, but Norris flashed him a quick look that the man was at least smart enough to read.

“There is a man inside this hospital whose job it is to kill people. He’s good at what he does, but he might be getting sloppy. Things appear fairly out of control around here and that’s not like him. I want you to have your sidearm out with the safety off. If you have any qualms about going in there, let me know right now. I don’t need someone getting spooked and setting off a bloodbath.”

Both young deputies nodded grimly and removed their sidearm from their holsters.

“We’re looking for a man who typically wears a black newsboy cap and jacket. Probably don’t even know what a newsboy cap is…but never mind. He’s got light hair, red once…might’ve faded a bit now, about five ten. Crooked face…only the left half works. We’re also on the lookout for a young man by the name of James Masterson. He has dark hair and is approximately six one. I would show you his picture, but the one inch by one inch blurry photo on my cell phone is next to useless. He is a person of interest in two recent murders. He may be armed and dangerous. If you see the man in the newsboy cap, I will tell you it may be wise to shoot first and ask questions later. Hesitate and you might not leave this hospital alive. I kid you not. Any questions? No? Good. Follow me,” Norris said, and he walked into the entrance and through the sliding glass doors, the three officers trailing behind him.

“Now who in the hell are you?” an elderly man stepped right up into Norris’ face. The man, a volunteer named Frank judging by his name badge, was a wall of a man for his age and stood a head taller than Norris. Norris held up his badge for the man to peer at through thick-lensed glasses.

“It’s about damn time. I was about to call the National Guard. The local police certainly don’t seem to have the time…” but the rest of what the man said was drowned out by the commotion brought on by the clear sound of a gunshot within the building followed by several screams. Norris pushed past the man, making sure the four officers were still behind him and he entered the nearest stairwell.