Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (35 page)

“I’ll be along in a week, two at the most,” Fox said to Piper, standing in the doorway of their bedroom. There were several suitcases open on the bed, but she had stopped filling them, instead returning to the argument that had been running since the middle of the day after Fox had returned home and told her she had to take the kids and leave.

“I don’t understand why I can’t wait for you.”

He shook his head. “Because I’ve still got a few things to clean up. I don’t want the place lying empty for the next week or two.” He came forward and put an arm on her shoulder. “It’ll give you a chance to sort out where you want the furniture… how you'd like to set the place up.”

“But I haven’t even seen it, Bryan. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Exactly. You trust my judgment though, don’t you?” She nodded. “It’ll be a big surprise. Honestly, Pip, I’ve been looking for a while, and this was too good to pass on. I’m ready. You’re ready. And it's far away from here, in a place that will make the both of us happy.”

She nodded, turning back to a pile of clothes on the bed.

They’d always talked about moving away, giving up the city life for a few acres of trees and open fields. He’d floated the idea recently when things had started to spiral out of control, and now with what had occurred over the last few weeks, this was his contingency.

The truth was Fox didn’t know if he would even make it. But he had to make preparations for Piper and the boys, get them away and safe just in case. Tomorrow was a pivotal day. He had an afternoon meeting planned with Johan Haremeyer where he would reveal the treachery led by Jennings and the probability of Chekov’s involvement. If Haremeyer didn’t buy it, Fox might be out… or worse. And if that worse came to fruition, nobody would know where Piper and the boys had gone.

“It’s bad, though, isn’t it? You’re in some kind of trouble?” Piper asked. Fox puckered his expression, dismissing her question. “False passports?” She sat on the bed. “I’ve known for a long time that whatever you do, Bryan, doesn’t just involve investment banking.”

“What? How do you mean?” He sat beside her.

She looked up at him with a creased forehead and lines at the edges of her eyes. He hadn’t seen concern in her lovely face like this since they were told three months into their pregnancy that Jonathan had an increased risk of developing Down Syndrome. “Making money through banking is one thing, but the life you—we’ve—lived, the people we’ve met, the events, the access… the money. I’ve always known it wasn’t all you told me, but I respected that maybe it was some sensitive government department that required confidentiality.” She took his hand in hers. “Maybe it’s time to tell me, Bryan. Especially if you’re in danger.”

He smiled, marveling at her intuition. “Yes. You’re right. It is to do with the government. And while I won’t tell you everything now, I will tell you when I meet you there.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. I promise.”

She came to him and slipped her arms underneath his and he hugged her with a love that surmounted everything he had ever known. If nothing else was real, it was that he loved her with every inch of his being. Surely his actions demonstrated that, and even if he didn’t make it, one day she would understand.

Eventually, they broke the embrace and he said, “You be ready at nine o’clock in the morning. A driver will pick you up and take you to the airport.”

“Hardy, from your office?”

Fox nodded. “Yes, Hardy. You check in at the airline and they’ll take care of the rest. I’ll see you there in a week, two at most.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the head. “Trust me. This is best for all of us.” She could only manage a thin smile.

Tabby left work early, her concentration broken by her insurmountable worries. She had carried around a portentous feeling with her for most of the afternoon since Tom had suggested her visit to Fox’s office the following morning. While she supposed she could back out, Gutterson had left two more messages requesting an update on the drive and what she was doing about it. It filled her with an edginess that wouldn’t allow her mind to rest. She played both negative and positive scenarios over in her mind, but in the end decided to let fate take its course. The other concern had been whether Samantha would let their confrontation go. Did Samantha have some sort of agenda for her? In Tabby's mind, another confrontation was inevitable.

The most grueling worry was telling her father that her mother’s death had not been a natural occurrence. She had known shortly after Tom revealed the company’s involvement that this moment would come. A small part of her felt telling him was a mistake, but to withhold it from him now would be akin to the company ethos, and she wouldn’t do that. Besides, he would want to know. All those years they had spent thinking how unlucky she had been to die of cancer. Luck had played a part in it, but a different kind of luck to any they had known.

She decided now was that time. Tabby paced the living room and connected with him using her implant so she wouldn’t have to see his face via hologram.

“Dad, it’s me, Tabby.”

Her father’s croaky voice greeted her. “Everything okay?”

She eased herself down onto the living room sofa as she prepared herself. The disappearing daylight cast the interior of the apartment in a gloom, which appropriately summed up her mood.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Lots going on. How are you feeling?” Every time she spoke to him she expected he would tell him it was just about over.

“I’m all right. Battling on.”

“Any word on the trial?”

“Nothing. Don’t know why you keep asking.”

She thought of the company again and the access she might have to treatment for her father.
How long might he stay alive? How much might it improve his quality of life?
The average age expectancy had increased to ninety-one; he was still only in his early sixties.
You can’t. There is no access
. She pushed the thought away and focused on the reason for her call.

“Dad there’s something I have to tell you.” She wondered if the company might be listening to her conversation, and didn’t care.

“What is it? You sound ominous?”

“It is ominous. What I’m about to tell you will change the way you’ve thought about your whole life. And it’s going to sound like the craziest thing you’ve ever heard.”

He lapsed into silence, and she wondered whether it was the right choice.
He’d want to know.
You
wanted to know.

And so she told him—briefly—about the Company and its purpose. As she did, the idea that he might be in peril surfaced. But she thought it better he knew, than die in three months not knowing. He listened for extended periods in silence, grunting at times in opposition. She could almost hear his mind forming questions, but somehow he held back, her explanation touching on the most relevant information.

When she had finished and he finally spoke, there was a hopeless sadness in his voice, far worse than when they had ever been discussing his illness. “Your mother worked incredibly long hours. She was successful—we never went into the nuts and bolts of her work, but I always knew something wasn’t quite right. I just stayed quiet about it. What you say about her illness make more sense now.” His voice cracked. Tabby could imagine the tears welling in his eyes. She understood then that he would never get over the loss of his wife. Pressure formed at the back of hers and she snatched it away, as she always did. “I wish I was younger again. Not so sick. I would…” But his words floated away because he could not do anything. His time was imminent. If she hadn't known it before, she knew it now. He had given up on life. This knowledge would only tip him closer to that point.

“What do you mean, Dad? What do you mean it makes more sense now?”

He cleared his scratchy throat. “I don’t know… it’s just… back then it was easier to get help from doctors and hospitals. But your mother… it all happened so quickly. She was there one moment, gone the next. The speed of it all was bewildering. Yet, I felt like wherever we went, whatever we tried, there was nothing we could do. The doctors all said it was rare, that they knew nothing about it and, therefore, had no real treatment.”

“Lies. Makes me so… angry.”

“What can we do?”

“I’m working on it, Dad. I’m working with someone from the authorities.” She couldn’t bring herself to say he was a detective at the NYPD. “They will take care of it.
I’ll
take care of it.”

He was crying again, the sobs barely audible. “Good.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear it like this. I debated telling you, but thought you’d want to know.”

“I’m all right,” he said after a moment. “It’s just a shock.”

“I know.”

“When someone you love dies, you bury them, but the pain never goes away. It’s just locked away in a place where you can deal with it. This forces me to unlock that place… forces us to relive it.”

“Yes.”

“You’re always reminded.” He turned away from the mouthpiece and coughed, clearing his throat again. “I’m glad you told me. I ought to come down there and give them a piece of my—”

“No, Dad. No. Promise me you won’t.”

“Okay, okay. But it's not dangerous for you, is it?” She said nothing. “Be careful, Tabitha. I couldn’t handle losing you too.”

Afterwards, she sat on the sofa, lay back, and closed her eyes, thinking of the pain her father had endured. It filled her with a quiet rage and an insatiable resolve to help Gutterson. It made the idea of going into Fox’s office and extracting the information on the drive a little easier.

When she opened her eyes, Scott stood before her, his chest rising and falling as though he’d been exerting himself.

“Hello, Tabby.”

The first coil of unease stirred. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her. He hadn’t shaved in a week and his clothes hung off his thinner frame. “Scott,” she said, standing. “What are you—?”

He stepped forward, reached out, and shoved her back down. “Don’t move. I’ve got something to say to you.”

An invisible wire tightened around Tabitha’s gut. “What do you want, Scott?” She tried to pass her trepidation off with annoyance. If he got her this time, the robotic hand would not let go. He had nothing to lose now. She had ended the relationship. He’d come back for revenge, and looked intent on getting it. She glanced at her work satchel on the kitchen bench and the Taser device Tom had given her.

Scott licked dry lips, his eyes large and intense as a madman. “I want you to know what you’ve done to me.”

“What I’ve done you?” His eyes skittered about and Tabby had a premonition he was about to attack. “Don’t do this—”

Scott sprung at her; Tabby leapt away from the couch. He snapped at the flap of her blouse as she bounced onto her feet, but she moved too fast and he caught only air.

He maintained his balance though, turning for her. Tabby swung her right leg in a sweeping roundhouse and struck him flush on the cheek. Scott stumbled back over the table and fell onto the sofa.

Tabby reached the bench and snatched for the satchel. She got the flap open and her hand on the Taser, but Scott skidded into her side and got a hand around her neck. The weapon slipped away and clattered onto the floor. His grip was incredibly strong. Pain filled her throat and spots danced in her vision. Tabby pushed at him with her hip, but he held firm and drew her tighter, suffocating all her close-check fighting options.

She loosened an arm and tried to pry his fingers from the taut flesh of her throat using a pressure technique. It worked. He snatched his hands away and clamped them down on hers to prevent her moves.

Coughing and gasping, she refilled her lungs and appealed to any remaining morality. “Please, Scott, let me go.”

She wriggled her butt, forcing him backwards, and her hands slipped free. It was enough. She twisted her body and dove for the Taser, hitting the floor with a thump and knocking the wind from her with a stabbing pain in the chest. But she wrapped a strong hand around the Taser’s neck and twisted as Scott landed on her, screaming.

She poked the end of the weapon at his neck, but he anticipated it and spun, rolling off and growling like a mad dog. She tried to sit up but he struck out and punched her face. She fell back again and he came for her, digging and clawing at her throat. He found it again and pain washed over her. The last breath she’d taken slowly faded as his thick fingers pressed against her airway. A thought flashed through her mind that this was the end; that she didn’t need to worry about the company, Scott would kill her first.

Some deep instinct took control and she swung wide and high and the weapon in her right hand connected with his head. Scott grunted. Tabby moved her finger and found the switch. She pressed.

Jagged lines of electricity swept through him. He jiggled and jived, hands coming loose. He sat on her momentarily as the charge went on and she was still screaming as he toppled from his perch and slumped over on the floor, unconscious.

Tabby rolled away, gasping for breath, holding the Taser out in case he moved again.