Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (39 page)

“Let’s get moving,” Gutterson said, leading Camilleri out of the Captain’s office. He folded the warrants and inserted them into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I want to scope out the place in preparation for the rest of the team arriving.”

“I’ll meet you down there,” Camilleri said. “I left something in the conference room.” They parted at the bottom of the stairs leading up to level two. “Don’t leave without me,” Camilleri added, smiling.

“This is your investigation as much as mine,” Gutterson called. “I wouldn’t let you miss it for anything.” She waved without turning back. There was a positive energy with them now, proof that they had come so far from the beginning. He thought back to the coffee machine upstairs and how obnoxious she had been, marveling at the changes in her.

Gutterson took the elevator to the underground parking lot, laying out the process for the search in his mind. They would have multiple police cars, a SWAT team, and even the DHS would be hovering, waiting to make the bust. It was more support than he had imagined and felt more comfortable with it, as though he was treading on new ground. Having the experienced people would make it easier. His ego wasn't large enough to care who was a part of it… only that they were successful. Surely they couldn’t miss now.

He reached the unmarked police vehicle and opened the trunk, double-checking it was equipped with the proper supplies for the search. As he let the trunk lid float up, Gutterson felt a hand grab him by the shoulder. As he turned, a fist struck him flush on the nose.

Pain flared. He staggered backwards into the trunk, hands reaching for his face. Wetness touched his fingertips. When he drew his hands away, he saw Smyth coming at him again with another looping fist. Gutterson balked left, but the knuckles clipped the side of his head, and he went down onto one knee with a ringing in his ear. He shook his head and tasted blood on his lips.

A solid boot struck him in the gut, knocking the wind from his lungs. He doubled over, holding one hand where the pain twisted his stomach in knots.
Move,
a voice commanded.
Roll!
But he wasn’t battle hardened anymore. All the training was lost and he never had time to work out. Two fists hammered the back of his head and Gutterson fell flat on the ground with a grunt. Now he rolled over, exposing himself to Smyth. He raised both hands to defend another attack. In that split-second, he thought about Carolyn and how he would fail her again, never seeing the kids, all that time spent worrying about the investigation and never about his family.

But the detective didn’t strike again. He shoved Gutterson onto his side, patted down his pockets, and pulled at his suit jacket. He was looking for something.

“Ah-ha,” Smyth said, standing.

Gutterson peered through water eyes. Smyth held up the warrants. Gutterson reached up for them. Smyth drove the heel of his boot into Gutterson’s ribs. He grunted and coughed, then rolled onto his knees and crawled backwards holding his breath to appease the pain.

Smyth had withdrawn a little Taser but kept reading the warrant, mumbling about the illegitimacy of it. Gutterson climbed onto one knee.

A flash moved from behind one of the structural poles. Camilleri. She sprung forth and grabbed Smyth’s right arm, twisting it up behind his back. He dropped the Taser and warrants with a grunt and spun around. Camilleri had him. She reached down and picked up the Taser, drawing it up to his ribcage, but the old pugilist wasn’t beaten yet. He arched his back and snapped his head forward, striking her on the bridge of her nose with his forehead. Camilleri cried out. The Taser fell out of her hand and she staggered back. Smyth sprung for the weapon.

Gutterson lingered on all fours, his mind articulating the next sixty minutes—what might be if this final, insurmountable object wasn’t barring their way. Gutterson was about to do what nobody had done before, what the others in the NYPD had ridiculed him for over the last three years. He was within reach of appeasing a lifetime of failures, giving up the case in the first instance, neglecting his wife who had died while he was poring over files, and finally step from the shadow of his father in the world of justice. If he had succeeded now, maybe, just maybe, his wife and kids might understand.

Gutterson had to go. He climbed to his feet and rushed forward aiming for the side of Smyth’s thick torso as he poked the Taser at Camilleri. Gutterson called out, and the gruff, older detective turned, distracted at the final moment.

Gutterson struck with a heavy thwack and they went sprawling to the concrete floor.

The Taser spilled free. Gutterson lay over Smyth like the aftermath of a football tackle. Smyth squirmed, brought his knee up into Gutterson’s thigh. Pain shot up his side and into his ribcage. He held tight, gritting his teeth, pressing his weight down on Smyth in an attempt to pin him. He needed to subdue Smyth, get one of his arms up behind his back, but he could feel the man wriggling free, bumping and bucking like an old rodeo bull. Despite his height, Gutterson knew his thin frame wouldn’t hold him.

Movement from the right drew his attention. Camilleri, with blood streaming from her nose, crawled across the concrete and snatched up the Taser. Smyth gave a final, desperate kick, but Gutterson slammed himself downward and shoved a fist into Smyth's kidney. He slumped flat on the concrete. Camilleri reached them and stuck the Taser into Smyth's neck, releasing a charge of electricity that sent the detective into a rapid shudder. It had lasted ten seconds before Camilleri fell away, dropping the Taser where she lay on the concrete.

A swarm of officers rushed out of the doorway, yelling and screaming, weapons drawn. Harding led the way, a sneer of mistrust spread over his face. It struck Gutterson then that Harding might side with his old mate, and that Gutterson and Camilleri could be in a world of trouble.

“Get the piece of shit up,” Harding said, reaching the carnage. Several officers ran forward and pinned Smyth's arms behind his back.

“We saw it on the closed circuit footage,” Harding said, reaching down for Camilleri.

Gutterson climbed to his feet and noticed the camera in the corner near the doorway. “Thank God,” he said, bent over with his hands on his knees.

Two officers pulled Smyth to his feet. His head hung down as though he was unconscious. Gutterson scooped up the warrants, took Camilleri by the hand, and led her towards the vehicle.

“Where you going?” Harding asked. “I need a—”

“We’ll be back later,” Gutterson said, opening the door for Camilleri. “We’ve got someone where we need to be now. Check it with Cap.” Harding waved them off. “And Franklin?” Harding turned back. “Thanks.”

“No, John,” Harding said, looking off into the distance. “Don’t thank me; I owe you an apology.”

Jennings' eye fell on the drive and he smiled.
Jesus Christ,
he thought.
Fox had it all along
. “You bastard.” He entered the office, waving Isachenko in. “Seize him.”

Fox backed away. Tabitha began to speak, but Fox cut her off and put up a hand to the advancing Isachenko, who now had a Beretta pistol pointed at the CEO. Fox balled his hands into fists. “Hold it, Robert. What are you doing?”

Jennings tipped his head towards the drive. “Obviously that’s the device Charlie Billings downloaded files onto.”

Fox looked at it, and then glanced at Tabitha. He lingered on her a moment. “Yes. It is.”

Isachenko swaggered into the room, filling the entrance. Fox waved Tabitha towards him and stepped back behind the desk.

“And the police, Bryan?” Jennings crept forward. “You’re talking to the police?”

“They approached me. But—”

“They approached you? That makes it all right?”

“I’m not talking to them, Robert. I refused to help them.”

Others swarmed in with Jennings and Isachenko—Samantha and the company’s private security team. Tabby fell back against the wall, her face pale and stricken.

“And what about you, beautiful?” Jennings reached out and touched a finger to Tabitha’s face. She swiped it away.

“Leave her,” Fox hissed, starting forward. Isachenko cut off his path and shoved him back.

Jennings smirked. “Formally, I’m under orders from the Chairman following clause 17.1.1 of your contract to relieve you of your position as CEO.” He approached and snatched the drive from Fox’s hand. “Based on the evidence I see before me that you are in possession of stolen property and the audio we have of your conversation with the NYPD.

“I know you cancelled project Nightboat, too.” Fox narrowed his eyes. “But I’ve taken care of that. The drop will happen just as we originally planned.”

“You’re really going to do this, Robert? Part of the plan all along?”

Jennings laughed. “You dig your own hole, Bryan.” His expression transformed into a sneer. “Now sit in it.”

Samantha couldn’t contain her smile. “What do you want me to do with Tabitha?”

“Take her to my office for now.”

“She’s got nothing to do with this,” Fox said.

Samantha and another guard took hold of Tabitha. As she began to resist, one of them placed a Taser on her neck, forcing her to stop. Samantha shoved her towards the door as Isachenko muscled Fox onto the desk.

Jennings signaled towards the chair. “Put him there,” he said to Isachenko. “We’re going to have a little chat.”

Samantha shoved Tabitha out through the doors of Fox’s office. Tabby thought about taking on the woman, trying to make a break immediately, but there was too much support about.

They passed several large men dressed in dark suits and glasses standing watch outside the entrance. “You want some help?” One of the security members asked from behind dark floating lenses.

“No,” Samantha said. “Stay here and don’t let anybody enter.”

She nudged Tabby along the hallway holding the scruff of her jacket. Tabby ambled, maintaining her balance and wits.

She felt a flicker of sorrow at the thought of Fox’s possible ending. Perhaps she should have done more for him. While their conversation had revealed knowledge about her mother, Tabby’s first instinct was to escape from Samantha and flee the building. Her focus needed to be on her own safety, not a man who was ultimately a mass-murderer.

Samantha removed a Taser from her pocket and prodded it into Tabby’s back. She was surprised they hadn’t bound her hands as they had done with Fox. That might create her opportunity.

“Where are we going?” Tabby asked. Samantha said nothing. Tabby needed to loosen her up, create a distraction and the opportunity for escape. “I know you killed Charlie. You were the last one seen alive with him and—”

“Shut up.”

Tabby lowered her voice. “We all know Charlie didn’t have a heart attack.” Samantha stared ahead, lips pressed into a thin line. “He was too good for you.”

Samantha scoffed. “He was weak. He started talking to the police. What did he expect?”

They passed the elevators and headed on towards Jennings’ office. Any further and it would make an escape difficult, especially if other's from their team were around. Tabby glanced back the way they had come. The two men remained outside Fox’s office.

Samantha tugged her back into line. Tabby continued her play. “He loved you. How could you do that to him?”

“It’s never personal. Charlie was a pawn in a much bigger game. That was my job and I’m good at it.” She flashed a cold smile. “Killing you isn’t going to be personal, either.”

Now it was Samantha's turn, but Tabby wouldn’t play to that. “Is that what you did with Dom and Bryce?”

“Bryce wasn’t my doing.”

“But you killed Dom.” Samantha smirked. “I knew it.” Gutterson was right.

“You had no idea.”

Tabby slowed and they stopped outside Jennings office. Further along an adjacent hallway, she saw into another room where security team members stood over Johanna Pirez lifeless body. A cold, sick feeling filled her. She needed to go now.

“That’s where you failed,” Tabby said. “You’re overconfidence brought you undone.” Samantha’s lips peeled back. “The police are onto you. They know Dom was forced to swallow the pills.” She moved closer and spoke in a low, disquieting tone. “Someone from the medical examiner’s office told them the truth.”

“Bitch,” Samantha said, raising her hand. Tabby saw it coming but made no move to avoid it. She took the open palm to the face and didn’t flinch. It was the distraction she needed.

Tabby struck Samantha twice on the cheek with the snap of her right fist. The other woman's head rocked back, but she did not fall. Samantha leapt, poking the Taser at her torso. Tabby danced back and parried it away, then struck out—once, twice, three times—striking her on the shoulder, wrist, and hand, causing Samantha to drop the Taser and collapse onto one knee, her face twisted into a grimace of pain. Tabby didn’t need to think about Charlie—it was burned into her psyche. She fired two powerful roundhouse kicks to Samantha’s face. The first clipped her on the chin, sending her eyes rolling back, the second made full contact to the upper side of her head. Samantha crumpled to the floor and lay unmoving, her eyes closed.

Tabby hurried back along the hallway towards the elevator. The two men that had been standing outside Fox’s office were gone. She thought about Fox, Tom, and Charlie… Her mother. She would never get her head around that. But she couldn’t deal with it all now. She had to get out of the office, away from the building; away from the Company.

She reached the elevators and placed her finger on the plate. The hallway was still empty—momentarily—and then it wasn’t. Isachenko, the huge man that followed Jennings around, appeared from Fox’s office, striding towards her with his fists bunched by his side. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed an object. A handgun.

The elevator beeped and the doors opened.

Tom stood before her. Tabby felt her breath catch. “Tom…”

Tom stepped out past her and glanced sideways—first at Samantha and then the other way, towards the approaching henchman. His eyes widened, and in them, Tabby saw alarm.

“She’s with me,” Tom said, stepping in front of Tabby. At that moment, every doubt she’d ever had about him disappeared.

Isachenko slowed; his cold blue eyes unflinching. “I’ve got orders from Mr. Jennings to look after her.”

Tom smiled and spoke calmly. “I’ll discuss that with Mr. Jennings. For now, I have some questions for her.”

Isachenko regarded Tom. Then his gaze jumped ahead and found Samantha’s unconscious body. Comprehension drew his face into a sneer.

Tom darted forward like a striking snake, punching Isachenko in the throat. The big man dropped the gun and clutched his airway, gurgling.

Tom shoved Tabby towards the elevator. “Go. Get out of here.”

The last thing she saw as the doors slid closed was Tom standing over the giant man holding a syringe.

∞

“Leave us,” Jennings said. The two security men restraining Fox released him and moved towards the door. “Go and check on Isachenko and Samantha. Make sure they still have the girl.”

Fox straightened his suit jacket as best he could with his hands bound. Oh poor Tabby, he thought. She had been dragged into his mess. In hindsight, he should have left her in the previous role. He had failed both she and her mother.

“So,” Jennings said, after the heavy wooden doors had clicked shut. He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and removed a small velvet case. “Here we are.” He opened the lid and took out a vial of serum and a hypodermic.

Icy fear touched the back of Fox’s neck. “So it seems,” he said, scanning the office for a weapon. “But let’s be honest, Robert. It’s been going on longer than this.”

Jennings smiled. There was a cold menace in his expression. Fox had never seen him smile like that before. Perhaps, all the power and responsibility had made him crazy. “Does it matter?”

“I was retiring soon, Robert. You could have walked into the job. I would have endorsed you.”

“Really, Bryan? Endorsed me? Not likely. And when? After you ruined the company? We’ve underperformed for nine straight quarters. The Board gave you a month to show some turnaround and you’ve done nothing. Nothing. You cancelled the one project that might have increased our numbers.”

“It was unscrupulous,” Fox said. “The virus doesn’t just target the weak and unfit, it attacks everyone, without prejudice.”

“Ha!” Jennings threw up his hands. “The world has demanded less prejudice for sixty years.”

“But not this way. We modeled our controls on those who were unhealthy and weak, prone to sickness and ill health. But that’s not enough, is it? This altered program is taking us down a nastier path.”

Jennings stuck the needle into the vial of liquid and withdrew the plunger. “We had a data leak and you almost didn’t blink.” Fox said nothing. “It’s going to take a long time to get this division back on its feet after this.”

“And you’re the man to do it?”

“You’ve had your chance, Bryan.” He finished filling the syringe. “You're a liability. And you know it’s impossible for a man in such a senior position to leave this company. It’s not the first time, and won’t be the last.”

Fox thought of Tabitha’s mother, who had died in a plane accident on the way to a secret location. “You’re a bunch of fools. You’ll destroy the organization. And the rest of the world will suffer for it.”

“Who’s the fool, Bryan? I’m not the one in bonds, about to be delivered a full tote heart attack.”

Fox glared. There was no way out of it for either of them. Even if Jennings administered the serum, Fox would kill him. He wished he could have met up with Piper and the boys again. They’d be forever waiting for him in Alberta. At least he had given them a safe and comfortable future. And he had told Tabby the truth, too. That had relieved him of some burden.

“What? Nothing to say, old man?”

“Fuck you.”

Jennings cackled. His implant sounded, cutting him off. He placed the vial down and pressed a patch of skin on the back of his hand. “Yes.” He looked down as he listened, lines of seriousness pinching his weathered face. “Yes. Correct.” There was another long pause. He ran a hand over his cropped, stony head. “Midday.” He kept glancing at Fox to make sure he hadn’t made a move. “Perfect,” he said finally. The concern broke and he smiled wide and full of relief. “Call me back when the delivery has been made.”

Fox stirred. He knew the planned drop of Project Nightboat was midday, but he’d organized for Jonas Whitmore’s men to ambush Jennings’ team and prevent it. If the delivery went ahead, thousands would suffer an intolerable sickness.

“You’ve been had again, Bryan.” Fox raised his eyebrows, pretending not to care. Jennings approached with the needle pointed up. “Remember the project you cancelled, the virus drop into the Delaware Aqueduct that was going to reinvigorate our numbers?” Jennings grinned. “Well, I went ahead with it anyway. We’re releasing it into Rondout Reservoir today, at midday.”

“You bastard.”

“No, Bryan,” he hissed. “I’m not the one who was about to let the citizens of New York down. I’ll get the fucking numbers back up. I’ll give the clients what they want and need.” His face changed to one of seriousness. “You’re looking at the soon to be CEO… as soon as you’re dead.” He came forward, needle pointed high, poison dripping from the tip.

∞

Tabby reached the ground level and exited the elevator. At first glance, the place looked normal. Receptionists were on their phones; people were planted in front of their terminals swiping away at screens. In the office directly opposite the elevator, two men were standing at a desk going over a dossier. Safe, she decided.

But where was she going? To the street, that was where; anywhere but here where people were being killed and God knew what else.
Your mother was head of the U.S. division of this organization.
She couldn’t deal with that now, and pushed it to another part of her mind.

She passed the last of the offices and spotted the street outside the entrance's wide glass doors. She would make it; she would be safe. She might have lost Fox and she felt like she was abandoning Tom, but after all, he had insisted she go.

Tabby ignored the two receptionists, not wanting to get into any kind of discussion. She thought about alerting them, but who would believe her? And besides, she didn’t think the regular employees were at risk.

But as she reached the doors, she slowed to a dreamy halt. An icy finger touched her spine. She looked out through the glass at a site one might never see in New York City.

The street was empty.

She did a double take and looked both ways. Not a soul in sight. There were cars parked at the curb, but they were empty. Something was wrong. Was it the police? Gutterson? She thought about calling him, but instead, turned towards the reception area.

“What’s going on out here?”

Gabriel, the receptionist on the left, was busy on a call. The other one, Selina, looked up and said, “Tabitha? We’ve been trying to contact you.”

It threw her. “Huh?”

“Your father was looking for you.”

Terror struck Tabby numb. She went to the desk, the empty street forgotten. “My father?”

“Yes.” She looked at her watch. “About five minutes ago. He came here looking for you.”

Tabby glanced around. “Where is he now?”

“Well,” Selina began, “I couldn’t get hold of any security people. And you weren’t answering, so I kind of told him your floor number and sent him up.”

“You what?”

“He seemed harmless. A nice old man.” She made a face bearing teeth that hoped she wasn’t in trouble.

Tabby turned her back and hurried towards the elevators, trying not to run and draw attention. She spoke her father’s name into her watch phone and dialed. What did he want? He had never come to her workplace before. The number rang out and asked if she wished to leave a message.

“Dad, call me back as soon as you get this. I’m on the ground floor.”

The thought of heading back into the lion’s den, of running into Samantha or Jennings again terrified her, but what choice did she have?

She reached the elevator foyer and pressed the button. There were three elevators, but one was out of order, having been under repair for more than a week now. Of the other two, the first was on level thirty-two—the level from which she had just come, and the other was on level twenty-eight—her office level. She watched, waiting for either to start moving.