Parker 05 - The Darkness (42 page)

this city, Henry. Its infrastructure is crumbling. It's

billions of dollars in debt. Millions of people have lost

everything, and the people who pump the most money

into this economy--the rich--are losing their jobs. The

pipes have been rotting for years. With the Darkness, I

managed to build the greatest cherry bomb the city has

ever seen, and dropping it into those pipes now will cause

the whole system to come crashing down. Cities burn

from the ground up, not the top down."

"All because you think you were sent to die in Panama.

This isn't about money. It's about payback."

"Call it what you want. Truth is, I'm doing this city a

favor. New York will have a chance to bring itself back

from the wreckage. Twenty years ago this city teetered

on the edge, and it was brought back. When a city comes

so close for a second time, it needs a little push. That's

where I come in."

"No matter how many people die in the process."

"I read somewhere that over a hundred billion people

have died since the earth was created. Am I really

supposed to shed a tear for a few more?"

"You're settling a grudge," I said. "You feel you were

sent to die, so you're taking revenge."

"Not to mention a handsome profit," she said. "If

there is a better feeling than seeing the same fat, stupid

men who sent you to die line your pockets, I don't know

what it is."

Reeves came over and placed the pad and pen in front

of me. Then he stepped back and folded his arms behind

his back. I could tell he wasn't happy about this, wasn't

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Jason Pinter

happy I knew the depth of his involvement. But Ramos

kept him fed. And that was good enough.

"You write your article, including the facts I've told

you. Once it is written, Leonard and I will go over it to make

sure it doesn't contain anything that we don't approve of.

After that we will e-mail it to your boss, Mr. Langston."

"And then what?"

"And when it runs, we can assure you that Amanda

Davies will live a long, happy life. Well, a long life at least."

"And me?"

"Having saved a life, you can go to your grave with

the nobility many men do not."

"And you get to promote the Darkness even more."

"The
New York Dispatch
is only read by half the city,"

she said. "With your paper we'll get the other half, too."

I eyed the pen, wondering if there was a way I could

use it. Not that I'd been trained in any Bourne-esque dojo

where they taught you how to kill two people with a

single pen.

"Mr. Reeves here will watch you. I don't expect your

finest work, Henry. Time is of the essence."

I didn't know what to do. Amanda's life versus thousands of people who would read about this drug and be

tempted to buy it. I pictured Amanda, sitting at home, while

the city burned around her. Then I pictured her grieving at

my funeral, not knowing I'd given my life for her.

What the hell could I do?

Before I could do or say anything, there was another

knock at the door behind Eve Ramos. It startled her very

briefly, and I took a step forward.

She opened it, and standing there was Rex Malloy.

"Eve," he said. "We've got a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

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353

"Sheffield and Parker," he said. "They didn't come

alone."

Ramos stood there, unsure what to make of what

Malloy had said. We had come alone. What the hell was

Malloy talking about?

Suddenly I heard a loud noise come from outside the

compound. A second explosion, then a third, rattling the

floor, reverberating. Somebody was shooting at the warehouse from outside. Eve Ramos's eyes narrowed as she

stared at me. I had no answers.

They didn't come alone.

Had somebody followed us?

"Get up, Parker," Ramos said, her voice gone to steel.

She marched over and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me

up. I stood, wrenched away.

"Get off of me."

Then I realized where the gunfire had come from. We

weren't being shot at from outside. Somebody inside the

compound was firing at someone outside.

Then it dawned on me.

We had been followed. By Jack O'Donnell.

49

The first volley of gunfire drove them to dive behind the

police cars, bullets strafing the metal, punching quartersized holes in every car. Jack O'Donnell felt a pain in his

arm as he hit the ground, dirt kicking up around him.

He was surrounded by two dozen of New York's finest,

and now that the level of violence had escalated there was

sure to be SWAT and helicopter backup. But for now it

was just this ragged old journalist and a bunch of cops

who'd walked into a buzz saw.

"Is this normal?" Jack shouted when the gunfire stopped.

Chief of Department Louis Carruthers, his back

pressed up against a blue-and-white, shook his head. "Not

in the least. It only means one thing, so you'd better keep

your head down."

"What's that?"

"It means they're not planning to be arrested."

Jack slowly picked himself, peeked over the hood of

a car, just in time for another round to rip up the car and

force him back to the ground.

His heart was beating a million miles a minute, but

something besides fear coursed through the old lion.

Neither Henry or Curt knew Jack had followed them all

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355

the way from Parker's apartment, and it gave Jack a slight

bit of pride to know he still had a little left in the old oil

can. But when he saw the two men force Henry and Curt

to follow them at gunpoint, he knew the time for hideand-seek was over.

It was less than ten minutes before the cavalry arrived,

and it took less than one to tear open the gated entrance and

force themselves inside. Jack didn't know what to expect,

but when he saw the massive warehouse and the sentry

guards, the fence barricading the area from both trespassers

and onlookers, he had a feeling they'd stumbled onto the

very heart of where the Darkness was produced.

"Do we just wait until they run out of bullets then?"

Jack yelled above the storm.

Carruthers looked at him and shook his head.

Then he yelled to the rest of the cops perched outside,

"There are two innocents in there, including one of our

own. Let's get them the hell out of there!"

Then a barrage of gunfire strafed the outside of the

warehouse, shattering glass, shredding brick, smoke and

dust pouring from everywhere.

Jack covered his ears, felt dirt and gravel raining down

around him, stinging his face and neck. And below the pain

in his arm, the rapid pace of his heart that scared the hell

out of him, Jack had a feeling this was just the beginning.

50

When the gunfire first erupted, Eve Ramos went into

the stairwell to find out what was going on. I could see

her and Rex Malloy talking. Malloy was animated, pointing somewhere I couldn't see, gesturing like mad as

Ramos stood there impassively, processing it all. Behind

them, still in the room with me, was Leonard Reeves.

And unlike his two comrades, Reeves's eyes betrayed

him. He looked nervous, the kind of man who might

dish out violence but never expected it to come back to

him.

Whatever Rex Malloy was saying, it was frightening

Leonard Reeves something bad.

While they were preoccupied, I picked up the pen and

quietly walked over to where Reeves was standing. He

was not an especially large man, about five foot ten, not

fat but without much discernible muscle definition.

Sometimes you could take one look at a person, the way

they carried themselves, and know how brave they were.

What kind of fight they would put up. In Leonard Reeves,

I got the sense of a man who talked a big game but once

cornered, would piss his pants faster than an eight-yearold with a tiny bladder.

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357

So with little time to decide my course of action, I took

a chance that could lead either to my freedom, or my death.

Gripping the pen in my fist, the point sticking out two

inches, I wrapped my left arm around the front of

Reeves's neck and jammed the pen right under his jawline

on his carotid artery, hard enough that I felt the tip

threaten to pierce skin. Reeves was surprised and struggled, crying out, but I whispered into his ear, "Move once

more and you'll see your blood all over Malloy's nice

blond hair."

Reeves relaxed. His hand was still on the arm that

held his neck in place, but there was no strength in it.

I could feel the gun against my hip, and holding the

pen I quickly grabbed it and swapped the writing utensil

for the pistol. Not a bad choice. I flicked the safety off.

I'd only held a gun once before, and even then it was out

of self-defense. I didn't want to fire it.

Right now, though, I was certain that if need be I would

use it. I wasn't sure who was more frightened: me

knowing I could be forced to end a man's life, or Reeves

knowing his life was in the hands of a man who had

nothing to lose.

I led Reeves into the stairwell where Ramos and

Malloy were standing. Windows opened onto the front of

the compound, but Ramos and Malloy were blocking my

view. I couldn't see who or what was out there. Whoever

it was clearly had their attention.

Eve Ramos turned around. Rex Malloy did as well.

They both stared at me, Malloy seeming more pissed off

while Ramos smiled at me like I'd just built a nice big

house of cards.

"Take me to Sheffield," I said. "As soon as we're outside, I let Reeves go. If not, he's a dead man."

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Jason Pinter

"Henry," Ramos said, cocking her head to the side, that

smile still spread on her face. "I give you credit for

keeping your balls intact. But you have gravely overestimated Mr. Reeves's worth to me. Especially in light of

his less than stellar reflexes."

With that, Eve Ramos pulled a gun from her waistband

and put a bullet right in Leonard Reeves's head.

He dropped to the floor, his body becoming dead

weight in less than a second. I felt sticky blood on my

hands. I looked at Ramos. She seemed oddly disappointed.

"Sometimes," she said, "you don't have time to paint

a picture."

I held Reeves's gun out, pointed it at Ramos.

"Let us out of here," I said.

"Or what? You shoot me and end up looking like something the butcher threw away? Put the gun down, Henry,

before you get hurt."

And just like that, the window behind Ramos shattered, gunfire riddling the stairwell. Sparks cascaded all

around us at the bullets ricocheted off the metal bars.

Whoever was outside was now firing back.

We all ducked, covering our heads as glass came

pouring down around us. Ramos knelt on the floor below

the window, her back against the wall. She held a hand

up to her cheek. It came away slick with blood where

she'd been cut by an errant shard. Malloy was on his

stomach, and crawled over to see if she was all right. And

right there I saw my one chance to live.

While they were distracted, I rushed forward and shoved

Malloy as hard as I could. His body, already off balance,

went toppling down the stairs. He landed with a thud two

floors below, screaming in pain and clutching his leg.

Before Ramos had a chance to recover, I leaped back

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359

into the stairwell and began to climb. They'd taken Curt

somewhere upstairs, and I could only hope to find him

before the entire warehouse was shredded.

As I ascended, relief spread through me as I saw that

Ramos was still pinned down in the stairwell below me.

I tried the door one flight above but it was locked from

the inside. There was no keypad I could see, no way

inside. So I kept going up, hunched over, trying not to get

shot or sliced.

One more flight up and I'd reached the top level of

the warehouse. Peering over the railing, my breath

caught in my throat when I saw that neither Ramos or

Malloy were still there. They weren't on the stairwell

though, so I had a small window to figure out what the

hell to do.

The stairwell here had one door, and this had an electronic keypad. I tried several combinations, including

718, but none of them worked. But just as I was about to

give up and turn to my nonexistent plan B, I heard the

doorknob turn from the other side.

I stepped back to allow the door to open. The handle

turned and into the hall walked another man. He was big,

with a gleaming bald head, numerous tattoos running

down his arms. And, oh yeah, he was also holding a big,

black assault rifle.

I was hidden between the door and the wall, my gun

held out in defense, but the man didn't see me as he raced

down the stairs. When he'd gone down several steps, I