Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) (26 page)

“It’s all right,” Harper said. “Mr. Blake is here to deliver Jack Melendez.” She looked at him. “I assume that’s why you’re here?” 

“Among other things,” Leopold said. “I’d also like to know what we’re dealing with here. You spoke to the suspect?” 

Harper nodded. “One of the men who inspected the ventilation systems. Gustafson showed me the tapes. Other than that, I can’t discuss it.”

“I’m sure you can make an exception.”

Harper didn’t reply.

“Look,” Leopold said, “I was the one who suggested you recheck the ventilation units. If you hadn’t gone with your gut and taken a look, you never would have seen the tapes. You wouldn’t have identified the suspect. You’ve only got this far thanks to me. So how about a little cooperation?” 

The two agents folded their arms. Harper bit her lip, then let out a deep breath. 

“Fine,” she said. “I can give you the highlights.” 

“Thank you.”

“Do you know who these guys are?” Jack said, stepping through the door. 

Harper shook her head. “Fake IDs. We’ve made a guess as to where they’re from, but nothing confirmed. What’s more important is what they’re trying to achieve.”

“Which is?”

“This is where it gets a little hazy. According to the suspect who survived, their target was the President.”

Leopold took the empty seat opposite Harper’s desk. “Someone was playing them.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No doubt they were probably following orders, but nobody goes after the US President by setting off alarm bells all over the city. That means they’re either dumber than we thought, which, based on the all the prep work they completed, is unlikely,” he paused. “Either that, or they were being played from the start. Destined to wind up dead or in custody.”

Jack looked confused. “So, if they weren’t after the President, then who?”

“We don’t know for sure,” said Harper. “The conditioning goes deep. The suspect truly believed he was supposed to take out the President. More than that, he was convinced he was doing the right thing. He broke down pretty quickly once he realized he’d been played.”

“Asian man, from a politically hostile nation, with a hint of brainwashing? We thinking North Korea here?” 

Harper folded her arms. “Speculation would be pointless right now.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Jack leaned up against the desk. “Listen, this is all very interesting, but I was under the impression the threat isn’t over.” 

“Like I said, the ventilation systems.” Leopold looked Harper in the eyes. “Why else would he be down there?”

Harper nodded. “A poor choice of location for explosives, but we’re thinking potentially some kind of airborne toxin. Deployed through the air conditioning vents. The suspect only told us a few details before the pain got too much. Nurses turned up the drip and he was no good to us.”

“Gets my vote,” said Leopold. “The hotel and convention center share the same HVAC system. Two birds with one stone. I assume you have people looking?” 

“They’re down there now.”

“They know what they’re searching for?” 

“Going a little by ear. Can’t get any technicians out thanks to the roadblocks. But we’ll know if anything looks unusual.” 

“I’d like to join them.”

Harper stood up. “Out of the question.” 

“Your agents know anything about airborne toxins?”

“I assume more than you.”

Leopold blinked. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sure you’d all love to be left alone in a room together, but how about we wrap this up? I’d like to get out of here so Doctor Kato has a chance of getting out of the hotel before they tear the place apart. If there’s any threat to her, I damn sure want Leopold there.”

“Mr. Melendez…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Jack. “Right now, there’s nobody better equipped to deal with this problem.”

The two agents looked at each other and shrugged.

“I didn’t think so.” Jack looked at Harper. “I know, officially, this is your call. But believe me when I tell you, Leopold can help.” 

“Fine,” said Harper. “Just don’t get in the way.”

Leopold smiled. “Ditto.” 

“Agents Hawkins and West will escort Mr. Melendez out of the building. They will take him to the safe house and await further instructions.” 

The two agents nodded and took a step toward the door. 

“Mr. Blake and I will go down and join the team in the hotel basement. If we find anything, we can deal with it then. In the meantime, we continue with the evacuation.”

“What about June?” Jack asked. “She was told to stay put. The seventh floor is sealed off.” 

“I’ll send an agent,” said Harper. 

“Thank you.” Jack headed for the two agents at the door. “Please keep me up to date.”

Harper nodded. Jack and the agents left, closing the door behind them. 

“See?” said Leopold. “That wasn’t so hard.” 

“Do you always talk this much?” said Harper, pulling on her jacket. 

“I was never a fan of awkward silences.” 

“Let’s get this over with.” She went to the door. “You coming?”

Leopold smiled and got to his feet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 46

TREVOR’S WATCH VIBRATED with a silent alarm. He touched the button to stop it. When the face illuminated in green, he smiled. His self-imposed isolation had almost come to and end.

Hold it together. Steady and ready.

In the dark, he found his phone, turned it on, and checked the local news alerts. The handset connected after a few seconds, the browser taking a moment to catch up. The screen refreshed and displayed the latest alerts. Trevor stared at the screen, his eyes struggling to adjust to the glare. 

What the hell?

A blurry cell phone video of Seattle Center park flashed up. A mad rush of people, police cars, ambulances. He paused the video and switched to a different report. Frowning, he read the full article. Then another. The city was in panic and the President had been diverted. The convention center and hotel had been locked down. Something about a major traffic collision. An escape attempt. The reports were sketchy, full of conjecture and hyperbole, but the implications were clear.

Trevor felt his heart rate jump. If the President had backed out, Melendez might jump ship and leave the hotel, no doubt surrounded by security. The conference had been cancelled; there was no reason for him to stick around. Trevor’s mind raced, calculating his options. He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and concentrated. 

With the hotel sealed and the roads blocked off, maybe Melendez hadn’t left yet. Maybe he was still in his room. Trevor cursed himself for falling asleep earlier. If he’d been awake, maybe he would have heard something. Maybe Melendez had been moved, no way to be sure. 

Not without seeing for himself. 

Trevor took a caffeine pill and washed it down with the last of his water. He did a set of push-ups, followed by a set of sit-ups, followed by squats. He did them all over again to fully wake his body and mind, and then one more time after that. Feeling the caffeine kicking in, he inspected his gear. 

Using the penlight, he fished out a length of piano wire, his KA-BAR knife, and a small crowbar. He stashed the wire in a pocket, slipped the bar under his belt. Next, he pocketed an extra magazine of rounds for his pistol, along with the custom sound suppressor. He screwed the fitting into place and then holstered the gun. 

Taking one last leak in the waste bucket, he rubbed the remnants of his long night of darkness from his face. Folding his clothes neatly and setting them on top of his bag, he crawled over to the access hatch. Silently, he removed the screws and set the panel aside. He crouched low, listening out for movement below. 

A few minutes passed. A few more. Trevor checked his watch. The news had broken almost ninety minutes earlier, and the hallway was silent. He had expected pandemonium, panic. His pulse quickened once more. 

Maybe Melendez got out. 

He steeled himself. No sense in conjecture, no point wondering what might be. Perhaps the floor had been sealed off, which would explain the lack of movement. Maybe all the action was happening downstairs. No way to tell. He checked his watch. 

A rumbling noise, and Trevor tensed. The elevator was on the move. Trevor gripped the KA-BAR a little tighter. Someone was on the way up, probably one of Melendez’s security team. Hopefully not the big guy. 

Stick to the plan
, he thought. He needed that room key. And if the other bodyguard was camped outside Melendez’s room, he’d need to take the first out quickly with the knife. Then round the corner, take the other out with the pistol. No time for nerves. Steady and ready. 

A soft chime sounded. A rattling clatter, the elevator doors opening. The muffled noise of footsteps on the carpet, shuffling fabric. There were no other sounds, other than the thumping of Trevor’s heartbeat in his ears. The footsteps grew louder, heavier. Whoever they belonged to must have been packing some serious bulk. 

A shadow passed beneath Trevor’s hiding place, sweeping across the carpet and up the walls. Moving slowly, a figure came into view. Tall, the man’s head just a foot or so from the ceiling. Short, dark hair. Dressed in a black suit. He couldn’t make out the face. The man swept past. 

Time to move
.

Trevor felt his muscle memory take over. Instead of jumping, he dropped from the hatchway, letting gravity do all the work. He landed softly behind his target, bending his knees to absorb the impact. The man froze.

Without pausing to think, Trevor drew up to full height, forcing one hand over the man’s mouth. With the other, he thrust the KA-BAR into the spine, halfway up the back. He felt the target’s shoulders tense and his legs start to buckle. He forced the jaw upward, exposing the neck, and brought the knife around, jabbing downward just to the side of the larynx. The blade punctured the carotids, and Trevor felt the man’s body convulse, the blood pouring down his throat. A muffled gurgle, barely audible through Trevor’s palm, still clamped over the mouth. 

Trevor let him slip to the floor, and positioned him face-down to stop any arterial spray hitting the walls. Already unconscious, he would bleed out in less than a minute. Trevor dropped the knife, pulled out his firearm. He ran the few feet to the end of the corridor. Without pausing for breath, he darted around the corner, aiming the pistol toward Melendez’s room, ready to take out the second bodyguard. The money shot.

Emptiness greeted him. 

It took a second or two for Trevor’s brain to focus. Pumped up on adrenaline, the fight-or-flight response didn’t leave much room for logical thinking. Sucking in a deep breath, Trevor returned to the man bleeding out on the carpet. He kneeled down, inspected the body. 

A big guy. Packed with muscle. Leaking bodily fluid onto the pile, eyes open. The heart must have stopped already, blood no longer pumping from the open wound, just a thick flow. He had white skin, black hair. Ugly suit. Trevor realized who he was, and rolled him onto his back. He pulled open the man’s suit jacket. There it was, tucked away within the inside pocket. The man’s ID and badge. 

Goddamn Secret Service
. Someone must have sent him over to check the floor. That meant someone was still up here, hiding out in a suite. But where the hell was the security team? 

He checked the agent’s other pockets. Found a wallet, car keys. A plastic room key. Trevor smiled. Nearby, the janitor’s storage closet. Using the crowbar, he wrenched the door open. He fetched down a bed sheet, slipped it under the dead agent’s bulky frame, dragged the body inside. On one of the shelves sat a large plastic tub filled with sand. Probably used for clearing up vomit. He popped the lid and dumped half the contents over the pooling blood on the carpet, spreading it around with his foot. Finally, he found a yellow plastic folding sign that read “Caution: Spill Cleanup in Progress” and positioned it just to the side of the sand pile. It wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, but hopefully the setup would buy him time if anyone else decided to wander upstairs. 

Trevor used a handful of paper towels and cleaning spray to remove the worst of the blood from his black body suit. The result was acceptable, although the agent’s DNA would still be plastered all over the fabric. No matter. By the time anyone found the body, Trevor planned on being halfway across town.

He retrieved the pistol, knife, and crowbar. Stolen room key in his hand, he shut the closet door, leaving the agent’s body slumped up against the shelf rack. Alone in the corridor, he rounded the corner and looked up and down. No way of knowing which room was still occupied. He would have to check each in turn. 

One hand on his firearm, Trevor headed for the door at the farthest end of the hallway.

Chapter 47