Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (27 page)

Dylan looked through the bushes and saw his son thrown back into the car, but Perry had taken his wife and put a gun to her head, using her as a human shield. The gunfire stopped, and when Dylan tried to step out from behind the cover of the trees, a hand yanked him backward, and he was suddenly staring down the barrel of a pistol.

“Don’t move,” Cooper said, her finger on the trigger.

“Wrong move, Captain!” Perry’s words echoed from across the parking lot, while Cooper pressed the gun hard to Dylan’s forehead.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” Dylan said, his breathing violent and short. “They’re going to kill my family for this.”

“Not unless you still have those computer chips,” Cooper answered.

Dylan tried turning his head to look around, but Cooper forced him to keep his eyes on her. She pulled him to his feet and slammed him back up against the side of the tree. The pressure from the gun on his forehead felt like it was going to cave his skull in. “Let me go.”

“No,” Cooper said. “Last time I trusted you, I ended up getting shot at. You shouldn’t have tried to do this alone, Dylan. It was a dumb decision.”

Perry’s voice boomed again. “Last chance. If I can’t convince you to come out, then maybe she can.”

Evelyn’s scream was the first thing Dylan heard, a series of nonsensical words. Dylan managed to finally turn enough to see Evelyn in the parking lot. Her hair was wild and the skin around her mouth red and raw from the tape that Perry had peeled off. “Just save Sean, Dylan. Save him.”

Dylan watched the tears stream down her face, and her head cocked to the side from the pressure of Perry’s gun. Dylan struggled against Cooper’s hold. “Perry! You let her go! Now!”

“Make a move, and I’ll have thirty agents here in no time, Perry,” Cooper said, adding to the threats.

“Ah, Agent Cooper, I was wondering why I hadn’t heard from Diaz. I’m sure it was hard to gun down your partner, but I’m pleased to see that at least not everyone in the DEA is worthless. I should’ve tried recruiting you instead.”

Dylan saw his revolver near the edge of the pavement, where he’d dropped it on his run for cover. He could make a dash for it, knock Cooper down, and try and make a run for Evelyn. Even if he died, Sean still might live, Perry using Sean as his last bargaining chip once it was revealed who and what he was.
No. He’d still kill Sean, complete with a smile on his face when he did.

“The chips, Captain. Now!” Perry said.

Cooper pulled Dylan’s face back to hers. “Dylan, listen to me. This isn’t the way to go. We can still get your family back, but the moment you give up your bargaining chip, they’re dead, and so are we.”

“I still have half of them with Mark,” Dylan replied. “Perry still won’t have all of them.”

“But it’ll be too late by then! He’ll still have enough to kill millions, and you don’t think he won’t? There’s a better way, Dylan. My life is on the line just as much as your family’s. Let me help you.”

“You have to the count of three,” Perry said. “One!”

Dylan squirmed against Cooper, shoving his hand into her face, forcing her to drop the gun to use all the strength she could to stop him. Both fell to the ground, rolling over one another, each trying to get the upper hand, the fatigue of struggle burning in their weary muscles.

“Two!”

Perry’s words sounded like gunshots firing into the air. Dylan kneed Cooper in the stomach, and he dug his hand into the dirt, clawing his way forward until Cooper grabbed him by the leg and pulled him backward. He kicked at her violently, catching her in the chin, and scrambled forward, the gun in sight, with Perry and Evelyn in the background.

Dylan watched Perry mouth the word three, but couldn’t remember hearing it. The only sound that filled his ears was the gunshot that killed Evelyn. He watched the explosion of the bullet exit the side of her head and her body drop to the ground then looked up to see Perry’s smile as Dylan wrapped his fingers around the revolver, aimed, and repeatedly squeezed the trigger, bullets flying from the barrel and connecting with the sedan that Perry had climbed into.

The terrorists alongside Perry fired back, a blanket of lead aimed for Dylan. He tried rising to his feet, but Cooper had grabbed hold of his ankles, pulling his feet from under him, and dragged him backward into the cover of the trees. The click of the hammer signaled that the revolver was empty, and the only sound that echoed from Dylan once the bullets were gone were his screams.

Chapter 11

By the time Perry arrived back at the warehouse, his patience had worn thin. While he still had the boy, the incompetence of Diaz and the pest of a bitch who was Cooper had pushed another thorn into his side, leaving him to dig it out himself.

The moment Perry stepped out of the car, he knew something was wrong. Sefkh, along with a large group of his lieutenants, marched toward him as one of the terrorists carried a lifeless Sean out of the car. The boy had seen Perry shoot his mother and since that moment had gone catatonic. Perry suspected the shock was just too much. “What is this? You should be in Chicago by now.”

“I need to speak with you.” Sefkh’s voice had authority to it, something that didn’t sit well with Perry. “Now.”

But Perry played it off calmly, leading Sefkh and his lieutenants into the small, makeshift office toward the middle of the warehouse floor. Along the way, he took inventory of how many men had joined Sefkh and the number of men who had stayed neutral on the sidelines as he passed. Once inside the office, Perry took a seat and casually leaned back in his chair, as if nothing were wrong or amiss. “What is it, Sefkh?”

“My brother-in-law. I want to know what you’re doing to get him back.” Sefkh’s English was thick and slurred in his frustration. “He is family, and I will have him returned to me. Dead or alive.”

Perry reached for a paperclip on the desk and twirled it between his fingers. “I can’t order his release, Sefkh. You know that, and Kasaika knew that when he got involved in this. What we’re doing is a risk, and with risk comes consequences of failure. Kasaika is dealing with that consequence now.”

Sefkh puffed up, while the men around him fidgeted nervously. “It was you who used the boat captain. Keeping his son here has led to this disaster. This consequence is on you.”

Perry had twisted the paperclip to where the edges pointed outward and the thin piece of metal had been lengthened into a single metal strip. “So what would your solution be, Sefkh, since my methods are so outdated and faulty?”

Sefkh straightened himself, no doubt having waited for the moment when Perry would ask. “We kill the boy.”

Perry raised his eyebrows and pressed his fingertip against the small metal tip of the clip. “And what would this accomplish?”

“The boy is all the boat captain wants. You take away what he wants most, and he will break. Once that happens, we’ll have what we need, and then we can have Kasaika returned to us.”

“Unless he destroys what we need once he learns his boy is dead,” Perry retorted. “But if this is what you think is best.” Perry rose, the paperclip still in his hand, then exited the office, heading for the shipping container that acted as Sean’s prison, with Sefkh and his men in tow.

Every eye was on Perry and the group as they walked across the warehouse floor. Perry opened the large metal door, and it swung and smacked into the wall. “Come here, boy.” Perry extended his hand as Sean cowered in the back.

Sean slowly made his way into the light, his face morphing from the darkness until he was standing right next to Perry. The boy said nothing, showed no emotion. He just simply stood and awaited whatever fate would befall him.

“I won’t have the boy killed with a bullet,” Perry said. “I’ll only accept a blade.” Perry looked to the hilt of the knife tucked into Sefkh’s belt, and Sefkh’s eyes slowly followed Perry’s gaze.

“So be it.” Sefkh pulled the knife from his belt and approached the boy, raising the knife, and just before he lunged to grab Sean, Perry shoved the boy out of the way and jammed the end of the paperclip into the pulsing vein along Sefkh’s neck then viciously dragged it down, tearing a gash in the artery at least two inches long.

The knife fell from Sefkh’s hand, and blood spurted from the vein, squirting through his fingers that tried to staunch the blood flood. He collapsed to his knees, gurgling for help, spitting curses in his native tongue with his eyes locked on Perry.

With their commander writhing on the floor, the other terrorists raised their guns but looked to one another with confusion, fear.

Perry dropped the paperclip and shoved the boy back inside his cell and locked the door. He stepped over Sefkh’s dead body and the pool of blood that had collected on the floor. Sefkh’s hand still twitched in what last seconds of life remained then stopped.

The terrorists around Perry took a step back and lowered their guns. He made sure to raise his voice for everyone to hear. “This is what happens when you lose sight of the bigger goal. And I will not tolerate a lack of vision.”

The entire warehouse floor had gone silent, everyone looking at Sefkh’s body. “You all know who has provided you with guns, with ammo, with provisions and bombs. Me!” Perry pointed to Sefkh’s body on the ground. “Not him! Does anyone else have a problem with my objective?”

The floor remained silent, a few shaking their heads but none speaking up or showing any sign of dissention. Perry nodded in approval. “Good. Now, do what you must with the body. Give him his prayers, put his bones in the earth. Then we will finish what we started. We will burn this country to the ground. We will give every person who calls themselves a citizen and a patriot a pain beyond anything they’ve experienced in their entire lives!”

Cheers echoed through the warehouse, and the place was suddenly alive with a fervor that had been nothing a few minutes ago. Perry closed his eyes and listened to the rage and anger that coursed through the men’s bones. This was his orchestra, and he was bringing every note to life.

***

It took Cooper nearly an hour to finally coax out where Dylan was scheduled to meet Mark for the pickup. Once she finally got it out of him, she left him alone, which Dylan wasn’t sure if he wanted or not. He walked onto the boat like a ghost, Mark looking at him, talking, but Dylan couldn’t understand what he was saying. He just went below deck and sat down at the small table used for meals.

Cold.
That’s what Dylan felt.
And empty.
Like all of his insides had been carved out and stolen. He rested his head on his hands and just tried to focus on breathing, but with each inhale and exhale, he saw the bullet that entered Evelyn’s head and each scream that preceded it.

Despite what had happened in the past, Dylan had loved her fiercely. He knew that if Zack had never died the way he had, they would have stayed together. He knew what he transformed into after their son’s death. He was distant, drunk, and bitter. Bitter about why it happened to him.

Dylan couldn’t count the number of nights that he cursed himself, cursed the world, cursed whatever God had allowed these things to happen. It wasn’t justice. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about the pain he’d experienced over the past three years made any sense. What men had thought they’d erected in the name of justice and order was nothing more than a façade that tumbled down at a moment’s whim.

“Hey.” Mark took a step down into the cabin, his head tilted to the side beneath the low ceiling. He walked slowly, but Dylan wasn’t sure if that was because he was still hurting from his gunshot wound or if he was trying to take his time to think of something to say. No doubt Cooper had filled him in on what happened.

Dylan scratched the top of his right hand mindlessly. “We should head out for a few miles and make anchor. Figure out a plan tomorrow.”

Mark sat across from Dylan at the table, settling himself into a comfortable position. “We’ll get him back, Captain. We will. You still have the computer chips. He knows that he’ll have to keep Sean alive. And what happened with Evelyn—”

“How are we on fuel?”

Mark shook his head. “Dylan, you need to take a second for yourself, you need—”

“We have to be running low.” Dylan finally noticed the scratching of his hand and stopped. “We’ll have to take a look at the maps, see what ports along the coast would be good to stop at, restock on supplies.”

Mark grabbed Dylan’s wrist and squeezed hard. “Dylan. Look at me. You need to talk about this. You withdrew into yourself when Zack died. You can’t do that again. It’s not healthy, and you need to have all your wits to get Sean back. So whatever you need to say to get into that space, say it now and be done with it.” Mark flung Dylan’s wrist back to him and took a moment to catch his breath.

Somewhere, underneath the armored layers of denial, self-loathing, and pain, Dylan knew Mark was right. “The last time I spoke with her, there was so much hate. I had never been so angry at her like I was then, not even when we were still married or through the divorce. I saw just how much pain I’d caused her, how much she had been hurt by me, and all I could think about was inflicting more pain on her. I wanted her to hurt as bad as I hurt. That was the last memory she had of me. That’s what I am.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Mark replied. “Whatever was said wasn’t from any rational standpoint. You were both hurting. You were both afraid. It wasn’t real, Dylan. None of it was. You two may have divorced, but she still loved you, and you loved her. You created three beautiful children, and one of them was taken far too soon. But you have a chance here. You have an opportunity to make sure that Evelyn didn’t sacrifice herself for nothing.”

“He’s right.” Cooper stood at the cabin’s entrance, blocking out the moonlight from above. “I went to see her yesterday, and when I showed up, Perry’s goons decided to make an appearance. They were after her. I tried getting her out, but she ran back to them so she could go and be with Sean, to make sure that if someone had to die, it was her. Make that death mean something.”