Wake the Devil (15 page)

W
esley Simms heard the order to evacuate go out over his scanner. Traffic was being rerouted. Emergency Services placed on alert, along with the trauma teams at Grady, Crawford-Long, and Piedmont hospitals. Even hospitals as far away as Emory University and Northside were told to get ready. News trucks with satellite dishes sped along the streets. Similar orders to evacuate City Hall, the state capitol complex, and Fulton County government buildings were issued. Perfect. If he’d written the script, he couldn’t have asked for more. All the official government buildings in Atlanta’s downtown were clustered together within a few blocks of each other. Even the Richard Russell Federal Building was being emptied. It was simply beautiful.

Whistling to himself, Wesley set a small explosive charge on the junction box in the condominium’s basement. During his first trip, he’d taken note of the sensors and cameras. Fortunately, they didn’t work very well without electricity. Even if someone managed to activate the panic button there’d be no one to hear it for the next few minutes. His cellphone beeped.

Is everything okay, lad?

Excellent.

That’s my boy. It’s a fine lookin’ officer you make in those SWAT clothes. Now make me proud.

*

Dan Pappas thought he heard a shot a second after the elevator doors closed. He drew his gun. When they opened onto the sixth floor, his worst fears were confirmed. Ed Mundas lay dead in the hallway. Two pizza boxes were lying next to him. There were three bullet holes in his chest. The detective immediately took out his cellphone and called his partner.

“Code Red! Code Red! We’re under attack.”

As if in confirmation, a burst of short automatic weapons fire came from inside the condo.

“We’re less than a minute out!” Beth yelled.

“I don’t have a minute! He’s going for the witnesses. Mundas is down. There’s weapon fire coming from inside. I can’t wait on you.”

Pappas had taken no more than two steps before an explosion followed by an enormously bright light came from the inside of the condo. Another burst from an automatic weapon followed. Smoke poured out of the door that had just been blown open. Pappas bent down, pulled Mundas’s 9 mm off his hip, and charged inside.

*

Out of his peripheral vision, Wesley saw a large man enter the room holding two guns. A shiver of fear ran through his body. Jack Kale was coming for him. As he anticipated, his being dressed as a SWAT officer caused the other man to hesitate. Holding his hand up, palm out, he pointed emphatically toward the second floor. Across his face was a black balaclava. Pappas’s glance was only momentary. Wesley then pointed to where Dwayne Stafford was lying and reached down to check his pulse.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Sirens in the distance getting louder. Impossible. How could they have figured it out again? Forcing himself not to panic, he looked up at Pappas and shook his head. The message was clear. Dwayne Stafford was dead. He then pointed to the staircase. At the top of the landing lay the body of Dr. Will Landry.

Wesley was in the process of bringing his gun around when their eyes locked. Pappas snapped off two shots, both of which went wide, then dove for cover behind the overturned dining room table. The burst from Wesley’s weapon also missed when Dwayne Stafford,
who’d only been stunned, reached up and grabbed the gun. The killer clubbed him unconscious.

Hampered by the smoke, Dan Pappas returned fire. Wesley moved to his right and tossed a second stun grenade, covering his ears. The sirens were almost on them. How? How could Kale have known? No time for the last witness.

A short blast from his AK-47 blew the balcony’s sliding glass door apart. Removing a coil of nylon rope from his belt, he looped it over the safety rail, and quickly lowered himself down to the floor below.

T
he scene outside the apartment was worse than Jack imagined. It looked like they’d fought World War III in there. Stafford was on his knees frantically trying to administer CPR to his partner as Pappas looked on helplessly. When he saw Jack, he shook his head. After a few more seconds, he bent down and put a hand on Dwayne Stafford’s shoulder. The young detective had been pounding the chest of a dead man for two minutes.

“C’mon, kid. There’s nothing you can do.”

Stafford shook the arm off and continued to try CPR.

“Jesus,” Milner said, under his breath.

With Jack’s help, Pappas finally pulled Stafford away. The look on his face was one of confusion.

“He’s gone, Dwayne,” Jack said.

They stared at one another before Stafford burst into tears. Jack turned to look for Beth for the first time and noticed she wasn’t there.

*

As soon as she saw the rope hanging over the balcony, Beth understood what had happened. It was the Sandman’s escape route. Without thinking, she bolted for the stairwell and started down, reasoning he would try to reach the basement rather than hide on the floor below. She pulled out her walkie-talkie and advised the SWAT commander she was in pursuit.

“Wait for backup, Sturgis. Don’t try to take this guy . . .”

The com unit’s signal died before she could make a reply. Beth continued down the stairs. The minute she came through the basement door, she registered the lights were out. If the Sandman planned ahead as well as Jack said he did, he probably knew the layout thoroughly, which would put her at a major disadvantage. Through a little light coming in from an air vent at street level, she could see the room was extensive and ran the length of the building. Sweeping her gun in both directions, she started forward listening for any sound.

After ten feet, she froze. Up ahead of her to her left a shoe scraped across the cement floor. Her fellow officers would be there in a minute. The Sandman probably knew this as well. It wasn’t necessary to take him out, only delay him till they arrived.

Reaching into her pocket, she found a quarter, and pitched it well to her right. Three shots exploded in the dark. She immediately sighted on the muzzle flash, and fired off five of her own spreading the pattern out. The Sandman returned fire immediately. Moving to her left now, Beth bumped into a cinderblock pillar and used it for cover. The sound of more foot falls followed.

“C’mon guys. We’re down here,” she whispered.

Time seemed to stretch as they continued their cat and mouse game.

Her mouth was dry as she fought to keep the blood from rushing in her ears.

The next sound she heard came from deeper in the dark. Up ahead she saw a shadow move in the dim glow of a safety light. She fired three more times. Two bullets answered her. The resulting flash was momentary but enough to confirm they were entering a connecting tunnel between the condominium complex and the building next door.

How many shots was that? Eight. Four left in the clip.

Once again, the shadow moved. And once again Beth fired. Twice this time, trying to conserve her ammunition. The idea of entering a tunnel frightened her because there would be no cover.

Another movement. This time passing under the light. Beth dropped into a combat stance and took aim, but held off. He’d been too quick for her.

The corridor ended at a wall and turned right. Above, she could hear the faint sounds of traffic and an occasional horn blowing. They had to be crossing under Peachtree Road. She caught a glimpse of the Sandman disappearing around a corner at the end of the second tunnel. With every sense heightened, Beth started after him.

She reached the corner as the Sandman was about to enter a flight of stairs.

“Freeze!”

The killer spun around and leveled his weapon.

No choice now. Beth pulled the trigger and fired. Both shots went wide as the slide on her weapon locked open. The bullets she thought would end her life never arrived. The Sandman cocked his head to one side as if he was examining a bug and stood at the end of the corridor watching her. No one spoke.

“Are you still afraid of the dark, Elizabeth?”

Before she could respond, the killer fired a short burst at the ceiling destroying the safety light above her head, plunging the area into night. Beth ducked out of reflex. When she looked again, he was gone.

As soon as she regained her composure, she found the spare magazine in her jacket pocket. Rammed it into place. Raced for the steps. She came out in the lobby of an ornate art deco building on the other side of Peachtree Road. It was empty. Frustrated, she ran out to check the street, but the Sandman was gone.

*

Wesley Simms changed clothes in the building’s storeroom and emerged from the rear entrance dressed as a jogger.

Exit strategy. He loved that phrase. No plan survives first contact with the enemy. The answer? Leave yourself a rabbit hole to disappear into. Father Mike knew everything. In the three years he trained him outside of Dublin some twenty years earlier, he’d drilled that into his head over and over. Any mission could fall apart. When that happened, it was a matter of life or death. Run away and fight another day.

*

The inside of the condo looked like a tornado had ripped through the place. Furniture was everywhere. Smoke still hung in the air. Blood from Will Landry’s chest dripped steadily onto the marble floor underneath the landing, forming a dark-red pool.

At the top of the stairs, Rachel Lawrence sat with her back to the wall like a broken doll, legs extended, staring at the body of her friend. At first glance, Jack thought she was dead, but then he saw her eyes move. At the sight of Landry’s body, his stomach sank.

The Sandman had been one step ahead of them from the beginning. The marksmen had just taken up positions to shoot down the drones when it had finally come to him. The parallel to what happened in Spain was unmistakable. As in Madrid, there was a crowd filling the street, the result of a bomb threat. That’s when two thoughts occurred to Jack simultaneously. One, the explosion wasn’t the point, the distraction was. Two, when it happened, everyone took their eye off the true targets. It was all a ruse. Misdirection. Don’t watch the hand holding the coin; watch the one I’m waving in your face. The Sandman’s goal had always been Rachel Lawrence and Will Landry. He had played them perfectly—played
him
perfectly.

Jack sensed Pappas and Milner beside him. All three watched as the medical technicians ran up the steps. They needed only a glance to see their services would not be required that morning. Rachel still hadn’t moved. One of them checked her for injuries then helped her to her feet.

“What happened here?” Jack asked Pappas.

“I came in at the tail end. It looks like Landry went after the Sandman with a lamp. Sonofabitch shot him point blank. Dwayne was down and I was pretty sure he’d also bought it. Thank God the vest saved him.”

“What about the Sandman?” Milner asked.

“He went over the balcony. We exchanged shots, but I couldn’t see shit with all the smoke.”

The FBI agent walked outside, examined the rope for a moment and pounded his fist against the railing, then started making calls on his hand communicator. Jack was about to ask where Beth was when she walked through the door.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Chasing the Sandman.”

“What?” Anger flared in his chest. It was a stupid, reckless thing to do. He bit back the rest of what he was going to say and waited.

She explained what had happened and the killer’s delay in taking a shot at her in the tunnel when he could easily have done so. Jack shook his head, confused.

Pappas inquired, “Did you see what he looked like?”

“He was dressed like a SWAT officer and had his face covered. I put a BOLO out on him.”

“You shouldn’t have tried to take him alone,” Pappas said, echoing Jack’s thoughts.

“I just reacted,” Beth said. “I was calling for backup when I lost the signal.”

Pappas was about to say something else but paused as they carried Will Landry’s body down the steps. Rachel Lawrence was behind them. She appeared to be in shock. Jack approached her.

“Rachel, I—”

Her slap caught him across the face, turning his head sideways.

“We trusted you.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Before Jack could reply, she walked out of the room.

T
he slap caught everyone in the room by surprise, particularly Jack. Rachel’s retreating back was an accusation, worse than if she’d said he had murdered Will Landry himself. Jack’s face burned with shame, but it wasn’t from the blow. The extent of his failure, as he perceived it now, hung in the air along with the flash grenade’s smoke. He could feel their eyes on him. He knew what the others were thinking . . . and he agreed. He’d failed for the second time in one day. Without a word, he followed her through the door.

Dan Pappas was the first to recover. He turned to Beth and said, “The Sandman had his fingers on Stafford’s throat. He was pretending to check for a pulse.”

Surprise registered. “Was he wearing gloves?”

“Negative. He took one off to check. That’s why I hesitated. I thought the little fucker was one of us. His middle two fingers were on Dwayne’s carotid artery.”

Beth wanted to go after Jack. No one could have figured out what the Sandman was planning as quickly as he had. They’d have needed a crystal ball. At times he could be so frustrating she wanted to scream. Instead of feeling pride at having saved Rachel, she was certain he blamed himself for Landry and Mundas’s deaths, if not everyone who died at Mary Quinn’s house as well. Torn between wanting to console her lover and her duty to secure what might be a vital clue, Beth chose the latter.

*

Dwayne Stafford sat quietly, staring straight ahead, and let Beth Sturgis examine his throat. He knew it was possible to recover latent fingerprints from a person’s body provided you moved quickly enough.

The body armor he’d been wearing had saved his life. Ed hadn’t been so lucky. If not for those stupid pizzas. The detective clenched his jaw and let the tears roll freely down his face. Beth turned her head away so as not to embarrass him. He and Ed had discussed the possibility one of them might be killed. Both were less than six years out of college and, armed with the invulnerability of youth, neither believed it would ever happen.

The young detective was dreading what came next, breaking the news to Ed’s parents. They lived in Vinings, a small community north of Atlanta. Growing up, he’d spent as much time at their home as he had at his own. He and Ed had gone through grade school, middle school, and high school together. They’d played on the same baseball team. Ed was their pitcher. Their teammates had dubbed him Lurch because he was so tall. Dwayne felt numb, unable to move.

Watching the ME take his friend’s body away, his mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing. Surely this was one of Ed’s stupid jokes. He was just outside waiting to walk through the door with that ridiculous horse laugh of his. “Good one, huh, Dwayne?”

Yeah, Ed. Good one.

“I’m done,” Beth said, touching his arm.

“So am I,” Dwayne said.

He stood and left the room. Dan Pappas looked at Beth for a moment, shook his head, and followed him out, leaving Beth alone with Todd Milner.

“I’m so sorry,” the agent said.

“Me, too,” she said quietly.

“We’re losing people left and right. First Gabe, now your guy.”

“Ed Mundas,” Beth said. “His name was Ed Mundas.”

Milner nodded. “You want me to run those prints?”

“I’ll drop them off at the lab on the way home. I still need to finish up here.”

“Sure,” Milner said, and waited a beat. “You understand we have a problem, don’t you? We can’t let Doctor Lawrence return to her home. She’d be a sitting duck.”

“That’s where Dan Pappas went,” Beth said.

“Oh, I thought he was going after Detective Stafford.”

“Dwayne’ll come out of it. He needs to notify Ed’s parents. After that . . . I don’t know. Losing a partner this way . . .”

She took a deep breath and rubbed her face with her hands, then mentally divided the apartment into quadrants and began the search for evidence, moving mostly by rote.

“Mind if I talk while you’re working?” Milner asked, adjusting his arm sling to a more comfortable position.

“Go ahead. If I don’t answer right away, I’m not being rude.”

“Understood. I know Kale’s still in charge, but we need to bring more people in. The Sandman’s not going away.”

“Neither are we,” Beth said over her shoulder.

“The Bureau has a safehouse we use for federal witnesses. It’s run by the Marshal Service. I say we move Dr. Lawrence there.”

Beth paused to check her cellphone, then informed him, “That was Dan. He has her. They’re on the way to HQ.”

“Great. I’ll let Director Newton know. I guess we can talk about the second safehouse later.”

Privately she agreed with Milner but was not about to say anything that would undermine Jack’s authority. She continued with her examination occasionally stooping down to pick up some tiny bit of material and bag it. Considering the number of people who’d been through the condo in the last hour, she wasn’t hopeful.

The FBI agent watched and commented, “You’re wasting your time.”

“I know,” Beth said. “Just gathering my thoughts.”

“Any idea where Kale went or what he has in mind?”

Beth laughed to herself and said, “That would be a neat trick.”

“He did a tremendous job,” Milner said. “Using the drones as a diversion never occurred to me.”

“That’s Jack,” Beth said absently, as she squinted at a black thread.

“There’s another problem,” Milner said.

Beth stopped walking and closed her evidence kit. “How did the Sandman know about this place?”

“Exactly. It means we have a leak. There’s no other way to say it.”

For a moment, she considered telling him she and Jack had discussed this earlier, then dismissed the idea.

Milner continued. “Our problem is containment. There are simply too many people in the loop. Us, your department, the U.S. Attorney’s office. We have to figure out a way to stop the flow.”

“I know.”

“Ideas?”

Beth shook her head. “I’m tapped out right now, Todd.”

Milner let his breath out. “I need to brief the boss. We’re in trouble here, Detective.”

*

Beth arrived home expecting to find Jack there. He wasn’t. Nor did he answer his cell when she called him. She fed Marta and took her for a walk. Passing lights from cars were just beginning to impact the growing darkness. On the next street, she met a neighbor walking her collie and stopped to chat. The neighbor inquired about Jack.

“He’s great,” Beth said, hoping she was telling the truth.

The woman was Deena Marchado, an accountant who worked out of her home. From past conversations, she knew Deena had once been an actress but had left the profession a few years earlier. She was forty-eight with two teenage sons and had just let her boyfriend move in a few months ago. The moving in part gave her and Beth a common ground, though in reverse.

Deena inquired, “Were you involved in that craziness downtown?”

“Right in the middle of it,” Beth said.

“Jack too?”

Beth said he was and filled her in on the broader details, wanting to end the conversation and get home as quickly as possible.

“Wow. I’ll bet you guys just wanna put your feet up and chill.”

“You got that right,” Beth said.

“Is he making supper again?”

Beth smiled for an answer, which to her mind was better than telling a lie.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Deena said. “I wish he would teach Jerry to cook. That man can burn water.”

Shortly after she entered the house, the phone began to ring. It was a detective named Jeff Sibley, who worked computer crimes.

“Beth, sorry to bother you. I thought I’d better give you a call. I’m at Kaleidoscope. Jack’s here.”

“Oh?”

“He’s been putting it away pretty good.”

“Really?”

“Look, I don’t want to get in your business. I know you’re sort of together and, well . . . it’s not a good idea if he drives.”

Beth wondered how many people in the department knew about them. The fact that Jeff had called Jack’s home instead of hers was a partial answer.

“I appreciate it, Jeff. I’m on the way.”

*

Kaleidoscope was the neighborhood restaurant in Brookhaven where they had gone on their first date. Well, maybe not a date exactly, because Dan Pappas was also there, but she thought of it that way. Over the last few months, she’d been incredibly happy and was sure Jack felt the same way. She loved how his mind never stopped working and the way he looked at her. And when he touched her, it still felt like the first time. They’d managed to connect on a level she never thought possible. And now this stupid case was chipping away at it.

Beth told Marta, “I have to pick up Daddy. Be right back.”

Marta’s large brown eyes watched her.

“Yeah, me too.”

On the drive, she thought about the situation they were in. It wasn’t good. Jack’s tendency to blame himself came as no surprise; she’d seen it firsthand with the guilt he carried over the death of his ex-partner. Unfortunately there was no time for that now. Both Rachel and the department needed him at full strength with all his faculties intact. They might be able to stop the Sandman, but the prospects weren’t encouraging without his help. The killer had already taken out two of the three witnesses.

She entered the parking lot at the rear of the restaurant and saw Jack’s BMW there. Jeff Sibley was waiting for her in the lobby. He
made a small motion with his head toward the back of the restaurant. Jack was at a table with another woman. Sibley looked awkward.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. They were talking at the bar and just sat down.”

“It’s not a problem, Jeff. Thanks again. I’ll take it from here.”

The detective seemed happy to get back to his dinner.

“Loving is trusting,” Beth muttered to herself and started for the table.