Plot counterplot, p.15
Plot/Counterplot, page 15
“That’s good to know.”
“So if it had nothing to do with the IRA, how did it happen?”
“Let’s return our attention to the matter at hand. I’ve thought about this, as I said I would. And I don’t want this procedure.”
“Dr. Giep is a miracle worker.”
“Find someone else for him to wreak his miracles upon.”
“Do you want to have the weapon when the summit brings all those important people to Honolulu?”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“Then we’d better get Scheimer’s files, hadn’t we? The sooner the better. I know you’re not happy about this. But you’re a trouper. So you’re going to take one for the team.”
Somehow, she managed to purse her lips and snarl at the same time. “Suck my dick.” She paced around the table. “And the operation must be performed today?”
“Immediately.”
“I’ve lined up the Hollywood people you wanted,” she said. “The art director. He’s a two-time Oscar winner.”
“That should do.”
“And I’ve got one of the top set design and construction experts in business. Stole him right off a Steven Spielberg set.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “He has a gambling problem. Large debts. The art director is attached to his mother and doesn’t want to see anything happen to her. Worse than what already happened.”
Dylan felt his teeth grinding. She was targeting more victims. Exploiting weaknesses. Destroying lives. But this time, she was going after people he requested. This time, he was the mastermind behind the evil.
In the story he was writing, he’d become Mr. X.
Chapter 29
Seamus had interrogated terrorists who were not as intransigent, or as tough, as Dr. Evan Fender, the emergency room surgeon who supervised Leilani Kahale after the ambulance brought her to Leahi Hospital. The gruff, balding doctor had presumably been toughened by years of service. Seamus guessed he was at a point in his life—mid-sixties at least—where he didn’t have to work to live so he wasn’t going to be bullied by anyone. Flashing a badge wasn’t enough to get the man talking. Fender spent fifteen minutes calling the NCTC to make sure they had a Seamus McKay on the payroll. Even after confirmation, he remained guarded.
“Nothing personal,” Fender grunted. “It’s a matter of confidentiality.”
“It’s also a matter of national security,” Seamus replied.
“You government boys always act as if it’s the end of the world.”
“Let’s hope not. But it is serious. So I’d like to know about Leilani Kahale’s condition.”
“I need her to waive confidentiality.”
“I am going to talk to her. But I want to hear from you first.”
“Doctor-patient privilege—”
“Has been totally overridden by the Freedom Act and we both know it. Do you want me to have your files subpoenaed? Have you hauled down for questioning? You’d be tied up for days.”
Fender squinted in a way that made his eyes disappear. All that remained were his bushy gray eyebrows. “What the hell is it you want to know?”
“What happened to this woman?”
Fender plopped down in the chair behind his desk. “Someone shot her in the stomach, that’s what. She damn near bled out before the paramedics arrived. And that’s just for starters.”
“What else?”
“We found an abnormal electrolyte profile. Acute muscle inflammation. Elevated lactic acid levels in her blood. Excess quantities of troponin 1.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think someone electrocuted her. Probably after they shot her.”
“Jesus. A taser?”
“Well, I doubt she was messing around with the circuit box after the bullet cut her open. She also had severe lacerations and bruising. Looked like she got beaten up badly before she was shot. She must’ve gotten some treatment because there was a bandage on her left thigh. Some of the other bruises were fresh, though.”
They didn’t just shoot her, Seamus realized. They tortured her. “Anything else?”
“I’m afraid so.” Fender pressed his hand against his forehead. “Paramedics who found her said she was—” He paused. “She was naked, below the waist.”
“Was she sexually assaulted?”
“There’s no medical evidence of it. But someone sure made her think she was going to be. Why would anyone do that?”
“I don’t know. What does she say about it?”
“Next to nothing. Cops have been here quizzing her, but she’s tight-lipped. Says she doesn’t remember much. Which could be true. Shock like that could easily erase memories. Took a week before she could communicate clearly.” Another pause. “But I suspect she’s deliberately keeping quiet.”
“Why protect her assailants? That’s bizarre.”
“You haven’t even heard the most bizarre part yet.” Fender rummaged through the clutter atop the credenza behind his desk. “As soon as she was sufficiently stable, we did an MRI scan to see if she’d suffered any brain impairment.”
“Did you find any?”
“No. But we did find...this. Implanted in her head beside the left temple.”
Seamus took the plastic bag and scrutinized the contents. The mechanical device was tiny, but he knew what it was. He’d seen them before.
Why would anyone put a subcutaneous tracking and eavesdropping device in Leilani Kahale’s skull? Who had the technological capability to do that?
The same people who could use the Aprilynne decryption algorithm.
Seamus didn’t know who was behind this. But they were major players. He didn’t know what they wanted, either. But if they were capable of torching a retirement home, torturing this woman, and destroying a military installation to achieve their goals—what couldn’t they do?
* * *
“Just a few more things I wanted to cover before I go under the knife,” Mr. X said. If she was nervous, she wasn’t letting it show.
Dylan listened attentively. Even in a hospital gown, she still spoke with authority.
“Those people have already started building your set. It’s made of interlocking parts, like a giant jigsaw puzzle. Once you know how to do it—you can put it together quickly.”
“I want them to practice every day between now and when we go into action. Once we’re done, we want to eliminate all traces we were ever there.”
“Understood.”
“And now—Dr. Giep and Dr. Reacher are waiting for you. Don’t be worried.”
“I’m not.”
“Giep is the most advanced surgeon in his field. His use of bioengineered stem cells to heal surgical scars and accelerate recovery is nothing short of revolutionary.”
“You’d bloody well better have done your research right. This is my face he’s messing about with.”
Yes, Dylan thought, and it’s such a treasure. Most people in her situation would give anything to have this opportunity.
There was a knock on the conference room door. The doctors gestured for her.
She gave Dylan a sharp look. “Don’t get any ideas. I’ll only be unconscious a short while. Xavier and his men will be watching you constantly.”
She’d be out something like twelve hours, from what Dr. Giep had told him, but there was no point in correcting her. “Fear not. I’ll be much too busy to cause any trouble. As soon as—”
He was interrupted by a piercing scream from the main entrance.
Dylan whipped his head around. Through the glass walls of the conference room, he observed a slender blond-haired woman being dragged through the door by Xavier’s dependable brutes.
“Get your hands off me, you freaking apes. Let go!”
For a tiny woman, she had considerable strength. Not enough to overpower those two, though.
“I said, let go of me!” She kicked Marco in the shins, and when he tried to slap her, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.
Mr. X rapped on the glass wall. “Xavier.”
The Russian giant appeared out of nowhere. He wrapped his thick arm around the woman’s throat, choking the fight out of her. In a few seconds, they had her back under control. But even Xavier couldn’t prevent her from expressing her opinions.
“I’m going to rip every one of you from limb to limb!”
They hauled her down the corridor where Dylan knew she’d be put in a holding cell, at least for a time.
Mr. X cleared her throat. “So that’s your encryption expert.”
Lovely. Another innocent was being forced into their insidious web—and it was his fault. “What did you do to get her?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
She wrung her hands. “Let’s get this damnable operation over with.” She stared at Dylan with abruptly narrowed eyes, tiny slits barely large enough to permit the passage of light. Before he knew what had happened, she slapped her hand against his chest, hard. “This had better be absolutely necessary, Dylan.”
“It is.”
“Had my tonsils removed when I was eight. Didn’t care for it.”
“Did they give you ice cream?”
“I don’t like ice cream.”
“Come on. Everyone likes ice cream.”
“I don’t.”
“When you get out of surgery, I’m bringing you a banana split. You’ll love it.”
“I will not love it, and don’t do me any favors, and stop flirting with me. You’re not my type and I’m not that stupid skinny Barbie doll you’ve been fucking. So leave me alone and do your job!”
Dylan allowed himself a small smile. His plan was working.
Chapter 30
When Seamus entered the private hospital room, Leilani Kahale sat upright in bed. She had an IV connected to her wrist. She’d arrived almost dead and had been unable to eat or talk for a week. They were still giving her an intravenous nutrient, laced with some pain medication. She wore a hospital gown, but he was impressed by the fact that she was clean and groomed, something he knew was not always easy to accomplish in the hospital—especially when you were tethered to an IV. She had a small computer in her lap.
As soon as she saw him, she closed the lid.
“Pardon me for intruding,” he said. “I’m Seamus McKay. NCTC.” He flashed his badge.
“The nurse warned me you were coming.”
“I’d like to ask a few questions about what happened to you. And your boyfriend.”
“I don’t know much,” she replied, “and I’ve already told it to the police, several times. Plus some guys who said they were with the FBI. But I guess I can tell you, too.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“It’s pretty simple. They opened the door and shot me. I don’t know why. I thought they planned to rob me. All I know is I fell on the floor, bleeding and unconscious. I don’t remember much more. When the ambulance arrived, Dylan was gone.”
“You assume he was kidnapped?”
“He wouldn’t have left me in that condition if he had any choice.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“I am, too.” Seamus turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, I did want to ask you one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Why are you lying to me?”
He watched as Leilani’s face traveled from surprise, to concern, to denial. “Why would you think that? I have no reason to lie.”
“Apparently you do. Because you are.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. Don’t make me go into all the boring details. The way your eyes traveled up and to the left when you said you don’t know why they shot you. The way you broke eye contact when you said you don’t remember anything after you hit the floor. And the obvious indicators in the record.”
“The police didn’t mention any obvious indicators.”
“They may not be as good at reading between the lines. But I’ve had a lot of experience with liars who are, quite frankly, a lot better at it than you.”
She turned away. “I don’t have anything more to tell you.”
“All right then. Let me tell you what happened.”
He could see he had her attention.
“Your assailants had been watching Dylan’s condo for some time. Every room. Even the bedroom. They watched you make love, and then, when you were both most vulnerable, they burst in. There was a struggle. Furniture was damaged and you were hurt, though not as badly as you would be later. They could’ve killed Dylan, but they didn’t, so they must want something from him. And it isn’t money, because there are much wealthier people in this city who would be easier to intimidate. They want him to do something for them. He refused and tried to escape, even getting himself arrested to get away from them. But it didn’t work. Neither of you could escape. They planted a tracking device in your head and probably in Dylan’s, too. Finally, to coerce him to give in, they killed his elderly friend, assaulted you, shot you, tasered you, and threatened to rape you.”
He paused. “How am I doing so far?”
Leilani did not reply. But her eyes were noticeably wider.
“I understand your reluctance to speak to the police,” he continued. “You don’t trust them. If I were in your situation, I wouldn’t trust them, either. They’re too unreliable, too easily bought. Dylan’s abductors probably told you they had people on the inside, and the truth is, they may well have.”
Her left eye twitched.
“But I have resources the cops don’t. I have all the high-tech toys and databases. And I have experience dealing with some of the meanest, nastiest bastards on planet earth.” He paused. “I can help you. If you’ll let me.”
Her lips parted. She almost said what was on her mind—then retreated at the last moment.
Seamus filled the silence. “You’re worried about Dylan. They told you that if you said anything to anyone, they’d hurt him. Or you. And you believe them. I get that. But I also know this, Leilani. When they’re done using Dylan, they’re going to kill him. His only hope is that you help me find him before that happens.”
He watched her hands tighten on the handrails of her bed. She wanted to talk. He was sure of it. He just needed something else. Something to convince her she could trust him.
“I know how you feel in a way no one else can. I...loved someone. Once. And she was taken from me by people just like the brutes you’re up against now. It destroyed me. I felt helpless, angry—and worst of all, guilty. All the emotions you’re experiencing now.” He paused, watching her eyes. “I know what you’re going through. And I’m determined to help.” He drew in his breath, then slowly released it. “Won’t you please let me help you?”
Her lips parted so slowly it seemed eons before she spoke. “I know they’ve been watching me. They said they’d kill Dylan if I talked.”
“They’ll keep him alive until he’s served their purpose. I need to find him before they’re done with him.”
Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes drew closer together.
“No one else is going to do it,” Seamus continued. “We’re the only ones who can help him. You and me.”
At long last she spoke. “You promise you’ll try to find him? No matter what they do?”
“I promise I will find him. But you have to help me.”
Her eyes welled up. “You were right. About everything. How did you know they attacked us in the bedroom?”
“I saw that someone—you, I’m guessing—scrubbed the floor so hard the woodwork lost some of its varnish. Blood, right?”
“Yes.”
“The missing security guard?”
“They killed him.” She told him the whole story—from the initial break-in to the final assault in the cabin.
“Is it possible Dylan knew they were coming?”
“Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“The police suspect that Dylan may have shot you, then disappeared.”
“That’s total crap.”
“I know. Do you have any idea why these people wanted Dylan?”
“No. He never told me. I think he thought I would be safer if I didn’t know.”
He was right. “And you don’t know who these people were? Or who they worked for?”
“No.” She described Pock-Face, the one she saw the most, in great detail.
“Doesn’t sound like anyone I know. What about the leader? The giant.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t see that much of him. Said his name was Xavier.”
“An obvious alias. Can you describe him?”
“Muscular. Abnormally large. Pumped up and then some. Medium height. Buzzcut. Foreign accent. Russian, I think.”
Seamus’s eyes widened. “Dark hair?”
“No, blond.”
“He could’ve bleached it. Square jaw? Like Dick TraCy square?”
“Yeah.”
“Birthmark right here?” Seamus pointed to his neck.
She thought for a moment. “Yeah. Do you know him?”
“I might.” He bit down on his lower lip. “I hope to God I’m wrong. For Dylan’s sake.” He thought another moment. “But it makes sense. Only someone completely vile could do what he did to you. I want to help you, Ms. Kahale. I know after what you’ve been through, it must seem as if they’re unstoppable, invincible—”
“No, you’re wrong.”
Seamus stopped short.
“They’re not invincible,” she continued. “I know that. They’re mean, and resourceful, but they make mistakes like everyone else.”
“Why do you say that?”
“At the cabin. While I was bleeding out and Pock-Face was torturing me. I heard Xavier tell Dylan that he’d severed my spine. Crippled me for life.”
“Yes?”
Leilani sat up straight and set the laptop on the table beside the bed. “He didn’t. He missed. He was only off by an inch, but that inch was enough to save my spinal column. I’ve been walking for almost a week now. The doctors think I’m pushing too hard. They’ve insisted that I stay in the hospital under observation. But I’m not going to let those people win. Dylan is too important to me. I never felt close to anyone in my life before him. I’m not going to lose that.”
