Nine Lives Page 9

The ring of a bell announced the end of the school day. Elton watched as the front doors burst open and the students began to pour out of the building. Aiden and Emma soon emerged from the boisterous crowd, stopped briefly to chat with their friends, then said their goodbyes. Only after the children had greeted the housekeeper and were safely inside the vehicle did the operative rejoin his partner in the SUV.

  Elton removed a silencer from the satchel on the passenger seat beside him and attached it to his handgun. He tucked the weapon under the bag, out of sight. Slowly, the black SUV pulled away from the curb. He watched it follow Marissa and the children as they left the school.

  It was time.

  Elton cranked the wheel of the sedan hard to the left, executed a fast U-turn, then merged with the traffic flow, careful to maintain a generous following distance behind the protection detail. As the vehicles weaved in and out of traffic, he closed the gap. Several lane changes later he had positioned himself directly behind the SUV.

  Marissa’s vehicle stopped ahead of the security detail, then executed a right turn at the intersection. The SUV followed her around the corner. Elton sped up. When the vehicle had completed its turn, Elton turned on the unmarked police sedan’s service lights and hit the siren.

  Slowly, the black SUV pulled over to the curb and braked to a stop.

  Elton grabbed the weapon from under the bag, placed it behind his leg, opened the door, exited the vehicle and approached the driver. The driver’s window lowered. Elton reached the car and addressed the occupants. “Afternoon,” Elton said. “License and registration, please.”

  The operative removed his sunglasses. “Mind telling me why you’re stopping us?” the man asked.

  “Failure to stop,” Elton replied.

  The driver looked puzzled. “Come again?” he asked.

  Elton pointed back down the street. “The corner back there. You blew through a four-way stop. Not a good idea to do that in front of the police.”

  By now Marissa was half a block down the road. Elton knew her schedule for the day. If he didn’t catch up to her soon his window of opportunity would be lost.

  The driver motioned to his partner. Elton watched as the man opened the glove box and produced the requested documentation.

  The driver removed his credentials from his jacket pocket and presented them to Elton. “We’re both on the job, so to speak,” the man said. “That’s our client we were following. Any chance you could cut us a break, officer?”

  “It’s detective,” Elton lied. He read aloud the mans private security identification. “James Holtzman, Sentinel Executive Protection.” He looked at the passenger. “And you are?” he asked.

  “Jeremy Bennett,” the partner replied. He presented his credentials. Elton examined the identification card.

  “Who’s the client?” Elton asked.

  “A VIP,” the driver replied.

  “Anyone I might know?”

  “Maybe. Jordan Quest.”

  “The psychic?”

  The driver nodded. “The same,” he replied. “Our firm has been retained to protect the family.”

  Elton pocketed the men’s credentials. “Sounds like a pretty cushy gig,” he said.

  The driver glanced uncomfortably at his partner then back at Elton. “We’ll need those back, detective.”

  “What’s it like working in private security, anyway?” Elton asked. “You guys ever run into any serious trouble?”

  The driver shook his head. “Not as a rule,” he replied. Elton noticed the change in the driver’s demeanor. Holtzman lowered his hands from the steering wheel, placed them in his lap. He had become suspicious. “Sir,” he said. “Our ID’s.”

  Bennett too shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then placed his hand on the door handle.

  “I’ve thought about it myself from time to time,” Elton replied. “LAPD’s can be a drag. Too many rules.”

  Holtzman casually slipped his hand under his jacket, felt for his weapon in its cross-draw holster, grabbed hold of the gun, held it tight. He smiled at Elton. “I hear you,” he said. “Tell you what. Give me your card. Call me when you’re ready to leave the force. I’m sure we can find room for you at Sentinel, Detective…”

  “Mannafort,” Elton replied. “Elton Mannafort.”

  “Mannafort,” Holtzman repeated thoughtfully. Unseen, the operative had drawn his gun from his holster. He held it against his side. “What division?” he asked.

  Elton read the body language of the two men. Holtzman’s stare was fixed. He knew something was wrong. His fight-or-flight response had kicked in.

  Elton glanced left, then right, checked the street. Empty. “Homicide,” he replied. He raised the gun and fired. Thwup… thwup… thwup… thwup. The four rounds found their respective marks. Holtzman took two to the heart, Bennett to the head. The men slumped forward, dead.

  Elton removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He opened the door, closed the driver’s window, turned off the car, closed the door and walked back to the Crown Victoria.

  Dealing with the shadow security detail had taken longer than he had planned. He checked the clock on the dashboard. By his estimation the housekeeper and the children were only ten minutes from home. He was now several precious minutes behind schedule. He needed to intercept them before they arrived at the estate.

  As Elton pulled away from the curb he glanced at the SUV. The heavily tinted windows made it virtually impossible to see inside the vehicle.

  The operative’s bodies would eventually be found. By then it would be too late. The housekeeper and the children would be dead.

  He needed to make up for lost time.

  Elton turned on the sedan’s siren and sped down the road. Ahead, motorists gave way to the oncoming police car.

  CHAPTER 21

  EGAN EASED THE CAR to a stop as he reached the front gate of the orphanage. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

  “What’s the problem?” Hernando asked.

  He pointed to the van parked outside the main office. “Marcella was to have taken the children and left for St. Jude’s in San Jose,” he said. “The van’s still here.”

  Hernando stared at the compound. “You don’t think Mendoza’s men have been here already, do you?”

  Egan opened the car door, closed it quietly. “Let’s hope not.”

  Hernando stepped out of the vehicle. “Marcella would never let them kidnap the children,” he said. “She’d die first.”

  “Wait here,” Egan said. “Let me check it out.”

  Hernando shook his head. “Not a chance, he replied. “I’m coming with you.”

  “All right,” Egan said. “But stay close. And if I tell you to run, run.”

  “You speak like you’ve done this before.”

  “Too many times to count. You ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Keep low and stay on my six. Follow the perimeter.”

  “Got it.”

  “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If the shit hits the fan, stay down. Let me deal with it.”

  Hernando hesitated.

  Egan stared at the old man. “I mean it, Hernando. I’m trained to handle these situations. You’re not. Got it?”

  Hernando nodded.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  The men ran into the compound and followed the rickety wooden fence line until they reached the back of the main building. The yard was eerily quiet.

  Hernando pressed his ear against the back wall and listened. “I don’t hear a thing,” he whispered. “Not a sound.”

  The building was silent. “I’m going around.” Egan whispered. “Wait here.”

  Hernando nodded.

  Egan crept around the building, reached the front door, turned the knob.

  Locked.

  He peered through the front window into the dark room. The building appeared to be empty.

  From within the structure he heard a sound, weak ye
t distinct; a child coughed.

  Egan called out. “Marcella? Are you in there? It’s me, Ben.”

  Footsteps, running across the wooden floor. The door locks disengaged. Marcella threw open the door. “Ben!” she cried. “You’re safe! Thank God!”

  Hernando peered around the corner of the building. Egan looked at the old man, smiled, shook his head. “You don’t take direction very well, do you?”

  Hernando joined him at the front door. Marcella hugged her friend. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she said. She began to sob.

  “I’m fine,” Hernando replied. “Ben told me you had taken the children to St. Jude’s. Why are you still here?”

  Marcella pointed to the van. The front left tire was flat. A jack and tire iron lay on the ground. “I tried to fix it, but I couldn’t. Without another vehicle I had no means of getting them out of here. I turned off the lights, and we hid in the basement. It was all I could think to do.”

  Hernando smiled. “You did the right thing,” he said.

  Slowly, the curious children began to emerge from the doorway at the top of the stairs. Teresa saw Egan and ran to him as fast as she could. Ben kneeled down. He scooped up the little girl in his arms. “Hey, peanut,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  Teresa was all smiles. “Better.”

  “No more wheezing?”

  She shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “Watch this!” The child took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then blew out the air. “I can hold my breath longer than anyone else,” she said proudly.

  Marcella smiled. To Egan she said, “All she’s been doing since you left is challenging the other children to breath holding competitions.”

  “Does she win?” Egan asked.

  “Every time.”

  “That’s my girl,” Egan said. He cupped his hand over the child’s ear and whispered. “Do me a favor?”

  Teresa returned the gesture. “What?” she whispered.

  “Go tell the others I said you’re in charge. Make sure they’re not scared. Think you can you do that for me?”

  “Okay,” Teresa replied. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him on the cheek, then scrambled down out of his arms and ran back inside the building.

  When the child was out of earshot Egan turned to Marcella. “We ran into some trouble at Le Carvery,” he said. “Two of Mendoza’s men are dead.”

  “My God,” Marcella said. “What happened?”

  “They tried to kill me,” Hernando explained. “I protected myself. It was self defense.”

  Marcella shivered from fear, rubbed her arms. “This is crazy,” she said. “We need to get help.”

  “From whom?” Hernando asked.

  “The police.”

  “We can’t do that,” Egan said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because men like Mendoza have connections at the highest levels of law enforcement,” Egan replied. “If it came down to his word against Hernando, you can guess who they would believe.”

  “Then what do we do?” Marcella asked.

  “The plan hasn’t changed,” Egan said. “We need to get you and the children out of here as fast as possible.”

  “How?”

  Egan looked toward the front gate. “We passed a daycare centre on the way here about a mile down the road. Can you get the kids there safely?”

  “I think so,” Marcella replied.

  “Do it,” Egan said. He turned to Hernando. “You should go with them.”

  The old man shook his head. “I’m staying here,” he replied. “I’ve given my life to this place. If Mendoza’s going to try to take it from me it’s not going to be without a fight.”

  “You’re no match for him, Hernando,” Marcella said. “After what you did to his men, he’ll kill you the first chance he gets.”

  “Then so be it,” Hernando replied adamantly. “I’m not leaving.”

  Marcella turned to Egan. Tears welled in her eyes. “Please, Ben. Talk some sense into him. The children need him. I need him.”

  Hernando took the woman’s face in his hands. “I’ll be fine, Marcella. I promise.”

  Marcella spoke as he wiped away her tears. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. You know that?”

  Hernando smiled. “We both know it’s never been one of my better traits.”

  To Ben she said, “Watch out for him. Keep him safe.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Egan replied.

  Marcella shook her head. “I need more than that,” she said. “I need your word.”

  “These men are unpredictable, Marcella,” Egan answered. “Very dangerous.”

  Marcella stared at Egan. “I know,” she said. “But something tells me you are too.”

  Egan put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to protect Hernando,” he said. “Now take the children and go. We’re wasting time.”

  Marcella nodded. She entered the building and called out to the children. “Come on, kids,” she said. “We’re going on a little field trip.” Inside, the children yelled and clapped with glee.

  Hernando and Egan walked across the compound. “What happens now?” Hernando asked.

  Egan stared at the main gate. “We wait,” he said.

  CHAPTER 22

  DIEGO MENDOZA STEPPED into the walk-in freezer and looked down at the blood-covered bodies of his two dead enforcers. “The old man did this?” he asked.

  Matias stood beside him. “Looks that way,” he said.

  “Where is he now?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “You’re telling me he got away?”

  Matias pointed to the open side door. “Through there. Salamanca and Garcia searched the factory and the grounds,” he said. “They couldn’t find him anywhere. He’s gone.”

  Salamanca addressed his boss. “His car is still here. It’s parked out back.”

  “There was another man, sir,” Garcia offered.

  Mendoza looked up. “Who?”

  “The guy from the orphanage. The same one you had words with at the gate.”

  “He was here?” Mendoza asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Garcia said. “Salamanca and I chased after him when he ran out the employee entrance door, but…”

  “But what?”

  “We couldn’t open the door,” Garcia replied. “It was sealed shut.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mendoza asked.

  “He did something to the door,” Salamanca said. “We checked it from the outside. It’s stuck to the frame.”

  “It’s more than just stuck,” Garcia corrected. “It was melted.”

  “What do you mean, melted?” Mendoza asked.

  “Exactly that, sir,” Salamanca confirmed. “Like he took a blowtorch to it, welded it shut. But that would have been impossible since we were right behind him. We tried the door. It wouldn’t budge.”

  Mendoza turned to Matias. “Did you check it out?”

  Matias nodded. “It’s exactly as they say. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I don’t care what he did to the damn door!” Mendoza yelled. “What matters is that he and Diaz got away. That never should have happened!”

  “We know where to find him, Diego,” Matias said. “The old man would never leave the orphanage unprotected. He’ll be there.”

  “Agreed,” Mendoza said. “Clean up this mess, then rally the men. We’re leaving now. I want that sonofabitch dead by the end of the day. And his friend too.”

  “Yes, sir,” Matias said.

  CHAPTER 23

  THIRTY MINUTES INTO the drive along the alternate route the driver called out to Hallier. “Sir, we’ve reached the transfer point.”

  “Copy that,” Hallier replied.

  “Transfer point?” Jordan asked.

  “We’re switching vehicles,” Hallier replied. “It’s standard operating procedure.” He addressed the team. “Grab your gear.”

  The truck braked to a stop.
Voices could be heard outside; commands being issued in Spanish. The rear doors to the panel truck swung open. The DARPA commandos exited the vehicle. Beside the truck, the side door of a dark gray van slid open. The driver stepped out, saluted. “Welcome to Costa Rica, Colonel,” he said.

  “Collins,” Hallier said, acknowledging the man as the team loaded their equipment into the transfer van. “Status report.”

  The in-country operative updated his superior. “I have a six-man team en route to La Fortuna per your request, sir,” Collins replied. “They should be there momentarily. You want them to take up positions outside the orphanage?”

  “Negative,” Hallier said. “We can’t risk Commander Egan knowing we’re here. Tell them to wait. We’ll rally up and move in tonight.”

  Collins nodded. “Copy that, sir. Ready to roll when you are.”

  Hallier turned to Jordan. “A moment, Agent Quest.”

  “Yes, Colonel,” Jordan replied.

  The two stepped away from the team and spoke privately. “How strong is your psychic connection to Commander Egan?” Hallier asked.

  “Sir?” Jordan said.

  Hallier looked concerned. “Unlike your ability, his is not a natural gift. We’ve weaponized his mind. That was by design. To be clear, we still don’t know the full extent of his capabilities. We’re in uncharted waters here. I need to know you can handle yourself. Your life, and most likely that of your partner, will depend on it.”

  “With all due respect, Colonel,” Jordan replied, “I wouldn’t be standing here if I couldn’t.”

  “Good enough,” Hallier said. “Because I’ll need your help to take Egan down.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Create a diversion.”

  “How?”

  “Do you think you could get inside his head? Keep him mentally occupied?”

  “Probably,” Jordan replied. “Why?”

  “From what we observed during the crisis at the University,” Hallier explained, “the commander’s ability to focus his augmented defensive energy is limited. He can only use his powers to hold us at bay if his concentration is one hundred percent focused. If you can interfere with him psychically when we make our move that should give us the second or two advantage we’ll need to deploy countermeasures.”