I, Weapon Page 16

  He got out the passenger-side door and hurried around the back of the car. The rear tires were flat. He approached her on the broken driver’s side window. Tucking the gun in his waistband, he yanked several times until he opened the dented door.

  “Leave me alone,” she whispered. “Let them take me to a hospital.”

  He reached in and tried the ignition. The motor clicked and then did nothing.

  “Please leave me,” she said.

  He had several options: another ambush, leave the woman and run, or try to take her and learn valuable information. He had to decide and act.

  Right. He grabbed her coat and yanked her to a sitting position.

  She gasped, and she turned her head so they stared at each other from only inches away.

  “Get up,” he said.

  “I can’t feel my legs,” she said.

  “You’re hit near the shoulder, not the spine or the legs, so you can quit lying.”

  “You’re a shit,” she said.

  “Less of one than you,” he said.

  “I need a doctor. Just leave me, okay?”

  He yanked her closer to the door and she gasped again. “You’re going to stand,” he said. “Then we’re going to walk.” He pulled and she put her feet on the ground. He pulled again as she ducked, put weight on her feet and stood outside of the car.

  “Put your arm around me,” he said.

  She put an arm around his neck as she used her other hand to press against her wound. “I’m bleeding.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. Steering her, he moved around the car and started along the side of the road. She might be in shock, but he had no doubt he could keep her going until he found another car. He’d grabbed a first aid bag and would bandage the wound and give her painkillers.

  There were more sirens coming from the direction he’d been travelling. He looked up. It was steep here along the road, with bushes on the slope and trees up there.

  “We’re going to climb,” he said.

  “I doubt I can.”

  She was lying. Holding her this tightly, he could tell she had a lot of strength left. He turned her and studied the steepness of the slope. He wanted to ask her how many times he’d gained his freedom and been recaptured, but he couldn’t do that now. He needed a place where he could study her as she spoke. It was time to climb the embankment and get off the road.

  -26-

  Max motioned Jim and LeBron down, to remain in cover and watch his back. Bannon had tricked them once. He didn’t plan to give the assassin another chance although it seemed unlikely the man would be in any condition to do so. Max had heard the car crash and that probably meant he had hit Bannon.

  Crawling on his stomach, rounding a bend in the road, Max got a rude surprise.

  A police cruiser with red and blue strobe lights flashed in the darkness, illuminating the night and the scene. The front of the BMW had crumpled against a high embankment. With one hand on the butt of a holstered revolver, a CHP officer peered into the car on the driver’s side. The officer jerked back and he twisted his head downward as he spoke into a shoulder microphone.

  The BMW’s rear wheels were flat, the back window smashed and by the cop’s reaction, dead people were inside. Should he take out the cop so he could check the vehicle himself? Before Max could decide, another CHP cruiser pulled up. This was a balls-up, all right. If he killed two cops—

  Max exhaled. No. This was America. It wasn’t the battlefield in some foreign crap-hole. Bannon had backtracked to the safe house. It had been a smart move. He should have thought of it. The assassin had gone on the offensive, end-running the cleanup team.

  Max hesitated. He could deal with the problem and fix this himself. Littering 17-Mile Drive with dead cops, however, on his own initiative…no. Max pulled out a cell phone. He had an emergency number. Reluctantly, he called it and pressed the cell against his ear.

  After four rings, someone with a scrambled voice answered. Karl had talked about this. It had to be the Controller. Max’s testicles tightened. If the Controller was waiting for a call—

  “Report,” the Controller said.

  “Karl and Susan might both be dead or captured by the police,” Max said.

  There was a moment’s hesitation. “Is this Max Malone?”

  “Yes, sir,” Max said.

  “Where are you?”

  “Hidden off the road, 17-Mile Drive, looking at Karl’s crashed BMW,” Max said. “I saw Bannon driving the car. Jim found Karl dead. I fired into the vehicle, likely hitting the driver and causing the car to crash. Unfortunately, it rolled out of sight and the car was hidden from me for several minutes. I don’t know if Bannon is dead or wounded in the car or if he escaped.”

  “What about Susan?”

  “Maybe Bannon put her in the trunk. Sir, I’m calling because two CHP officers are examining Karl’s vehicle.”

  “This is regrettable,” the Controller said.

  “Yes, sir,” Max said. “If Bannon escaped from the car, we might need bloodhounds to track him in this wilderness.”

  “Kill the CHP officers and check the car,” the Controller said. “Then report back to me.”

  Max opened his mouth to disagree. He didn’t want to kill American police officers.

  “You must kill them,” the Controller said, perhaps sensing Max’s hesitation. “It is regrettable, of course. We will make sure Bannon takes the blame for the atrocity. But the car likely holds the netbook and Susan’s body. Either she or Karl must have the backup memory stick, if they made one as protocol demands. None of those things can fall into the wrong hands or we are all compromised.”

  “Yes, sir,” Max said. He pocketed the cell phone and lifted the assault rifle. He didn’t like this at all, first Scorpion, Karl and now this. He centered the crosshairs on the first officer’s throat and fired twice, putting two bullets exactly where he aimed. The man dropped hard. The second officer shouted and dove behind an open cruiser door. Max put three rounds through it, hearing the metallic punch each time. The CHP officer flopped onto the dirt. Max pumped another round into him, making certain of the kill.

  “Jim, LeBron,” he said into his throat microphone. “Crawl up here and cover me. I’m going in.”

  ***

  At the cough of several obviously suppressed shots, Bannon deposited a perspiring Susan against a tree. He’d put bandages over the entry and exit wounds. The bullet had gone right through her. He’d also given her several painkillers.

  Bannon slithered toward the edge of the embankment, carefully peering down fifty feet at the BMW below and two police cruisers with their flashing lights parked beside it.

  In a moment, Bannon saw a cleaner in Kevlar armor jog toward the BMW. The man wore night-vision goggles and cradled an assault rifle. As much as he would have liked to, Bannon did not fire at the man. He didn’t know where the other cleaners were hiding or how many more of them there might be in the woods. At the moment, he was concealed from them. To fire, would be to give away his position. Instead, Bannon watched and collected data on the enemy.

  The cleaner warily approached the car and peered into the vehicle. He cursed, backed away and scanned in all directions, with his assault rifle ready. Finally, the man rested his goggles on his forehead.

  From his position up the embankment, Bannon frowned. He recognized the man. Max from CR. Yeah, he remembered Max killing another man in Sacramento, at a church. He used to wonder about Max at CR. Now he knew why the man had attended.

  Max went to each CHP cruiser and turned off the flashing lights. Afterward he took out a cell phone and began to talk.

  Bannon strained to hear the words. Max kept turning, glancing this way and that.

  Once Max looked up, and Bannon heard, “Yes, sir, dogs would be an excellent idea. There’s blood in the car. So I know that at least one of them is wounded.”

  Bannon crawled away from the edge of the hill. He needed a vehicle. These woods would be crawling with oper
atives soon. They were bringing tracking dogs and might use even UAVs or chemical sniffers.

  In another minute, he crouched before Susan. Her eyes were closed and she breathed evenly. As he stepped on pine needles, making a crunching sound, her eyes flew open.

  “I’m—” she said.

  He put a good hand over her mouth. Kneeling beside her, he whispered, “If I’m caught, I’ll kill you. Nod if you understand.”

  She nodded.

  “We’re moving,” he whispered. He removed his hand.

  “I heard the suppressed shots. I know Max is near.”

  “We’re getting out of here,” Bannon whispered.

  “You’re not going anywhere if Max is on your trail.”

  “You’re tired of living, is that it?”

  “I’m too tired to move. You need to leave me.”

  “You’re going to walk on your own this time,” Bannon said.

  After looking into his eyes, she didn’t bother with any more complaints or lies. Instead, she climbed to her feet and gingerly touched the bullet wound. “Where are you taking me?”

  Bannon looked up at the stars. “We’re heading north.” He saw her confusion. “That way,” he said, pointing.

  She started picking her way between bushes and past tall trees. She stumbled once against a rock and grimaced in pain. He decided that she would last another few hours anyway, maybe a little less than that.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said later. “And my shoulder is starting to throb. I’m never going to make it on foot. I need a doctor. If you can’t bring me to one, you can leave me and let me look after myself.”

  Bannon shook his head. It was visible enough under the moonlight.

  After another twenty steps, she said, “This will kill me.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “Haven’t you been listening to me?” she asked.

  “What’s the name of the drug they administered to me?” As he asked, he pushed her, making her stumble forward on an old beaten path.

  It took her a half-beat before she nodded. Maybe she realized she had to buy his favors with information.

  “They call it Day Tripper 7,” she said.

  “And?”

  “It helps create false memories, things the operator wants you to believe.”

  “Like Justice Blake helping to put me in prison?” he asked. “That sort of thing?”

  She nodded.

  “How do they suppress my old memories?”

  “I need to stop if I’m going to explain it.”

  “No,” Bannon said. “You’re doing just fine. Keep talking.”

  “I don’t understand the procedure completely,” she said.

  “Tell me what you do understand.”

  She sighed. “Neurologists and psychiatrists can build new personalities. They—” She frowned. “Look, instead of going into detail, let me put it like this. They’ve studied people with multiple personalities, and by using Day Tripper 7, they can duplicate the situation in anyone. Only they’ve gone one better. They’ve learned to hammer the personalities into place and can switch among them at will.”

  “How do they switch them?” Bannon asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying again.”

  “Look, Bannon, I’m just a field operative. I helped Karl keep track of you. I hear a thing or two, but that’s it.”

  “No. I don’t think so. You watched me in Sacramento. That means you must have known what signs to look for to figure out if I was coming out of a personality or not. It had to be you, because Max wasn’t going to know. He must have been your muscle, your protection.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Sure. I know more than Max does. The pills you took open your mind, making it ready to switch to a new persona.”

  “Are there other ways of changing my personas?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  Bannon absorbed her information. “How long have they been doing this to me?”

  “I’ve already told you plenty,” she said. “Can we stop and rest now?”

  “No rest for the wicked. We have a lot a ground to cover, so you need to keep walking.”

  Susan touched her wounded shoulder again, wincing in pain. She slowed her step as the brush thickened. “You talked about Sacramento. Do you remember me watching you at CR?”

  “You sang in the trio onstage. I liked you then, and I wanted to ask you out for a date.” He glanced at her. “Can the personalities bleed memories like that?”

  “You’re remembering, so they must.”

  The tattoos in the webs between his fingers…yeah, the various personalities must be porous. What broke the membranes between the personalities? It would seem knowledge of the existence of the other personalities would help him knock down the walls. The tattoos were triggers, he suspected.

  He grinned. He was going to beat them at this. They had held him prisoner for a long time. This time he would die before going back under their control.

  “I remember the way you’d stare at me if you thought I wasn’t looking,” Susan told him. “At CR, I mean. Do you think I’m attractive?”

  “If rattlesnakes are attractive, then so are you.”

  “You liked me once. You should be nicer to me because of that. You should let me rest.” She stopped and smiled at him.

  Bannon grabbed her coat and propelled her down the trail. “You’re the worst sort of vampire, helping them screw with my mind, trying to get me to kill a Supreme Court Justice.”

  She laughed bleakly. “We didn’t try. You did kill him, just like you’ve killed many others for us.”

  “No,” he said. “I let Justice Blake live. You people killed him with the bomb.”

  In the moonlight, she paled. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I brother lying to you with you as my captive?”

  “I don’t know, but you have a scheme. You always do.”

  “Always?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

  She turned away, staring into the darkness. “You’re finished, you know? They’re going to pin the Justice’s death on you, no matter what really happened.”

  “ATS will?” he asked.

  She touched her forehead and made a show of stumbling. “I’ve lost too much blood. I’m starting to feel faint. I really need to stop and rest.”

  “So why did ATS or Homeland Security want Blake dead anyway?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I can only guess at the reason.”

  “That’s right. You’re just a field operative, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “But a field operative knows better than to kill a Supreme Court Justice,” he said. “Why did you go along with it?”

  “You’re not the first person they used. I only learned who the target was tonight. If I wouldn’t have done my job, Karl would have killed me.”

  “You’re lying,” he said. “I suspect that means you’ve been lying about everything you’ve told me. I might as well shoot you and get it over with.”

  “I’m not lying, but it probably doesn’t matter, not with this wound. I’ll never last a walk through the forest. You might as well just leave me here or go ahead and kill me.”

  “I might be persuaded to leave you,” Bannon said. “First, you have to tell me something important, something good enough to make me grateful to you.”

  “Now you’re the one who’s lying.”

  “Which means you admit to lying earlier,” he said.

  She stared at him before looking away. “Okay. I’ll take your deal. I want to live, even if you are a dead man. I hope you don’t think you can outwit the entire police apparatus of the United States. Every agency is about to join the fray and hunt you down. But I think you’re honest and will keep your deals.”

  “Enough,” he said. “What do you know?”

  “I heard Dr. Parker talk about something once. She was speaking to Karl and neither of them knew I was in the other room, eavesdropping.”


  “Yeah?”

  “Your wife,” Susan said, watching him again.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s alive.”

  As his captive spoke the words, Bannon’s heart began to thud. For a second, he wondered if Susan had triggered a switch in him to a different personality. He almost raised the gun and killed her. If he began to change to a docile personality, he would first take her with him. His heart continued thudding, and soon it felt as if a fire raged on his face. His eyes felt gritty and the beast inside him wanted to roar, to gnash and devour.

  “What did you say?” he whispered.

  “Your wife is alive. I heard Dr. Parker say so.”

  They had turned him into a zombie, into a killing creature. They switched his personalities at whim. He had faint recollections, however, and remembered killing someone in Mexico to avenge his wife’s death. That was a constant, her death. Now this lying manipulator dared to profane his wife’s memory.

  “I’ve seen their graves,” he growled.

  “I know the ones you’re talking about. They’re in Sacramento and they’re fakes.”

  For a moment, Bannon couldn’t breathe. This was too much. Could he believe this snake of an operative? Jocelyn was alive. It meant…

  “You’re saying my daughter is alive, too?” he asked.

  “I don’t know anything about her, just your wife.”

  Bannon wanted to yell. This was incredible. Then he noticed Susan, the way she watched him out of the corner of her eye. The snake was up to something. She was still trying to manipulate the situation. Dare he believe that Jocelyn lived? Could it really be true?

  “Where is she supposed to be?” he asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “No? She can’t be alive. It’s impossible.”

  “Why can’t she be alive? Because you remember her dying?” Susan shook her head. “Don’t you understand yet? None of your memories are worth squat.”

  Bannon put the pistol to her head. “The time for games and lying are over.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Look, I’m telling you the truth. I heard Parker clearly say that your wife was alive. Why they kept that hidden from you, I have no idea. I do remember Parker saying that your wife’s fake death has been a powerful motivator. It’s their lever to use you.”