Kowalski gave it another few seconds, just to be sure.
He opened the door and found Jack white and sweating and writhing in his seat, but alive. The gym bag still lay in his lap. “What did you do?” he gasped. “How am I still alive?”
The tracking devices in Jack’s body seemed to have sensed the ones in Ed’s dead fat head inside the gym bag. The host didn’t have to be alive. The devices merely had to be present, within ten feet. Just like Jack had said.
Useful bit of info, that.
And that was pretty much all he needed. Now all he had to do was take back the gym bag, leave his guy in here, tell his pal Sarkissian to let him sit for a minute, let him process a few things … Ah, no. Not smart. What if Kelly White was indeed dead? He could use a living witness. For the short term, anyway. Until he got CI-6’s game plan figured out.
He admitted it. He’d never been pulled off an op before.
And it stung.
So okay, new plan: He’d take this guy, find Kelly White—if she was still among the living. Stick this guy in a closet, wish him well in the afterlife. Tell him to say hi to Mayor McCheese.
If Kelly White was already gone … then yeah, get to a safe house, lawyer up, and prepare for a shitstorm, because CI-6 might be deciding to part ways with one Michael Kowalski.
And he couldn’t let that happen. Not until he’d avenged his sweet Katie at least.
“You ready Jack?”
“For what? Didn’t you hear me? I asked you a question.”
“Yeah, I heard you. I wouldn’t waste time if I were you, though. That luminous toxin’s a nasty bastard. And according to your count, you’ve got less than two hours to live. We need to get you to a hospital.”
It took only a few minutes, and another look at that embossed foil with the holographic eagles, to have Eisley remanded to his custody.
While faking his way through the bullshit paperwork, Kowalski noticed a pair of wanted posters on the wall. One showed a crooked ex-cop believed to be on the run with his almost brother-in-law. Small world. Kowalski wished he could tell the FBI the truth, save them a little worry. Say that the crooked ex-cop was buried under thousands of pounds of concrete in Camden, New Jersey. Kowalski should know. He was the one who’d dumped him down that drainage pipe.
His almost brother-in-law, however, was another matter altogether. Kowalski had wanted to leave him for dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had been a part of Katie. A half brother. But still a part of her. Most likely the only part left.
So maybe Kowalski wasn’t a monster after all. A monster would have let the guy die.
7:32 a.m.
A flash of the badge got Kowalski the room number of the Jane Doe who had rolled in during the middle of the night; the spiky-haired blonde at the front desk seemed impressed. Homeland Security.
Kelly was in bed, hooked up to machines. Her back was arched. Her eyes were fluttering beneath her lids. But she wasn’t alone.
A tall man with thinning hair was leaning over her, syringe in his hand. “Oh,” he said. “You’re here to save Vanessa, aren’t you?”
“Actually,” Kowalski said, “I’m here for the breakfast. The sausage patties are out of this world.”
Vanessa, huh.
The man straightened up and smiled. “You caught me putting her down for the night. We’re getting ready for a long weekend getaway. Just the two of us.”
“Sounds nice,” Kowalski said, edging closer to the bed. His leg brace squeaked. “Somewhere warm?”
“Scorching,” he said.
They were two monsters, sizing each other up. Kowalski saw it in the guy’s eyes, behind the mask of teddy bear features and wispy blond hair. The eyes … yeah, the eyes revealed all. He’d seen some nasty things. Caused them, too.
“Looks like you’re traveling light,” Kowalski said. “Maybe you’d want to borrow my bag.”
“Seems full already.”
“Not much in here, actually. Take a look.” He dropped the gym bag on Kelly’s bed, right between her legs.
The thin-haired man looked behind Kowalski. “Who’s your friend?”
“We’re getting married in April. I always wanted to be a spring bride. Go ahead. Look in the bag.”
“Does he scratch in bed? Your face is an absolute horror.”
“He’s rough, but we’re in love.”
Thinny here wasn’t going to look in the bag. Too smart a monster for that. No chance for a distraction.
Yet, there was.
Kelly’s eyes snapped open. She whipped out her left hand, grasped the Operator’s hand—the one holding the syringe—and forced it down and back. A violent needle jab to the abdomen, many, many inches below the belly button. The man’s mouth made a perfect O shape.
“
Kowalski moved quickly. He slapped Thinny across his nose with an open palm. But Thinny didn’t seem all that stunned. So Kowalski hit him again with a backslap. Harder this time.
The guy wrenched his hand out from under Kelly’s, grabbed the heart monitor from the rack, and bashed it across Kowalski’s face. Wires whipped behind it like dreadlocks. Kowalski staggered backward. He smashed into a table of steel instruments, which went flying everywhere. He could feel the blood gushing down the side of his face even before he hit the linoleum. His hands trembled uncontrollably. Oh
7:34 a.m.
Jack watched the violence in front of him with the detachment of someone watching a violent car crash. I’m not part of that. That’s not me. That’s there. I’m here. And I’m still alive.
