They had almost finished breakfast when Michaels’s virgil announced an incoming call. He had it off his belt and thumbed to receive in two seconds. “Yes?”
“Sir, this is Chris Carol, military ops. We just spoke to your wife at your house. She seems fine, sir.”
Michaels blew out a sigh. Thank God!
“Did she say why she wasn’t answering the phone?”
“Yes, sir. She was taking a bath, sir, and had the ringer turned off.”
He shook his head. Of course. It had to be some piddly thing like that.
“We’ll remain in the area on surveillance, sir, as per General Howard’s orders.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Ask Toni to call me as soon as she can, will you?”
“She says she will call you, sir, after she has a nap. She must be tired from her workout.”
“What? What did you say?”
“Sir?”
“About her being tired?”
“Sir, I just assumed she might be. She said she had been doing her aerobics, before her bath, sir.”
Michaels felt a shard of icy steel stab deep into his bowels. He looked at John Howard. “He’s there,” he said. “He’s got Toni.”
39
The general had pulled strings in a hurry and gotten them fast rides. The National Guard fighters had zipped from Los Angeles to the East Coast at speeds more than twice supersonic most of the way. By the time they were on the ground again, the trip had only been a little over two hours. It was almost two-thirty in the afternoon when the escort picked Michaels, Howard, and Jay up at the air base and took off with lights flashing and sirens screaming. They’d shut those off before they got to his neighborhood. Howard had set up a command post a half mile away from the house, and there were more Net Force people on the scene, far enough back to stay hidden but close enough to see if anybody left.
An hour into the flight, Toni had called, and it had twisted his stomach to hear her speak the words that Bershaw must have made her say:
They exchanged greetings, he’d asked how she was doing, and she’d said she was fine, then she said, “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier, I didn’t mean to make you worry. Listen, I can’t talk now, I’ve got my mother on the other line, some crisis with my sister-in-law she has to settle. Call me when you get to the airport tonight, okay? Bye.”
He put in a call to Toni’s mother in the Bronx. She was surprised to hear from him, and he pretended he was calling to check on Toni’s silat teacher. Guru was doing okay, his mother-in-law told him. Say hello to Toni when he saw her, tell her to call and visit.
If he needed any confirmation, that did it. Toni wasn’t talking to her mother. And she was being held hostage by some psychotic drug fiend who almost certainly blamed Michaels for his buddy’s death. It was a nightmare.
“How do you want to play it?” Howard asked, as the Net Force car careened toward the city. “You want to call in the FBI kidnap teams?”
“Would you call them in if it was your wife?”
“No, sir.”
“We have snipers, don’t we?”
“Yes, sir. A couple of very good ones.”
“Have them meet us at the staging point. I’ll try to get him in front of a window. If they have a shot, tell them to take it. It will have to be in the spine or the head to be sure to drop him.”
“Yes, sir.” Howard didn’t say anything about job description or rules of engagement. He pulled his virgil and made a call.
“You’re not going in there alone are you, boss?”
“Toni’s my wife. It’s my house. I know them both better than anybody else. Damned right I’m going in.”
“Jesus, you’ve seen what this guy is capable of. Even if you shoot him, you can’t be sure of stopping him.”
“I know that. What choice do I have? I’ll have surprise on my side. Maybe that will be enough.”
“We could storm the place, hit it with fifty guys—”
“And he could break Toni’s neck before they got through the door. No. It’s me he wants, so if he spots me alone, he’ll have what he came for. If he’s in my face, Toni can get clear.”
“And you might get dead.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how it is. Better me than her.”
What he didn’t say was that he still had the capsule Howard had found at the shooting site in his pocket. And that if he took it before he went in, he’d be more than a match for the zombie. He was in better shape, he had some training as a fighter, and he was motivated. The drug would cancel Bershaw’s advantage.
But there was a big problem. It was risky. He didn’t mind the jeopardy to himself, but what if the drug didn’t do exactly for him what it did for Bershaw? What if he went crazy like some of the other druggies who used it? Saw snakes coming out of the walls or thought he was being chased by demons or whatever those people who had gone mad and committed suicide had seen?
Could he risk Toni’s life and the baby’s life like that?
Six of one, half a dozen of the other, his little inner voice said. If the zombie goes through you like Sherman through Georgia, he’ll probably kill Toni anyway, don’t you think?
Michaels stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the capsule.
Devil or the deep blue sea, Alex. And you better decide soon. You don’t know how long it’ll take before the stuff kicks in if you decide to go that way. It might not help in time, even if you do eat it.
Shit.
“Ten minutes to the staging point,” Howard said. “My snipers will be there. If they can see him, they can casket him.”
Michaels nodded. He fingered the capsule. Toni was sure Alex had gotten her warning. She could hear it in his voice when she called, and she was fairly certain the rumbling noises in the background had been a jet engine and wind noise. That meant he was on his way home, and he’d be here sooner than Bershaw expected him.
What was he going to do when he got here? Would he bring in the regular FBI hostage negotiators? She tried to put herself in his position, and that answer came up a solid no. He would know Bershaw was desperate, probably know he was on the mind-altering drug that made him fast, smart, and strong. Alex wouldn’t take the risk that Bershaw would hurt her or the baby.
What would he do?
And her greatest fear was that he would try to sneak into the house and take on Bershaw alone. It wasn’t a macho thing but just how Alex was. He would see her as his responsibility, and his coming in alone as the best chance of drawing the killer’s attention away from her.
If she had not been pregnant, she would have already tried to take Bershaw down herself. He was fast and strong, but she had more than fifteen years of pentjak silat training and practice, and she would risk that her skill could offset his drug-powered strength.
Silat was a weapons-based art. Toni was comfortable with a knife, a stick, a sword, whatever came to hand. A knife from the butcher block rack wouldn’t take a second to pull. No matter how resistant to pain, no matter how strong a man might be, he couldn’t walk if he had no blood circulating or if the tendons controlling his feet or legs were cut or if his spine was severed.
But in her condition, the slightest mistake would cost her. She wouldn’t risk the baby unless there was no other way. If it came down to it, she would not let this psychotic kill Alex, even if it meant she and the baby didn’t make it. You didn’t stand by and allow the man you loved to die if you could prevent it, no matter what it cost you.
She had already rehearsed grabbing the knife in her mind a dozen times, never looking at it so as to give it away, but planning how to step, what to throw to distract him, what her targets might be.