He was still ranting when I focused on the stream and turned it off. When I did, his voice stopped. The flow of light stopped and went dark. The reds and yellows scattered and faded until nothing was left behind.
I moved my hands away and opened my eyes. When I brushed my hair from my face, I saw Ted standing there, but his eyes were blank. His mouth hung open, and a string of drool dangled from his bottom lip, getting blown in the breeze. The smell of pee hit me, and I saw he’d gone to the bathroom in his pants.
“Ted?”
He went back on his heels and fell, completely limp, off the platform and down onto the tracks.
I heard him hit, and I was going to look when the train blasted by. I screamed. It was all over before I could even move. The wind from the passing train blew my hair across my face and made my jacket whip and snap around me. The side of the train was a blur that filled up everything, and then just as fast, it was gone.
My heart thumped in my chest as I stared, unable to move for a minute. The wind died down, and the sound of the train faded into the distance. When I looked, I saw the red lights zoom off into the distance.
Finally, I moved to the edge of the platform and looked over. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was down there, but it turned out that except for a spot of red that the rain was washing off the side of the concrete, there wasn’t anything at all. Ted was gone.
9 Element
Nico Wachalowski—Wilamil Court, Apartment #516
Wachalowski, where are you?
I was stepping off the elevator when the call came in from Vesco.
I’m at Flax’s apartment. What have you got?
Buckster’s long gone. Looks like he cleaned out a safe and left in a hurry.
You find anything?
Yeah. There’s something you need to see.
A window opened and live footage streamed in. Vesco moved through Buckster’s apartment and into the bathroom. He looked down into the tub, where a set of women’s clothes were sprawled. They were arranged in the shape of a person. The body that was in them was gone. One high-heeled shoe was lying on the floor next to the toilet.
Looks like he killed an unknown female and then used Leichenesser to dispose of the body. Trace particles indicate it happened recently. Could it have been your civilian?
The stream moved closer, looking over the shirt and pants. They looked expensive. A pin on the collar of the shirt looked like a diamond set in gold. The shoe had a three-inch heel.
No.
You sure?
Someone died in Buckster’s place, but it wasn’t Calliope. Whoever it was, she was wealthy and fashion conscious. She didn’t leave any components behind.
Flax has a JZI.
Got it. Nothing like that here.
Any sign of the radiation signature?
Nothing. If he was hiding something here, it wasn’t the nukes.
Understood.
What about your end?
I’ll let you know.
When I knocked on Calliope’s door, there was no answer. I listened, but didn’t hear anything inside.
Alice, I need an override on a residence at my location.
No.
What?
I’m denying that request.
Do you want to find the case or not?
Yes, and tracking down those weapons is more important than tracking down your friend.
I hadn’t told anyone at the bureau about getting Calliope involved. It was a safe bet Calliope never told them.
Are you watching me?
Yes. Your friend is fine. Get back in the field and—
Are you refusing to give me the override?
Yes. Don’t go in—
I cut off the connection and aimed my gun at the lock housing. Using the backscatter, I found the bolt, then fired two bursts into the door.
It bent but didn’t break. I stomped my heel down over the still-smoking hole as someone shouted from the floor below. With gunshots and a break-in reported, it was only a matter of time before the police showed up, but with everything else going on they’d be tied up for a while.
I threw my shoulder against the door and it finally gave, flying open and slamming into the wall as I stumbled in after it. I turned on the lights. The place looked okay. It was a mess, but it hadn’t been tossed.
“Cal?”
The living area was set up with a couch, a TV, a weight bench, and a heavy bag that hung from a chain. According to the thermal scan, she’d been gone for a while.
I looked over the floor, turning up the filter’s sensitivity until faint footprints appeared. I knelt down for a closer look.
There was more than one set of them. I counted maybe four in all, but it was hard to pick hers out of the mess. The freshest ones were small. They looked too small to belong to her. I followed them from the kitchen through the living area. They passed out of the room to a short hallway that led to a bathroom and a bedroom. Whoever it was had sat on the toilet.
I smelled the air. It smelled like sweat, but there was something else under it, something antiseptic.
Wachalowski, this is Noakes. I’m getting grief from Agent Hsieh. What are you doing?
Following a lead on Buckster.
Well, wrap it up there. It looked like the satellite just got a hit on your missing ship.
Where?
About fifteen miles offshore, and getting closer by the minute.
That was lucky; if it was the ship we were looking for, it was in UAC waters. We could seize it.
Are they sure it’s the right one?
It has to be. It was practically invisible since it’s running on minimal power, and the comms, transponder, and sat-nav are all dark. It’s hiding.
We need to coordinate with the Coast Guard.
Already on it. They’re putting a safety and security team together. You can go in by air.
Understood.
The team will be assembled and ready for launch within the hour. Be ready.
Zooming in, I followed the footsteps from the toilet back out the bathroom door. They didn’t head left, for the bedroom, or right, back to the living room. They went right up to the wall across from the bathroom door. A large flag from one of the African republics was hung there from ceiling to floor.
I knelt down. The stride of the footsteps took them right into the wall. There was heat concentrated at the base of the flag, rippling out from underneath it.
I pushed the flag out of the way. There was a door hidden behind it. Whoever the footprints belonged to, that was where they’d gone. Another pair overlapped them, heading back out in the opposite direction. I knocked quietly.
“Cal?”
No one answered. I didn’t hear any movement. Looking through the front of the door, I couldn’t make out anyone inside.
I turned the knob—it was open. I pushed open the door. It was warmer inside than in the rest of the apartment, and dark. The air smelled like rubbing alcohol and body odor. I reached over and flipped on the lights.
Shit.
Clear plastic covered the floor and had been stapled up the length of every wall. A hospital gurney sat in the middle of the room, flanked by two surgical trays. An IV rack had two bags hanging from it, one of clear fluid and one of blood. Both were mostly empty, the tubes trailing to the floor. Blood spots dotted the mattress on the gurney, and I could see bloodstained gauze wadded up in a wastebasket underneath it.