The vicar, p.11
The Vicar, page 11
Terry turned to Kristen and whispered, “Take a deep breath, okay, and just do it the way we rehearsed. Remember how you told me you did some acting in high school? Well, this is no different.”
She looked at him and smiled. “Okay, Dad.”
They were about ten steps away from the counter when the security guard looked up from whatever he had been watching in front of him. When he saw it was Kristen, he smiled broadly.
“Well, hello, Ms. Burris, I see you’re back in town. How’s the family doing?”
“Hi, Mike, they’re fine, thanks for asking. As a matter of fact, this is my dad, Eric. He came back with me for the weekend and would really like to see where all the action happens.”
“Hmmm.” His mouth scrunched up. “You know the rules about guests visiting your office without an appointment.”
Kristen gave him a big smile. “I know, Mike, but it’s the weekend, so it’s not like we’re going to be bothering anyone. And the view from the office is so awesome.” She gave him a sad look of disappointment.
“Oh, hell, I guess it’s okay. Just be sure you guys are out of here in ten minutes, all right?”
“Do you want us to sign in?”
Mike thought about that for a couple of seconds and was about to hand them a clipboard with the sign-in sheet attached when he thought better of it and replaced it on the counter. “Better not. That may just invite questions.” He handed Terry a visitor’s badge. “Better wear this, though, in case you bump into any of the guys doing their rounds.”
Terry clipped the badge to his jacket pocket and reached across the counter to shake the man’s hand. He smiled broadly and put on his best Midwest accent. “Thanks, Mike, this really means a lot. The wife and I are very curious as to what our little girl is up to in the big city.”
Mike laughed. “I have two of my own—teenagers! I don’t blame you in the least. Have fun! And please make sure to return the badge on your way out.”
“No problem, Mike, will do,” replied Kristen. “Oh, by the way, if Shae comes in today, can you ask her to wait? She said she would join us for lunch if she can get her butt out of bed.”
“Will do. Going somewhere nice?”
Kristen laughed. “I thought I’d take my dad to Katz’s for a real New York pastrami sandwich.”
Mike laughed. “Ah, a heart attack on rye! At least they have defibrillators there.”
They were halfway up the escalator before Terry felt at ease enough to speak. “Very smooth. You handled that like a pro. You seem to have made a nice impression with only being here such a short time.”
“If this can help save Shae, I am all in. As for those guys, they are really sweet. I make it a point of bringing them coffee and doughnuts at least once a week. My parents always taught me to respect the little guy. Hell, when they found out I was moving in with Shae, Mike and two of the other guards helped me move.” Terry made a mental note that they may have been keeping an eye on Shae.
They arrived at the elevators. “You guys are on the top four floors, right?”
“Yup, and the offices we want are at the very top. I’ve only ever been up there once, which was when I met with HR and was offered the job. There’s a reception desk right as you get off the elevator. I doubt there’ll be anyone manning it on weekends, though.”
“If there is anyone there, let me handle them, okay?”
The elevator was like a bullet on steroids. As it slowed for the sixty-fourth floor—the sixty-fifth contained the mechanics that enabled the building to function—Terry felt the g-forces pushing his feet against the floor. A soothing, electronic female voice announced their arrival. There was a soft ding as the doors began to open. They both exited. At the reception desk was a security guard wearing a suit.
Kristen smiled and walked toward the counter; this time, however, there wasn’t a smile in return. He rose out of the chair, his right hand reaching slightly behind his back.
“What are you doing on this floor?” he asked testily with an obvious Irish accent.
Kristen was still smiling, seemingly oblivious to the danger. “Hi,” she replied in a bubbly voice. “I hope you don’t mind, but my dad is in town for a visit, and I work on the floor below. I really wanted to show him the view, but all the offices are closed, and I remembered that you can see the city from this hallway. Can we walk down to the windows at the end to get a better look?”
He shook his head. “You can’t be up here. You need to leave. Now!”
Kristen was still smiling. “Oh, come on, it’s no big deal. We just want a quick look.” She turned to Terry. “If I’m right, Dad, you can see the new One World Trade skyscraper from that end of the building. It’s . . . .”
The man started to come out from behind the reception desk. “I told you to leave, right the fuck now.”
Terry chimed in, trying to defuse the situation. “Please don’t use that sort of language in front of my daughter. Come on, Kristen, it’s obvious we’re not wanted up here. We better go.” He turned slightly toward the elevator.
“But, Dad . . .”
“No buts, lady, fuck off the way you came from,” the guard said.
Then he made the mistake of taking a step closer to the MI5 agent and pushing his shoulder. Terry turned and crouched, cat-like, and drove his iron-hard fingers into the guard’s Adam’s apple. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Terry was behind him in a flash and placed his hands on the guard’s head, one under his chin and one just above the back of the man’s neck. The guard, knowing what was about to happen, ignored how difficult it was for him to breathe and frantically clawed at the operator’s hands. Terry ignored the guard’s desperate struggle and, with a quick twist, broke the man’s neck.
“I told you not to use that language in front of the lady, you fucking maggot,” he exclaimed as he pushed the guard’s lifeless body to one side.
Kristen gagged down the bile that rose in her throat and turned away hurriedly. “Jesus, Terry. Was that absolutely necessary?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Best to get it over with now than have to deal with him later.”
Terry grabbed the security guard and began dragging his body behind the security desk. “While I take care of this clown, you should figure out how to get the damn door open to the offices”
It took Kristen only a few seconds to find the buzzer underneath the counter that released the door lock. By then, Terry had the guard tucked away under the counter, out of sight from anyone exiting the elevator. Then they were in and searching.
“We need to move as fast as possible before his friends show up,” said Terry.
Terry had bought a small pry bar at the Home Depot near Bergdorf’s, and proceeded to pop open locked drawers of desks and the file cabinets behind them, allowing his accomplice to quickly search for the directory they needed. He knew they needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible; he was sure the guard wasn’t working alone. He was popping open the drawers on his seventh file cabinet when Kristen yelled that she’d found something.
“Is that it?” he asked, pointing to the blue file folder she was holding.
“Seems to be. It is the main directory for the board and investors. Now I just have to find D. L.”
“Just take it with us, we have to get out of here.”
“We can’t, Terry, without being asked a ton of questions from Mike. They even check our bags when we leave from downstairs.”
“Shit! Okay. Step aside.” He took out his cell phone and snapped photos of the pages, emailed them to himself at a secure server, and then deleted the emails from his folder and the photos from his phone’s memory. “Got it.”
He was about to run toward the elevators, but Kristen took the time to put the directory back where she had found it. “Despite all the broken file cabinets, no point in giving anyone the heads-up about what we were looking for.”
“Good thinking. Now, let’s go.”
They were about to exit the glass doors leading to the elevators when the steel door to the fire stairs opened and two men wearing suits walked out. They looked through the glass at Terry and Kristen and then at the empty reception desk. Terry pushed Kristen to one side as both men went for their weapons. “Get down!” he screamed.
All three men had armed themselves at the same time, but Terry managed to dive to one side and roll away as they all fired. The glass shattered around them. Terry’s first two rounds from the Walther caught the first man in the throat and mouth; the back of his head exploded all over the door as he crumpled to the floor. He was about to turn his attention to the second guard when he felt a sharp burning pain in his left calf. Fuck! He rolled again as more rounds hit the floor where he had been lying. He fired two rounds at the second guard, both of which hit him in the chest. The man was thrown back against the wall and was stunned for a second but raised his weapon to fire again. Shit, body armor. He fired two more rounds, this time aiming at the man’s head. Both connected, and the brief firefight was over as quickly as it started.
He slowly got to his feet, his calf screaming in protest. “Motherfucker,” he exclaimed, more in disgust at his bad luck than the pain. He limped to the nearest chair and half collapsed into it before pulling up his trouser leg to check on the damage. Kristen was kneeling in front of him in a flash.
“Oh my God, Terry, are you okay?” she said looking at the bloody wound.
“I will be. It’s a through and through and doesn’t seem to have hit bone or a major blood vessel, but it has done some damage to the muscle. Rip me off a piece of one of their shirts and bring it over. I need to tie this fucker off until I can take care of it properly.”
She looked over at the two mangled corpses and hesitated for a second at the thought of getting any closer to them. Jesus, what have I got myself caught up in? If this is what we are up against, Shae is most likely being tortured right now, or worse. Then, shaking off her revulsion, she ran through the remnants of the door and tore off a large piece of the first guard’s shirt. Seconds later she was back and bandaging his leg tight enough to stop the bleeding.
“Thanks. Now all we have to do is get past your buddy downstairs and we’re home free.”
They walked over to the elevators, and within seconds, one arrived. Kristen entered but Terry held back a second. “Hold the door, I’ll be right there.”
Terry walked back behind the security desk and searched the guard’s pockets. He found the man’s wallet and flipped it open. Nothing apart from a couple of hundred dollars, which he pocketed before returning to the elevator.
“Let’s go,” he ordered.
She was silent for a few seconds, but he knew there was more she wanted to say.
“You’re not a nice man, are you, Terry?” The look he gave her sent a chill down her spine.
“No, Kristen, I’m not.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” There was a slight quiver to her voice as if she feared his answer.
“Unlike the garbage I’m hunting, I don’t kill civilians,” he replied.
She tried to put a brave face on his answer but couldn’t quite manage it. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’m not going to end up being charged as an accessory to murder, am I?”
Terry laughed. “For helping to take out a terrorist organization, I shouldn’t think so.”
In less than a couple of minutes, they were at the bottom of the escalator and walking toward the main reception. Terry did his best not to limp or let the bullet hole and bloodstain on his pants show. Mike was focused on a TV and looked up when they approached.
“So, what do you think?” he asked
“Very impressive, indeed,” replied Terry. “I’m so very proud of my little girl.” He smiled at Kristen.
“As you should be,” replied Mike. “She’s a great kid.”
Terry handed him the badge. The security guard seemed to take a closer look at the Band-Aid covering Terry’s ear.
“What happened there? Looks painful.”
Terry reached up and touched his ear. “Oh, that. My own stupidity, really. I was working on a drill press at work with the guard up and the bit broke. Nearly took my damn head off.” He laughed. “Kristen and the wife gave me a right talking to.”
Mike laughed. “As they should, my friend. Anyway, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Burris. No sign of Shae, but enjoy Katz’s. I’ll let her know you’re heading over there.” He winked at Kristen.
“Thanks, we will,” she replied with a wink back. Both of them laughed, and Mike was still chuckling as they headed for the revolving door.
Once back in the Cadillac, Terry took out his cell phone and accessed the secure server. He and Kristen looked at what she’d found.
“It seems our mysterious D. L. is Daniel Lander,” she said. “He’s on the board of directors and owns a chemical company called Exconn Gasses, Inc., in Danbury, Connecticut.”
“Danbury, that’s what, about an hour from here?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never set foot in Connecticut, but I have a feeling we’re heading there now.” She had a grim look on her face.
He smiled broadly, happy to be in the chase. “Damn straight. What’s the matter? I hear Connecticut is beautiful this time of year.”
She laughed. “I’m a city girl, Terry. I hate the fucking countryside. And I was hoping we actually would go for lunch at Katz’s!”
He was laughing hard now despite the throbbing pain in his leg. It felt good to laugh again. He tried to remember the last time it had happened and realized it was when his daughter had still been alive. What was it about this girl that made him feel so at ease? Also, he really did want to save Shae. What had started off as something to ease his own conscience had now morphed into something much more. Part of him knew she was most assuredly dead, but he still had to try for his and Kristen’s sake. He dropped the SUV into gear and pulled out into the busy New York traffic.
23
danbury, connecticut, 1:00 p.m. edt
Traffic out of the city had none of the madness of a weekday, so they made good time. On the way to the George Washington Bridge, they stopped at the opulent CVS pharmacy on Fourteenth Street and Eighth Avenue. Terry sent in Kristen with a list of first aid supplies to take care of his leg wound, which had started bleeding again. He also asked her to pick up three large bottles of Gatorade, as he was desperately in need of electrolytes due to the blood loss, and a couple of cans of Red Bull. He really needed to eat, but that would have to wait for now. While he waited for her, parked in a bus stop with his hazard lights flashing, he took the opportunity to text K on the developments of the day and where he was headed. He also requested floorplans for both the Exconn plant and Daniel Lander’s house and stressed that they get a move on with the photo enhancement of the group at the storage container. A simple “Will do” was the reply.
When Kristen returned, he got out and climbed in the back seat. “You drive for now. I have to take care of this bloody leg.”
“That’s insane, you need a hospital. What am I supposed to do if you bleed to death? What about Shae?”
“Calm down, I’ll be fine. It’s just a simple through and through, and I’ve had much worse. Just focus on driving and, for Christ’s sake, don’t get pulled over. As for Shae, let’s worry about saving her when the time comes.”
She looked at him like he had lost his mind. She opened her mouth to argue but closed it when he looked at her. She turned back and put the car into drive. What am I supposed to say to him, no? He is the best chance I have of getting Shae back and the last thing I want to do is piss him off so much he turfs me out of the car.
As she pulled away from the curb, heading for the West Side Highway, he took off his pants so he could get a better look at the damage. There was a three-inch gap between the entry wound and the exit wound. After wiping away the blood, he had to admit to himself that he had been damn lucky. A couple more inches over, and he likely would have bled to death.
“Hey, Kristen. How did you and Shae meet anyway?” he asked. Not that he cared for backstory, but he had found in the past that talking helped distract from the pain he was about to inflict on himself. There was another reason: he wanted to see how naturally she answered his questions without having to think about them. Not that he thought she was lying about her relationship with Shae, but after carrying out hundreds of interrogations over the years, he had become extremely adept at recognizing when a subject was lying.
Now came the fun part. The bullet had carved a lovely round piece of his pants off, and it was likely that a small piece of material was stuck in the wound. If it stayed where it was, he would probably develop one hell of an infection, so every bit of cloth had to come out.
“At work, initially,” replied Kristen. “We went for lunch a few times as friends, then I took the chance and asked her out on a date.”
He opened the CVS bag and pulled on a pair of blue nitrile surgical gloves from the box she had bought. He ripped open one of the four-inch-long povidone-iodine-soaked cotton swabs. It would do the job nicely. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the swab into the wound until it appeared on the other side. He moaned loudly as the nerves in his leg protested at this interference.
