C.R. Daems - Kazak 2 - The Unthinkable (15 page)

It was late when I arrived back at my condo. I went straight to bed. It had been a long day and I wasn't going to solve the puzzle tonight or here.

***

The next morning I made my way to the seventh floor and Witton's office. Witton's entire staff was already there and working.

"Go right in, Lynn. The boss is expecting you." Ann Marie nodded towards his door and handed me a cup of coffee. I was sure she and Witton could read minds. Witton waved me to a chair as I entered.

"Did you learn anything?"

"I learned what really happened," I said. He looked worried and tired.

"And they didn't already know that?"

"They were told but they don't want to believe it. You and I both know Samuel and Vince thought they were protecting their clients. But we aren't going to solve the mystery here. So who's my client?"

"You're right, although I wish you weren't. She is the daughter of a very wealthy philanthropist, which follows the pattern of the other two clients. All are wealthy, contribute hundreds of millions to charitable causes, and have only one child. In each case, the extortionists demanded fifty million or their child would be killed. They claim to be a charitable organization seeking a cure for depression. The FBI believes they are just clever and well funded criminals. I don't believe it. Something else is going on and I have a bad feeling about it." He took a sip of coffee never taking his eyes off me. He snorted. "It's an irony that I need a Kazak that thinks before he shoots and have the one Kazak that shoots before she thinks." He held up his hand to stop me from responding, although I hadn't intended to. He was right. I relied on my instincts, which have proved good and saved my life more than once. And Clare would like me to shoot faster if that's possible.

"It's a dichotomy, but I feel-and hope-you're the right person. You trust your instincts and they have served you and the Kazak organization well.

"Our killer is not very subtle, but he's very clever. He's threatened the kind of high profile people the Committee is committed to protect. Thus dragging in the Kazaks, who are his real target. The clients are collateral damage." I said, thinking out loud. Based on what Witton had said, I thought I knew the why and maybe who. All that remained was the how. "The sooner I get started the sooner we can settle the problem. Tell-" I stopped. If I shoot my client, the FBI who were sure to be tagging along, would shoot me. "One condition. The FBI is not allowed to follow me. They can guard her house or apartment or whatever if they like but not the client."

"No one is going to like that. Instinct?" Witton's eyes narrowed. I nodded.

"I should get started. We aren't going to solve the mystery sitting here. Where can I find my client?"

"Their family home is in New York City. Miss Sandra Waldenmyer is a junior at Duke University. She is working on an A.B. in Earth and Ocean Sciences and rents a house on Chapel Hill Road within easy access to the University. I'm told she and her two roommates use bikes to and around the campus. I'll have one there for you by the time you arrive. The FBI is already there. I will contact the Committee with your request to restrict them to her residence, Duke and New York. Good luck, Lynn."

The house was a one-story bungalow with a wrap-around porch-and swarming with FBI. I saw one in the back yard and another sitting on the front porch.

"What you want, ma'am?" the young man on the porch asked. He was trying to look like a college student with jeans and loose shirt, but the bulge under his shirt didn't fit the image, although he probably wasn't long out of college.

"Lynn," I said as I opened the door and walked in. The one sitting off to the side in the living room almost knocked over his chair when he jumped up while reaching for his gun.

"Hi, I'm Lynn the Kazak. Where's Sandra?" I wasn't worried about being shot. Agents are slow to shoot because there are too many consequences: moral considerations, boards of inquiry, legal consequences... Sure enough, he lowered the gun and shouted.

"Vernon, the Kazak's here." He didn't look friendly. A minute later a stocky man came walking down the hall. His frown didn't make him look friendly either. From the deep lines around his mouth and the curve of his lips, I doubted he ever looked friendly.

"Well, if it isn't the our-shit-doesn't-smell Kazak here to show us amateurs how to do our job."

"Sorry, I haven't got time for that," I quipped. They didn't like me and nothing I could say given I wanted to, which I didn't, would change their opinion.

"Who the hell do you think you are telling us we can't accompany Miss Waldenmyer when she leaves the house. Director Williamson told us to tell you to go to hell." He smiled. I took out my iphone and hit "1."

"What is it Lynn?"

"Director Williamson still mad at me? He told the agents here to ignore me and accompany Sandra wherever she goes." I heard a click and hung up. Vernon was smiling.

"Where is Sandra?" He didn't answer so I made my way in the direction of the female voices. Three young women were in the kitchen fixing lunch: a redhead and two blonds.

"Who's Sandra?" I asked. The redhead and a blond turned towards me, the other blond didn't look up but nodded in the redhead's direction.

"Are you the Kazak?" the redhead asked. "Vernon told me two of you just recently killed their clients. He said his director has found the Kazaks unstable and feels they should be disbanded before they kill anyone else. I don't think I want a Kazak for a guard."

Vernon attempted a smile. It didn't fit the face.

"Sorry, it isn't optional."

"You're fired. Please leave or I'll call my mother." Sandra pulled out her iphone as Vernon's phone rang.

"Yes, Mr. Williamson." Silence as his face went from shock to anger and then a small twitch of his lip. I didn't like that. It meant he was going to be trouble. "Mr. Williamson said you can guard her yourself."

Sandra stood there with her mouth open, but then put her iphone away. "I don't want to die."

"Sandra, I'm a Kazak. Right now, your life is my only concern. And although I'll risk my life to save yours, whatever is behind these recent extortions is more important than you and me." I turned back to Vernon. "I don't know what Williamson said to you, but if I see you or any of your people, I will assume you are working with the extortionist. That will give me justification to shoot that person. If you doubt I will, ask Director Williamson." I took a few steps backwards and stood leaning against the wall. Eventually, everything returned to what passed for normal. Vernon's team comprised of four men. Three remained outside watching the perimeter, while Vernon and another remained inside. After lunch, the three huddled in a bedroom discussing the situation. Their reactions varied from scared to humorous. Afterward Sandra sat quietly in the kitchen drinking an herbal tea. Finally, she looked towards the corner where I stood.

"Don't you rest? Vernon and the others wander in and out. They don't stay with me all the time."

"They're FBI and I'm a Kazak. From now until this situation is resolved and you are safe, I'll be your shadow. Where you go, I go. To kill you, they will have to kill me." I didn't bother with telling her my rules. For one thing, I decided she was safe anywhere she was out of my sight, like a bedroom or washroom. I trusted Samuel and Vince's version of events, which meant the killer needed Sandra in my sight to act.

"Well, I'm off. I have an Environmental Geology this afternoon." She proceeded out the door, grabbed a bike on the porch, and peddled off. She almost fell off when she saw me peddling behind her. We made our way up Andersen Street, which was a pleasant ride through a thickly treed area. Before long, we were on the main campus. She stopped at a four-story gray building with narrow windows.

Inside, I sat in the back of the class, which had less than twenty people. Normally, I would insist she sit in back with me, but I was convinced Sandra wasn't the target-directly at least. The Kazaks were real target.

***

The next day, we left early for a morning class. I knew the young man on the porch yesterday was following us. I sighed. The idiots were going to screw everything including me. I flipped open my phone and hit "1."

"Yes." Witton sounded tired.

"They're following Sandra and me. There is a lot a stake here, boss."

"Don't kill him." He hung up. When we got on campus, I steered Sandra between two buildings and stopped her. I put my finger to my lips before she could speak. I few minutes later, he came around the corner. I sent a roundhouse kick to the stomach. As he bent over, I grabbed his wrist and swept his feet from under him. I let go of his wrist when the torque snapped the bone."

"Why?" she asked, staring at the man on the ground.

"Because my boss told me not to shoot him." I turned her face so our eyes locked. "This is not a game, Sandra. Many lives besides ours are involved and this fool Vernon is concerned with his ego. I'm sorry you are caught in the middle but you are. Trust that I will risk my life to save yours." I left the young man there, without a gun. I felt sorry for him. It was Vernon's fault.

The rest of the day was boring. As usual, I scanned the buildings, grounds, and students, but everything suggested an illusion. A Liar Assassin couldn't convince you do something against all reason. Neither a Ghost nor runner could create an illusion. Yet, an Illusion Assassin could make himself look like a client but that didn't explain how the client looked like an assassin. But the client had looked like an assassin-I believed Samuel and Vince. The paradox was giving me a throbbing headache. When we arrived back at the house, Vernon was standing on the steps glaring at me.

"You lesbian bitch. Touch one of my men again I'll kill you. Who the fuck do you think you are?" He stood on the top step, face twisted in fury, and pointing a finger at me.

"Call your Director Williamson and have me removed. The only reason I didn't shoot him because it would have scared the kids and shut down the campus." Actually, that wasn't really completely true. My boss did ask me not to kill him. I mentally dropped into fighting mode in case he was stupid enough to get physical. I walked my bike up the stairs past Vernon and waved for Sandra to follow. The rest of the evening was boring. I slept on a chair in the living room. Vernon left with the change of shift.

***

The next week settled into a boring routine. At times, Sandra forgot I was tagging along. Even when she was aware of me, she made little attempt to engage me in conversation. Maybe because I made no effort to stay glued to the hip as I usually did, because I knew what the confrontation would look like. I just didn't know how it was done. Although I couldn't detect anyone following me, I knew that idiot Williamson had one or more people following me with rules of engagement that made me the target of choice.

I hit "1" on my iphone. And spoke as soon as I heard the pickup.

"I hope you have your resume up to date. I'm not going to survive this alone." I said in a normal voice. I wasn't scared. Just disappointed.

"The Committee had Ann Woehl and her team reassigned to you but somehow Williamson has delayed it. She should be there tomorrow. I've got three Kazaks on the way. They will be there tonight. I've had to coordinate with the Committee to delay assignments. For some reason the Committee was slow to react."

"Williamson has people tailing me. Vernon all but admitted it. If I live through this-"

"DIE, YOU BITCH!"

The sound was behind me. I scanned the multiple of students walking as I spun around, slipping into a snake stance. Sandra stood about ten yards away, pointing behind me. "HE'S GOT A GUN." I uncoiled back to my original position facing...a man with a gun pointing past me at Sandra...who was behind me?" I fired twice into his chest. He... Sandra jerked backward, her chest covered in red. I spun around again looking for Sandra, she was gone. My head felt fogged. My mind fought to sanity. People's reaction was mixed. Most were running away, a few had dropped to the ground, and two looked to be considering something foolish-like rushing me. An oddity existed. A woman walking away like nothing had happened. I shot her in the back. She stumbled and landed on one knee. When she turned back, it was Sandra. It couldn't be-so I shot her again. Her t-shirt was red on her back and side. She staggered up and lurched into a run. I took careful aim and shot her twice in the head. She fell face down.

The two men were bearing down on me. I drew my second Glock, which I carried with a round chambered, and put a bullet in the lead man's knee. He went sprawling face first into the dirt. The other man skidded to a stop and took off running in the opposite direction. I looked over at Sandra. She lay quiet. I jumped up and began running towards the other woman I shot. Halfway there shots rang out and dirt sprayed behind me. I dove to the ground, located the shooter, who was shooting while trying to pull off his shirt to display the FBI sign underneath. I shot him in the chest. The impact stopped his forward motion and knocked him to the ground. His partner had stopped to take off the shirt and was a little slower. He stopped when his partner went down. I shot him in the chest before he recovered.

"Throw the guns away, or the next bullet is in the head." Clare is going to be pissed I just didn't do it. They both threw their guns well in front of them. I shuffled to the downed woman keeping an eye on the two. When I reached her, I used my knife to rip her t-shirt, bind a strip around her head covering her eyes, and bound her arms and feet. I had just finished when gunfire exploded from an automatic weapon. One hit me in the shoulder and spun me to the ground. I rolled away from the body as the ground around me sprayed my arms and face. For a minute, I was blinded. I reversed course, just in time, as six or seven bullets hit the ground where I was. As my vision cleared, I saw Vernon about forty yards away, walking, firing, and laughing. I put two bullets in his head. It spun him around, blood spraying out like a halo. By now everyone had disappeared behind cover. I'd bet there were a thousand photos being posted on Facebook.