Person of Interest (12 page)

“Don’t worry, Mr. CIA Agent,” the woman taunted with a wave of her gun, “you’re going to join them…right now.”

The horrible woman fired two shots. Dawson jerked with the impact, staggered back then collapsed on his side into a twisted heap on the dusty wood
floor. The color of blood spread rapidly in a wide circle on his shirtfront.

Elizabeth dropped onto her knees next to him. She rolled him onto his back and assessed the situation.

Before she could attempt to stop the bleeding, the man with the gun hauled her to her feet.

“He’ll die!” Elizabeth screamed at him as if he were deaf or stupid.

“That’s the point,” he said in that low guttural growl of his.

Elizabeth felt the hysteria clawing at the back of her throat. She felt cold and numb. The urge to scream squirmed in her chest.

She thought of the keys in her pocket and how she might be able to use them. But it was no use. She recognized from the location of the wound that nothing she could do in this setting would benefit Agent Dawson.

His family was dead. Maybe he was better off that way, too. He would never have forgiven himself if he’d lived.

Elizabeth swiveled toward the woman standing only a few feet away. “What do you want?” Her voice carried its own kind of malicious intent.

For the first time in her life Elizabeth understood completely how it felt to want to kill someone. If she possessed a weapon she would not hesitate to murder one or both of those holding her hostage.

The woman grinned, an expression straight from hell. “Everything,” she said with sinister glee.

The man grabbed Elizabeth’s arm again and pushed her toward a door on the other side of the room. “Where are we going?” she demanded, a new kind of fear rushing through her veins.

He cut her a look but said nothing.

The smaller room he shoved her into was empty and just as unkempt as the other one. Before she could turn around he slammed the door shut. She rushed to it, knowing before she twisted the knob that it would be locked.

A surge of relief made her knees weak. At least he hadn’t followed her in here.

She moved back from the door, took a moment to gather her wits. Okay, she had to think.

The events of the past few minutes reeled through her mind like a horror flick. She closed her eyes and banished the images. She didn’t want to see Dawson’s face when he’d heard whatever they did to his wife on the other end of that phone call. She didn’t want to see him fall into a dying heap on the floor over and over.

Things like this didn’t happen in her life. She was just a doctor. One who worked at a quiet, upscale clinic. She’d never had to deal with the hysteria and insanity of E.R. work. She’d never been exposed to this sort of horror outside a movie theatre.

Several more deep breaths were required before she could stop her body from quaking so violently.

She reached into her pocket. Keys, ink pen. Not much that would help her in this situation.

Okay…think. First she needed to take stock of her situation. She moved to the boarded-up window on the other side of the room. Peered through the cracks between the boards. Nothing. Not a single pedestrian to call to for help, not that she was sure anyone in this neighborhood would be willing to get involved. But maybe someone would call the police if they heard screaming. She glanced toward the door. Of course if she screamed her captors would come running.

She tugged at one of the boards. The wood creaked and shifted but not enough for her to work it loose.

“Damn.”

She walked around the room. Surveyed the floor. Looked inside the one other door that opened up to a tiny closet. This room had probably been a bedroom at one time. She looked up at the ceiling. No removable ceiling tiles or attic access doors. Just stained, cracked drywall.

There was no way out of here. She had to face that fact.

She propped against the wall near the window. She couldn’t get out the window, but it made her feel better to be near it all the same.

Why hadn’t they killed her? There had to be a reason she was still breathing.

The woman with the guns had said she wanted
everything.
What did that mean?

Had David failed to follow through with all the names of the agents she’d given new faces? That was the only marketable asset Elizabeth possessed in this lethal scenario. But why would David betray his country—and her—and then fall down on the job?

Maybe he’d been killed before he could provide the full list. Why then had it taken these goons three months to come looking for the rest?

It didn’t make sense.

Did criminal activities ever make sense?

She scrubbed her hands over her face and exhaled loudly. Would Dr. Newman miss her this morning and call her house to see where she was? When he didn’t get her would he contact the police?

She didn’t think so. He could well assume that she’d had a personal emergency come up. She was an adult after all, one who had recently rebuffed his advances at that. He might not care to pursue the question of where she was this morning.

So what did she do?

Could she just stand here waiting for one of her captors to decide it was time to kill her? Did she
dare assume that she was some sort of bargaining chip who would be kept alive for trading purposes?

She just didn’t have any experience in this sort of situation. But the one thing she did know was that being a victim, to some extent, was a choice. She could stand here feeling helpless until they came for her or she could devise a way to fight back.

She’d always struggled to reach her goals, never once giving up. She had to do that now, had to find a way to help herself. She might not escape, but she would die trying.

She had nothing to lose by tackling the boards over the window again. That appeared to be her only viable means of possible escape.

After swiping her damp palms against her pants she grabbed hold of a board and pulled with all her might. It didn’t budge much, but it did give a little.

Even that little bit gave her hope.

She worked harder, struggled with all her might.

The first board came loose, sending her staggering backward. She barely managed to stay on her feet.

Her heart pounding with anticipation, she laid the board aside and reached for the next one.

She could do this.

She
had
to do this.

Her life depended upon it.

The door suddenly flew open and Elizabeth pivoted to face what would no doubt be one of her captors.

Her heart surged into her throat.

Joe.

She rushed across the room and into his arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she didn’t care. She was just so damned glad to see him. How had he found her?

She hadn’t heard a scuffle. Had he killed those two awful people holding her here?

“Thank God you found me,” she murmured against the welcoming feel of his wide shoulders. “I’m so sorry I made you leave last night. We should have made love again.”

Last night felt like a lifetime ago now, but she had to tell him the truth now, right this second. She wouldn’t leave him hanging another moment.

“You were right, Joe, it’s too late for me, too. I love you.” She drew back and looked into his eyes. “I should have—”

Her stomach bottomed out and every ounce of relief she’d felt drained away as surely as Agent Dawson’s blood had.

She knew those eyes…not contacts…recognized those lips… This wasn’t Hennessey…this was…

“David.”
But he was dead…wasn’t he?

Joe’s flight landed in Newark, New Jersey, twenty minutes earlier than scheduled. He grabbed his carry-on bag, the only one he’d brought with him and waited for an opportunity to merge into the line of passengers heading for the exit at the front of the plane.

After disembarking he made his way to the terminal exits and hailed a cab. He gave the warehouse address and relaxed into the seat. It was five twenty-two. Thirty minutes from now he would arrive at his rendezvous point and the game would begin.

One call to the man on the ground here in Jersey and his contact had agreed to meet with him at six o’clock.

Ginger was her name.

She’d been expecting to hear from him weeks ago. Lowering his voice and summoning that gravelly tone Maddox used, Joe had explained that his as
signment had kept him under deep cover far longer than he’d anticipated, but he was back now. He needed to touch base and get a status on how the operation was proceeding. He’d considered demanding to know why only three agents had been taken out so far but since he didn’t know the ultimate reasoning behind that move, he didn’t risk it. For all he knew Maddox could have dictated the dates each hit would go down.

As the scenery zoomed past his window Joe’s thoughts found their way back to last night. To the way touching her had shaken his entire world. He’d known it would be that way. From the first time he’d seen her, watched her walk across the parking lot at her clinic, he’d sensed she was special. Maybe too special for him. He wasn’t at all sure a guy like him deserved a woman like that.

Making love to her last night had fulfilled every fantasy he’d enjoyed since that night months ago, when he’d first held her in his arms to keep her from walking into a trap at her clinic.

Her body had responded to his as if they’d been made for each other. Every touch had ripped away yet another layer of his defenses. He’d spent his entire adult life avoiding commitment on an emotional level. His work made him unreliable in that department. He understood that. Knew with complete cer
tainty that a permanent relationship would be unfair on far too many levels for any woman to tolerate.

But he just hadn’t been able to help himself where Elizabeth was concerned. He’d wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman. He couldn’t recall once ever being this vulnerable to need.

Elizabeth comprehended the difficulty becoming involved with a man like him entailed. She’d clearly made a promise to herself not to risk her heart to any more men like David Maddox. And as much as Joe wanted to argue that he wasn’t anything at all like Maddox, he recognized the career-related similarities. Still he wanted nothing more than to convince her to let this thing between them develop naturally. He wanted to make promises. Promises he might not be able to keep.

It was too much to ask. He would be the first to admit to that glaring fact. How could he ask her to give that much?

He couldn’t.

She had been right to ask him to leave.

He should never have gone to her like that. She’d already been hurt by one man like him. She deserved the chance to find someone more reliable, more available with whom to share her life.

She deserved that and more. And Calder had to find a way to protect her better. He couldn’t let anyone like Maddox near her again.

She’d paid far too much for that mistake.

The taste of her lips abruptly filled Joe and it took every ounce of strength he possessed to push the tender memories away.

He had to focus now.

Staying alive had to be top priority.

Maybe he and Elizabeth didn’t have a future together but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.

“Stop here,” he told the driver.

The cabbie pulled the taxi over to the curb four blocks from Joe’s ultimate destination. He paid the fare and got out. The air he sucked into his lungs felt thick with humidity and the smell of diesel fuel from the huge trucks and trailers still rumbling in the distance down Avenue A. At almost six o’clock things were winding down along this particular warehouse-lined street of Newark’s Ironbound community. A few trailers were still being loaded. The sounds of rush-hours traffic from the surrounding streets and avenues mixed with the heavier grumbling of the trucks.

He surveyed the deserted warehouses at the far end of the street where encroaching residential developments made the old standing structures ripe for condo-izing. Not exactly a picturesque view for perspective owners.

Dressed in jeans and boots and a T-shirt beneath an open button-down chambray shirt Joe blended
well with the warehouse crews headed home for the night. He used that to his benefit and moved easily toward the rendezvous point.

He fell into “Maddox” stride without thought. Focused his energy on giving off a confident vibe. This meeting was his and Ginger’s and anyone else planning to be there needed to know that. Maddox never let another human being intimidate him. From watching the videos of a number of his interrogations he liked belittling his assets. Though all agents took that approach to some degree Maddox went further than most. He appeared to get off on degrading those he considered lesser forms of life, which appeared to be most other humans.

The abandoned warehouse where Ginger waited looked in less than habitable condition. He took a final moment to get into character then went inside. He carried the 9 mm Beretta in his waistband at the small of his back and a backup piece in an ankle holster. His preferred weapon of choice was a Glock but for this mission he needed to carry what Maddox would.

“It’s about time.”

Joe settled his gaze on the woman with blond spiky hair and immediately recognized her as Ginger from the surveillance photos on file at the Agency.

“Patience has never been one of your strong suits.” He kept his gaze fastened on hers. No averting his
eyes, no letting her read anything that Maddox wouldn’t display in this situation.

Ginger sashayed over to him, a high-powered rifle hanging down her back from a shoulder strap. “Did you miss me?” she asked as she slid her arms up and around his neck.

He gifted her with a Maddox smile. “Occasionally.”

She kissed him and he kissed her back, using all the insights that Elizabeth had shared with him. Aggressive, invasive. Ginger appeared to like it. Maybe too much.

He set her away. “We have business to attend to,” he said in an icy growl that made her eyes widen in surprise. He didn’t analyze her reaction in an attempt to prevent any outward response himself.

She inclined her head and studied him. “You’re right. We’ve kept him waiting too long already.”

With that ominous announcement she pivoted on her heel, the weapon on her shoulder banging against her hip, and strode toward the freight elevator.

Joe followed. From the intelligence the Agency had gathered there was at least one more scumbag working with this woman. Her known accomplice was male, twenty-seven or -eight, and seriously scruffy-looking. But then, he watched the woman pull down the overhead gate that served as a door and set the lift into motion, that didn’t surprise him after
meeting the enigmatic Ginger in person. She looked about as unsavory as they came. The third man was the unknown factor, but Joe imagined that he would be every bit as sleazy.

Maddox’s taste had definitely altered. Of course a field operative couldn’t always be selective when working undercover. However, Maddox had, so far as they had determined, continued his alliance with these three well after the mission ended. If Joe’s conclusions were correct, Maddox had used at least two of this group to orchestrate the hits on his fellow agents. The question was, for whom? The why was about money. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that part.

Too bad for Maddox. A guy couldn’t take his hefty bank account to hell with him.

The upward crawl came to an abrupt, jarring halt on the third floor and his guide shoved the door up and out of the way. The third level appeared to be nothing but a wide-open vacant space. What could be an additional storage room or office stood at the far end and was separated from the larger space by a single door.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Stay here.”

Joe snagged her by the elbow and wheeled her around to face him. “This sounds a lot like insubordination,
baby,
” he offered, his tone at once sensual and accusing.

Again her eyes widened in something like surprise, kindling his instincts once more and sending him to a higher state of alert.

“Just following orders,” she said with a shrug before pulling free of his hold and heading toward the door on the other side of the space.

Joe’s instincts were humming. Something was off here. A glitch he couldn’t quite name. But he understood that the undercurrents he felt were tension filled. The surprise he’d seen in Ginger’s eyes. Had she recognized something a little off with her former lover?

There was always the possibility that she and her accomplice had heard that Maddox was dead but Joe doubted that. The info had been kept within Director Calder’s realm alone.

Intelligence indicated that the group had been putting out feelers as to Maddox’s location.

There was every reason to believe that the two leaders of this little group, Ginger and her male counterpart, Fahey, had orchestrated the three assassinations thus far. Whatever their motivation, the two wanted to hook up with their source, David Maddox, once more. There was nothing on the third party.

Maybe it was the physical relationship between Ginger and Maddox or maybe it was simply a matter of needing the rest of the names.

Joe would be the first one to admit that he’d been surprised by Maddox’s duplicity. It wasn’t that he hadn’t suspected the guy was fully capable of that kind of betrayal. He’d simply believed him to be devoted to his work and his country, if not the people in his personal life, specifically Elizabeth Cameron.

Maybe that sticking point had been the catalyst for Joe’s determination to prove that Maddox had betrayed not only Elizabeth but his country.

Almost immediately after he’d started his own investigation, one week after the first assassination, intelligence had started to pick up on activity from this group. Joe had known what that indicated.

That’s when Joe had gone to Calder with his suspicions. He’d bypassed his immediate supervisor, Director Allen, and laid all his suspicions on the table for the big dog.

Allen wasn’t too damned happy about it. But it had gotten things rolling. Once Calder was hooked, Allen had jumped in with both feet.

Joe hadn’t really cared whether Allen got on board or not. All he’d needed was Calder’s blessing.

He’d gotten that.

He moved to attention when the door opened and Ginger sauntered back into the main room where he waited.

A figure appeared in the doorway behind her and it took a full five seconds for Joe’s brain to assimilate what his eyes saw.

Maddox.

He should have known, Joe thought grimly.

Faking his own death would be the perfect way to get off the hook when he had what he needed.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Maddox said as he came closer.

“Yeah,” Ginger agreed.

Fury whipped though Joe. “You betrayed your own people, Maddox.”

Maddox shrugged. “Everybody has to retire sometime. I always believed in cashing out when stocks are the highest.”

Joe shook his head. “I hate to offer a cliché, Maddox, but the truth is you’re not going to get away with it.”

The sick smile that Maddox was known for slid across his face. “I already have, Hennessey, or hadn’t you noticed?”

Maddox inclined his head and Ginger took a bead on Joe, dead center of his chest.

“You can’t do that here!”

Joe’s gaze moved beyond Maddox.

Now the puzzle was complete.

Director Kurt Allen.

What do ya know? The third party was an inside man.

He’d known Allen was a bastard but he’d thought that was just his personality.

“We have to stick with the plan,” Allen snapped. “No mistakes, Maddox.” Allen glanced at Joe but quickly averted his gaze.

Maddox didn’t like being chastised in front of a former colleague. “This is my op,” he snarled. “These are my people. They follow my commands.”

“A whole army of one, huh, Maddox?” Joe couldn’t resist the dig. The only player on Maddox’s team he’d seen so far was the woman. Allen didn’t count as a soldier. Joe hoped the dig would get him what he needed to know where the others were and what they were up to, but asking wouldn’t likely work out. He’d have to goad it out of the two traitors.

Maddox’s furious gaze landed on Joe. “You don’t have any idea who I’ve got working for me, Hennessey, so don’t even try.”

“Where’s your boy Fahey?”

“He’s babysitting your sweetie pie,” Ginger sneered.

A rush of fear shook Joe but the rage that followed hot on its heels obliterated any hint of the more vulnerable emotion. He fixed his gaze on Maddox. “If
anything happens to her you’re going to be in need of a second resurrection.”

Allen scoffed. “Why would we let anything happen to her? She’s what all of this has been about.”

Confusion momentarily gained a little ground over his fury. “What the hell are you talking about? This bastard—” he indicated Maddox “—has been killing off our people.”

It was Maddox’s turn to laugh now, sending Joe’s rage right back to the boiling point. That scumbag was a dead man.

“We have no interest,” Allen explained with enormous ego, “in killing off recycled agents. What we want is Dr. Cameron.”

“We already have a number of excellent surgeons,” Maddox added, “but not one of her caliber. Our wealthier clients deserve only the best. She is the best.”

In his line of work Joe had come across the slave trade in most every imaginable walk of life, but this was definitely a first.

“You intend to make her work for you,” he restated. “Giving rich criminals new faces.”

“And fingerprints,” Allen said smugly. “We’re even perfecting a way to corrupt DNA, make it unreliable. Amazing, isn’t it?”

Joe had heard reports on start-up activities like this. Clinics in obscure places attempting to create
the ultimate in escapism. New faces, new fingerprints, even new DNA.