The Lethal Bones Read online

  She headed for the stairwell and took it up to the third floor. On this level, a rectangular cutout in the window let her see all the way down the hall.

  Only one motion-triggered light was active, the last one at the other end of the hall. Even in the muted light, she saw the unmistakable figure of a man.

  She examined the scene for a few seconds, taking it in and trying to control her breathing further. At the opposite end, she could see Rennie, his back against the wall, screwing a noise suppressor onto the barrel of a pistol. There was no blood anywhere around him. No bound and gagged Zachary Bennett.

  She wasn’t too late. There’s still time, but the clock’s now ticking.

  Dalton's lackey must have been sent to capture Zachary, which told Ember a few things. First, Dalton wanted to distance himself from this action, which probably meant he intended to be at the football game in Denver while this happened, anticipating Ben or Ember to make a move against him there.

  That meant Ben was in danger.

  Also, it meant she had been fed wrong information. Dalton had people working against her, passing along info to bait her. No matter what she did, he seemed always to stay a step ahead of her. How powerful was he now?

  If she could put a bullet in the back of Rennie’s head, that would be one way to even the score. She could show him she knew how to hatch a surprise or two as well.

  Ember lifted the twin Enforcers from the back of her waistband, and then readied herself to open the door and take out Rennie. In her head, she planned it out. As soon as she opened the door, the lights would flick on. Rennie would know in an instant. So, she would have to drop down to the ground and let him fire over her head. Then, she would aim for his knees. One bullet would alert the whole building, but she didn’t have a better option. If she missed his knee, the next bullet would go into his head. Then, back down the stairs and out the front before anyone could call the cops.

  She put a hand on the door and took a deep breath to clear her head.

  Before she could make her move and set things in motion, she caught sight of movement from the opposite end of the hallway.

  Three men swiftly and silently emerged from the stairwell behind Rennie. Two men in dark clothes, taser guns drawn. A third man in a suit, no weapon she could see. All three appeared in the hallway before Rennie had taken notice.

  But a half-second later, Rennie did notice. He spun and raised his pistol toward them, but before he could get off his shot, one of the newcomers ejected his taser round into Rennie’s chest. Ember saw Rennie’s back and torso stiffen, then his pistol slipped from his hands as he writhed and crumpled to the floor. He continued wriggling around on the laminate floor until he seemed to soften, as if all his bones had been removed, leaving only a puddle of flesh and clothes.

  The second dark-clothed man knelt over Rennie and deftly wrapped a plastic bag around his head and then tightened it behind his neck by twisting his wrist.

  Ember brought a hand to her mouth. Who the hell are these guys? They were efficient, effective, and at least from this distance they seemed to Ember to be totally detached from their actions.

  Rennie flailed, the bag puffing in and out, foggy from his breath. The man in the suit stood back while the other man restrained Rennie. Sixty or seventy seconds later, the bag stopped moving, and Rennie stilled. One man took the bag off his head, placed it back into his pocket, and checked his pulse. The beef dark-clothed man nodded at the man in the suit, who flicked his head at the door behind them.

  Then the second dark man dragged Rennie back into the stairwell. She assumed he’d be taking Rennie all the way down and disposing the body somewhere, or putting him in their own vehicle. The remaining man with the taser holstered it then ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. He clicked open the door that led into the classroom Rennie had been standing in front of, held it for the man in the suit, and then both men donned smiles and entered.

  Ember holstered her pistols. Seriously, who are these guys? They weren’t DAC members, for sure. Whoever they were, they’d been prepared. They had no trouble at all with Rennie, one of the most skilled hitmen in the Five Points Branch.

  Ember opened the door to the hallway, triggering the motion-activated light above her head. Nothing she could do about that, and she'd decided to take the risk of being spotted. Foot over foot, moving without making a noise, she skulked down the hall until she could see into the room the men had entered.

  Inside she saw a young man in a lab coat, standing next to a desk topped with beakers and graduated cylinders, many with various levels of different-colored liquid. This young man was the spitting image of Harvey Bennett, about a decade younger. He was hovering over a petri dish, frowning.

  Zachary Bennett.

  The man in the suit and the other man had approached Zachary, and the leader extended a hand to shake. Ember could tell Zach didn’t know them, but he didn’t seem frightened, either. To their credit, they didn’t seem menacing. They were perfectly professional and cordial.

  They certainly didn’t seem like they’d just murdered a guy in the hallway.

  Ember pulled back from the door to think. Whoever these people were, it didn’t appear they wanted to harm Zach. He seemed okay, for the time being. If she opened the door and pointed a gun in their faces, then Zach would have to be brought into the circle of knowledge around this whole thing. Not to mention putting herself between the two men and the third guy who could return at any moment.

  Ember didn’t have any other way of explaining her presence here, and she knew what these guys were capable of.

  These men were obviously dangerous. They had killed Rennie as if it were nothing more than swatting a troublesome mosquito. But they were only talking to Zach, not threatening him. No one seemed tense or uncomfortable in that room.

  She balled her fists and smacked one against her thigh. Dammit. What was the right move? Every second she stood here was another second Ben could be in grave danger.

  She took one last glance inside the room. Zach and the man in the suit were chatting. Neutral body language, open and friendly.

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  She would have to find out who these guys were later.

  No more time to debate a decision. Ember had to get out of here. The third guy would definitely be on his way back up by now.

  And if Dalton knew about the attempt on his life at the game, that meant Ben was in trouble.

  32

  Ben knelt in front of Julia and let his hands explore the surface of the collar around her neck. His fingers glided over the buttons, the LEDs, the little ridges in the metal. He took care not to actually touch any of the buttons to trigger the knives poised to spring on the inside accidentally.

  His anxiety was growing, neither Julie’s own terror nor the fact that he had no idea what he was looking at helping. He wasn’t a “techie” — spending most of your entire adult life as a park ranger tended to preclude you from learning the nuances of computer technology.

  As the little device ticked away, he bit his lower lip. There has to be something. There has to be a way to open it.

  And then he found it. A hole in the seam, a tiny rounded space that connected the two halves where the collar had been clamped around her neck. It might work. He didn’t know for sure, but with twenty-five seconds left, he didn’t have a better option.

  A tiny hole. A space, small enough for a needle to fit.

  Ben scrambled across the floor to find the needle he'd dropped. It was a couple of feet from the tray, sitting harmlessly on the orange and blue carpet.

  He picked it up, careful not to touch the tip. He shuffled on his knees back across the carpet toward Julia. The timer read 0:15 left.

  "How much time is left?" she asked, her voice raspy and panicked. A minute before, she had been almost calm and distant. But as the timer approached zero, her terror had returned, and it was reaching new heights.

  “I got this,” he said as he carefully lif
ted the needle. “Please, just stay still.”

  He held it by the back edge so he wouldn’t accidentally prick himself.

  Ten seconds left on the timer.

  He held it in front of the hole, ready to jab it in. Would this trigger the knives, or open the necklace? Or would it simply go all the way through the hole and prick her neck with the poison, stopping her heart about the same time she was decapitated?

  He decided to wipe off the needle. It probably wouldn't do much, but it was something. There was only going to be time for one trick before the timer reached 0:00, and he didn’t want to take the chance that he’d poison either one of them after he got the choker off her neck. He reached for a hand towel and rubbed the poisoned tip over it a few times.

  Good enough. I hope.

  “Hurry,” she said. “Whatever you’re going to do, please do it now.”

  Ben took a breath. Here goes nothing.

  He jabbed the needle into the little hole at the seam. For a second, nothing happened. He pressed, then jiggled it around inside the hole. He felt it slip in further, a fraction of a millimeter.

  And then the metal collar clicked and released. It separated, allowing Ben to see the flesh of her neck in the space.

  He grabbed the two halves by the edges and pulled them apart, bending the collar into two semicircles. Julia sucked in a hiccuping breath, her eyes widening.

  The timer read 0:02. Ben tossed it across the room as the timer ticked down to 0:00.

  As soon as it did, multiple spikes, razor-sharp and serrated like jagged knives sprung forth from along the interior of the collar. It jerked on the floor like a springing bear trap.

  Julia gave a yelp, and Ben involuntarily jumped back.

  But after a second of hiccups, the collar was now inert on the carpet, five feet away. Ben examined it from afar. Those knives would have punctured her neck in a dozen places, and she would have been dead within seconds.

  Ben let out a breath. Julia rubbed her neck, and Ben could see the impression of the collar still marked on her flesh. But there was no blood. No damage.

  Julia began crying. “You did it. Oh my God, you saved my life. You did it. Thank you, thank you. I don’t know how you knew how to do that, but you saved my life! How did you know what to do?”

  He crawled over to the collar and carefully withdrew the needle, still jutting out of the little hole. “I’m sorry, but… I have to go. The person who did this might still be nearby. If I hurry, maybe I can catch up with him.”

  “What — what do I do now?” she said, her voice hitching, adrenaline still making her jittery.

  Ben thought quickly. “There are security guards who work for the stadium right outside this room. They won’t bother you if you don’t look frantic or scared. I don’t know if you can trust them or not, so find the police. Tell them what this guy did to you.”

  He stopped, then turned around again. “But, I would appreciate it if you don’t tell them I was here.”

  She stared at him, a confused look on her face. Ben didn't have time to try to persuade her to keep his secret, so he stood and walked the rest of the way to the door. He could sense Julia watching him, and when he turned again at the door, her hands still on her neck, exploring the flesh. As if she didn't believe the collar had actually been removed.

  He raised a leg and with a yell, kicked the door with all his might. It budged but didn’t open, so he considered taking out the gun to shoot it. But what if the bullet ricocheted and hit him or Julia? Or what if it went through and hit someone outside the door?

  He decided to give the brute force approach another shot.

  It took four more kicks, but he finally splintered the wood enough around the door handle to force it open. He jumped out into the anteroom and then beyond, back into the main area with the nice carpet, escalators, and restaurants. When he sprinted through, the security guards looked at him with a funny expression on their faces, but neither of them moved from their spots.

  Ben looked past them to the first police officer he could see. The man was standing beneath a large monitor, his head cocked upward uncomfortably, watching the game.

  “Officer!”

  The cop turned and cocked his head at Ben, with his eyebrows raised. Ben pointed back into the room. “There’s — there’s a woman in that box who needs help.”

  “Excuse me?” asked one of the security guards, raising their voice to cover the distance.

  Ben ignored them. “Please, officer. She was attacked.”

  "Wait a second. Who are you?" the cop asked, but Ben didn't give him a chance to get a better look. He still had the gun in the back of his waistband, and any more conversation with the cops might spoil his chance to catch up to Dalton. If the officer were going to shoot Ben for running away, he'd have to act quickly.

  He decided to chance it.

  Ben spun and raced along the walkway, through the carpeted indoor area, and then out into the concrete ramps leading back to the ground. He found himself once again among the crowd, and for the first time ever, he felt more comfortable amongst the throngs of people than he did out in the open, alone. His eyes trailed over the people, trying to find the spiky-haired man among them — anyone who might be running or ducking between people. But most of the football fans blurred into a mess of orange and blue, with patches of color representing the opposing team. He couldn't spot Dalton anywhere.

  But as he stood among the hundreds of people who were milling about waiting in line for the bathroom, buying hot dogs and beer, he knew he wouldn’t find Dalton. The man was a professional. A trained assassin.

  Ben knew he would be long gone by now.

  33

  A couple of minutes earlier, Zach Bennett had squeezed the bulb of the dropper. Two fat drops of the clear liquid plopped down into the petri dish, mixing with the sample. The chemicals swirled a bit, became uniform, changed color…

  For a second, his hopes rose, and then crashed.

  There was no physical effect aside from the color change.

  “Son of a…” he muttered. He would have to be thorough; he’d study it under the electron scope to be sure, but even that would be a fruitless gesture.

  He scooted the petri dish a few inches away so he could grab the edge of the table to stretch. A twist right, a twist left, and he popped his back in two places. It felt amazing, especially since he hadn't slept well the night before. Zach's roommate had decided to bring a girl home, and they'd taken something that had them up all night, giggling and playing with LEGO. Zach hadn't asked what it was they'd taken. He didn't want to know. But, given all three of them had looked tired and haggard this morning, Zach at least looked like he might've gotten high right along with them.

  Outside the lab room, the hallway lights flicked on. Zach knew he wasn’t the only person in the building, but he hadn’t seen anyone else on this floor for at least an hour.

  He looked at his watch. Holy crap. How had it gotten so late? He was supposed to meet Hunter and those guys at the rec center to shoot hoops an hour ago. Oh well, a little late for that now. Maybe he could drop by and take a few laps around the indoor track, just to burn off some of this nervous energy and ensure better sleep tonight.

  The door to the lab opened, and two men entered the room. One was tall and thick, in dark clothes that somehow shrouded his appearance. Shaved head, blank look on his face. The other was a little shorter and wearing a navy blue suit. The suited man had donned a broad smile across his face. The burly man stayed a foot behind, his eyes blank and staring at nothing. He was as still as a statue, with no discernible expression on his face.

  "Mr. Bennett," said the man in the suit. He crossed the room with a smile, and his hand extended. "I'm Thomas Milligan. I know you're busy, but I wondered if I could have a moment of your time."

  Judging by the wrinkles around the guy’s eyes as he smiled, Zach guessed him to be at least forty-five, maybe even older. Zach shook his hand, noticing the man’s vice-like grip, and his e
yes lingered on the other man, still standing at the far end of the room.

  “That’s Helmut,” Thomas said. “He doesn’t speak English.”

  “Helmet,” Zach said. “Bodyguard?”

  Thomas chuckled. “Hel-mut.” He emphasized the second half of it and pronounced it like the word ‘mutt.’ “Hardly a bodyguard. He’s my driver.”

  “He probably isn’t a very good driver if he can’t understand you.”

  Thomas wagged a finger with a you-got-me-there expression on his face. “He understands it just fine. I’ve heard him say English words before, but it seems to leave a bad taste in his mouth, so I don’t make him do it.”

  "Right. So, as you said, I'm pretty busy. I'm not even supposed to be in the lab this late."

  “Yes,” Thomas said. “I’ll get to the point.” He passed Zach a business card with Thomas Milligan at the top and the word FIREDRAKE below it. The phone number listed at the bottom was not a Colorado area code Zach recognized.

  “What is Firedrake?”

  “Biosciences, pharmaceuticals, chemical compositions for human advancement.”

  “Chemical compositions for — what?”

  "Generally saving the world."

  “Set your sights small, huh?”

  Thomas chuckled. “If you’re going to aim, you might as well try to hit the moon. I think my father used to say something about that. We believe in ourselves and our people, which helps explain a lot of our success.”

  “If you’re so successful, then why haven’t I heard of your company before?”

  Thomas shrugged. “We’re global and far-reaching. We’re known by different names in different parts of the world, but all these different divisions have the same goal. We want to make the world a better place through technology, science, and medicine. But what you might find interesting is that unlike a lot of other large bioscience firms, we are not beholden to shareholders.”

  “You’re privately funded?”