The Import, page 5
part #1 of Matthew Riker Series
A bump key was simply a key with each tooth filed to maximum depth. Insert the key into a lock, give the key a firm tap while exerting a little pressure as if trying to turn the key, and you could jolt the pins inside the lock into place. Then you could freely turn the key. It was like having a skeleton key to the world. Most locks, even quality deadbolts with solid protection against forced entry, had internal cylinders that were susceptible to bumping. Riker had heard estimates that over ninety percent of residential locks in the United States were bumpable.
The thing that had shocked Riker was how easy bumping was. Unlike actually picking a lock, bumping had taken him all of five minutes to learn. And unlike a set of lock-picking tools, a bump key didn’t look any different from a normal key to the untrained eye. Which meant all that stood between ninety percent of Americans and an unwanted intruder was a fifteen dollar key and ten minutes on YouTube.
Riker inserted his bump key into the deadbolt lock, put a little pressure on it, and tapped it with the back of the screwdriver. The noise was no louder than a finger snap, but it still seemed too loud to Riker. He turned the key, unlocking the deadbolt, then he waited to see if anyone had heard.
After thirty seconds, he was confident no one was coming. He inserted the key into the doorknob lock and repeated the process. Once again, the noise echoed loudly in Riker’s ears. This time he waited a full minute before turning the knob and opening the door.
Silently, he went inside the house.
7
RIKER STEPPED QUIETLY through the door. The hardwood floors were beautiful, but they creaked when he put his weight on them. He paused at the first sound and removed his boots, placing them behind some bins in the corner. He crept across the room, spreading his weight across the entirety of his feet.
Opening the door at the end of the room, he entered the spare pantry. Nothing out of the ordinary, some two-liter bottles of soda, boxes of cereal and other snacks. The short hall next to the pantry led to the kitchen. Riker peered around the corner but didn’t see anyone. His heart was beating quickly, his body's natural response to a fight-or-flight scenario. He took a deep breath and focused his mind. His heart rate slowed and he made his breathing shallow. Then he listened.
Riker had learned that people ignore most of the information their senses feed them. All that’s required to gather that information is to pay attention. The tick of an old grandfather clock kept pace in a room nearby. Riker guessed it was in the living room on the other side of the wall from the kitchen. He heard the hum of air blowing through the vents, followed by the chime of a text alert from a phone. It was faint. He guessed it was upstairs and on the other side of the house. A few moments later he heard the murmur of voices. They were too quiet for him to understand the conversation, but he made out two distinct voices.
He heard the creaking of a mattress and the high-pitched sound of a little voice. Li was here. Hopefully, Helen was sitting next to her.
That put two men in a room with Helen and Li. Riker was sure there was a third man in the house. He had seen three people get into the car with Helen in the video footage. He continued listening but didn’t hear anything else. He had to guess at the location of the last gangster. If two were watching their captives, the third one was most likely on the first floor. Probably watching the front of the house for him.
Riker slowly crept from the pantry into the kitchen. The sun cast a warm glow into the room. He could see the lake's reflection dancing off the pots and pans hanging from a rack above the kitchen island. He grabbed a cast-iron skillet.
He continued towards the opening that led to the room with the clock. He reached the corner and gripped the pan in one hand. Then he crouched and looked around the corner. The room was what he expected, a large living room with a fireplace, TV, and a grandfather clock. Except for the furniture, the room was empty.
Riker heard a toilet flush. The sound came from the hallway off the living room. He rushed over to the wall and pressed himself against it. The sink ran for a moment before the door opened. The floor creaked as a man walked down the hall. Riker gripped the frying pan with both hands, and his muscles tensed.
He swung hard as the man entered the room. The man caught the motion of the pan in his peripheral and tried to dodge. His reflexes were fast, but not fast enough to avoid the hit entirely. The pan struck high on his head as he moved away from it. The blow knocked him back. Riker saw a chunk of his hair flip up like a bad toupee. The pure white skull underneath flashed for a moment before the piece of scalp flapped back down. He let out a scream as he stumbled backward, using the wall to keep his balance. Riker swung the pan again, driving it into his diaphragm. The guy dropped to his knees, blood gushing from his head wound.
Footsteps echoed from upstairs, and a voice called out, “Jake, you, okay?”
Riker turned towards the sound and saw two men at the top of the open stairway. They pulled their guns, and Riker ran for the kitchen. Shots rang out and wood splintered around the entry to the kitchen as he dove back into the other room.
The shooters charged down the stairs, firing into the kitchen area. Bullets tore through the wall, shattering the glass faces of the cabinets. Riker dove behind the island. Glass and chunks of ceramic bowls and plates rained down on top of him.
The bullets stopped, and for a moment all was silent.
“You still alive?” a gruff voice asked.
Riker said nothing.
“Come out nice and slow, and we can work this out.”
Riker heard them approaching the island from both sides. He picked up a large piece of a broken plate. He braced his foot against the cabinet and crouched, ready to pounce. In the blurry reflection on the stainless steel fridge, he saw one of the approaching gunmen. Just before the man rounded the corner of the island, Riker threw the plate across the room, breaking one of the large windows. Both men reacted to the sound and trained their weapons on the shattering glass. Riker pushed off the cabinet and dove over the island toward the man closest to the pantry.
The man tried to get off a shot, but Riker was only visible for a brief moment before the impact. His shoulder hit the guy in the chest and the momentum slammed him into the wall. Riker held onto him as they fell to the ground. The man landed on broken glass and screamed in pain as a shard tore into his upper leg. He tried to bring the gun around to Riker’s head, but Riker grabbed his wrist with both hands. He gripped with all his strength and swung a leg over the top of the arm holding the gun. Riker thrust up with his hips and pulled back on the arm. There was a sound like a drumstick pulled from a turkey. The man's scream was so high pitched that he sounded like a child. The gun fell from his hand as a bullet struck the wall three inches from Riker’s head.
Riker dove into the hall while the other gunman fired wildly in his direction. He felt a stinging pain and looked down to see blood dripping from the bottom of his right foot. A shard of broken glass protruded from the pad of his foot. He shook off the pain and looked around the room for anything useful. His eyes settled on a mop by the sink.
“He broke my fucking arm! Kill that son of a bitch, Henry.”
“You get up and help me kill him,” Henry yelled back. “Jake, get in here and help us.”
A voice yelled back from the other room. “I’m bleeding bad. I can barely see a thing.”
“Wipe your damn eyes and help us kill this guy. Once we’re done with him, we can get you two patched up.”
Riker waited until he heard the man with the broken arm stand up. When he did, Riker shoved the mop head into the hallway that led to the mudroom. He shook it to make as much motion as possible. He also let out a scream, like the battle cry of an ancient warrior.
There was an instant volley of bullets. Followed by another scream.
“Holy shit, you shot me. Henry, you shot me!”
A smile formed at Riker’s lips. These were the kind of guys who relied on intimidation. Their lack of actual combat skills was almost funny. Still, it only took one bullet to kill any man, and he reminded himself to focus.
“Oh man, I thought he was coming out. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. My arm is broken and I’m fucking shot.”
Riker yelled, “There is no need for you to die. I just want to protect the woman and child. Leave now and you’ll never see us again.”
“We’re not going to die. You are going to die!” Henry yelled back.
While Henry was speaking, Riker moved to the outer door and silently opened it. He slid through and out to the yard. He sprinted along the side of the house until he reached the shattered kitchen window. He peeked into the house and saw Henry and Jake approaching the mudroom. The third man slumped against the wall, he was limp and blood soaked his shirt and pooled on the floor.
Jake held his gun out in his right hand. He tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes with his left hand. Henry walked next to him, holding his weapon at the ready.
Riker grabbed a baseball-sized rock off the ground and waited for the two men to step into the hall leading to the mudroom. Then he hopped back inside through the window.
He ran towards the men from the kitchen, staying on the balls of his feet to keep from pushing the glass further into the sole of his foot. He needed to hit them hard while they were looking in the wrong direction.
Riker was in the hall with Jake and Henry before they realized what was happening. They turned in the tight space just in time to see Riker. Henry pointed his gun towards Riker, but it was too late. The rock smashed down on his wrist and the gun flew out of his hand.
Jake got off a shot that sounded ten times louder in the small space. The bullet struck the wall, and Riker grabbed his arm. Henry smashed a fist into Riker’s side while he struggled with Jake for the gun. Jake and Henry pushed forward together and the three moved back faster and faster through the kitchen. Jake didn’t drop his weapon, but Riker continued to control his wrist.
Morrison’s voice echoed in Riker’s head. Kill clean and quick. The longer the encounter, the more that can go wrong.
He was in a situation that required killing, but he had made a promise that couldn’t be broken.
The three men tumbled to the ground as they passed the entrance to the living room. Riker saw a flash of color.
Jake landed on top of Riker and Henry was to his left. Jake managed to squeeze the trigger and get off another wild shot. Riker kept control of his arm, but the man had a surprising amount of strength and a strong will to live. Henry grabbed Riker’s right arm and held it down.
“Kill him, Jake!” Henry yelled.
Jake used the weight of his body and both of his arms to fight against Riker. The gun moved towards Riker’s head. Riker thrashed his pelvis upward to try to toss Jake off of him. It almost worked, but Jake stayed where he was and Henry made it impossible to use all of his strength. The gun was an inch to the left of Riker’s head. Riker prepared to pull on Jake’s wrist. He knew the change of force would throw him off balance.
A shot rang out, and a mist of blood and skull burst out of Jake’s forehead. Jake went limp and fell onto Riker.
Henry stood up and two more shots echoed in the kitchen. Henry's body thumped to the floor next to his friend.
Riker pushed Jake off of him and sat up. He was shocked to see Helen holding a Glock. She looked at Riker and the two men she had just killed. She stood perfectly still for a moment. Then she put one hand to her mouth and screamed.
8
RIKER TOOK A STEP TOWARD HELEN, ignoring the shooting pain in his foot. His sock was wet with blood, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He had a much greater concern—the shocked, shaking woman still holding a pistol in her hand.
“Helen, it’s okay.” He took another step toward her. “Why don’t you give me the gun?”
On the ground, Henry let out a soft groan. The pistol in Helen’s hand flashed two more times, and two rounds thudded into Henry’s body.
Riker flinched as the report echoed through the room. He held his hands up, showing them open to Helen. He didn’t like the distant, panicked look in her eyes. She was a frightened animal, all higher thought gone from her mind. There was no telling what she’d do. She might perceive him as a threat and fire before she even fully realized who he was.
“Helen, you did well. You saved me. Thank you.” His words weren’t entirely accurate, but he needed to calm her.
She blinked hard and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Matthew. Jesus. What the hell? These guys…they grabbed us at the motel.”
“I know. I saw.”
She looked at him strangely, as if not understanding. “You saw? Why didn’t you help?”
“I saw the security footage. Are you all right? Does anything hurt?” It was an old trick Riker had learned a long time ago. Helen was mentally outside her body, quickly moving into the numbness of shock. By asking her if anything hurt, he was forcing her to once again be aware of her body. He could see the effect almost immediately. A bit of light came back into her eyes.
“I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me. Not physically. How the hell did you find us?”
“I got the information from their friends. Is Li okay?”
Helen nodded slowly. “She’s upstairs. Coloring, I think. The men didn’t hurt her. I hate to say it, but she’s sort of used to being passed around and carted to various locations at this point. She snaps back fast. Ted and I had hoped to bring a little stability to her life, but I’m not doing a very good job of that so far, am I?” She let out a weak laugh.
“I think you’re doing fine.” He took another step forward and held out his hand. “Why don’t you give me the gun?”
She looked down at her hand and her eyes widened as if she’d forgotten the weapon was there. “Oh God. Yeah, of course.”
She handed him the weapon. Riker ejected the round from the chamber, popped the magazine out of the pistol, and set it on the counter.
“Matthew, we’re in real trouble here.”
Riker looked at the bodies on the floor. He couldn’t argue with her assessment.
“The men…they called their boss and gave him the address. They know where we are.”
“Then we can’t stay here long,” Riker said.
Helen took one last look at the bodies on the floor and turned away. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to check on Li.”
Riker followed her into the living room. She was walking quickly and with confidence. She was certainly still in shock, but at least she was starting to exert a little control of the situation.
“Helen, hold up.”
She stopped and turned toward him, the pain clear in her eyes.
“What did they want? They held you here for a couple hours. They must have questioned you. Did they ask you for something?”
“Ted’s laptop.” She put a hand on the banister and let out a sigh. “I don’t know what’s on it or why they want it so badly, but they’re clearly willing to kill to get it. They said they already searched our house back in New York. During the funeral. Pretty classy, huh?”
“Jesus,” Riker muttered.
“I guess they’ve been watching me, waiting for me to go somewhere else. They thought he might have hidden it. I told them this place is just a rental. I’ve never been here before this week, but they didn’t believe me. One of them held me at gunpoint while the others searched the house. They didn’t find anything, since there isn’t anything to find. Then they called their boss.”
Riker looked at the bodies one more time. They were running out of options. Calling the police wasn’t what Helen wanted, but what was the alternative? If Helen and Li went home, it didn’t seem logical that the men would leave her alone. They probably had more manpower in New York than they did here, if that really was their home base. And then there was the issue of the bodies. Helen had rented this place, so it wouldn’t exactly be difficult for the police to connect it to her once the bodies were discovered. The more Riker thought about it, the fewer options he saw. Going to the police was the only way.
But something else was bothering Riker, working at his mind like a seed stuck in his tooth.
“How is it possible they found you at that motel?” he asked.
Helen shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since they busted down our door. I can only think of one possibility. I made a call to a friend in New York. I might have mentioned to him where we were staying. Is it possible they somehow tracked my phone?”
“I don’t know.” Riker had been out of the game for six years. While it didn’t feel that long, six years was an eternity when it came to technology. He really didn’t know what was or wasn’t possible now. “This friend… You think he might have turned on you? Given these guys your location?”
“No way,” Helen said quickly. “He was Ted’s best friend, and he’s the only person other than me who believes Ted’s death wasn’t a suicide. There’s no way he’d work with them.” She thought a moment. “This friend, Dobbs is his name, he’s a criminal lawyer. A good one. He might know what to do here.”
“Okay,” Riker said. “Call him.”
Helen started to take out her phone, but Riker held up a hand.
“Use mine.” He unlocked his phone and tossed it to her. He waited as she dialed.
“Dobbs, it’s Helen. I’m using a friend’s phone.” She paused, listening. “We’re okay. But this morning some men broke into our room and took us. They brought us back to the rental house. And then… I don’t even know where to start. Things got very bad.”
Riker heard the sound of a child humming in the bedroom. He turned and went toward it, leaving Helen talking to her friend.
Despite Helen’s words, Riker expected to find Li’s face streaked with tears like it had been when he’d first seen her at the fair. But she looked…not happy exactly, but not concerned either. She lay on the floor, drawing with crayons. She looked up and smiled when she spotted Riker.
