One Rule - No Surrender, page 20
part #2 of One Rule Series
Thalma drove him back, planted his face in the grass, and finished up the handcuffing job to a chorus of groans. She hauled him to his feet with his good arm.
"Son of a bitch!" he hissed. "You broke my fucking arm!"
"You poked a hole in my new blouse."
"You gonna kill me?"
"I was thinking of trading you for my partner and MacDougal." She gave him a cool look. "Think they'd go for that?"
"The trade for your partner, sure. MacDougal..." He shook his head.
"Where are the keys to the Suburban?"
He pointed to one of his fallen comrades, anger burning through the mask of pain on his face. She pulled keys from the body's front pocket. A quick search of the man's backpack produced a hypodermic syringe labeled SB117 and a small extra-heavy duty garbage bag she suspected was not there for garbage. She pocketed the syringe, and slung the man's M4 assault rife over one shoulder.
"You fixing to knock me out with the SB?"
"When we get to the car. But first you need to tell me where your people are holding my friend and Dr. MacDougal. Lying about that, needless to say, will negatively impact your health."
"It's near Echo Lake, maybe thirty miles north of here."
"The address."
He gave it to her without hesitation – a good sign that it was real. She committed it to memory.
They headed back toward the parking lot in a jerky walk, Thalma supporting him on his injured leg side. For the first time since dropping her off, Thalma allowed herself to think about her sister, probably huddling in the trees wondering how long she should wait before walking out of there. Thalma hated the idea of exposing her to this, but being uncomfortable and afraid wouldn't kill her.
It wasn't going to be easy to tie all the loose ends that this situation seemed to be breeding. She'd just have to take it one problem at a time. First problem: getting Laura home safely. Second, rescuing Maggie. Third, getting back together with Louis. Her fourth goal of taking down World Security Group International would follow – at her leisure, as Murphy might say. But she decided then and there that it would happen. She'd find the core of their evil and root it out.
Thalma injected Rogers with the powerful sedative a short distance from the parking lot, and waited for the big man to droop before jogging to the Suburban. She backed it into the trees away from prying eyes, opened the rear doors, and dragged the groggy Rogers through the brush and into the back. For added measure, she strapped the plastic bag over his head, poking a small hole in the top. He'd probably be asleep or out of it for the next hour or so, but if he did come to she didn't want him seeing anything.
She started back down the road in the Suburban. Next stop, Laura. Had she stayed in her spot? The instrument panel clock said that just over an hour had passed since she'd dropped her off. Would Rogers stay unconscious? If he learned of Laura's relationship to him and where she lived, she'd have to kill him.
Thalma blew out a tense breath. First things first. Ahead, the markers she'd memorized where she'd left Laura rolled into view. She pulled over to the left shoulder and idled along until reaching what seemed to be the drop-off spot. Outside the car, she checked on Rogers – he appeared unconscious – and hopped the fence into the thick woods. She was rewarded immediately with a rustling in the nearby brush.
"Thalma?"
Laura stepped out, red-eyed and scratched on her arms. Thalma pressed a finger to her lips. The girl approached – following Thalma's glance at the Suburban with fearful eyes – and nodded. She held out her arms. Thalma surrendered to her sisterly fate and embraced her gently.
"There's a man in the car," she whispered into Laura's ear. "He's sedated, but I still want you to be as quiet as possible. Say nothing until we get you home and you're clear of the car."
"Okay," the girl whispered back.
Thalma had her climb in from the driver's side rather than generate the sound of two doors closing. Laura was game – barely making a sound as she crawled over the console to the passenger seat. The only sound from the rear of the Suburban was a light snoring. So far so good.
Fortunately, they were only a few minutes from her mother's house. When they reached her road, Thalma pulled over several blocks from the house. Laura started to open her door, but Thalma redirected her back over to her side. Though she doubted Rogers would remember anything about this part of the drive, Thalma didn't want to leave even subconscious clues in his mind.
She walked with Laura a short ways, never taking her eye from the SUV.
"Please don't tell your mom about this," she said.
"I won't."
"I have to go."
"Okay." Laura seemed to consider another hug, but gave her a stoic nod instead. "Well, bye. And good luck...with whatever it is you're going to do."
"Thanks. I'll contact you later."
"You promise?"
She looked so tragic standing there with her sad blue eyes that Thalma wanted to snatch her up and plant a kiss on her furrowed little forehead. A scary and unfamiliar impulse.
"I promise," she said.
By the time Thalma reached Echo Lake forty minutes later, Rogers was making snuffling noises like a tranquilized bear coming awake. At the same time, his cell phone she'd set on the passenger seat buzzed – the same number of the last several calls. His partners, wondering what was taking him so long. She picked it up.
"Hello," she answered.
"Who is this?"
"I have something of yours. I understand you have something of mine."
A long pause.
"So you're not dead."
"No. Your friend isn't, either. Just resting. Are my people okay?"
"Yes."
"Would you consider an exchange? Her and the doctor for Rogers?"
A moment or two passed. The man's voice returned with a harder edge. "The doctor ain't going anywhere. But I think we can work a deal with your girlfriend. We're not too gung-ho about putting a bullet in that pretty face of hers anyhow."
"I'll need to hear her voice."
"And I'll need to hear our friend's."
"Can you say something?" Thalma called to the back seat, switching the phone to speaker.
"Mmmffff! Motherfucker!..."
"That sounds like him," the man chuckled. "Just a second." Light footsteps sounded. "You got something to say, sweet-cheeks?"
"There's seven of them – "
The sentence ended with a loud flesh-on-flesh whap! Thalma winced.
"Mouthy broad," the man grunted. "Do we have a deal? Our man for your girl?"
Thalma frowned as she considered her options. This wasn't the time to play hardball. Once she had Maggie back, they could decide what to do about the doctor.
"All right," she said.
"How do you see this playing out?"
Thalma was coming up on the house now. An open yard with a clear path to the front door. She kept driving.
"You send my partner out your front door, and I'll send your boy toward the house. They'll both walk alone. You shoot my partner, I shoot yours."
"Sounds fair. We both work for different players, but there's no reason we can't keep this clean, between professionals. You get your partner and we get ours, and we both live to fight another day."
"Agreed."
Thalma circled back, positioning her passenger side to the house. The Suburban was hardened, as expected, so it wasn't a bad platform to work from - able to withstand an AR barrage long enough to drive away if it came to that. She didn't have any reason to second-guess the men in the house. They lacked the time and the motivation to set up any elaborate ambush. Their mission was to grab the doctor. They wouldn't give a shit about Maggie except for information and as a negotiating piece. They had their main objective. A firefight with an opposing force in a public neighborhood would be the last thing they'd want now.
"I'm in position," she said into the cell. "Show me my partner, and I'll show you yours."
"Alright. Let's do this thing."
Thalma lifted Rogers' M4 from the passenger seat, confirmed it was good to go, and climbed out, keeping low as she moved to the backdoor. A moment of vulnerability as she reached quickly around and popped the left rear door, drawing it open as a shield. She spotted at least two men with rifles sighting her in on the roof.
"We're doing an exchange," she said. "Can you get out on your own?"
Rogers rumbled and grumbled, but was able to wiggle around until his legs poked out. Staying behind the door, Thalma grabbed one leg by the ankle – his good leg – and pulled. The man slid out, cursing and groaning all the way, and settled shakily on one foot, grasping the sides of the doors.
"You just need to get to the front door," said Thalma. "Can you make it?"
"I'll make it...if I have to crawl like a fucking snail."
She unlocked his handcuffs. "Go for it."
Thalma took up position behind the Suburban with the M4. She didn't aim at Rogers, who was on his hands and knees inching toward the front lawn, but instead used the scope to check out where the shooters were. Aside from the two on the roof, she made out three others at the windows. Thalma ducked down and shifted position every couple of seconds to frustrate would-be snipers.
The front door opened and Maggie stumbled as she was shoved out. She said something to someone behind her – sounded like "Asshole!" - and then strode out toward Thalma much faster than Rogers' snail-crawl. The fact that she would reach the safety of the Suburban well before Rogers reached the house might make the WSGI men uneasy – an uneasiness that might peak as Maggie neared the Suburban. Still, she couldn't see them shooting Maggie or at her while their man was in the open.
Maggie crossed paths with Rogers only ten yards from the Suburban. Thalma thought she could see the shooters on the roof and in the house bearing down on their aim. Stay cool, she urged them. Just a few more steps.
As a sign of good faith, Thalma lowered her rifle and climbed into her vehicle seconds before Maggie arrived. They knew she could still pick off their slow-moving comrade if they shot Maggie at the last moment.
Maggie banged open the passenger door and sprang inside, ducking down. Thalma hit the gas and they were off.
"Nice to see you," said Maggie. "I wasn't sure this would have a happy ending."
"Nice to see you, too."
"Did you get your sister home safely?"
"Yes. Though it was a little awkward."
"Well, thank you for saving my butt anyway."
"What did you tell them?"
"Just that we were working for some rich bastard who had an autistic kid and wanted to stop their vaccine operation. I gave them a fake name. They never got around to really interrogating me, thank God."
"I don't feel right about leaving the doctor behind."
"You're kidding. That slimeball? He deserves whatever they do to him."
"We promised to protect him."
"And we gave it our best. Come on, don't look so gloomy." Maggie nudged her arm. "We got what we came for – proof of World Security Group International's conspiracy to drum up vaccine demand. Once our videos get launched heads are going to roll."
"Will they?"
Maggie glanced at her. "You don't think the FBI or DHS will be slightly interested in doctors conspiring to infect kids with measles for fun and profit?"
"Maybe. Assuming they aren't told to look the other way or aren’t part of this. And assuming those recordings ever see the light of day."
Maggie scowled at the road unfurling before them. "You can really be a downer sometimes, you know?"
"So I've been told."
LATER THAT evening, Thalma drove past her old Issaquah house a couple of times telling herself she was checking for surveillance or tails but knowing she was postponing the inevitable for as long as possible. As much as she longed to avoid it, the time had come to talk to her mom – for Laura's sake. If she wanted to be part of her sister's life, she had to do this.
Murphy's men had delivered a nondescript utility van to her along with her hotel luggage at a truck stop off highway 90 where she and Maggie had ditched the Suburban. They took Maggie to the airport while Thalma drove back to Issaquah and Squak Mountain – her last stop before driving home to Tahoe. She and Murphy had decided no airports or rental cars were her safest bet. On the way home she'd pick up Louis and her dogs – Murphy saying that everything indicated they'd now be safe returning home – something she was looking forward to more than words could describe. But first she needed to say goodbye to someone newly important to her life – and hello to someone she'd never wanted to be a part of her life again.
She parked a half-mile down the road and hiked her way through the woods behind the houses, her passage marked by an occasional dog bark and hooting owl, until she reached her mom's backyard. The lights in the living room and kitchen were on. Images danced on the big screen television. Laura was sitting with her back to her on the couch facing the TV. No sign of Mommy Dearest.
Thalma tapped on the sliding glass door. Laura twisted around and leaped up, her eyes wide and mouth open. Then her face lit up in a huge grin. She rushed over and flung open the door, throwing herself into Thalma's arms. Thalma swallowed back the rush of emotion, surprised by the tears in her eyes. Don't be a damn baby. She was glad the girl's face was buried in her shoulder for the few moments required to pull herself together.
They were still holding each other when Elena Engstrom emerged from the hallway. She stopped as if she'd hit an invisible wall. Other than for a tight band of muscle over her brow she showed little reaction. The same cool, distant expression – though perhaps more frosted over than usual. Thalma wasn't sure what she expected, but outwardly her mom hadn't changed much. Tall, and slim as always, her reddish-blond hair the exact same tint Thalma remembered. Maybe she dyed her hair now, but her mom had rarely fussed over her physical appearance. Perhaps there was a harder cast to her features, but that might've been a trick of light and shadows.
Thalma released her sister and they slowly parted. Laura noted Thalma's gaze and turned toward their mother. They stepped inside. Thalma closed the door behind them. She and her mother started working their way toward each other a few hesitant steps at a time while Laura waited to one side. They stopped perhaps ten feet from each other.
"You look well," said Elena.
"You do, too."
"Can I get you something to drink? I'm sure you're hungry. There's roast in the fridge."
"I'm fine." Thalma didn't want anything that would unnecessarily prolong her visit. "Maybe some water."
Laura slipped quickly between them to the kitchen, filling a glass from the refrigerator. Elena extended a stiff arm toward the couch.
"Please," she said.
They sat on opposite ends of the couch. Laura handed Thalma the glass of water and retreated to a rocking chair facing both of them.
"Laura says you've been working in the area," said Elena.
"Yes."
"Dealing illegal drugs? Checking up on one of your dummy corporations? Someone needing to be beat up or killed?"
"Mom," Laura groaned. "You can't believe what they say about her in the news! She's a good person, not a killer!"
"How would you know?" Elena's icy voice cut through the air, rocking the girl back in her chair. "You've known her for a few hours. I raised her. You don't know what she's capable of."
"I know," Laura answered with a soft whimper, but her jaw was set.
Thalma had an image of getting up and shaking her mother like a rag doll – something she'd often fantasized about doing as a child. She made herself give Laura a dry smile and a small reassuring shake of her head before turning back to her mother.
"What am I capable of, Mother?"
"Of hurting people. Of killing people. I saw it in your eyes when you were only four years old. I saw it in your face that time you threw me across the room when you were ten. And then you became a trained killer. An assassin who worked for the government before turning against it."
"That's what the FBI told you?"
"The FBI, Homeland Security, and every news program in the country. But they were only telling me what I already knew would happen from the moment you joined the Army. I warned you not to do that – that it would bring out the worst in you – but you wouldn't listen. With your intelligence you could've been a doctor or a research scientist, but look at what you've become instead – an FBI most-wanted person! A terrorist fugitive!"
Tremors of emotion broke through her mother's cold mask. As angry as her words made Thalma, she preferred her mom when she showed some emotion. Didn't that prove she cared, in her own frigid, controlling way?
"And now you're here," Elena said, "becoming friends with your sister, getting her to admire you."
"A sister you never told me about."
"Why would I? Why would I want to bring your darkness and destruction into her life?"
"You didn't even know what I was doing one and a half years ago."
"Not the details. But I knew you'd gone to the dark side."
"How could you possibly know that?"
Elena clamped her lips together. Thalma had seen that expression before – many times before. It signified that she was hiding something, something she didn't want to discuss. But what could she be hiding about this? A light slowly came on in her head, though she couldn't see what it was illuminating.
Thalma leaned toward her mother, staring hard into her eyes. "Did someone tell you?"
Elena's chest lifted and fell, as if from slow deliberation. She blinked under Thalma's gaze but didn't avert her eyes.
"Who told you, Mom?" Laura demanded. "The government?"
"No."
"It was him, wasn't it?" said Thalma.
Her mother dipped her chin in the smallest of nods.
"You've had contact with him?"
"Just once, a few years ago." Her mother drew a shuddering breath. "A late evening getting off work. He was standing in the shadows near my car. When I first noticed him I thought he was a mugger. But then I saw it was much worse than that."
