American Mutant (8 page)

“I run the entire operation. I wanted you directly in my control and under my orders. If I had known you were some kind of mutation, I never would have tried this.”

Connor nodded. “You are doing well so far. Why set this up yourself? You could have gotten one of your other minions at the table to front for you. Better yet, you could have ordered Quenton to approach me with any. oh, I see. You had a new game in mind. I was never supposed to interrogate Hutchison. Quenton set that one up all on his own. When you found out Hutchison and his old gang had died, you became worried.”

“We thought Quenton had his own private army set up. Quenton told us about Hutchison after the fact. When his gang turned up dead the next day, we decided to move.”

“The Red Chinese, and old Pierre have some pretty impressive funds. How much did you sell out your country for?”

The man remained silent as he looked in horror at the anger building in Connor’s face. Connor stepped towards him, but Karen’s voice stopped him.

“Thomas,” she said softly. “You promised to do this without any extras.”

Connor turned to her, and the anger had dissipated. She felt the rise of pleasure within her. “Thomas!”

Connor chuckled and turned back to the man in front of him. “Now then, two more questions: who the hell are you, and do you have anyone out there set up to kill both Karen and I later, after you got what you wanted?”

“My name, for all the good it will do you, is Gordon Whitney.” He hesitated for a moment and Connor cut in.

“Tell us who and where you have someone waiting.”

“We had an army here. We did not think anyone else would be necessary.”

“You are lying.” Connor turned to Karen. “You win my dear. I have to find this clod tonight, and I have other things on my mind besides two-bit traitorous bastards.”

“Told you,” Karen replied smugly.

“You will pay for that.”

“Ooooooohhhhhhhhh…I am so scared.”

Connor smiled and turned back to Whitney. “Last chance to do this the easy way. Who and where?”

Whitney started to speak, but looked again into Connor’s face. He saw a promise of death and worse there, and he no longer thought he had any real way out of this. The man knew he lied before he could get the sentence all the way out. He knew a con when he saw one. This was no con.

“If you refused to cooperate, even after we tortured Dr. Blakely, I would have turned you both loose, and taken you back to the restaurant to pick up your car. We planted the bug on Dr. Blakely’s car. If I did not call off the man, he would be waiting at Dr. Blakely’s house to finish you both off, and make it look like a burglary.”

“The truth shall set you free, at least in a manner of speaking. I win Doctor.”

“Oh no,” Karen said, pretending terror. “Whatever will happen to me

now?”

“Oh, you will so pay for this,” Connor laughed.

Karen hopped down off of the table. “I guess we had better go and get my car. How will you handle this now?”

“Well, you will have to stay in the car with this loser, while I talk to the assassin he has waiting for us. The only question I need to ask revolves around whether you want me to break pieces of Mr. Whitney until he will for sure not be any threat, or simply bind and gag him in the backseat. You pick Gracie.”

Karen looked at Whitney’s face. “As a practical matter, I would rather you bound and gagged him. He would be awful noisy all broken up.”

“Not if I paralyze him.”

“Tempting as you make it sound Thomas, please just tie him up.”

“Very well then, come along Gordie. Get your keys out, and hand them to Karen here. She will be chauffeuring us back to the restaurant. If you wish to stay active, be a good boy, and do not do anything rash.”

Whitney stood up slowly, and fished into his pants for the keys to his car. He then reached out, and handed them to Karen. “It’s the Mercedes parked just outside the main entrance.”

“After you Gordie,” Connor gestured, and Whitney walked ahead of them. “If you go for any of the numerous firearms lying around, I will rip off whatever extremity you reach with.”

Connor had already collected the pieces of rope, which had held Karen to the chair. When they reached Whitney’s Mercedes, Karen opened the doors. She slid behind the steering wheel and Connor got into the backseat with Whitney.

“Do you recognize where we are Karen?”

“Yep, we’re only fifteen minutes away from the club.”

“No one seems upset about the gunfire around here.”

“It was probably pretty muffled inside the warehouse, and I don’t see any residences for a block or so.”

“Drive on Tonto.”

Karen giggled and started the Mercedes. She backed it out of the parking slot, and drove out of the warehouse area. By the time they reached the restaurant, Connor had Whitney tied up to the point he could barely move. She parked the big car along the street in front of the restaurant. Connor got out of the car, and opened Karen’s door.

“You go give them the claim check and give the guy this when he brings it out front.” Connor handed her a fifty-dollar bill. “That should get your face stitched into his memory banks.”

“The claim check was in my purse.”

“I got Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum to let me leave your purse with the greeter. I already gave her a fifty to watch it for us until we returned. Just tell her you want the purse Mr. Connor gave her.”

Karen nodded and went inside. She came back out with her purse, and handed the claim check for her car to the young parking attendant. When she smilingly handed him the fifty, his face lit up like Christmas in New York. She got in the car, drove a few blocks down the street, and pulled up at the curb. Connor drove up alongside, and deposited Whitney in the back seat like a piece of luggage. He parked the Mercedes in front of Karen, and returned to the backseat with Whitney.

“Stop about a block from your house Karen. I will clear our path for the night, and we can get back to debt collection.”

Karen snapped a flat hand British style salute to her forehead in recognition of Connor’s direction. He could see her smiling at him in the rear view mirror. He sighed deeply, “I have created a monster.”

Karen stopped before she turned onto the block, which ran in front of her apartment building. At nearly midnight on a weeknight, the streets were quiet. Connor’s right hand flashed and Whitney slumped in the rear seat unconscious. Connor saw Karen start to speak and then stay quiet. He leaned over the seat and kissed her on the neck.

“I will be back shortly.”

“Are you going to kill this guy?” Karen asked hesitantly.

“Not if I have a choice, but I doubt he will leave me one. If I can get him to wait until Quenton calls off the hit tomorrow, I may even get him to testify for us against Whitney, not in a court, but at least to the NSA.”

“Many of these people just follow the orders they get, and do not know what the real picture means,” Karen said.

“I know that Karen. I worked for them before on the outside. I told you, if I have a choice; I will let him live.”

“I know you will.” She reached back and put her hand over his momentarily.

Connor slipped out of the car and onto the task at hand. He covered the area between the car and Karen’s apartment building quickly. He phased through the entryway door without having to alert anyone. When he reached her apartment, Connor closed his eyes and felt his way along the wall. The man they had sent was not in the main room, so Connor phased into the darkness of the room on the other side of the wall. Standing stock still inside Karen’s apartment, he could hear the man’s breathing from Karen’s bedroom. Connor again felt his way along the outer wall of Karen’s bedroom, until he knew exactly where the man was lying in wait. He phased through the bedroom wall, and again into darkness. Connor now stood not more than a foot away from a man, crouching comfortably by the wall, holding a silenced machine pistol in one gloved hand, and turned a coin over and over in the other gloved hand.

The man watched a dull glowing green screen he had placed in front of him. On the screen, he watched the indicator of where Karen’s car had stopped around the block. He figured they had trouble parking their car, and now were walking here. The machine pistol he held in his hand suddenly left his grasp as if plucked on a cord from the ceiling. He felt the cold end of the silencer at his temple.

“Hello Nate. Still playing with that goofy quarter I see.”

“Jesus H. Christ Palomino,” the man named Nate exclaimed without moving. “That cannot be you Thomas. You been dead for more than five years.”

“Wishful thinking my friend.”

“I heard you got all those scum bags what done your wife and daughter, and then you gave your white ass up. Then I heard you bought it in prison. Did some son of a bitch send me after you without telling me.”

Thomas chuckled. “They sure did Nate, and the first woman I been interested in since my wife died. At least they sent the best. Come on, stand up here you clod. I never could figure why you thought that crouch was so comfortable. How long has it been Nate?”

“It has to be nearly nine years Thomas.”

“I missed you buddy.”

Nate stood up to his full six and a half foot frame. He weighed only two hundred and thirty pounds, which gave him a lean look. Connor knew him to be one of the most powerful, and dangerous men he had ever known, and one of the most loyal. Connor handed him back the pistol. Nate ejected the shell from the magazine, and removed the silencer. After putting the pistol into the holster inside his jacket, Nate then stuck the silencer in his pocket. He then clumsily grabbed Connor to him in a bear hug. A moment later, Nate held Connor at arm’s length by the shoulders.

“I never thought I would see your ugly face again Mr. Connor, Sir.”

Connor laughed, and went over to switch on a lamp. He looked back at the big black man critically. Connor walked around him with his arms crossed, and one hand under his chin, eyeing him up and down.

“Don’t start that shit with me you little prick. You may have got the jump on me, but I can still whoop your funky lily-white ass.”

“Mr. Johnson,” Connor said authoritatively. “How is it you came to this dirty business, and why can you not get the job done? I see an extra furrow up the side of that queue-ball head I never saw before. I believe retirement beckons my man.”

“Yea, I wish,” Nate said seriously. “You know how we get retired. Is that what this was all about, a retirement party?”

“What did Whitney tell you?”

Nate laughed. “You are good Thomas, I’ll give you that. I got the word I was to educate two Red Chinese agents working in a top-secret government lab. I was to make it look like a burglary, but to make sure it got done.”

“Did you ever see Whitney in the flesh?”

Nate looked puzzled. “Whitney, Whitney who?”

“I got him in the back seat of my girlfriend’s car.”

“Kidnapping carries a long sentence in stony lonesome Mr. Connor,” Nate instructed. “I should go down and have a look, just to verify your crime though.”

“Good deal, come on and have a look, and meet Karen. Then you and I can come back up here to catch up on old times. You will be very pleased with a little plan I have just cooked up since seeing you here.”

“Thomas, I like it already. I never had a friend like you. We go back a long way, and I know whatever you got cookin’, if you want me in on it, then I’m in. Us psychos have to stick together.”

Connor shook his head. “No Nate, you were never a psycho. The psychos are all dead and buried. They may be training a new crop, but we are standing here talking because we believed. I have something going now, you will find just plain irresistible.”

“Well then whitey, let’s go on down, and see what you got in your backseat.”

Chapter 10 New and Old Acquaintances
 

Karen sat peering anxiously out of the windshield, fearing the worst. She saw two figures walking together towards her. The larger of the two figures dwarfed who she thought was Connor. They slowed, and she saw Connor talking animatedly to the larger figure, and then the larger man bent at the waist, obviously laughing. He then straightened, and to Karen’s amazement, grabbed Connor around the neck, and began giving him a noogie. She could hear both of them laughing, even from where her car was parked. A few minutes later, they reached the car, and Karen got out to meet them. Connor waved to his companion.

“Karen Blakely, meet my very good friend, and partner, Nate Johnson. Nate, meet Karen, my very own lady in red.”

Karen held out her hand, and Nate took it suavely in his, bending at the waist to gently brush it with his lips. He straightened, shaking his head. “What in the name of God does a beautiful woman like you see in this mangy, old piece of white bread?”

Karen laughed with delight. “Pleased to meet you Nate. Call me Karen.”

“Honored to make your acquaintance Karen.”

Connor, meanwhile, opened the back door, and pulled Whitney to a sitting position. Nate stooped closer, and looked at the man in the dim illumination of the car’s dome light. He first stepped back in confusion, and then he burst into loud laughter, which took him a few minutes to control.

“Sweet Jesus Thomas, what in the world have you gone and done now? You have bound, and kidnapped, one of the most powerful men in the country.”

“You know my pal Gordie then, huh?” Connor began to wake Whitney as he had before. The man came to again reluctantly. He saw Nate watching him, and he began to have some hope.

“Johnson, did you kill that.”

Connor came into his view then, and gave him a little wave. “Hi Gordie, I brought my old buddy Nate down to see you.”

“You were under orders to kill this son of a bitch!” Whitney screamed. “What in hell are you doing hanging around with this mutant?”

Nate burst into laughter again, with Karen and Connor joining him this time. A few minutes later, Nate reached down, gripped Whitney’s chin in his hands, and gently shook it back and forth. He made soft clucking sounds with his tongue.

“In all the years since I joined the Marine Corps, and then eventually the CIA, I met only one man who meant more to me than my own life. You ordered me to kill him tonight. Mr. Whitney, I must respectfully tender my resignation, at least to you.”

“Nate,” Conner said. “I plan to set things up with the only guy in the Center I trust, so you, Karen, Whitney, and me can walk in tomorrow morning. If you would do me the favor of taking Gordie here with you until morning, Karen and I will meet you at the apartment around nine o’clock, and we will all go in together. I can explain everything to you then, and present you with the other deal I talked about.”

“I would love to entertain Mr. Whitney for the evening,” Nate said, affectionately putting an arm around Whitney. “We will meet you back here at nine sharp. I can hardly wait to hear this.”

“Did they drop you off, or do you have a ride here waiting?” Connor asked.

“They dropped me,” Nate confirmed. “I was to work my own way out.”

“Take Karen’s car, and we will see you back in the morning. Oh, and Nate, try not to believe half of what our friend here spews tonight.”

“I’ll gag him. I have to get my beauty rest.”

Connor held out his hand, and Nate grasped it in both of his. “See you tomorrow my friend.”

“Count on it.” Nate adjusted the front seat, and squeezed in. He started the car, and took off with a little wave and smile for Karen.

“I think you owe me, little missy, pay up,” Connor said.

“I have a headache,” Karen replied, holding a hand to her forehead. “I’m tired, I have to get up in the morning, I.”

“Ooooo…kaaaaaaaaay…,” Connor laughed.

Up in her room, Connor gently helped Karen undress. They took a shower together, and then went to bed. Connor began gently massaging Karen’s feet, alternating between a firm rub, and an almost feather like touch. She moaned with pleasure. Karen opened her eyes to see Connor watching her.

“Are you going to use a mind meld on me?”

“Karen,” Connor whispered, “by the time I get to your lips, you will not have a mind.”

Quenton’s phone rang on his desk at 8:00 AM. He picked it up and said, “Quenton here.”

“Derek, I need you to smooth the way for me to return to the Center with one associate, and one prisoner. We will proceed directly to the interrogation room. I will explain everything to you then.”

“Karen did not come in this morning Thomas,” Quenton told him. “I’m worried. She.”

“Karen’s with me,” Connor replied, “and she will be coming in at the same time, about 9:30. Can you do it without attracting a lot of attention?”

“I will leave word at the gate to pass you through into the complex with a minimum of red tape,” Quenton agreed. “I will be at the front entrance to accompany you the rest of the way. I take it you have a breakthrough of some kind?”

“Not on the phone. See you at 9:30.”

The phone went dead in Quenton’s hand. He dialed to get things clear for Connor immediately. He wondered whether he would have a job by the end of the day. He smiled, thinking he would at least be able to seek honorable employment. Meeting Connor still remained the single most incredible thing ever to happen to him.

At 9:30 AM sharp, Quenton stood by the desk at the entrance to the complex. The guards at the gate had alerted him as instructed, when Connor passed the checkpoint. Dr. Blakely came through the outer doors first, followed by a huge black man with a shaved head. Connor brought up the rear with a hooded man wearing a rumpled business suit. The man had his hands stuck into his pockets. Quenton’s heart began to pound as he tried to guess who Connor could possibly be bringing in.

As they reached Quenton, he smiled uneasily at Karen, and waved for everyone to follow him to the interrogation room. When they were inside the room, Connor motioned for all of them to sit down at the conference table. Quenton sat at the head of the table, while Karen and the black man went around to the far side. Connor guided the hooded man to an empty chair across from Karen.

“You can take your hands out of your pockets now Gordie, but do not make a scene.” The man took his hands out of his pockets and allowed them to rest at his sides.

“Derek, I want you to know none of this could be avoided. Karen can tell you I did my best. The gentleman next to Karen teamed with me in the company on quite a few missions. You probably recognize him from my file.”

“Nathaniel Johnson,” Quenton exclaimed. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“Just call me Nate,” the man replied smiling. He stuck out his hand, and Quenton shook it enthusiastically.

“I thought you would have been dead by now, with all the things you and Thomas pulled off years ago.”

“I probably should be. Anyhow, any friend of Thomas is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you.” Quenton looked back to Connor. “Okay Thomas, I can take it. Let me see who you have with you.”

Connor smiled. “Okay Gordie, take off your hood, but stay quiet until Derek catches his breath.”

The man removed his hood as Quenton gasped, and stood up so quickly his chair banged to the floor behind him. He started to rush around, but Connor stopped him, picked up his chair, and guided him back into it.

“Mr. Whitney, I.” Quenton began.

“Derek,” Connor interrupted. “Hold on to the deferential treatment until I explain what this traitorous bastard has been up to.” Connor guided Whitney into the other chair.

“Are you in charge here Quenton, or not?” Whitney asked angrily. “I hope you.”

“Gordie,” Connor broke in. “Do not make a fool of yourself. Tell Derek all about what you have been up to.”

Whitney began to get animated with his hands as Connor sat back smiling at Karen across the table. “I have nothing to tell you Quenton. This mutant of yours murdered my staff, and kidnapped me. I demand you have this monster put behind bars.”

Nate had begun laughing half way through Whitney’s monologue. Karen giggled as Connor shrugged his shoulders at her. “I told you this was a waste of time.”

“Derek, I asked Thomas not to really interrogate Whitney until you were present, because you would know more about what should be asked.” Karen gestured at Nate. “Nate can substantiate what we have to tell you.”

Whitney began to get out of his chair, only to be clamped back down into place by Connor. Connor waved a finger in front of his face. “Naughty, naughty, you stay put until we are through here.”

“Quenton,” Whitney shouted. “Do something. Don’t just sit there like an ass.”

Quenton ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Mr. Whitney, I know enough about the man next to you to know if he says you are a traitorous bastard, then you are exactly that. You still draw breath because Dr. Blakely thought I might add something to this session.”

“Surely, you don’t think. “

“What I think Mr. Whitney is you had better start talking. You will be telling us everything one way or another.” Quenton reached under the table and hit a switch. “Okay, we are now being video taped and recorded. Would you like to begin Thomas?”

Connor nodded, and took Quenton through the night’s happenings. He explained what he had found out about Whitney’s connection to Pierre and the Red Chinese. Whitney began to object, but one look from Connor shut him up. He sat for the rest of Connor’s dissertation in silence. Nate confirmed the hit, and how he came to be in Karen’s apartment at Whitney’s order. Connor finished with what he thought might be a plausible explanation for the carnage in the warehouse.

“Thomas, you really think they will buy a war within Whitney’s hierarchy?” Quenton asked.

“Well, they will not have any dissenting voices,” Connor replied. “After all, what other explanation will they have for it?”

Quenton nodded. “It might work, if we have to answer for it at all.” Quenton looked at Whitney then. “The other directors were in on this?”

“You believe this fantasy?” Whitney asked incredulously.

“Every word of it. Thomas does not lie, because he does not have to. The warehouse should have been all you needed for proof of that. On top of being a traitor, you are an idiot. Answer my questions or by God I will have Mr. Connor here take over the interrogation.”

Whitney then looked over at Connor, who smiled affably at him. “Please don’t talk Gordie. You and I can have such fun.”

Whitney’s entire countenance dropped. He stared at the table in front of him for a moment, and then began talking. For the next two hours, they sat enthralled at Whitney’s tale of hidden Swiss accounts, and payoffs at the highest level of the departments charged with the security of the United States. They listened to cover-ups of drug sales, gun running, and the white slave trade, as bargaining chips with the Red Chinese middle man Pierre. Whitney finished talking and looked up at Quenton. Quenton looked over at Connor, who nodded.

“Luckily for you, Thomas here thinks you have told us the entire story.” Quenton switched off the recorder. “Do you have anything else Thomas?”

Connor took a notebook out of his suit pocket, and placed it in front of Whitney with a pen. “Write down all of your passwords, and account numbers Gordie. Then give me the phone numbers and details of how you contact Pierre or your Red Chinese buddies. I want to know where you store your personal computer, and where all of your personal residences are. Do you have any family Gordie?”

“No,” Whitney picked up the pen. “Will I live if I do this?”

Connor smiled. “You are in a position unsuitable for bargaining Gordie. Do as I tell you.”

Connor watched him work on the list for the next twenty minutes. As he started to put down the pen, Connor stopped him. “Sign at the bottom Gordie.”

Whitney signed his name at the bottom of the final page. Connor took the pad and returned it to his suit coat pocket. “Can you hold Gordie here incognito Derek?”

“Of course, but what will we need him here for?”

“Just as a hedge against some final touches I may have to put on an idea I have in mind,” Connor told him. “He can never go to court anyway.”

“No,” Quenton agreed, “but we do have a tribunal in the intelligence services to handle rogue agents, or in Whitney’s case, directors.”

“Good,” Connor nodded. “Can you put him away for now, while we finish our meeting?”

Derek reached under the table again and hit another switch. A minute later two armed guards came into the room. “Take this man out and get him into prison garb. Then put him into the solitary confinement wing. Do not allow him access to anyone or anything. If you have any trouble with him at all, call me immediately.”

The two guards got Whitney up without any acknowledgement other than a nod. Connor waited for the door to close behind the men as they left. He turned to Quenton. “I want Nate in with me Derek. Can you get him transferred into our department? He will be working exclusively with me on special status. You should have some pull when you break this open.”