Kill Zone: A Lucy Guardino FBI Thriller (34 page)

He was betting his life on it.

“Where is it, then?” the Gangsta leader demanded.

“What’s your name?” Nick asked. Behind him Sister Patrice loaded people into the van, but Nick had to play a long game—one vanload escaping wasn’t going to help the folks left behind. “I’m Nick.”

“He’s Tee-Bo,” someone behind him shouted.
 

“Pleased to meet you, Tee-Bo.”

“Cut the bullshit, white boy. Where’s the stash?”

Ahh… the million dollar question. He could feel the people behind him tense, ready to dive for cover. Curtains fluttered in windows all around the Terrace. All eyes on Nick.

“If you give me one minute to discuss that with my friends here,” Nick said. “I’ll get you your answer. But you have to promise me that when you get what you came for, you’ll leave these people in peace and not come back. Do I have your word on that, Tee-Bo?”

Tee-Bo raised his gun. Nick’s cheeks grew icy and his heart pounded in his ears as he waited for the Gangsta to pull the trigger.

But all Tee-Bo did was use the pistol to scratch between his shoulder blades. “You give me the Ripper’s stash and I leave, that’s it?”

“You leave and don’t come back.” Nick let his Virginia accent creep into his conversation. A southern accent made every negotiation feel a little more civil. “On your word of honor as a gentleman.”

One of Tee-Bo’s men snickered at the last. “Tee-bo ain’t no gentleman.”

Tee-Bo whirled at that, aimed his gun at the speaker. “No one asked you, mo’fucker. We trying to have a civilized discussion here. Why you go ruint it?”

The speaker looked down. Scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe. “Thought the dude was joking, is all. Playing you.”

Tee-Bo turned back to Nick. “You playing me, white boy?”

“No sir. We both want the same thing here. I’m just trying to facilitate the process.”

The Gangsta thought for a moment. “Guess I have nothing to lose. Go on, you’ve got one minute. I’m counting it down.” He raised his gun, pointed it at the civilians behind Nick. “You don’t give me what I want after that, I start shooting. The kids first.”

<><><> 

At first, Fatima balked at going with Lucy. After what she’d been through today, Lucy totally understood. “I’m with the FBI. Here to help.”

Fatima nodded and moved a little faster. “My husband?”

“David Haddad and other agents are getting him out. But we’re a bit outnumbered, so I’m going to need you and the baby to hide for awhile.”

“Where?” She looked around, one hand cradling her baby’s head against her shoulder. The baby must have just eaten; he was groggy, eyes drooping. “Where is safe?”

Nowhere,
was the honest truth. Lucy pointed to the large glass pyramid up the hill ahead of them. “In there. Here,” she handed Fatima her phone, “take this. That way we’ll be able to find you when the coast is clear.”

Fatima faltered, looking up at the building towering over the trees before them.
 

“It’s the best way,” Lucy urged. Together they ran up the path into the trees. The trail took a few curves as it climbed to the Primate Habitat.

They emerged onto a large clearing where several branches of the paved footpath converged. On the far side were the steps up to the entrance to the Primate Habitat. But that’s not what stopped Lucy.

What stopped her was the State Police helicopter neatly parked in the center of the clearing. Trooper 4 the call sign on the tail read.

She’d found the Staties' downed helo. Only it looked perfectly undamaged. As did the man in the flight suit coming around the nose towards her. He was inspecting the helicopter, hadn’t spotted them yet, but he would any second.

“Run,” she told Fatima. “I’ll find you inside. Hide and stay quiet.”

“But, he’s a police—”

“Go, now.” She shoved Fatima towards the steps as she swung the Remington over her shoulder and into her hands.

Fatima ran with the baby. The movement alerted the pilot who whirled and drew his weapon. He spun, aiming at Fatima's back.
 

Lucy raised the shotgun. "I'm FBI," she shouted. "Lower your weapon."

He shifted his aim to her. His first shot went wide. She didn't give him a chance for a second one. The blast from the Remington echoed through the trees, drawing shrieks and squawks from the animals within hearing distance. She’d loaded the shotgun with slugs, solid projectiles, rather than buckshot. She was about ten yards away from her target, and at that distance she rarely missed.

She didn’t this time either. The pilot staggered back against the helicopter. Lucy checked her perimeter, no one coming yet, and raced over to his body, kicking his weapon out of his hand. No need to worry. Not with the fist-sized hole ripped through his chest.

Chapter 40

Someone–Zapata, Andre assumed–shouted down the hallway in Spanish. The guards left. Didn’t even wait for Darius’ permission. Well, now. That said a lot about the pecking order around here. Darius may have thought he was trading up, but it was pretty damn obvious he was low man on the Zapata totem pole.

Andre almost made a break for it when Giselle arrived, but Darius had the gate shut behind her too fast. She staggered under the weight of a three-gallon can of gasoline she carried with both hands. Darius held his .357 Magnum on Andre, motioned to him to turn to face the outside wall. The blood steamed down Andre’s belly thick enough that it left a stain on the plexiglass window.

“Unlock the gate,” Darius ordered. He meant the animal gate that took up the lower half of the wall below the observation window. Andre had a feeling he knew what was coming and tried to decide which option would be worse: fire or dog meat.
 

But an exit was an exit. Andre pulled the latch open. The metal gate swung free in both directions, the only thing holding it shut was Andre’s foot braced against it. It was a three-foot square—he could easily make a break for it. Had a feeling Darius hoped that he would.
 

The wild dogs weren’t far; he could hear their snuffling and chittering in the enclosure beyond the gate. Excited by the scent of fresh blood.
 

"Giselle, get the lights," Darius ordered.

The fenced in area beyond the window lit up as overhead spotlights came to life. Three dogs were caught in the beam. They must have been used to it, because they didn't run to hide in the shadows. Instead, they raised their snouts, their strange over-sized ears cocked at attention, and strolled forward. Four more dogs emerged from the darkness to join them, chirping and calling to each other as they created a perimeter, ready for an ambush.
 

"I checked them out," Darius told Andre. "These dogs have an eighty percent kill success. Lions only have a thirty percent. Eighty percent, that's gotta be a helluvalot higher than any damn Marine's."

Damn impressive, Andre thought, studying his opponents. In profile the dogs' heads looked a lot like German Shepherds, if you ignored the over-sized saucer-shaped ears and the curious markings that did indeed look like they'd been painted on. Their bodies resembled greyhounds, lean and hungry looking, like the dogs he'd encountered in Afghanistan, although he was certain the Pittsburgh zookeepers kept this pack well fed. In fact, he was counting on that.

A wire fence about twenty feet away separated this enclosure from the main dog exhibit. Which meant that his fastest escape route would be by moving to the front of the building and getting over the fence there. He could do that. Absolutely.

Andre turned to face Darius. One last chance to see if there was another way out of this. If he could get the gun away from Darius… but, no, Darius stayed just far enough away that it would be suicide even trying.

“Gonna give you a choice, dawg.” Darius let out a weird choked-down giggle. Like he was drunk or high or something. Enjoying this that much. He grabbed the gasoline from Giselle, almost knocking her over. She clung to the gate behind Darius, staring at Andre as if expecting him to save her.

Darius kept the pistol trained on Andre as he swung the gasoline around, dousing the straw bales that stood between him and Andre. He set the gas can down. Took a silver-plated lighter from his pocket. “You can choose the fire or take your chances with the dogs.”

Giselle edged out through the gate but didn’t shut it. Was she holding it open for Darius? Or Andre?

Andre decided he’d rather face a pack of wild dogs than gamble on a crack whore. “Already beat fire once,” he taunted Darius. “Reckon I'll try the dogs this time.”

Giselle's expression turned from pleading to anger. Her eyes went so wide he could see the whites around them. She shook the cage door hard. What did she want from him? Not like his burning to death could save her from Darius.
 

“I was hoping you’d say that." Darius stood poised to strike the lighter if Andre reneged. "Go on. Let's see what you got."

Andre didn't wait. He crouched down, his muscles stretching, and lunged through the dog-door. He slapped his hands against the ground, pushing himself to his feet as quickly as possible once he'd cleared the opening.

The dogs didn't growl. Just that strange chirping that could have been crickets. But they were obviously communicating, re-arranging themselves as if they each had their own job. Kind of like his squad. You had your 203 gunner with his SAW, your guys with M4s, your point man, your Sergeant.

He stared at the dogs, picked out the one who seemed to be their leader as he scanned the area for possible weapons. There were no rocks or sticks in sight. He kept his back to the wall, edging past the observation window.

Darius thumped on the window, obviously disappointed with the action. "Get in there and fight them, Andre," he shouted. "You don't, she's dead."

Andre swiveled his gaze to see what Darius was talking about. Darius stood at the window but held his gun aimed at Giselle who still stood at the door. She looked around her, realized there was no escape. Even if she locked Darius inside the cage, he could shoot her through the holes in the wire. Plus, Zapata's men controlled the building.
 

"Come here and watch your boyfriend fight for you, bitch," Darius called to Giselle, gesturing with his free hand. "Get your ass over here now or I'll kneecap you. Won't be no great loss. You're no good for anything unless you're flat on your back anyway."

"Wait," Andre shouted. The dogs' ears swiveled at the noise. Their leader took a step forward, chest pushed out. "Don't hurt her. I'll do it."

He stepped away from the wall. The dogs moved to circle him, but they kept a wary distance. Andre looked over his shoulder to check Darius' reaction. He had his face pressed against the window, motioning with his pistol for Andre to keep going.

Giselle backed away from Darius. Tears streamed down her face, ruining her makeup. As soon as she got to the other side of the gasoline-soaked bales of straw, she took her rhinestone encrusted lighter from the pocket of her trench coat.

"No!" Andre lunged towards the window. Darius realized something was wrong and turned to look just as Giselle closed the gate. She thumbed down the striker. The lighter flared to life. She threw it through the wire, into the cage. Flames engulfed the small room.

The dogs fled. Darius' screams filled the night. Andre flung the dog door open, got down on his hands and knees and tried to reach Darius. God, the smell. How could he have ever forgotten that smell? The heat coming from inside the cage made the sweat on Andre’s torso sizzle and pop like oil in a skillet.
 

Darius grabbed onto Andre's arm. But instead of letting Andre pull him free of the inferno, he tried to yank Andre inside with him. Giselle shrieked. Andre could barely hear her over the roar of the fire.

The cage had become a mass of blazing red flames and black smoke. Flames traveled around the wire mesh door. Andre pulled away from Darius, had to slap out flames that had found his sweatpants. Black smoke billowed from the small opening. The heat was unbearable. Finally he rolled away.

That’s when he heard the other screaming. From the front of the building. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, it was choked off too fast.

Andre climbed to his feet. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, follow the dogs to safety. But Giselle was still in there. She'd just saved his life. He couldn't leave her.

He stumbled around the corner to the rear door. It was unlocked. The knob was warm but not so hot that he couldn't hold it. He braced himself against the wall, knowing the sudden increase in oxygen would feed the flames. This was suicide, the tiny sane portion of his brain whimpered. He was going to die in there, eaten by flames.
 

He remembered the pain, remembered how it felt when he couldn't save his men. Then he opened the door.

<><><> 

Lucy kept the helicopter at her back as she edged towards its nose, scanning the area for a second pilot. She checked on Fatima’s position. The mother and child had made it to the top of the steps leading into the building. Footsteps came from behind Lucy. She whirled.