The Killing Chase (Beach & Riley Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter 24

In a small break in the thicket, six miles east of the ski resort, hasty introductions were made. Jake’s business partner and former Ranger instructor, Thomas Walker, had sent his key men from their training facility, the Test, in Northern Kentucky, to join up with Jake and his crew.

“Walker didn’t have any details, but this must be pretty damned important,” former Ranger and Columbus SWAT Captain Fouts said. “Business is going crazy. We’ve got trainees coming out our ears. Not a good time for a field trip.”

“Believe me, this is no field trip,” Jake said. “But it’s about time you guys left that cozy weekend warrior kindergarten for some real action. We can’t have you getting soft.”

“Soft, my ass,” Former Ranger and SWAT breach specialist, Kerr butted in. “Always up for some rock ’n roll, aren’t we boys? What’s the sitrep?”

Fouts, Kerr, and Albrecht listened in growing disbelief while Jake gave them a quick rundown on the DARPA project, Bryan Adler’s resurrection and physical enhancements, and the chase so far. Albrecht paid close attention to the involvement of the former Marine sniper, Robert Chow.

“Pretty hard to make shit like that up,” Fouts said. “We’re with you, buddy.”

“This guy, Chow, is definitely out to torture the target,” Albrecht said. “No way a Marine sniper would miss a kill-shot from the range you mentioned. Not unless he meant to.”

“That’s what we figured,” Jake said. “Whatever his game is, we need to stop him, and quickly. The way I see things, it takes a sniper to catch a sniper. Albrecht, this is your mud puddle. How do you want to play it?”

Albrecht pulled out his binoculars to make a quick sweep toward the ski resort before handing the glasses to Fouts. “I know what I’d do if I was Chow, but there’s usually more than one best way to do things. My gut tells me we split into four teams. You’re the strategist, Fouts. What say you?”

“Sounds like a plan. Kerr, you go as Albrecht’s spotter. I’m guessing the Aussie boys work as a team, so that leaves you and me, Jake. How’s that sit with everyone?”

“Works for us, mate,” Dozer said, giving his brother a playful punch. “Better the devil you know.”

“All right, I’m guessing two hundred yards should cover the search span. So we’ll take a hundred yard spread between each team. Jake and I will track the southern side, Albrecht and Kerr take the middle, and Dozer and Priest take the northern side. Based on the satellite images, we’ll come across several private residences and have to cross a few roads. We don’t want any attention, so keep it tight and clean – silencers on. We brought full comms units, so stick ’em in your ears, and let’s move out. Eyes open, boys.”

The teams spread out to cover the search channel, disappearing into the thick woods. Albrecht had estimated at least a mile before they’d make contact, so they made ground quickly at first. As they approached a road running north-south, Jake got down on his haunches at the edge of the clearing. “Anyone see headlights?”

“Clear to the north, Jakey,” Priest replied. “Crossing now.”

The three teams crossed the road simultaneously and vanished into the woods on the other side. They continued through the surprisingly thick forest at a good pace, occasionally having to circumvent dwellings and cross small private roads. The sun was threatening to rise behind them, but so far darkness had covered their presence. The few residences they came across were either unoccupied weekenders or the occupants were still asleep. At one point Albrecht and Kerr had had to stray slightly north to avoid being spotted by some early-rising cyclists, but the two were soon swallowed up once again by the dense woodlands.

The men had traveled over half the distance to the ski resort when Jake stopped Fouts. He knelt down to speak with the other teams. “I’m getting worried we might have missed them on the way through,” he whispered into his mike. “Adler could have hidden in one of those houses we passed.”

“I don’t think so,” Albrecht said. “I’ve seen a few broken twigs and other signs in the woods. They’re not moving in a straight line, but they’re moving. I say we keep…”

“Contact!” Priest interrupted. “Suppressed rifle fire dead ahead. We’re moving in.”

“Wait for us to get closer.” Jake said, urgency clear in his voice.

“Too late, we’re almost on it.” Priest, the faster of the brothers, darted ahead. By the time Dozer reached him, Priest was bent over a camouflaged man in his forties. He stood and looked at Dozer, shaking his head. “Looks like Adler got sick of being hunted. He must have doubled back and snapped this bloke’s neck like a –”

Before Priest could finish, his breath exploded from his mouth. Adler had appeared from nowhere to kick Priest squarely in the back. The force of the blow knocked Priest flying face-first. As he hit the ground, Adler straddled Priest’s back, raising his fists upward to deal a crushing blow to the Australian’s head. Before Adler began his downward motion, Dozer dived, driving his mass forward like a torpedo into the killer’s midsection.

The two rolled down a small rise in a chaotic bundle of fists and fury, as Priest desperately tried to regain his breath and rejoin the fight. Dozer and Adler separated and faced off. Thoughts of FBI Agent James Foxx’s fate flashed through the big man’s mind, but fury at the cowardly attack on his older but smaller brother overwhelmed all fear.

The much faster serial killer jinked maniacally toward Dozer, getting close enough to strike him hard in the face. Adler followed with two more blindingly fast strikes before the big man lashed out, catching hold of Adler’s throat with his left hand. Holding the smaller man by the neck, Dozer shot his powerful right hand down to Adler’s groin, squeezing like a vise then lifting Adler high over his head.

With a deep, guttural grunt, Dozer heaved Adler’s flailing body at the trunk of a massive tree. The brutal force of impact cracked three of Adler’s chemically strengthened ribs, drawing a shriek of pain from the serial killer.

Adler bounced off the tree and hit the ground before scrambling to his feet. He looked squarely into Dozer’s eyes, seemingly resetting his estimation of the big man. Just as Adler began to make his next move, he flinched suddenly, grabbing at his neck. The flinch had been accompanied by a piercing report, and Dozer knew Albrecht had found his mark with the radioactive marker. Adler snarled in Albrecht’s direction then quickly ducked under a looping right hook from the big Aussie. After his air-swing, Dozer pulled back into a boxing stance, and the serial killer gave him his most evil grin before turning to bolt into the woods.

As Albrecht and Kerr approached, Dozer turned and rushed toward his fallen brother. The fight had been so brief that Priest still hadn’t regained his breath. Dozer pulled him up from the ground and briskly rubbed his solar plexus. “Come on, mate. You’re all right. Just breathe, bro, breathe.”

Priest’s diaphragm finally released from its spasm. He coughed a few times, putting his hand on Dozer’s shoulder for balance. When he’d recovered enough to speak, he said, “I’m still two up on you, mate.”

“Fair go, that had to count as more than one.”

“Yeah, righto then. We’ll call that two. But I’m still one up.”

Albrecht looked to Kerr for some kind of insight, but the seasoned veteran just shrugged and said, “They’re Aussies.”

Jake and Fouts came running in from the south. “What happened?” Jake asked.

“That’s one badass little freak we’ve got on our hands, mate,” Priest said. “Knocked the wind right out of me – gave Dozer a few good whacks too.”

Fouts looked the massive Australian up and down then turned to Jake. “All right, I believe you about the DARPA scientific experiments stuff now.”

“Too bloody right, mate,” Dozer spoke up. “I smashed the little bugger hard against that bloody great tree there, and he just got up like nothing happened. He didn’t much like that shot in the neck you gave him though, mate.”

“I don’t think that’s what did it,” Albrecht said. “Looks to me like our pal, Chow over there, poor bastard, took a few pieces out of him, and I’m pretty sure you broke some of his ribs. The shot just made him aware there were more of us coming.”

“Albrecht’s right,” Jake said. “He’s probably just gone to lick his wounds and regroup. We need to keep the pressure on.”

“What about Chow’s body?” Priest asked. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“I’ll carry him,” Dozer said. “We owe him that much.”

“Not a chance,” Jake said, grabbing Albrecht’s specialized tagging rifle. He fired a shot into a tree behind Chow’s body. “X marks the spot. We’ll pick him up later. In case you hadn’t noticed, Adler was ready to take on Dozer again, even after he broke his ribs. We need all hands on deck for this. Fouts, you man the tracker. I want updates every minute. Now we’ve got him on screen, we stick together. It’s nearly sunrise, we don’t want to be doing this shit in daylight. Let’s move out.”  

Chapter 25

Alan Beach sat, head in hands, beside his wife, Holly. James Foxx’s wife, Danielle, had fallen into a Xanax-induced slumber, leaning on Holly’s shoulder. A lanky Asian surgeon marched into the waiting room, the sharp aroma of chlorhexidine wafting from his freshly scrubbed hands.

“Mrs. Foxx?”

Beach sat bolt upright at the mention of his partner’s name. Rising quickly from his chair, he stood in front of the doctor, while Holly roused Danielle Foxx.

“Is he okay?” Beach blurted out. “I mean, will he be okay?”

“Are you a family member?”

“I’m his partner – FBI.”

Danielle now stood beside Beach and Holly. “I’m his wife. Alan and Holly are family. Please, just tell me how James is.”

“I’m Dr. Chang, head of neurosurgery. I have another case to get to so please excuse my directness. Your husband’s treatment involves a number of surgical specialties. My surgical role was the first to be completed, and the most critical to his survival, so I’ll speak for the other surgeons while they continue to work. Your husband experienced significant cranial trauma, which induced severe swelling of the brain and a dramatic increase in intracranial pressure. We would normally treat this condition with medications, but there was imminent risk of brain herniation. I chose to perform a decompressive craniectomy. This treatment is considered controversial in many cases, but since he also sustained a small lesion on the right temporal lobe, I believe this was the most effective and suitable treatment option.”

“You
believe?”
Beach almost shouted. “How do we know that was the best –”

Holly grabbed her husband’s wrist. “Dr. Chang is the head of neurosurgery, honey. And this is the best surgical hospital in the city. Perhaps you’d like to take a breath.”

“That’s quite all right,” Dr. Chang continued. “Emotions are high – understandably so. But your wife is correct, agent. In all modesty, although your partner’s situation is far from fortuitous, he was quite fortunate to have been brought to this hospital. In the interest of my next patient, I’ll continue.”

Beach nodded.

“The surgery to repair the small lesion in his temporal lobe was successful, while simultaneously allowing the meniscus, or brain sack, to expand and accommodate the excess pressure. We began treatment with diuretics to reduce fluid volume, in combination with some newer medicines to bring the swelling under control. The skull flap will remain open until the medicines can do their job. What I’m going to tell you now is more common than you might think, and no reason for alarm. We had to medically induce a coma for a number of reasons, but suffice to say it’s the best course of action under the circumstances.”

Tears already streamed down Danielle’s face, and now she began to sob.

“I understand your fears, Mrs. Foxx.” Chang put his hand on her shoulder. “But as I said, the coma is no cause for alarm. It will allow his body’s regulatory systems to calm down, helping him to regain homeostasis, or normal balance and function. In all honesty, I fear his neurological recovery will be far swifter than his other conditions.

“As we speak, two of the country’s best orthopedic surgeons are working on his hands. The right hand and wrist are severely damaged, requiring complex setting and pinning. That hand will be in a custom-made traction splint for several weeks, while the left is less damaged, but still requires pinning and a cast.

“Our biggest concern at this point is his cranio-facial structures. Both orbital bones sustained significant damage, along with his cheekbones, nasal cavity, and both jaws. We would normally wait until his neurological condition was more stable before repairing the damage, but your husband is a strong man, and I see the induced coma as an ideal opportunity to undertake the major repairs. To supplement our in-house plastic and reconstructive surgical expertise, we flew in a world-renowned facial bone specialist, Dr. Pemberton, from Harvard Medical Center. We worked together on the nerve-involved facial structures, and he’s now repairing the remaining injuries.

“I have the utmost confidence in our surgical staff, and Dr. Pemberton. Trust me when I say your husband is receiving the best possible care, but it’ll be at least eight more hours until the surgeries are complete. Following surgery, your husband will be closely monitored in ICU until I feel it’s safe to bring him out of his coma.”

              Danielle forced herself to speak. “Will he be… Will there be any…”

              “Brain damage?” Dr. Chang offered. “Only time will tell for certain, but based on my experience, and the speed with which he was brought to us, I’d say his chances for a full recovery are better than fifty percent. He will require superficial follow-up procedures which can’t be performed until the base structures are healed, but we can talk about that later. In the meantime, there really is nothing you can do here. May I suggest you find somewhere comfortable to rest? I’m happy to prescribe a sedative, if you need it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Chang, that won’t be necessary,” Holly said. “I’m a doctor of psychology. She’ll be well taken care of.”

“That’s very fortunate, under the circumstances. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must go.”

They thanked Dr. Chang, then Danielle and Holly sat down to process the information. Beach knelt in front of his partner’s wife. “I’m so sorry, Danielle. I wish there was something I could do or say.”

“You could tell me what happened. And please, spare me the bureau cover stories. I have a right to know.”

Beach looked at her helplessly.

Holly rubbed Danielle’s back, trying to comfort her. “Dan, I know you think you need answers right now, but it won’t help anything. You’re dealing with denial, anger, and other confusing emotions. Much better to follow Dr. Chang’s advice and get some rest.”

“So just drug the wife and keep her quiet, is that your only answer?” Danielle regretted her words even as they came out. She leaned into Holly and wept heavily.

“It’s okay, honey. Better to have a good cry. Just remember what the doctor said, James is a very strong man. He’s going to be all right.”

Holly turned then to look into her husband’s pleading and helpless eyes. She reached out to touch his cheek. “Go and find a comfortable hotel nearby. She needs to sleep.”

*****

“He’s heading for the maintenance shed,” Fouts said. “What’s the move, Jake?”

“I don’t want any civilian casualties,” Jake said. “Kerr, you check that caretaker’s cottage. If there’s anyone there, secure them. Dozer, Priest, and Fouts – on me. Albrecht, you cover us from behind the ski lift. If Adler gets past us, pick a spot that’ll disable him without killing him, and put a round into it.”

“A hip shot, it is. Good deal, boss.” The sniper darted off to set up behind the lift.

Kerr took off after him, while the others waited for Albrecht to take up his position. Jake turned to his remaining team members, then reached over his shoulder into his backpack and pulled out a bizarre piece of equipment.

“What the bloody hell is that?” asked Dozer. “Looks like a lacrosse stick and a crossbow had a baby.”

“You’re not far off,” Jake replied. “It’s a net-bow. Priest, this one’s for you. Point it straight at his head, and when he’s fifteen to twenty feet away, pull this trigger. It’ll shoot a specially made net that’ll open just before it hits him.”

“Sounds a bit dodgy, mate. You sure it’ll be strong enough to hold the little prick?”

“It’s made of Golden Orb Weaver web fiber. It’s got four times the tensile strength of the same gauge stainless steel cable. You’d be lucky to cut it with your knife.”

“Golden Orb Weaver?” Dozer said. “You mean the spider? Bloody hell, I remember having to clean their webs off Mum and Dad’s front porch when we were kids. Sticky as buggery and seriously strong.”

“The weaving process makes it hundreds of times stronger,” Jake said. “I’ve got bulletproof vests made of it. I don’t care how many exotic steroids they’ve stuck in him, you get this thing on him, he’s going nowhere.”

“What’ll we be using, Jake?” Fouts asked.

Jake pulled another net-bow out of his pack, unfolded it, and locked the body into place. He handed the weapon to Fouts then reached into his pack again. This time, he drew out two shiny, well-worn rattan sticks, just under two feet long.

“What do you plan to do with those skinny little buggers?” Dozer wanted to know.

“Trust me boys,” Fouts said, shaking his head ominously. “You don’t want to be on the receiving end. I’ve seen our boy in action with those things. He’ll turn you black and blue all over in under five seconds. What do you call them again, Jake?”

“Sticks.”

“Oh, very droll. I mean what’s the name of that thing you do with them?”

“It’s called Arnis – an ancient Filipino fighting art. Yes, I can blacken a good part of your body with them before you know what hit you, but that’s not the point of this exercise. Once Adler’s netted, I’ll be standing by in case he manages to untangle himself. If he does get free before Dozer can stick this paralyzing agent into his neck, you’ll see exactly what they’re for.”