Red Right Hand

31.

REYES GLANCED AT his watch and frowned when he realized the hands had scarcely moved since the last time he’d looked.

“If you’ve got somewhere else to be,” Segreti said, too loud due to the aftereffects of the flash-bang grenade, “don’t let us keep you.”

Reyes eyed the man-whose name Yancey had never divulged to him-with disdain. He looked so thin and frail as he sat zip-tied on the couch, but the fact was, he’d put up one hell of a fight when they’d stormed the place. He’d played possum until the lead team got within striking distance, then attacked, slicing Liman’s forearm open with a folding knife and kicking out McTiernan’s legs. He’d nearly gotten hold of McTiernan’s gun before Stahelski put him down with a rifle butt to the face.

Lois sat beside Segreti on the couch, frightened, trembling, with Ella on her lap. Lois’s bound hands were buried in the dog’s coat, and she muttered an endless string of soothing nonsense in her ear. It was unclear to Reyes whether she was comforting the dog or vice versa. Either way, it was getting on his nerves.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Reyes said. “Just counting down the seconds until I’m rid of you.”

“You wanna get rid of me? All you’ve gotta do is let me go. I swear you’ll never see me again.”

“Sorry, pal, but I’m not the guy to talk to. You want to plead your case, you’re going to have to take it up with my boss when he gets here.”

“Uh-huh. That’ll go well. Anybody who’d order a raid on an innocent lady’s house is bound to be real reasonable.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Yeah? What are they?”

“Above my pay grade,” Reyes replied.

“Oh, I see. You’re just a goon. A lackey. You’ve got no idea what’s going on here. Tell me, this boss of yours-he got a name?”

“Do you?”

Segreti ignored his question. “Whoever he is, I can tell you he’s crooked as fuck. I don’t know what sort of line he’s fed you, but I can promise you he means to kill me.”

Reyes said nothing.

“Maybe that’s fine with you,” Segreti continued. “Ain’t like I know you from Adam. But if you people are gonna kill me, I say let’s get it over with-don’t make me wait around all day. But please, I’m begging you, let Lois go. She’s not involved in any of this. Only thing she did wrong was let me in when I came knocking.”

“For fuck’s sake, nobody’s killing anybody,” Reyes snapped. Then, to his men: “Gag him, would you? In fact, gag them both.”

The truth was, Reyes didn’t know what to believe. Nothing about this assignment felt right to him. The guy was more dangerous than he let on, sure, but he didn’t strike Reyes as a zealot-and if he really was involved in the bridge attack like Yancey said, why the hell had he been here playing house when they’d busted in?

Still, orders were orders-and Yancey had been handpicked by Bellum’s CEO to head up West Coast operations, which carried weight among the rank and file-so Reyes kept his questions to himself.

While McTiernan and Stahelski gagged the captives, Reyes parted the curtains and looked outside. Night had fallen and a fog bank had blown in. Visibility was terrible, but near as he could tell, the street was empty except for the Humvee he’d arrived in, which was parked along the curb. Civilian vehicles were temporarily banned from all Presidio roads-he’d had to send a man in the other Humvee to meet Yancey at the Veterans Boulevard barricades. Across the street, he could just make out the vague suggestion of two homes identical to the one in which he stood. The fog reduced the nearby streetlights to nothing more than faintly glowing orbs that seemed to hover in the milky white.

Eventually the second Humvee emerged from the mist and parked behind the first. Yancey climbed out, his cell phone to his ear. When he walked through the front door, Segreti’s eyes went wide and he struggled against his bonds, grunting unintelligibly through the gag in his mouth. The Bellum operative standing guard to his right stilled him with a jab to the ribs.

“Listen, Yancey-” Reyes began, but Yancey held up a finger to say Just a minute.

“No shit? Charlie Thompson’s on the line too?” Yancey said into the phone. “Tell me, is she still an insubordinate pain in the ass?” He chuckled. “Easy, Thompson, I’m just busting your balls. You never did know how to take a joke.” A pause. “That’s very kind of you, Assistant Director, but I think we can take it from here. How about you send us what you’ve got so far, and stand down-we’ll let you know if there’s anything else we need. In the meantime, I’m kinda busy here, so…”

Yancey rolled his eyes at Reyes and made a sock-puppet gesture that suggested the person on the other end of the line was blabbing on. “No, not at all. I’m glad you called. It’s always nice to have a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said, his gaze settling on Segreti.

When Yancey hung up the phone, Reyes asked, “Who was that?”

“Feds,” Yancey replied. “Offering assistance, they said. Pissing on their territory, more like.” Then, to Segreti: “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Frank. You are one slippery motherfucker. I never thought I’d see your ugly mug again.”

Reyes eyed Yancey with suspicion. “Wait-you know this guy?”

“Our paths crossed a thousand years ago when I was with the Bureau. Seems like folks are coming out of the woodwork left and right today. I know he doesn’t look like much, but believe me, he’s a grade-A shitheel. We liked him for dozens-if not hundreds-of deaths back in the day, but we could never make them stick. Once he got wind that we were onto him, he up and vanished.”

Segreti snorted.

“That tracks,” Reyes said, his doubts allayed somewhat. “He didn’t go down easy. Had a folding knife hidden in the front pocket of his sweatshirt and wound up cutting Liman pretty good. Poor bastard’s off getting stitched up as we speak.”

“That true, Frank? You get a little feisty with my men?”

Segreti just glared.

Yancey turned his attention to the woman beside Segreti. “Who’s the skirt?”

“Lois Broussard,” Reyes replied.

“This her place?”

“Looks like. It’s leased from the Presidio Trust under the name Calvin Broussard. I’m guessing he’s the gentleman in all the pictures.”

Yancey picked up a framed photo from the side table, glanced at it, and tossed it aside. “And where is ol’ Calvin?”

“Credit card records put him in Reno. Business trip, looks like.”

“Was our guy holding Mrs. Broussard against her will?”

“Not as far as we could tell-which is why we elected to restrain her.”

“What’s your connection to this lady, Frank? You keeping Calvin’s side of the bed warm while he’s gone?”

A single tear slid down Lois’s cheek. Segreti made noises of protest through his gag.

“Sorry, buddy, I didn’t quite get that. But don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up when I transport you to our facility up north for questioning.”

Segreti’s eyes, wide and pleading, darted from Yancey to Reyes.

“If this guy’s tied to the attack in some way, shouldn’t we turn him over to the authorities?” Reyes asked.

“Sure,” Yancey replied. “And I’ll be happy to-just as soon as I’m done with him.”

Segreti thrashed against his restraints. The dog on Lois’s lap growled as Yancey stepped in close and hit Frank twice. Segreti doubled over and sucked wind through his gag. Yancey grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upright.

That’s when the dog lunged.

Yancey yelped as Ella’s teeth sank into his forearm. He released Segreti and flailed wildly until he shook the dog free.

Ella sailed past Lois and slammed into a side table. The lamp atop it rocked and fell, shattering when it hit the floor.

“You okay, boss?” Reyes asked.

Yancey cradled his injured arm to his chest. Blood seeped into his sleeve. “I’m fine.”

“Weddle,” Reyes said, “shut that thing in a bedroom, would you?”

“No,” Yancey replied. “Leave it be.”

Ella hunkered low and snarled.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Reyes asked.

Yancey drew his.357 and aimed it at the dog. “You’re goddamn right I’m sure.”

Lois shrieked through her gag. Segreti strained against his zip-ties.

“Whoa,” Reyes said. “I think maybe we should all just take a breath.”

Yancey ignored him and instead addressed Ella directly. “Christ, look at you. You’re more throw pillow than dog-proof positive that man makes for a capricious god. It took only a couple thousand years for us to turn wolves into accessories for rich bitches.”

“Seriously, boss. I get that you’re pissed, but there’s no need for this. Let me stash her somewhere out of sight, okay?”

“But it’s all just window dressing, ain’t it?” Yancey continued. “Deep down, you’re still half wild; all you wanna do is fight and fuck. It’s not your fault, really-it’s ours for thinking we could change your nature. But if you wanna play Big Bad Wolf with me, I’ll show you how we deal with wolves where I come from.”

“For fuck’s sake, Yancey, put the gun down!”

“You know, son,” Yancey said without taking his eyes off the dog, “it seems to me this little shit ain’t the only one around here who needs to learn who’s in charge.”

Yancey pulled the trigger.

His gun thundered.

But not before Lois threw herself off the couch.

With her arms and legs bound, she went down hard. Yancey’s shot ran parallel to the couch and angled downward to the spot where Ella stood. As Lois fell, it caught her in the sternum. Segreti screamed into his gag. Reyes rushed to Lois’s side-but there was no saving her. The bullet had passed clean through and left an exit wound the size of his fist. She was dead before she hit the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Reyes said. “What did you do?”

Yancey stared at Lois’s corpse in wide-eyed disbelief.

“It wasn’t…” he said. “I didn’t…”

And then the lights went out.