Red Right Hand

38.

THE TRUNK HATCH opened, and cool, clean air rushed in. Cameron’s eyes fluttered. She whimpered as she stirred, the sound muffled by the socks once again in her mouth.

“Up and at ’em,” Yancey said. Then he slapped her awake and dragged her out of the Cadillac by her hair.

Tears welled in her eyes. Her face and scalp burned. She tried to get her feet beneath her, but after a night spent zip-tied in the trunk, her limbs were clumsy, leaden, unresponsive. She wound up lying on the concrete, its chill leeching through her clothes.

They were in a parking garage, empty on this level except for the Cadillac. Dawn threatened but had yet to break. The world outside was bathed in blue, its details blurred by fog.

“I’m gonna remove your gag and cut you free, but if you scream or try to run, I swear to Christ I’ll shoot you. Understand?”

Cameron nodded.

He sliced through her zip-ties with a utility knife and pulled the socks from her mouth. Cameron coughed so hard she thought she might throw up. He’d stuffed them in way farther than last time, and his extracting them had triggered her gag reflex.

“Here,” he said, uncapping a bottle of water and handing it to her. “Drink this.”

She took a cautious sip. Swished it around her mouth. Swallowed, wincing. Then she gave the bottle back to him, her hands shaking so badly, it spilled.

“That’s all you want?”

She colored. “I…I have to pee.”

Yancey made her squat behind the Cadillac while he watched. The moment seemed to stretch on for hours. As she was zipping up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. He’d beaten her so badly, she didn’t recognize herself.

“These are for you.” He placed a floppy hat and oversize sunglasses on her head. “Now gimme your hands.”

She did as he asked. He zip-tied them again-in front of her this time-and draped a cheap plastic tourist poncho over them.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s happening?”

“That’s up to your buddy. He called a few minutes ago. Said be ready to move come sunrise. Guess you must mean something to him after all.”

“You won’t beat him, you know. He’s too good.”

“Funny. That’s exactly why I think I will.”

Yancey drove them to a parking lot in Laurel Heights. It was teeming with Bellum operatives when they arrived. He backed the Cadillac into an empty spot and pocketed the keys.

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” he said. “You don’t do as I say, I fucking kill you. You speak out of turn-to my men, your buddy, anyone-I fucking kill you. You so much as look at me funny, I fucking kill you. Are we clear?”

“W-we’re clear,” Cameron replied.

“Good. Now stay put, and don’t touch anything.”

As he climbed out of the car, Yancey’s phone chimed, indicating a text. It appeared to have originated from an anonymous e-mail account rather than another phone. The sender’s name was Tick Tock. The content of the message was a photo of his daughter and her young twins, taken through the window of their nursery.

A shiver crawled up Yancey’s spine. He cursed Lombino under his breath and shot off a quick reply: Stand down. Target acquired. Then he stuffed his phone into his pocket as Reyes spotted him and trotted over.

Reyes’s suit was rumpled and grass-stained at knees and elbow. His neck was mottled with bruises. He looked as if he hadn’t slept or showered. When he spotted Cameron through the Caddy’s windshield, he stopped short.

“Jesus, boss, that girl’s a mess. You didn’t-”

“Of course not,” Yancey snapped, irritation masking his fear. “She was like that when I picked her up. Near as I could tell, it was justified-she did a number on the men who apprehended her.”

“If you say so,” Reyes replied doubtfully. “Who is she? What’s her connection to our POI?”

“Sorry. All I’m authorized to say is, she means enough to the guy who snatched our prisoner from us that he’s agreed to make a trade, so if we’re lucky, all three of them will be in custody by day’s end.” Yancey had no intention of allowing any of them to be taken alive, but he needed Bellum’s resources to get him close enough to put them down. If that meant feeding Reyes a heaping helping of bullshit, then so be it. “Did you do as I requested?”

“Yeah. Local law enforcement’s on the lookout for the man who attacked us at the Broussard house. They’ve got strict instructions to inform us if he’s spotted but to keep their distance. I leaked his picture to the press too and warned he might be planning follow-up attacks; there are stories posted online already, and his photo will be on TV within the hour. The Feds assure me they’re going to funnel anything credible that comes in via the tip line straight to us. And I’ve stationed Bellum teams throughout the city, so we can move on him wherever he pops up. Not as many as I’d like, since some of our guys are busy doing God knows what-”

Yancey raised a hand to stop him. “Look. You’re frustrated. I get it. Being out of the loop sucks. You gotta understand, though, you’re still new to the organization, and you’ve yet to prove your worth. This op could be your chance to do just that, but first, I need to know that I can count on you. So whaddya say, Reyes: Are you in, or are you out?”

Reyes eyed the girl inside the Cadillac and frowned. “I’m not going to lie to you. None of this makes any sense to me-and when it’s over, I expect some goddamn answers. But Bigelow’s in the ICU right now, and Weddle’s been in surgery all night. The bastard responsible should be made to pay for what he’s done. If, as you say, this girl’s our chance to make that happen-”

“She is.”

“-then I’m in.”