The Blonde

7:32 a.m.

Pennsylvania Hospital, Room 803

A flash of the badge got Kowalski the room number of the Jane Doe who had rolled in during the middle of the night; the spiky-haired blonde at the front desk seemed impressed. Homeland Security. Oooh, ahhhh, keeping America safe. People really dug the holographic eagles. He led Jack up to the eighth floor. Jack, who kept checking his watch nervously. Guy thought he was headed up to a poison-control center to get treated for luminous toxin poisoning. Hilarious. Hadn’t this guy ever watched D.O.A.? He liked Kelly White even more.

Kelly was in bed, hooked up to machines. Her back was arched. Her eyes were fluttering beneath her lids. But she wasn’t alone.

A tall man with thinning hair was leaning over her, syringe in his hand. “Oh,” he said. “You’re here to save Vanessa, aren’t you?”

“Actually,” Kowalski said, “I’m here for the breakfast. The sausage patties are out of this world.”

Vanessa, huh.

The man straightened up and smiled. “You caught me putting her down for the night. We’re getting ready for a long weekend getaway. Just the two of us.”

“Sounds nice,” Kowalski said, edging closer to the bed. His leg brace squeaked. “Somewhere warm?”

“Scorching,” he said.

They were two monsters, sizing each other up. Kowalski saw it in the guy’s eyes, behind the mask of teddy bear features and wispy blond hair. The eyes … yeah, the eyes revealed all. He’d seen some nasty things. Caused them, too.

“Looks like you’re traveling light,” Kowalski said. “Maybe you’d want to borrow my bag.”

“Seems full already.”

“Not much in here, actually. Take a look.” He dropped the gym bag on Kelly’s bed, right between her legs.

The thin-haired man looked behind Kowalski. “Who’s your friend?”

“We’re getting married in April. I always wanted to be a spring bride. Go ahead. Look in the bag.”

“Does he scratch in bed? Your face is an absolute horror.”

“He’s rough, but we’re in love.”

Thinny here wasn’t going to look in the bag. Too smart a monster for that. No chance for a distraction.

Yet, there was.

Kelly’s eyes snapped open. She whipped out her left hand, grasped the Operator’s hand—the one holding the syringe—and forced it down and back. A violent needle jab to the abdomen, many, many inches below the belly button. The man’s mouth made a perfect O shape.

“Fucker!” Kelly hissed.

Kowalski moved quickly. He slapped Thinny across his nose with an open palm. But Thinny didn’t seem all that stunned. So Kowalski hit him again with a backslap. Harder this time.

The guy wrenched his hand out from under Kelly’s, grabbed the heart monitor from the rack, and bashed it across Kowalski’s face. Wires whipped behind it like dreadlocks. Kowalski staggered backward. He smashed into a table of steel instruments, which went flying everywhere. He could feel the blood gushing down the side of his face even before he hit the linoleum. His hands trembled uncontrollably. Oh fuck.