Perfect Weapon. Amy J. Fetzer
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took pictures and a sample, he stared toward the cavern’s tourist side. He’d bet a hundred that the carefully disguised door at Tatiana’s Veil hadn’t been destroyed. Inside the cavern formation Tatiana’s Veil hid the interior doorway into the facility. The only other route in or out was the escape lift. Likewise disguised from the untrained eye, the escape hatch was locked from inside the Cradle and a Marine guard had the only codes and turnkey. The inhabitants of the lab didn’t know it existed. Except, apparently, Dr. Hale. Wickum met up with him, pressing on the earpiece that wasn’t hidden all that well. Cisco wondered if that made him feel important. He hated the things. Communication aside, it was like someone in your head just to annoy you.
Wickum spoke softly while Cisco lit a slender Cuban cigar. He dragged on the smoke, his gaze narrow and moving over the mountain, the caverns. He tried to visualize how it went down.
“We’ve found a body.”
He glanced at Wick. “Excellent. Now we have something.”
“Victim’s wearing black ops gear and has a semiautomatic machine pistol.”
Cisco clenched the cigar between his teeth. “Crap.”
Three
This was bullshit, Jack thought, opening the office door. The ranger station looked like a command post at Threat Con Delta. There were more cops, rangers, and firefighters in here than necessary. Three murders didn’t call for this. Okay, sure, a gas leak was plausible, and maybe there was an explosion somewhere—he’d certainly felt the earth move—but then, where was the equipment used to dig out after such a blast? Air tanks, compressors, bulldozers, backhoes? The crew?
Too many doing too little, he thought, easing out of the room and down the hall. People ignored him despite his uniform. His Marine utilities had been stripped of insignia, too frayed for service, but perfect for hunting. He’d bet five bucks everyone here figured him for a local boy hunting, since anyone could get old camouflage uniforms from Army surplus. It made things easier. He moved to the end of the corridor, listening. Ranger Pearl, a bulky man who needed to do a few sit-ups, was talking with another guy, short, Asian. Between them, Pearl held a videotape. The little Asian man was gesturing wildly, but no one could understand him.
Jack could. Two tours in Iwakuni and Okinawa gave him a small handle on the language. But the man was chattering so fast, Jack only caught words. Woman. Long head hair, he translated loosely and would have been amused if he wasn’t listening so hard. Ding wah. Phone. Stain? No. Blood. Well, the little guy had Jack’s attention. The ranger motioned to a man in jeans with a police shield on his belt, and when he approached, the Asian man started all over again before the cop led him into another office, taking the tape.
When Pearl turned toward him, Jack said, “What’s that about?”
Pearl hesitated. “Just a local convenience store owner. Words out to a few locals about your buddies.” At Jack’s look, he added, “We capped the rumors, I swear, but this guy’s got a video from his store. We think it’s got a suspect on it.”
Jack would bet it didn’t. “I want to see it.”
The ranger stared back, and Jack felt him waver. “Come on man, these are my pals. Marines. They’ve been to Afghanistan, Iraq; Lyons and Decker had Purple Hearts, for crying out loud. They’ve seen hard corps battle and were shot in the head like fish in a barrel. You either have something or not. And I was up there, I could tell you if you have something.”
Pearl sighed. “I saw the tape. It’s a woman.”
Jack reared back, scowling. “Describe her.”
“Average height, hair looked dark on the video. She was wearing a black skirt and jacket. The store owner’s English is bad, but we think he saw blood on her when she came in. That’s why he gave over the tape.”
“You’re wrong about her.”
“Sir, I know you’re upset about your friends, understandably—”
Just then, the cop stepped out with the Asian man and Jack pinned the officer with a hard stare. “You’re wrong,” he said. “That woman didn’t kill my pals.”
“Remind me never to take you into confidence, Pearl,” the cop groused and the ranger reddened.
Jack ignored him. “She was with me and running for her life.”
“Maybe she was running from the murders she’d just committed? You said she had a gun.”
“Yes, I did. But her nine millimeter military issue didn’t make the holes in my Marines’ heads. Long-range weapons did.” Jack flicked a hand toward the Asian man. “What did he say?”
“We need a translator, his English isn’t great.”
Jack looked at the little man, bowing a bit, then said, “Tell me the story,” in Japanese.
“You speak it?” Pearl asked, impressed.
Jack glanced his way, eyeballing him. “I can swear in five languages, but little beyond that.” He looked back at the storekeeper. “Tell me,” he said in Japanese.
The man’s eyes rounded and he started talking again, fast.
“She went straight to the bathroom, then made a phone call.” Jack tapped his watch. “How long was she there?”
“Ju.”
“Ten minutes. When she left, she headed south. He said he looked down the road and she was already gone.” Jack thanked the man, then looked at the cop. “I want to see that tape.”
“I need to review it again, then maybe.”
“I’m your only witness.”
“Yeah and the only one alive to tell the truth, too. Kind of works against you.”
Jack wasn’t going to point out that if he had actually killed his friends why would he report it and hang around. “You know, I don’t see you doing much about my pals. And when the press gets wind that three decorated U.S. Marines were murdered in cold blood in your county, and left on a mountainside…” He let that hang for a second. “Are we communicating here?” Jack gestured between himself and the cop. “I think we are.” He glanced at Pearl. “Don’t you?”
Pearl smothered a rude sound. Neither man realized Jack was about to blow a gasket.
“Are you threatening me?” the officer said.
Jack shrugged, giving him his best good ole boy look. “I’m about five minutes away from pounding you into the concrete; you be the judge.”
The officer glanced over him, unimpressed. “Must be the trauma making you act so stupid,” he said. “Did you know this woman?”
“Nope, never saw her until she was running down the hill with men chasing her. And I’d been out there since five A.M., which I already told Pearl here.”
The cop ignored that. “And you believed her story.”
“You’re not listening. I saw them, heard the gunfire. I’m sure there are a few rounds in the ground, the trees—my men,” Jack growled back, wanting to wipe the floor with this guy. “What’re you gonna do about it?” It was tough keeping all this inside and not having at least his punching bag to pound.
The cop scraped a hand across the back of his neck. “And you say you shot one man.”
“I found a man dead with a hole in him. She could have shot him, but I’m guessing I have better aim.”
“Where did this woman come from? There is nothing up there but the caverns.”
“Maybe she fell asleep after a tour, how the hell should I know? I didn’t get her name and number.” But he had the ID tag, and survival instincts said don’t let the cops in on that just yet. He wanted to find her, question her before the cops stopped every bit