A guy was at the sink washing his hands. Otherwise the bathroom appeared empty. He could hear the flight announcements over the loudspeaker in the pub beyond. Ryan dropped silently down to the floor and shook his head. He was way too wound up. Right now, he needed to get rid of the damn knife and get through security. Once there, it would be a lot harder for anyone to come after him.
He turned to set the knife down behind the toilet, when the stall door was kicked in. The loud, metallic bang echoed off the walls. Hands immediately went around his neck and his legs were kicked out from under him. Ryan fell towards the open toilet but managed to grab the rim before hitting ground. Remembering the large knife he held in his hand, he jabbed backwards, hard. A scream sounded behind him and the hands around his neck dropped. He turned to face his attacker. Ryan recognized him immediately. Frederick Färber. He was the one who had taken him in San Diego and forced him to watch the DVD of the Petersen murders, and he had told Ryan he had been the one to murder Selena.
A rage stirred inside Ryan. Färber was bleeding from a slash mark on his right side. Ryan kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying straight back through the open door and knocking him against a sink. Färber’s head thunked hard against it. He staggered and regained his balance, desperately swinging a right hook into Ryan’s face. Ryan stumbled back a few steps. His attacker lunged towards him, giving Ryan only seconds to swing the knife downwards into the man’s chest. Färber took two steps back, his large hands covering the open wound above his heart, his eyes wild. There was blood everywhere. Ryan grabbed Färber before he collapsed and shoved him into a stall, onto the toilet seat. Ryan arranged the unconscious man so he wouldn’t fall off the toilet.
He quickly searched Färber’s pockets for a cell phone and his wallet for money. If the guy woke up, he would have difficulty contacting anyone without a phone or cash. Then Ryan wiped down the handle of the knife and placed it inside Färber’s jacket. He closed the stall door behind him, cleaned himself as best he could, and exited the restroom. He did his best to appear calm and ordinary as he rapidly walked away from the pub towards security, boarding pass in hand.
Ryan knew there was no turning back. One of Redding’s other henchmen could locate and kill him, or he could be arrested for the attack he’d just committed. Amazingly, he made it through security, found his gate, and took a seat in the waiting area, trying hard not to look conspicuous even though he was terrified. Passengers were beginning to line up at the gate—the plane was boarding.
Ryan took Färber’s cell phone from the man’s his pocket and searched through the contact list. It didn’t take him long to find Redding’s information. Ryan knew exactly what he needed to do next.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
It was already three in the morning, and neither Julio nor Kelly had gotten any sleep. After returning from the Buena Vista, they’d stayed up to see what they could find out about Brightman, Pearson, and Jake. They were looking for a connection…the missing puzzle piece.
It took some time, but they eventually uncovered a link between Pearson and Brightman. Thanks to Julio’s “side jobs,” he had an unusual amount of access to normally secure government databases. He’d spent part of the night on the telephone talking to different people and asking for favors. But the link between Pearson and Brightman wasn’t found in a government or covert database. Instead, she discovered it four web pages in via Google.
Kelly let out a low whistle. “Hey, Julio, think we hit the jackpot. At least a little.”
Julio was in the kitchen getting her another cup of coffee. He came over, setting a mug down on the table, and bent over the laptop. “What is it?”
“Read that.” She pointed to the screen.
Julio leaned in closer and clucked his tongue.
The article was from an East L.A. community paper, dated 2009.
New Women’s Health Center Opens in East Los Angeles:
A new women’s health center opened on Monday morning in East Los Angeles. Located in one of the poorer areas of the city, the much-needed center is a welcome addition to the community. With a women’s homeless shelter only two blocks away, many young women will receive the care they need. The center is non-profit and staffed by volunteer doctors. A top obstetrician and neo-natal pediatrician from County Hospital, Dr. Pierce Brightman and Dr. Joe Pearson, also serve on the board and volunteer one day a week at the center. Brightman says his main goal is to educate the women who come to the center. “We will provide free pre-natal vitamins to ensure pregnant women in the community are receiving proper nutrition and care.”
“I had no idea either Pearson or Brightman were such good Samaritans,” Kelly said.
“I doubt they were,” Julio replied. “If I had to guess, I would say the three girls who died at the hospital visited this clinic. And they either lived close by or at the shelter.”
“Lupe Salazar lived at the shelter for sure.”
“Right.
In any case, there’s a good chance Brightman and Pearson are murderers.”
“What? Like serial killers?” Kelly was skeptical.
“No, not exactly.”
Julio grabbed a few papers off the printer. “There were drugs in those young women and their babies. At least we know for sure they were in Lupe and Baby S. And they weren’t your typical street drugs, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Look here.” He pointed to the top paper in his hand. “This article came out in 1991. There was even a special on 60 Minutes about Farrakhan’s rhetoric.”
“Louis Farrakhan?”
“Yup.
He had all sorts of crack-pot theories about how the U.S. government was out to get African Americans. For example, he accused the government of targeting forty-ounce beer specifically at black people, to disempower them. He also claimed the same about crack-cocaine, and even went so far as to say AIDS was a bio-weapon the government used to keep the population of various races down.”
“Really?”
“Really.
Now it sounds crazy and I personally think Farrakhan was off his rocker. But, like I mentioned to you last night, governments around the world have done things exactly like what Farrakhan claimed. In fact, in the 1970’s, there was a college text book titled “Ecoscience: Population, Resources, Environment.” It was co-authored by Obama science czar John Holdren. This guy and the co-authors stated that compulsory, government-mandated “green abortions” would be a constitutionally acceptable way to control population growth and prevent ecological disasters, including global warming, because a fetus was most likely not a “person” under the terms of the 14th Amendment.
“Where are you going with this?” Kelly asked.
“Hear me out,” Julio said and took a sip of his coffee. “The authors of this text also suggested government-mandated population control measures might be inflicted in the United States against welfare recipients. They argued involuntary birth-control measures, including forced sterilization, may be necessary and morally acceptable under extreme conditions, such as widespread famine brought about by “climate change.”
“You think the government is covertly aborting fetuses or sterilizing welfare recipients to try and control the population?” Kelly asked.
“I think it’s possible, and I think Brightman and Pearson were on someone’s payroll. I don’t know how they are giving the drugs to the women, but I’m convinced it’s happening.”
Kelly sat back for a moment and thought about the various tests women have to undergo during pregnancy. Then she looked Julio in the eye. “It’s the pre-natal vitamins. It has to be. It’s something a pregnant woman takes regularly. Most of the other tests involve blood withdrawals but few require injections or medication.”
Julio nodded thoughtfully. “I think you’re onto something, Kelly.” He stood, yawning. “And now, my dear, I say we try to get a couple hours sleep. I should have everything arranged for our island adventure by seven and then we’re off to chat with Dr. Brightman.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Peter woke with a very bad feeling. Somewhere along the way he’d lost control. Killing Susan probably had not been a great idea, but she’d pushed him and he’d snapped. Literally.
But once he’d done it, he regretted it. After all, she was good in bed and had helped the project. He’d wrapped her up and carried her down to the basement. Thank God his place had one. He wanted her body as far away from him as possible. Now he needed to call in somebody to get rid of her. Good thing he had someone on the payroll who could handle it. He made the call, knowing by the time he was out of his morning shower, she’d be gone.
Susan’s body was the least of his worries considering it was only nine o’ clock and he’d started receiving calls three hours ago from a handful of colleagues on the board. They’d gotten word there was trouble and Wentworth was unhappy. Wentworth! Maybe he was another mistake too. Did these incompetents not understand their mission? The reason behind everything they did and everything they stood for? It was frustrating to say the least.
Now there were two women on the run: Doctor Kelly Morales and Jeanine Horner. And then there was Ryan Horner. He was probably the largest threat of the three. Kelly Morales likely didn’t know anything, and whatever she thought she knew would sound like insane rambling to the authorities. Not to mention, Peter had quite a few authorities on his pay roll. As for Jeanine Horner, she may have information but unfortunately for her, she was now a suspect in the murder of her dear friend and the kidnapping of the woman’s infant. But Dr. Ryan Horner knew too much. He had too many details. If he got the attention of the right person, or in this case, the wrong one, everything could come crashing down. Finding him was key.
Peter made phone calls to men who could help him get the answers he needed, and he’d learned a few things. Kelly Morales was somewhere in San Francisco and had spoken with a nurse from the hospital.
He paced the length of his swimming pool—his head pounding after last night. Although it was a crisp morning, he was perspiring. Fuck!
Peter threw himself into one of the lounge chairs and finished off his second cup of coffee. His cell phone rang. He wasn’t prepared to have another conversation but the call was from Connor. Thank God for Conner. He’d contacted Peter after Mark had about the incident yesterday with Dr. Morales. As Peter assumed, Pritchett was the one to blame. Then again, when you looked at it more carefully, he was the one to blame. He should have never put Mark in the position he had. Now Connor was doing double duty because one of his other best men was lying in the morgue. Poor Thomas.
“Sir, I’ve located Dr. Morales,” Connor said.
“Where?”
“She just boarded a plane to the Caymans. She’s traveling with someone named Julio Velazquez. Ran a report on the dude. He’s trained and smart. He’s also a homosexual.”
“I don’t give a shit if he’s from Mars. I want to find out how she knows him.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. This Velasquez, you say he’s trained?”
“Special Ops.
obtain access to it.”Marines. His file is closed. At least I have not been able to
“Okay, well, it’s likely he’s not armed if he’s boarding a commercial flight. He may have access to weapons once he gets there, but that will likely take him some time, and I expect you will have them handled by then. Kill them both. But do it so no one finds them. I can’t risk more dead bodies popping up.”
“Sir, they are on a private jet. The guy must have some serious connections.”
Peter didn’t say anything for a moment.
“The Caymans?”
“Yes, sir.
What do you want me to do?”
“Meet me down there. You’ll have some back-up as well.”
“Where?”
“Are you listening, Connor? In the Caymans! I will fly in and we’ll take care of Dr. Morales and her friend. I will let you know my ETA. I’m sending a plane for you.”
Now why in the hell would Dr. Morales and some mercenary be traveling to The Caymans? Somehow he doubted it was for a tropical vacation.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Tony and Simmons pulled up in front of Eric Sorensen’s apartment building. Tony was eager to hear what Kelly’s friend and co-worker knew. It was late. Just past eleven-thirty. They took the elevator to the second floor.
The doors slid open and they walked down the hall toward Eric’s apartment. When they got to his door, they were alarmed to see it was partially opened. Pazzini called out, “Police! Open up!”
There was no response.
He took his gun from his holster and nodded at Simmons who followed suit. They slowly opened the door and stepped inside. They hadn’t gone more than a few feet when they spotted a man lying on the floor near the kitchen. He’d been badly cut. Blood was coming from his chest. Tony glanced up and saw the curtains from the balcony billowing through the open sliding glass door. He bent down over the man who stared at him, frightened. “Simmons call the EMTs. We need back up and search.” He bent down over the man on the floor. “You’re Eric, right?”
Eric tried to nod and winced. His voice was raspy and cracked slightly as he replied, “Yes. I stabbed the guy.”
“Good for you, man. We’ll get the bastard. Just stay still.” Tony looked around and could see large drops of blood leading out through the balcony. The guy who came to take Eric down may have met his match, because from the amount of blood on the floor and walls, he’d been seriously injured before escaping. Tony wanted to question Eric about Kelly, but he was barely conscious. He managed to get one question in before the emergency crew arrived. “Do you know where Dr. Morales is? The man who tried to kill you just now is probably with a group who is after her. Please tell me if you know where she is.”
Eric opened his eyes and mouthed the word, “Yes.” Then he passed out.
Tony stayed with Eric, waiting for the EMT’s. Simmons began casing the area looking for any signs of the perp. As the medics arrived and began working on Eric, Simmons called up to him from outside, “Pazzini, I got the perp. He won’t be saying much though. He is d.e.a.d.”