City of Broken Lights Page 21

  He'd forced Sarah over to a spot close to the stairs. His partner stood next to him, a vibro-blade in his free hand and the other clutching Katrina around her chest. A raw wound with several stitches adorned his oft-broken nose. I had no doubt Katrina had inflicted the injury on him.

  "Looks like you messed up, copper," Broken Nose crowed in delight. "Now we're in charge, Bert and me here."

  “Shut up,” Bert ordered.

  I shifted my focus to Bert, by far the calmer, more controlled of the two black-clad thugs.

  “We’re leaving,” Bert said calmly.

  “No, you’re not,” Pastor David barked. “You’ll do as your told.”

  “That spaceship left orbit a few minutes ago,” Bert replied. “Now, my partner and I have a hovercar. We’re going to take that briefcase filled with credits,” he added, nodding at the closed aluminum case on the table.

  “Yeah,” Broken nose cackled, his sanity slipping away. “And we’re taking these two ladies with us.”

  I looked at the expressions of both men. I'd seen them before too many times in the past. Bert had the empty stare of a dead-ender, a soldier who seen too much horror and was trapped. The kind who would do anything to survive, and if he couldn't, he'd kill as many as he could before he fell dead. Broken Nose had the look of a crazed killer. Someone who enjoyed the act of killing, drawing it out and reveling in it.

  Staring back at me was the terrified expressions of Sarah, my partner, and Katrina, my daughter.

  There was no question I had to shoot their two captors. With vibro-blades held to the girls’ throats, I could only get one before the other had her throat cut.

  I was reliving the death of Maria all over again.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The explosion of the first round seemed deafening, even in the open space of the building. My targeting mechanism took over, and I squeezed the trigger again. Somewhere in the distance, I heard two smaller explosions and a female voice screaming at the same time as what felt like an angry hornet from Damascus II stung me on the back of my right arm.

  I could feel warm blood trickling down the back of my gun hand. I was on autopilot. I looked up at the catwalk and spotted another gunman working desperately to get his pulse rifle to cycle the energy charge. I had one in the chamber, and I used it to put a halt to his pathetic efforts to get the useless energy weapon to function.

  Screaming near my feet brought me back to the present. Sarah lay on top of the headless Bert. A deep laceration in her right arm had severed the brachial artery, sending arterial blood spraying onto Bert's corpse while Katrina knelt over Sarah, screaming frantically.

  My mind cleared, and I moved to Sarah's side. She looked up at me with pleading eyes. I looked at her wound and turned away and vomited. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my jacket and turned back.

  “It’ll be okay, Sarah. I will take care of you. I promise.”

  She relaxed even as another arterial spurt spilled more of her lifeblood on the dirty, stained concrete floor. I unfastened my belt and put it around her upper right arm and pulled it tight. I spotted her police baton and retrieved it to finish forming a tourniquet. I pulled it tight and stopped the flow of blood.

  “You carry spray bandages for severe trauma,” I reminded Sarah. “Where is the bandage dispenser?”

  Sarah blinked for a moment, struggling to think. “In the hem of my coat,” she whispered. Even in the heat on Athens II, Sarah wore her long black greatcoat. I fished about in her right boot until I found one of her bladed weapons and retrieved it. It took mere seconds to find where Sarah had sewn the spray bandage dispenser in the lining of her coat. One quick slash and the device fell into my outstretched hand.

  As the painkillers came in contact with Sarah’s wound and the bandage sealed the laceration, her face relaxed. I loosened the tourniquet for a minute. No blood leaked from the wound, making it my turn to relax.

  It was then that I heard Saundra’s sobbing behind me.

  Cradled in her lap was the head of Ambassador Marshall. His chest was a bloody mess and was coughing up blood.

  “Just relax, Marshall,” Saundra pleaded, sobbing in confusion. “It will be okay, everything will be okay. We’ve got Katrina back. We’ll leave for the regional governorship just liked we planned. Just like you planned, Marshall.”

  I could smell the coppery odor of blood. So much blood. Not just Sarah's but all the dead gunmen I'd just put down like rabid dogs. Marshall's blood too. He wasn't going to make it. I knew it, and he knew it. He motioned for her to lean over, closer to his mouth. I read his lips as he whispered.

  A deep rattle sounded in the remains of his chest, and then he was gone.

  Saundra leaned back, her head facing upwards towards the ceiling. She howled like a predator at a full moon.

  Katrina touched me, drawing my attention. Her face was ashen, her color gone. I wanted to touch my daughter's face, wipe away her tears but I couldn't. She was unharmed physically, and that would have to be enough.

  I stood up and looked around, checking for any other possible gunmen. It was then I noticed the ringleader was gone. The chair where he’d sat empty, as empty as the spot on the table where the case filled with credits had been.

  In the distance, I could hear the wail of sirens as police vehicles approached. The comm in my pocket went off, and I pulled it out and held it up to my ear.

  “Very funny, Father. You’re a bit late with the warning.”

  I broke the link and pocketed the device. Sarah sat up and looked expectantly at me, needing me to tell her what to do.

  “You have to leave,” I told her. “We can’t explain your wound.”

  Sarah nodded in agreement and stood up, her hand still holding the police baton, keeping the tourniquet tight.

  "Loosen it every two minutes for thirty seconds," I grunted. "What am I telling you? You do what your body tells you.”

  I grabbed Katrina by both arms and pulled her to her feet. “You can’t be here either. Go with Sarah. Make sure she’s okay for the next hour or so. Do whatever Sarah tells you.”

  “She’ll bleed to death,” Katrina stammered, staring first at the dead body of Ambassador Marshall and then the bloody mess that was Sarah’s right arm.

  “Sarah will explain later,” I snarled, not wanting to deal with more histrionics than necessary. I wasn’t feeling so good myself.

  “It’s okay,” Sarah whispered. “When we’re safe, I’ll explain everything.” Sarah leaned against Katrina, forcing the other clone to support some of her weight. Sarah smiled at me for just a second, the angry look in her eyes from the past days was gone.

  I watched as Sarah guided Katrina verbally towards the back of the manufacturing area. They’d be gone minutes before the cops arrived.

  I walked over to the hysterical Saundra and pulled her up on her feet. It felt good to slap her and stop the out-of-control sobbing.

  “Pull yourself together, Saundra,” I shouted. “Time to be the Iron Chancellor. Marshall’s dead. He can’t spin this mess for you.”

  Her eyes seemed to focus for a moment, and then Saundra reached out for me. I pushed her away.

  “I don’t think so. That man right there loved you,” I reminded her, pointing at Marshall’s dead body. “I heard his dying words.” I glared at the woman I’d fallen for all those years ago and felt sick in the pit of my stomach. “Marshall sold his soul to serve you and look what it got him.” I pointed at the mutilated body that once had been the Ambassador of Athens II. The gifted political operative behind the rise of the Iron Chancellor, Saundra Vanzetti. I wondered if she would fall now that he was dead.

  “Sully, please,” she whispered, reaching out to me again.

  “Stay away from me,” I commanded. “Here’s how it’s going to play. You were kidnapped and brought here. The Ambassador and I followed. In the gunplay, the Ambassador took one to the chest and died. I took out the rest. The boss man slipped away in the confusion.”

 
“Sully,” Saundra wept, “your arm.”

  I looked down at my right arm. The sleeve of my jacket was gone, and so was most of the outer layer of flesh covering my triceps muscle. Blood trickled from tiny wounds in the tissue where the energy pulse had not altogether cauterized the wound.

  “It’s up to you whether or not you out Pastor David as the ringleader,” I informed her, ignoring the pain.

  “What, what should I do?”

  “I would let him go. Father Nathan tells me that church of his does a lot of good. Vick and your daughter are the real pastors there. If you name him, that will be the end of that church and the good it does. Let it be, and when things clear up, Father Nathan will help Vick and Katrina make a go of it."

  Saundra nodded, indicating her agreement. I'll never know if she did it because it was the right thing to do or if she saw an angle she could work to her advantage. Either way, it didn't matter.

  I could hear boots approaching fast down the long hallway to the factory floor where we stood.

  “One more thing,” I said harshly. “You’re going to pay us tomorrow.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I followed the nurse at a respectful distance. I needed to see my friend and talk to him. I was running on empty physically and emotionally. For the past ten hours, I had been grilled by the local police about the shootout at the factory.

  I was lucky I had the advantage of my recordings, including my conversation with Saundra. For ten hours I was able to spin the events the way Saundra and I had discussed without any deviation of note. I wasn't sure how Saundra would stack up in the box, but I doubted the locals would challenge the infamous Iron Chancellor if my story held up.

  There had been no word about Sarah or Katrina. Once I'd been able to stop the bleeding, I knew Sarah would survive her wound. Sarah just needed time and privacy, and within twenty-four hours she'd be okay. Like her ability to cope with almost any climate, Sarah's designers had designed in some other helpful features. Her ability to heal at an extraordinarily fast rate was one of those features.

  It also had to be kept secret. Healing powers of the kind Sarah possessed were a dead giveaway she was an illegal clone. Not to mention the fact some bioengineering firm would love to get their hands on Sarah and reverse engineer her healing ability, likely at the cost of her freedom if not her life.

  The few people who knew the truth about Katrina’s relationship to Saundra could be trusted to keep their mouth shut. Those same individuals didn’t know Katrina was a clone, a fact they could not be trusted with.

  I didn't care what public knowledge of that fact would do to Saundra's political career. I cared a lot about Katrina having the privacy a clone needed to live as normal a life as possible. I'd seen the struggle Sarah went through daily to fit in. Katrina was far better adjusted and fit into society with ease.

  The nurse opened the door to the private room in the wing of the hospital reserved for the wealthy and powerful. A boon granted more to keep me away from the public eye and any questioning reporters than it was to provide Father Nathan with the best possible medical care.

  Asleep in one of the two chairs was the assistant pastor, Vick. I felt relief Father Nathan had been accompanied by someone he trusted until I could get to the hospital. My friend was awake with his tablet perched on his lap. I had no doubt he was reading his Bible or some book on theology or priest stuff. We nodded a greeting to each other, and I sat down in the other chair.

  Vick stirred after a bit and woke up. He blinked several times and stretched, nodding a greeting to me. “Father, I think I’ll go get something to eat. Give the two of you a chance to talk in private.” Vick scowled at me but nodded on his way out, shutting the door behind him.

  “He’s gruff, but Vick’s a good man,” Father Nathan assured me. “He’s got to work on that because the New Light Church is his now. The lead pastor has to have a winning personality, you know, like mine.” The good Father grinned broadly at me.

  “Must be the drugs you’re on if you think your parishioners like you,” I growled at him. I didn’t feel like hurling insults at each other for the fun of it. “It’s all that free food you give away.”

  “My winning personality or the food,” Father Nathan quipped. “Either way, my church is almost always half full at services. God’s work is getting done in our beloved, frozen Capital City.”

  Silence settled between us again. This time Father Nathan waited for me to talk. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “What do I do, Father?”

  He looked at me with his concerned expression. It wasn’t fake, my friend was genuinely worried.

  “I can’t go back to Capital City with Sarah acting like she has been. Our partnership won’t last.”

  Father Nathan sat and looked at me. He wasn’t going to say anything, allowing me off the hook so to speak, enabling me to keep things bottled up.

  “What do I do about Katrina? I mean, she’s my daughter, isn’t she?” Father Nathan leaned back, setting his tablet on the bedside table. “But I didn’t know I had a daughter and how do you really raise a clone anyhow?”

  This time, Father Nathan had something to say, and the expression on my face told me I wasn't going to like his message.

  “Actually, you know quite a bit about raising a clone. A female clone as a matter of fact. Of course, you’ve had help, but I would say Sarah would still be a withdrawn, terrified, young woman were it not for you.”

  “That’s different,” I protested.

  "No, it's not," my friend informed me. "Sarah is not your daughter. Far from it. But you've done a lot to help Sarah find her way in the universe. She has a purpose now, people that she calls friends, even if friendship with Sarah is a bit of a unique experience."

  Father Nathan picked up a lidded cup of what had to be ice water and took a long sip. “Alice has been a huge help, no doubt about it. The gang at Joe’s keeps an eye out for Sarah, and you can trust any of them to do right by her. But it's you, Sully. You're the one that matters."

  "Then why is Sarah being so difficult?"

  Father Nathan gave me a stern look that made me feel guilty about something, anything, or nothing, but guilty all the same. He changed the subject.

  “What are you going to do about Katrina?”

  “That’s easy,” I answered. “I haven’t a clue.”

  He sat thinking for a few minutes before changing the subject again.

  “Tell me what happened. Shootouts don’t upset you like this.”

  I spilled my guts, but quick. It surprised me even, I didn’t know that was what I needed to talk about.

  “The two goons who hurt Mitch, the bartender, had the girls. One had a vibro-blade to Sarah’s throat. The other had Katrina and was taunting me about cutting her up, I could see it in his eyes too.”

  “You had to pick who to shoot first.”

  I nodded, breaking down in that instant. Father Nathan didn't say a word, letting me pour the emotion out. Not just the angst from that horrible moment but so many other awful moments I'd pushed down and locked away.

  “I picked Sarah. God forgive me, I picked Sarah, not my own daughter,” I sobbed.

  “You made the right choice, Sully. Both of the girls are alive.”

  “It was like Maria all over again,” I told him. “I couldn’t let him kill Sarah like that.”

  Father Nathan thought for a moment and then asked me a question. “What were his eyes like? The man who had a vibro-blade to Sarah’s throat?”

  "Empty," I answered. "Like a dead-ender's eyes, you know?" My friend looked away, his own troubled past visiting him. I sensed that more than once he'd been that dead-ender himself.

  “The other man?”

  “His eyes were wild. He was grinning like an insane man, waving his vibro-blade around.”

  My friend nodded confidently and turned his gaze back to me. “You picked correctly. The one you shot first would have killed Sarah had you not acted. The other man was playin
g games. You had time for a second shot.”

  His words made sense, confirming what I knew. But it didn't answer the emotional question that troubled me so. It merely confirmed the tactical decision of whom to shoot in what order to save both of the girls.

  “You’re going to have to talk to the girls,” Father Nathan said in his blunt way that was an order.

  "I'm going to sleep now, Sully." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Don't come to see me again until you've talked to the girls."

  My mouth fell open. I'd been dismissed, just like I had been so many times before in my days in the military. I didn't like it then, and I didn't like it now. But my friend was right to do so, and both of us knew it.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Markeson woke up and carefully reached over to Jennifer’s side of the bed. It was cold and empty. He listened carefully for sounds of movement in his apartment. Faint sounds of Jennifer working in the kitchen could be heard when Markeson concentrated, no doubt cooking breakfast for him.

  He found himself fearful of Jennifer’s return. Never before in his life had a female threatened him and gotten away with it. Jennifer had laid down in no uncertain terms that he was her master and she would continue to serve and please him in every way she could. Jennifer also made it equally clear she would no longer tolerate his womanizing.

  Jennifer had no intention of sharing him. As much as she was his, Markeson now belonged to her. The data strip she tossed up and down in her right hand contained enough evidence to have him indicted, arrested, tried, convicted, sentenced to more life sentences than a judge could count along with multiple death sentences as well.

  And that was only one data chip. Jennifer knew everything.

  Jennifer made her point, gave him the data chip, pointing out there were multiple copies in places only she knew of as well as a file on a cloud that would be transmitted to both Sully and that awful reporter Bagley should something happen to Jennifer. She’d undressed him, helped him into his bath, and bathed him.