Stalked (37 page)

DeLucca called to his men, “I need two men on each entrance, two men inside searching from the ground floor up. Call for all available units, but be on alert. We'll be moving.”

“Are you calling back the team with Alexis?” Lucy asked.

“No. I can't risk it. Mead is a cop; he knows we're not going to trade a cop killer for him. We have to find the location.”

They went back upstairs. “Fourteen minutes away,” Noah said to Peter. “What's fourteen minutes?”

Lucy got on her phone and brought up a map of New York City. She showed it to Peter. “He has Charlie Mead. What's fourteen minutes from here?”

“I-I don't know. Depends on traffic. Could be lower Manhattan, or—” He frowned. “My subway ride in the morning is about that long. The school.”

“That's it,” Sean said. “I couldn't complete the trace, but I narrowed it to a five-mile area in Brooklyn. The school is in the circle.” He typed rapidly. “I'm trying to get a lock on Charlie's cell phone.”

“Wouldn't he have turned it off?”

“Possibly, except he wants us to find him. That's why he gave us the clue.”

Lucy said, “We have to be extremely cautious. He's not just after Peter. He'll kill anyone. He has no remorse, no real plan anymore.”

DeLucca said, “My guys are mobilized. I told them to keep a wide perimeter around the school, no lights or sirens.”

“I'm going with you,” Peter said. “Charlie is here because of me. I'm not abandoning him.”

“Do exactly what I tell you,” Noah said.

The corners of Peter's lips curved up, just a bit. “That's what Sean told me.”

Noah and Sean exchanged glances. Sean smiled and Noah sighed. “Rogan, you stay on com, monitor all transmissions, understood?”

“Yes, boss,” he said.

Noah gave him an odd glance. “I don't think I'll ever hear that again.” He said to the others, “Everyone in vests, no exceptions. DeLucca, do you have something for Peter?”

“Yes.”

“Let's get suited up; time isn't going any slower.”

*   *   *

The school in East Brooklyn where Peter taught was five stories of pre-war brick and a fenced concrete yard. Only faint security lighting around the doors and windows lit the building. Wholly different from the sprawling, green San Diego school Lucy had attended.

“We're early,” Noah said. “Let's see if we can keep the element of surprise. Sean, at exactly twenty-nine minutes after the initial call, contact him. Tell him you're me, that you're out front. He'll ask about his sister; tell him we couldn't get her out of jail and we need more time. That you came in good faith to negotiate, and we're trying to accommodate him. How much time do we have?”

“Six minutes.”

“Suzanne, stay with Rogan. DeLucca, come with us.” Noah said to Peter, “Stay back.” Then he looked sternly at Lucy. “You keep him safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy said.

Peter said, “He must have bypassed the alarm system. But the gate is still locked.”

“Rogan would probably say it's easy to crack,” Noah said. “We have to assume, if his sister was telling the truth, that he has above average computer skills. We know he was a computer engineering major. Do you have keys?”

Peter handed him his ring. “The blue-coded key is to the main door. The yellow key gets into any classroom on the second floor, plus common rooms.”

“What room is yours?” Lucy asked.

“Two-oh-one. It's in the southwest corner.”

“That's where he is,” Lucy said.

They quietly entered the building on the opposite side from 201. All security monitors were green—off, confirmation that Kip had disabled the alarms.

They stayed up against the walls as they walked down the hall toward Peter's third-grade classroom. Two doors down, Noah motioned for them to stop. He unlocked room 205 and they slipped in. “We need eyes on Mead before we proceed,” Noah said. “I'm going through the ducts.” He pointed to the ceiling. The air ducts were easily accessible through worn ceiling tiles.

He stood on a desk and pushed open the tile. He looked inside. “Damn,” he said. “I won't fit.” He looked at Lucy. “You.” He cupped his hands. “Stay put until we get the air-conditioning on to mask sound.”

“I'm on it,” DeLucca said. He called to his team who were in the basement control room.

A half minute later, the air-conditioning roared to life. The units were on the windows but controlled by a central switch so the school could turn them all on and off together. The ducts were for heating only, but the air-conditioning was loud enough to cloak Lucy's movements.

“Visual only,” Noah told her. “Give me Mead's exact location.”

Lucy moved through the filthy duct toward room 201. It was a tight fit, but she used her arms to balance and move along slowly. In her ear com, she heard Sean say, “One minute until I call.”

Lucy went slower as she neared room 201. She couldn't hear anything over the air-conditioning units. She turned on her flashlight to check out where she was—she needed to find the main vent in order to get a visual.

The opening was ten feet ahead. She turned off her light and slithered toward it.

Mead's phone rang at the same time she saw Kip Todd. He stood by the door. She didn't see Charlie Mead.

Kip said, “You're here?”

She rolled and craned her neck. She spotted Mead tied to a chair in the center of the room. His face was swollen and he had a cut on his arm that was bleeding.

She scooted away from the vent as Kip shouted, “That's not good enough!”

She whispered in her com, “Mead is restrained on a chair in the center of the room. He's injured.”

“Good. Come back.”

“I need to monitor this. Kip is angry.”

Kip paced back and forth along the front of the room. A chair braced the door to the hall. But there was a door to the adjoining classroom that wasn't propped closed.

Lucy said, “The door in room two-oh-three isn't blocked, but Mead will be in the direct line of fire.”

“How many weapons?”

“He's holding a nine millimeter. A rifle is strapped over his shoulder. He has a knife on his belt.”

“Do you have a shot?”

Lucy wasn't a sniper. Being a good shot at the target range was completely different from being a good shot at a moving target.

“If I miss—”

“We're moving to room two-oh-three. Stay alert.”

Kip screamed at the phone, “I will bleed him dry! His blood will stain the floor. Unless you bring Peter here now, two minutes, I will kill him.” He walked over to the window. “I see you.” He fired out of the window with the rifle.

Lucy bit her tongue to keep from shouting out. Sean wasn't in the southwest corner, but DeLucca's men were exposed.

“A-ha!” Kip shouted. “One down, more to go.” He fired again.

Lucy pulled out her gun. She couldn't use this vent; the openings were too narrow. And if she shot through the ceiling, she risked injury, loss of bullet velocity, and a skewed trajectory. She had to move to the larger vent in the center of the room.

She crawled as quickly as she dared.

“Status,” Noah demanded in her ear.

“Getting in position,” Lucy whispered.

The air-conditioning rumbled off.

Kip stopped shooting out of the window.

Lucy stopped moving. She was still three inches from the vent. She needed one more good slide to get into position.

She risked the sound.

She looked out the vent. Kip was staring at the ceiling, his expression alert.

Then she noticed this vent was too small to get her barrel through.

“I've been spotted,” she whispered.

Kip aimed his rifle toward the ceiling. Lucy punched out the vent with the barrel of her gun, aimed at him, and fired. The first bullet hit him in the shoulder. He fired his rifle three times into the ceiling. She fired again and hit his hand. He dropped the rifle and grabbed his nine millimeter. He didn't aim at Lucy but at Charlie Mead.

She fired again as the door below burst open and Noah and Joe entered. They fired simultaneously at Kip. His body jerked and he stumbled backwards and tripped over a desk.

Joe rushed to Kip and kicked away his weapons, then checked his pulse. “He's dead,” Joe said.

“Lucy!” Noah called.

“I'm okay. I might need a Band-Aid.” Or four or five. Her arm burned, but she didn't think she'd been hit.

Noah pulled a desk over to the vent and jumped on it. Lucy saw the top of his head. She handed him her gun. He put it in his waistband. Then grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out headfirst. He held on to her as he scrambled off of the desk. He put her in a chair. “Were you hit?”

“No. I think it's splinters from the ceiling tiles. Or maybe I cut my arm on the vent. Stupid. But he was going to shoot Charlie.”

Joe had untied Mead and was calling out for both a report and an ambulance.

Peter came in and rushed over to Charlie Mead. “Charlie?”

Charlie smiled. “You're okay.”

“What about you?”

“Nothing broken.”

“Why are you here?” Peter asked.

“When Rogan left, I was worried and wanted to make sure you were safe. I took the first flight, went to your apartment and that guy grabbed me outside.”

“I'm sorry.” Peter hugged him.

“I'm glad you're safe.”

“An ambulance is on its way,” Joe said. “I have one man down.”

Noah swore. “Status?”

“Doesn't appear life threatening. I'm waiting for confirmation.”

Four cops rushed in. Joe ordered two to stand guard over Kip's body, and two helped Mead out of the building. Noah picked up Lucy.

“I can walk,” she said.

“You're bleeding.”

She frowned, feeling light-headed. “I'm okay. Just woozy. I think from the dust.”

“You're black with dust and soot.”

Noah carried her down the hall, down the stairs, and out to where Sean and Suzanne were standing with another team of agents.

“What happened?” Sean demanded.

Noah put Lucy down on the small strip of grass separating the street from the sidewalk. “You did good, Kincaid,” he said. He stared at her and Lucy wished she knew what he was thinking. There was something odd in his expression. Then Noah turned to Sean. “She's all yours. Make sure the paramedics check her out thoroughly.”

“I will,” Sean said.

Suzanne leaned against her car while Noah walked away to coordinate the Bureau and NYPD. Sean sat next to Lucy and sighed in relief.

“I'm
fine
,” she said. “A bullet grazed me, that's all. Maybe some splinters.”

“You're going to the hospital.”

“I will on one condition.”

“You will on no conditions.”

“Bossy, aren't you?”

“Luce, I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Me, too,” Suzanne said. “Another case together. Maybe you'll get assigned to New York when you graduate.”

“I'd like that,” Lucy said, then glanced at Sean. She couldn't read his face. They hadn't talked about what they were going to do when she graduated. The only thing she was certain about was that she wouldn't be assigned to the Washington, D.C., office. Very few agents were assigned to the field office they were recruited from.

Joe DeLucca came over. “Good job, Lucy.”

“Thanks. I'm glad it's over.”

“Suzi, we need to talk.”

“Not now.”

“Yes. Now.” Joe stared at her and Lucy was surprised that Suzanne gave in.

“All right. Just don't call me Suzi.” But she smiled, and Lucy's suspicions were confirmed. Joe and Suzanne had a history. Lucy couldn't help but be happy. She liked them both. And their body language, though they weren't touching, told her they liked each other a lot.

“What are you looking at?” Sean asked.

“Nothing.” She smiled and put her head on his shoulder. “While I'm getting this gash in my arm sewn up, you have to let the doctor look at your leg.”

“All right.”

“That was too easy.”

“I'm too tired to argue.” Then he smiled. “Maybe we can share a hospital room. We can play doctor.”

She laughed. “Don't you have a hotel room reserved?”

“I do.”

“I think I can get a day off. Maybe two.”

He kissed her. “Princess, you've earned it.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Lucy returned to Quantico Wednesday night. She was surprised by the warm greeting from her classmates. “The assistant director himself came to fill us in on what happened,” Reva said. “Rick Stockton. Can you believe it?”

“I'm just glad I don't have to repeat the story a dozen times,” Lucy said.

“Just once,” Carter said. “We deserve the details.”

“You do.” She smiled. “I appreciate your support, but right now I have to meet with the Chief. More reports.”

She breathed deeply as she walked across campus, alone, to Chief O'Neal's office. Noah Armstrong was already inside.

“I've been briefed,” O'Neal said. “You can rejoin your class tomorrow if you can make up the work. I spoke with Tom Harden and he said you can have a PT pass until Monday if you need it. Or, if you need more time, the next new-agent class starts in ten days. You can take the time off, heal, and join with the new class.”

Lucy shook her head. “I want to stay with my class. And I'm fine. Just sore.”

The doctor had removed twenty-nine plastic splinters from the ceiling tiles and stitched up a gash in her left arm where one of Kip Todd's bullets had grazed her.

“I'm glad,” O'Neal said. “You fit with your class. And after what happened with Sanchez, you'll be instrumental in rebuilding class unity.”