Blood List(77)

He looked at his watch. Four minutes since the alarm triggered. He was just about out of time.

He turned his attention to the door. It led to a tiny bathroom with traces of bloody water in the sink. A business suit, splattered with blood, lay on the floor next to the toilet. Whatever Renner had found here, he'd taken with him. Snarling, Gene left the office and shut the door.

He looked up into the waiting barrel of an SFPD service pistol. The uniformed officer behind the weapon looked like he was just out of high school, and he shook visibly. Oh, great. A nervous rookie. Outside, another officer took cover behind the door of a black-and-white, his pistol pointed into the store.

The policeman's voice was calm. "Slowly put your hands on your head and turn around."

Gene raised his hands. "You've made a mistake. I'm—"

"I know who you are, Mr. Palenti." Gene folded his hands over his head. He could hear the officer outside calling for backup. "Now turn around."

Gene turned. "I'm not Jim Palenti. Chief of Police Logan Stukly of the LAPD can vouch for me. My name is—"

"Shut up," said the cop. He twisted Gene's hands behind his back and zip-tied them together. Spun back around, Gene suffered a pat-down that took his pistol, his Swiss Army knife, and his wallet. The policeman opened the wallet and tsked at the FBI badge. "Looks good, Palenti." He flipped the wallet closed and put it in his pocket.

As he was manhandled toward the door, a familiar blue SUV screeched up to the curb. The officer at the car turned his pistol toward the newcomers. What the heck? Carl jumped out of the passenger's seat, flashing his badge as Doug put the car in park and climbed out.

Carl ignored the gun in his face and read the officer's badge. "Officer Russo, I'm Special Agent Carl Brent of the FBI, and I'm taking this man into custody. You're ordered to stand down and surrender custody on authority of Director Adams, PRD."

"This guy here's got a badge, too," said the other officer.

"Ours are real," Doug said, flashing his own. "We've been tracking Palenti for eight months. You guys did good."

Russo hesitated, then looked at his partner. "Joey, call it in."

Carl's jab took Russo in the throat, and a chop knocked the pistol from his hands. Gene head-butted Joey even as Doug closed the distance and connected with a wild haymaker to the side of the head. Joey dropped to the ground, writhing. Carl followed up his strike with three more, then stepped in and slammed Officer Russo's head into the hood of the car. The cop dropped to the ground next to his partner, gasping and groggy.

Doug pulled a knife from his belt and cut Gene loose. He kneeled between the cops and cut the cords on their police radios before rolling them over and handcuffing them with their own zip ties. Gene recovered his wallet, knife, and pistol, then stabbed both drivers-side tires for good measure. Meanwhile, Carl did something to the cops' dashboard.

"Radio?" Gene asked.

Carl smiled. "Not anymore."

Doug patted the cops on the heads. "Be good, kids." He stood and looked at Gene. "Let's get the hell out of here."

They headed west.

"We need to ditch this car, Gene," Carl said. "Black-and-whites have front-mounted cameras standard these days. It's a fair bet they have our license plate as well as pictures of Doug and me."

"Stupid," Gene said. "They're going to be all over us."

Doug smiled at him through the rear-view mirror. "Yeah, it was. Did you find anything good?"

Gene shook his head. "Besides that phone, Paul cleaned them out. I've got four files, but I'll bet they're worthless." He pulled them from the duffel bag and passed them up to Carl.

Carl scrutinized them for a few minutes as Doug found a convenient back alley to ditch the SUV. "They look like receipts and warranties. Might be a cipher of some kind. We can pass them up to Sam to get some forensic accountants on them. If we can reach her."

"Yeah," Gene said. "If we can reach her."

"So," Carl said, "where are we hiding?"





Chapter 29





February 3rd, 12:35 PM EST; Massachusetts General Hospital; Boston, Massachusetts.



Marty looked up from his hospital bed as Sam entered the room.

"You look like shit," Sam said. He really did.

Marty's grin was glazed with painkillers. "Hey, Sam, how'd you get in here?" His voice was groggy and thick.

She gave him a half-smile. "Bribed the head nurse fifty bucks."

He chuckled as his head listed to the side. "Cool…." His head lolled, and his eyes rolled back, then snapped into lucid focus. "So how's it going, Sam?"

"Not so good, sweetie."