Firestorm

“For God's sake, do you think I like being linked to just anyone? If there's one thing I've learned from our experience together, it's that I never want it to happen again.”

  Christ, she was actually feeling hurt. Not that she had a right. It was exactly what she had been telling herself all along. “Ditto.” She turned away. “I'm going in to meet Rosa. Are you coming?”

  “Not now. I'm going to call George and check in.” He headed back toward the car. “By the way, I've set up a foster home for Carmela and Rosa when this is all over and it's safe to get them settled.”

  “Where?”

  “Near Georgetown University. It's a nice residential area, and I know some pretty good people who will take care of them.”

  “Normal people?”

  “Yes.” He added solemnly, “I do know some normal people, Kerry. Though I admit I have a definite preference for freaks like you.”

  “Dammit, I'm not—” He was joking. If she hadn't been so tense, she would never have risen to the bait. “I just didn't want them to think the whole world was comprised of people like—They've had enough problems without having to question their view of reality and—”

  “I know.” He smiled. “Stop trying to explain. You never have to do that with me.”

  That was the problem, she thought in despair. Even though she was angry and resentful, there was always that comforting feeling of being totally understood and accepted. It was almost as seductive as the sex they had shared.

  “Not bloody likely,” he muttered as he opened the door of the car. “Don't fool yourself. Not for either one of us, Kerry.”

  She could feel the heat flood her cheeks as she started up the walk. She should have known that the one thought she'd wanted to keep from him would be the one he'd pick up on. “Let me know if George has learned anything.”

  “I don't think it will be urgent enough to break into your visit.” He got out his phone. “Or he would have called us. But you can be sure I won't close you out.”

  She was aware of the slight emphasis on the pronoun. “Good God, after everything you've done, are you actually trying to give me a guilt trip?”

  “Just stating a fact.”

  She gazed at him in frustration before she jabbed the doorbell. “Damn you, Silver.”

  Anything new?” Kerry asked as she opened the car door an hour later.

  “George says everything is quiet on his front. Not a glimpse of anyone suspicious buzzing around any of the people Ledbruk has under surveillance.”

  “Then where is Trask?” She shook her head wearily as she settled back on the passenger seat. “And what the devil is he doing?”

  Silver backed out of the driveway. “At least you know Carmela and Rosa are safe. You should feel better about that.”

  “I do.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “You're sure we weren't followed here?”

  “I don't think so, but I can't be certain. There are so many high-tech long-range devices on the market that Dickens or Trask could be out of sight and still tailing us.”

  “That's a comforting thought.”

  “It's an honest answer. You don't want comfort, you want the truth.”

  He was right. Facing the truth was the only way they might be able to survive. “I guess I was hoping for reassurance that maybe Trask had crossed Carmela off his hit list.”

  “It could happen. But you might ask who'd be his prime target if he decided to do that.”

  “I'm the logical—” She stopped as her phone rang and she reached into her handbag.

  “How is our lovely Carmela? Fully recovered, I trust.”

  Trask.

  She drew a deep breath. “She's fine, Trask. And fully protected. You can't touch her.”

  Silver muttered a curse and pulled over to the curb.

  “I can touch her. Anyone can be reached. It just takes planning and the proper resources.”

  “Does that mean you're going to try?”

  “Perhaps. She's unfinished business, and I detest untidiness. She's definitely high priority since Firestorm was unable to complete its mission. I have to decide how high.”

  “You're wasting my time. Why are you calling me, Trask?”

  “I thought it time. I've missed personal contact with you, but I've been very patient. I've wanted to call you for days, but I had plans to make.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “Why, I have to show you that you didn't best either me or Firestorm when you saved our little Hispanic charmer. That was only the opening battle.”

  “Answer me. Are you going after her again?”

  “Possibly. Mysteries are so intriguing. I believe I'll let you stay in the dark about that. That's really why I phoned you. I want to think about you worrying, on edge, perhaps even a little frantic. I find that a satisfying picture.”

  “I'm not frantic, and I'll leave the worrying to the authorities.”

  He chuckled. “I don't believe you. It's your nature to want to shape events to suit yourself. Like me.”

  “I'm nothing like you.”

  “You'll see. When you stand and watch Firestorm at work.”

  “I've seen it. It sickens me.”

  “You're lying to yourself. When you saw the warehouse burning, wasn't there a little excitement mixed with the horror you were feeling?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Never mind, you wouldn't tell me the truth. But I'll be able to see it in your face next time. I'm looking forward to it. I'll be in touch.” He hung up.

  Her finger was trembling as it pressed disconnect. “The son of a bitch.”

  “Without question. Did he leak anything?”

  “No, he just wanted to touch base.” Her lips twisted. “He missed me.”

  “He mentioned Carmela?”

  “He knew she'd left the hospital. He said she was a high priority.” She drew a shaky breath. “Call back and talk to Agent Dorbin and make sure she knows we've gone to code red.”

  He reached for his phone. “He may not know where they are. He could have just checked with the hospital to find out she was discharged today.”

  “And he could have followed us. You said it was possible.”

  “He told you that he was going after her?”

  She shook her head. “The bastard likes to inflict his little torments. Hell, he likes big torment. He did say that anyone could be reached if you had the right resources.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “Christ, we have to keep her safe, Silver.”

  He nodded as he dialed. “I'm not arguing. I'll call Agent Dorbin and then Ledbruk.”

  While he made the calls she leaned back in the seat, staring out at the small, neat homes lining the street. This pretty subdivision was like a hundred others in a hundred other cities. It seemed impossible that a monster like Trask could be operating here.

  It wasn't impossible. Nothing was impossible for Trask. He was completely unpredictable.

  No, he wasn't unpredictable. Not if she concentrated on what she knew about him. She just had to suppress the panic and try to get one step ahead of him.

  “Done.” Silver hung up. “Carmela's protection will be doubled. Though Ledbruk said he doubted if it was necessary. He was satisfied with the number of agents he'd assigned to her.”

  “Maybe. If Trask was working alone. He mentioned ‘enough' resources.”

  “Dickens?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. It doesn't seem as if . . . We'll have to see.”

  He started the car. “That's for sure. But I'm not pleased about having to wait and—”

  “Turn around.”

  He glanced at her. “Why?”

  “I want you to take me back to the safe house. I'm going to stay there with Carmela and Rosa.”

  He muttered a curse. “The hell you are.”

  “Why not? If it's safe for them, it's safe for me.”

  “That doesn't mean you should mount guard over them yourself.”

  “Yes, it does.” She met his gaze. “Because I'm the o
nly one who may be able to know if Trask is stalking them. I may be able to stop him before he attacks. You know that's true.”

  His lips tightened. “Then I'll stay too.”

  “No.”

  “What if he does have help? What if he sends someone else in to get Carmela? You'd be blind to anyone but Trask. You need me.”

  But she didn't need to practically live on top of him in that tiny house. It was bad enough occupying a room in his multiroom mansion. “I'm not worried about anyone but Trask. Ledbruk's agents can handle anyone else.”

  “Well, I'm worried, and I—”

  “No, Silver.” She looked away from him. “I don't want you. Now, will you take me back to the safe house or shall I walk?”

  He gazed at her in frustration before his foot stomped down on the accelerator. “I'll take you, dammit.”

  Dickens had done well.

  The farmhouse was almost perfect.

  Trask gazed at the two-story cedar house with the wide front porch with satisfaction and a hint of nostalgia. He'd known that if he found the right place it would bring him this wonderful sense of déjà vu. There was no question this was the right place. It would be the ideal environment for Kerry and him to share Firestorm.

  He checked his watch. Five to six. Almost time.

  The front door opened and a stocky, graying man came out on the porch and then down the steps. Lon Mackey, on his way to feed the cattle in the barn down the road.

  “Be sure you hurry,” Lon's wife, Janet, called after him. “They've got those college kids on Wheel of Fortune tonight.”

  He chuckled. “I've got almost an hour. Am I supposed to let the stock starve because Pat and Vanna are on?” He didn't wait for an answer as he strolled leisurely down the path.

  Trask waited until Mackey had reached the barn before he left the shelter of the trees and followed him. The only drawback to this place was that it was occupied. But that was an obstacle that could be easily overcome by Firestorm.

  Then the farmhouse would be completely perfect.

  What are you looking at?”

  Kerry glanced over her shoulder to see Carmela standing in the bedroom doorway. “Nothing.” She turned away from the window. “Some kids playing basketball in the driveway across the street.”

  Carmela moved across the room to stand beside her and glanced out the window. “Rosa plays basketball. She's pretty good.”

  “Well, make sure she doesn't decide to go out and ask to play with those boys.”

  Carmela made a face. “It's hard to keep Rosa from doing anything she wants to do.”

  “I mean it, Carmela.”

  “I said it was hard, not impossible. I won't let her do anything stupid.” She added awkwardly, “I know you wouldn't have come back last night if you weren't scared.”

  “I'm not scared.”

  “The hell you're not.”

  She smiled. “You're right. I'm scared. But maybe that's good. When you're scared, you're extra careful.”

  “He's close?”

  Kerry shook her head. “But there's a possibility he may try to get closer.”

  “So you're going to protect us.”

  “Me and Agent Dorbin and all those agents in the house next door.”

  “I'd rather rely on you and Mr. Silver.”

  “That's why I'm here.” She glanced at the basketball players again. It was Saturday, and there was no sign the kids would be going inside soon. The game might prove too alluring for Rosa to resist. “Let's go and get Rosa and see if we can find something decent on TV.”

  “They've got cable. That means we can watch Buffy reruns.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Oh, I'll bet you can always watch Buffy reruns.”

  She smiled. “Thrilling.”

  “You've got to watch Buffy,” Carmela said firmly. “But it may be a little confusing if you don't know the characters. I'll fill you in and explain as we go—”

  Kerry's phone rang.

  She stiffened and then crossed to the table where she had placed the phone.

  “Kerry?”

  Not Trask. Silver. Her breath escaped in a sigh of relief. “Yes.”

  “I'm on my way to pick you up.”

  “I'm not going anywhere. I told you—”

  “Ivan Raztov is dead.”

  She went rigid. “How?”

  “Car bomb in his Jeep. Blown to bits. He'd just driven into the parking deck at his apartment.”

  “How could that happen? Ledbruk's men were watching him.”

  “How the hell do I know? All I heard was the message from Ledbruk that he was dead. We'll find out more when we get there.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “Forty minutes ago. I thought you'd want to examine the site and see if you could pick up anything. You said you could sometimes get vibes after a fire.”

  Forty minutes. While she was watching those kids across the street and trying to concentrate on sensing any threat from Trask, he'd been striking at Raztov.

  Blown to bits.

  “Kerry?”

  “Yes, I want to go. I'll make sure they're on the alert here and meet you in the driveway.”

  Blown to bits.

  The metal of Ivan Raztov's Jeep had been twisted and blown to the far corners of the parking garage, and the fire that had enveloped it had spread to the other cars in the garage, melting paint and tires.

  Jesus.

  Kerry took a deep breath before going around the police tape cordoning off the area and walking toward Ledbruk. “Where is he?”

  “That's a good question,” Ledbruk said. “The forensics team is trying to scrape enough of him together to get a definite ID. It's a good thing it went off here. The concrete walls took most of the hit. Trask must have used enough plastic to blow up the apartment building.”

  “How could this happen? Wasn't his car watched?”

  “Hell, yes. We think that the bomb may have been planted at the parking lot of the lab where he's working now. The agent who was doing the surveillance said a Buick rear-ended a Cadillac and his vision of the car was blocked for a few minutes.”

  “And he wasn't suspicious?”

  “Of course. But the woman had two kids with her, and the accident seemed legitimate. His view of the Jeep was only blocked for a few minutes and the woman waited to file an accident report.”

  “Then you should have a record to help ID her,” Silver said.

  “We're working on it. We think her driver's license and insurance card were phony,” Ledbruk said curtly as he turned away. “Don't tell me my job, Silver.”

  “I wouldn't think of it.” Silver nudged Kerry toward the forensics team. “Kerry wants to examine the crime scene. We'll be careful not to compromise it.”

  “There's not much to compromise. Between the fire and the sprinkler system it triggered, it's going to be hell to find any credible evidence.” He turned away. “Just don't get in my way.”

  “A woman . . .” Kerry murmured as they moved across the garage. “And two kids?”

  “It appears Trask may be recruiting new talent.”

  “It doesn't—it feels wrong.” She shook her head to clear it. “Something's not right.”

  “What?”

  “I don't know.” She moistened her lips. “Find me a piece of the metal of Raztov's Jeep.”

  “That shouldn't be hard. It's all over the garage.” He nodded at a length of twisted steel that might have once been a safety bar. “That do?”

  “Maybe. I hope so.” She moved toward the metal bar. “God, I hope so.” She knelt and reached out and touched the bar.

  Nothing.

  Her hand closed around it.

  Hurry. Fasten the plastic to the pipe and get out from under the Jeep. Two minutes.

  Got it!

  Roll out and under the car beside the Jeep. Keep low . . .

  “Something?”

  She glanced up at Silver. “Trask didn't plant it. The man was black, a
bout forty, and very experienced with explosives. He's done this before.”

  “Name?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you going to be able to find out anything more?”

  “I doubt it. I've never been able to see more than a few impressions and the moment of the act itself.” She grasped the metal again, held it for a moment, and then released it. “No, it's gone.” Panic was suddenly soaring through her. She jumped to her feet. “Let's get out of here.”

  “Can you give a description to Ledbruk?”

  “Not now.” Wrong. All wrong. Not Trask. “What would I tell him?” She was almost running toward the crime tape. “Let's go.”

  He caught up with her as she reached the street. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

  “It wasn't Trask.” She got into the car. “It should have been Trask but it wasn't.”

  “So it was someone he paid to do it. The result is the same.”

  “But he always does it himself. And he always uses Firestorm. It's his child, his weapon of choice. We know Raztov was on his hit list. Why didn't he use Firestorm this time?”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “And do you know?”

  She was working it out as she spoke. “Because Raztov wasn't as important as another target he'd chosen. He wanted him dead, but he was willing to give up the pleasure of killing him if it meant using his death.”

  “Using it for what?”

  “A distraction.” She was starting to shake. “He wanted to focus attention on Raztov and—” She reached for her phone. “Oh, God. Carmela. He's going after Carmela. What's the telephone number at that safe house?”

  “I'll do it.” He dialed the number on his phone. “It's ringing. Kerry, it will—” He spoke into the phone. “Agent Dorbin? Silver. Is everything okay there?” He nodded reassuringly at Kerry and she went limp with relief. “No, we just wanted to check.” He hung up. “No problem. It would be almost impossible for him to get through the protection we've set up for Carmela and Rosa.”

  “Almost. Not completely.” Her relief was ebbing by the second. “I'm not wrong, Silver. Raztov was a distraction, and Trask specifically mentioned Carmela on the phone. That's why—”

  “Son of a bitch.” He was dialing the phone again. “A goddamn red herring.”