The Killing Chase (Beach & Riley Book 2) Page 8

  About half an hour later they arrived at a small hotel in the middle of the city, near the National Museum.

  “This ought to do you,” Erik called out. “It’s basically walking distance to most things. The river’s that way, most of the bars are that way or that way, and the airport’s that way. No worries – it’s all on this map my missus gives the tourists. I reckon you should go see Billy D. for some intel before you go messing with those Ruskies though.”

  Mike Lee flared with anger, realizing Dozer or Priest had obviously said more than they should. But Erik cut him off before he could speak. “Keep it in your pants, mate. I don’t know any more than that,” Then he mumbled, “Bloody Seppos – no sense of humor.”

  Mike clenched his teeth. He had absolutely no authority over Erik the Viking, and the loudmouth Aussie obviously held Americans of his ilk in contempt, so Super Spy exited the van in silence. The others said their thanks and goodbyes before Erik drove off, leaving the Phillips brothers to deal with Mike Lee’s simmering wrath. But it was Jake who wrapped a big arm around Mike’s shoulders and steered him into the hotel lobby.

  “Don’t take the Super Spy thing personally, Mike. Based on what I’ve heard about Erik’s line of work, he’s had to tolerate a lot of crap from your CIA compatriots while working in the Sandbox.”

  “Okay, I get that; but what the hell is a ‘Seppo’?”

  Behind them Dozer spoke up: “Surprised you haven’t heard that one before, mate. It’s from World War II. A lot of your blokes were stationed in Australia or went there on R&R from the Pacific theater. The Yanks often had access to nylon stockings, chocolate bars, cigarettes, and other goodies that were in extremely short supply, so they had some luck with our ladies while the men were away fighting. Most Aussies resented the invasion of their shores and their damsels, and used rhyming slang to change ‘Yanks’ to Septic Tanks, or ‘Seppos.’”

  “Petulant children,” Mike grunted through Dozers guffaws.

  “Just messing about, mate – no worries.” The huge Aussie tousled Mike’s hair as he passed en route to the check-in counter. “G’day, love – you got five rooms under, Viking, Erik the, please?”

  If Dozer’s massive size wasn’t enough to startle the petite receptionist, his broad accent only added to her trepidation. Priest pushed his brother aside to clarify the request, calming her with his fluent Khmer. Obviously relieved, the woman nodded eagerly, handing him registration cards and asking for their passports. Formalities completed, the group headed to their rooms for a much-needed shower and change of clothes. Jake had decided it would be wise to visit the longtime expat, Billy D., to glean as much as they could about the Russian operation before making their move, so they all agreed to meet in the lobby in an hour.

  Jake and Mike arrived back at reception first, and waited for the others. Dozer and Priest joined them momentarily, the larger brother making a joke about always having to wait for women. It was only a couple of minutes past the assigned meeting time, but Jake knew Tik too well to ignore her uncharacteristic lack of punctuality. He was about to go to her room when the receptionist called out in broken English, “Call for Mr. Jake, please.”

  She held out the handpiece as Jake approached the counter. “Hi, Tik – what’s the holdup?”

  A man replied, well-spoken but with a Russian accent. “I understand you’re looking for me, Mr. Riley. If you value Tik’s life, you will stop now.”

  The blood drained from Jake’s face. “Ugolev.”

  Chapter 9

  Beach and Foxx traveled north on Highway 77 in their rented SUV, toward Sherbourne Institute for the Criminally Insane. As usual, Foxx was at the wheel. “We’re making good time, partner. Do you remember the road into the institute?”

  Beach had almost fallen asleep to the hypnotic passing of center lines on the road. He cleared his throat. “It’s right off the main road – you can’t miss it.”

  “I was expecting some kind of spooky, horror-movie mansion on a back road in a creepy forest setting.”

  “This place is definitely like something out of a movie – just not the kind you’re thinking of. It’s set up more like a supermax penitentiary than a hospital. You have to remember, Sherbourne houses some of the most dangerous prisoners in the country. It’s federal, so there are psychotics and serial killers from all over the USA.”

  “Great.”

  “It’s not called Sherbourne Institute for the Criminally Insane for fun.”

  A few minutes later the building’s wide road frontage came into view. The grounds were completely surrounded by three very high chain-mesh fences, each with razor wire at top and bottom. Towering turrets were strategically placed to observe every inch of the compound, each manned by three armed guards. The intricately devised security entrance came into view as Foxx guided their SUV into a vacant spot in the parking lot.

  “Damn – you weren’t kidding about high security.”

  “They take it very seriously – but if it keeps freaks like Adler safely locked away, I don’t have a problem.”

  As the agents made their way toward the outer gate, two exterior guards brought their hands up to caress their sidearms.

  “State your business, please,” one of them called.

  “Even more strict than last time,” Beach said quietly to Foxx, before addressing the guards. “FBI Agents Foxx and Beach – we have an appointment with Dr. Tinsley.”

  The guards leaned in to confer with one another. Then one held his hand up, indicating for the agents to wait where they were, while the other guard went to the first security booth.

  “This happen last time?” Foxx whispered.

  Alan looked disconcerted. “No – there must be something wrong.”

  Less than a minute later the guard returned to his post. An older man followed close behind, continuing to where Beach and Foxx stood.

  “Sorry for the extra caution, agents. I’ve checked the log and found your appointment with Dr. Tinsley, but I’m afraid you’ve come a long way for nothing. Dr. Tinsley passed away this morning.”

  A chill ran up Alan’s spine, accompanied by an involuntary look of disbelief, as his mind wrestled for control. “Tinsley’s dead? How did he die?”

  “Single vehicle collision – about ten miles from the institution. The coroner’s got the body, but initial indications point to him falling asleep at the wheel. They estimate his car was doing about fifty when it left the road and rammed straight into a tree. He died on impact. Protocol requires us to increase security until the coroner declares cause of death, so Sherbourne’s closed to all visitors until then.”

  Alan shook his head as though trying to wake from a daydream. Foxx stepped in to cover. “Can you tell us where to find the coroner’s office?”

  The guard gave them instructions, and Foxx nudged his partner back toward their car. Alan leaned against the hood for a few seconds before breaking the silence. “This can’t be right – I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  “Seems like one hell of a coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. Let’s go see what the coroner has to say.”

  Twenty minutes later they’d arrived at a small clinic belonging to the local doctor who doubled as the small county’s coroner. It was a typical small town affair with stark fluorescent lighting, vinyl chairs, a magazine rack, polished linoleum tiled floor, and the pungent reek of antiseptic cleaners. The waiting room was full of townspeople waiting for their turn to see the town’s only medical doctor. Beach and Foxx approached the reception desk where a woman in her late thirties sat, filing her nails.

  Foxx produced his badge. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re federal agents, here to see the coroner, please.”

  The woman looked up from her nails in surprise. “FBI? What’s going on – did someone escape from the nuthouse? I knew something like this would happen someday. Never did want that darned place near our town.”

  Beach smiled patiently. “Nothing like that, ma’am. We need to s
peak with the coroner about the car accident. If you could let him know we’re here, please.”

  Her anxiety still obvious, she tentatively picked up the phone and pressed the intercom button. “Dr. Pollock – there are two FBI agents here to see you. They say it’s about the car accident, but I’m not so sure.”

  Amused by her paranoia, Foxx suppressed a chuckle. “I can assure you, there’s nothing to be concerned about. We’re just following protocol.”

  “Protocol, my patootie! Since when does the FBI investigate a simple car accident?”

  “A fair point, ma’am,” Beach offered. “- but when the victim is the head of a major federal correctional institution, we like to be sure there’s no foul play involved. I can absolutely guarantee you no one has escaped from Sherbourne. There’s no need for paranoia. Now, can we see the doctor, please?”

  “Just ’cuz you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you,” she said, then turned her attention suddenly back to the phone in her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, doctor. No, I’m not being silly! Yes, yes, I’ll send them into the examination room.” She glared at the agents. “Well, I guess you’d better follow me then.”

  They followed her into a room detached from the doctor’s office. It appeared to be set up for minor medical procedures, but judging by the additional equipment, doubled as an autopsy room. A gurney was positioned in the center, with a white sheet draped over what was obviously the body of Dr. David Tinsley, former director of the Sherbourne Institute.

  “The doctor should be with you shortly. Please don’t touch anything. And don’t take too long – we’ve got a lot of patients to get through today.”

  Beach was not amused by the woman’s disrespect, but replied politely. “We won’t touch anything – and I promise not to be a second longer than precisely how long it takes.”

  She left the room with a glare of mistrust, pulling the door shut behind her. Foxx gave Beach a playful punch on the shoulder. “Lighten up, partner – that was comedy, right there.”

  Beach merely shrugged as the door burst open, revealing a middle-aged man with a snowy beard, and warm smile. “I must apologize for Miss Cosban’s demeanor,” he said, extending his hand. “She really isn’t suited to small-town living. I think she’d do much better in an episode of Criminal Minds or Person of Interest. She’s one heck of an organizer though.”

  “I’m sure she has her redeeming features,” Beach conceded.

  “Makes a damned good coffee, too. You fellers want one?”

  “I don’t think she’d appreciate our staying any longer than we must. Thanks for the offer, but if you don’t mind, we’d like to get straight to business.”

  “Yup, she kinda scares me too. So, what can I do for you?”

  “Have you examined Dr. Tinsley’s body yet?”

  “Yup – dead on impact. Car versus oak, tree wins every time.”

  “Was there anything suspicious on the body? Any unusual marks, alcohol, drugs, like that?”

  “Well, it was eight o’clock in the morning, agent. David was a wine connoisseur, but I can’t imagine him drinking for breakfast. I’m willing to bet there’s no alcohol in his system. Can’t tell about drugs until I send the tox screen to the lab. As far as marks are concerned, best you have a look for yourselves, I reckon.”

  He pulled the sheet away, revealing the brutalized remains. The body was caked with dried blood and dusted with white powder from his car’s airbags. “I haven’t had time to do the full autopsy yet. Figured there was no real rush – and I’ve got plenty of live ones waiting on me out there. I don’t think David will mind waiting. He was a pretty pragmatic guy.”

  “You knew him well?”

  “Not that well, but we’re – I should say we were – the only two doctors for miles, so we got to know each other. Decent feller – for a shrink.”

  “He was a good man,” Beach agreed solemnly. “In your opinion, would he have had any kind of involvement with drugs?”

  “You knew him too?”

  “I met him about a year ago, but it was only one encounter.”

  “Well, I reckon that would have been enough to know he wasn’t any kind of drug user. Nope, I reckon he’d been putting in too many hours at work and just nodded off on that long, straight stretch of road. I can wipe off some of that blood, if you need me to.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d just like to have a look at the back of his neck.”

  “Seems an odd request, but you’re the boss.”

  He handed both agents some examination gloves and put some on himself, then motioned to Foxx. “You look like a strong young feller – how about you give me a hand turning him over? Let me get control of his head though. Neck’s busted pretty bad – don’t want anything twisting off.”

  The doctor’s practiced hands maneuvered the head as Foxx rolled the corpse. A sickening crunch emanated from the spine, causing Foxx to gag. Dr. Pollock chuckled at the FBI agent’s squeamishness. “First time with a dead one, son?”

  “No,” the big man recovered quickly, his Marine pride slightly dented. “first time turning over a bag of broken bones though.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “Not so sure about that.”

  Dr. Pollock positioned the head so the neck was extended upward. Broken vertebrae pushed toward the surface, stretching the bloodied skin.

  “Careful,” Beach jumped in. “Don’t damage the skin.”

  “Don’t worry – skin’s a lot more resilient than you think. Anyway, what in tarnation’s got you so interested in the back of this man’s neck, agent?”

  “Call it a hunch. Can you wipe the skin down, please?” Beach couldn’t help grimacing. “And if I could borrow a magnifying glass?”

  The doctor looked incredulous, but complied with Beach’s requests. He wheeled a large, free-standing examination light from a corner of the room and aimed it at Tinsley’s neck. Then he pulled a powerful lens from a drawer, passing it handle first to Beach. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but if you can’t find it with this, you can’t find it at all.”

  Beach put the lens to his eye and bent forward, using his gloved fingers to move the hair out of his view. He carefully combed the area near the base of the skull, until stopping suddenly. He grabbed a clean cloth to wipe the area as clean as possible then double checked what he’d found.

  “What have you got, partner?”

  Beach straightened and stepped back from the gurney, his pale face staring off into the distance. “This is not good – this is not good at all.”

  Chapter 10

  His face contorted in anger, Jake pressed the phone hard against his ear to hear Tik’s kidnapper.

  “So, Jake Riley - you seem to have me at a disadvantage. It appears you know me, and are intent on destroying my business, yet I don’t know anything about you.”

  “Don’t play games, Ugolev – you know exactly who I am.”

  “You’re quite mistaken. The only thing I know is that you razed my operation in Thailand. Perhaps my taking your spicy little Laotian friend here evens the odds a little.”

  “If you know me like I think you do, then listen carefully, Ugolev. If you let Tik go unharmed, I promise to kill you quickly – painlessly. But if you so much as chip a nail on her finger, you’ll be begging the devil himself for mercy before you meet him face-to-face in hell.”

  “You Americans – such violent thoughts and colorful movie clichés. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your attentions, Mr. Riley, but please calm down. Leave us to complete our business in Cambodia, and I assure you, we will not harm your feisty friend. You certainly cannot say the same for my people in Thailand.”

  “A couple of bumps and bruises – they’ll get over it. But if you hurt Tik, I will hunt down everyone who has ever meant anything to you.”

  “Bumps and bruises? My men are all dead. If you hadn’t spared Yelena to tell me the story, I would be none the wiser. It seems you have a weakness for
the female of the species.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? We left your guys battered but breathing.”

  “Perhaps, but you should think twice before employing Thai Special Branch in future. I assure you, my men are quite dead.”

  Jake shot a glance at Dozer. Now he knew why the Thai cops appeared puzzled when he’d handed the unconscious but still living Russians off to them. Their mission must have included killing all the Russians, to clear out the foreign-owned component of Pattaya’s drug trade. Thai police don’t appreciate competition.

  “I had no idea – they acted alone. But I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do. That’s makes three less scumballs in the world.”

  “Two scumballs and a cousin, Mr. Riley. Not my favorite cousin, but Grigori was a cousin just the same. Not to worry – I shall take the matter up with your Thai policemen on my next visit. It will take some time and effort to rebuild my network in Pattaya – someone will have to pay for the damage and loss of revenue. If my competitors were to discover I let two lowly policemen get away with such a thing, my reputation would be worth nothing.”

  “That’s irrelevant, Ugolev. The only thing you have to worry about is me.”

  “I really must find out why you have such distaste toward me – but not today. As I said, do not interfere with me in Cambodia, and I will set your little friend free when I leave. Try to find me, and despite her bravado, she will truly regret your persistence.”

  “How do I know you haven’t done something to her already?”

  “Ask her yourself.”

  A few seconds later Tik’s voice came over the phone. “Mr. Jake?”

  “Are you all right, Tik – has he hurt you?”

  “No, not hurt Tik. Jake, you listen me now – you find this man. You kill him good! Don’t worry for…” But she was cut off mid-sentence.