Gregg Hurwitz - Last shot

Using his left arm to cradle twenty or so vials of Xedral against his stomach, Walker pressed the Redhawk to Dolan's throat. Calmly, he stuffed the vials and needle kit into his pockets.

Dolan said, "Listen-"

"Turn around."

Dolan pivoted haltingly. His spread fingers trembled.

"What did Tess get on you?" Walker said.

"She found out about a second viral vector I designed for AAT. More effective but less profitable, so my father and brother buried it. They lied to me about it, told me it was less viable than Xedral, and covered the trail with false data."

"Get on your knees."

"I just figured out-"

From behind, Walker kicked out Dolan's leg, and he hit the floor hard, his kneecaps knocking tile. Walker pressed the gun to the back of his head. He expected Dolan to cry, to plead, but he didn't. He just sat there, sagged over his folded legs, shoulders slumped.

Walker thought about Kaitlin in the apartment, steering his gun to her own belly so he couldn't aim at the deputy pounding on the door. He summoned his anger. "You were there. When Tess was raped."

"Yes." Dolan didn't move. His voice was quiet, resigned, almost peaceful. "And I did nothing to help her. I'm sorry."

Walker's finger tightened on the trigger, but then a spotlight struck the window at the corridor's end. Squinting through the glare, he made out a row of incoming flashing blue lights.

He hit the floor.

The Dodge actually caught air flying off the 405 at Wilshire. Tim's Nextel vibrated, and he snapped it off his belt. "Almost there."

Miller said, "Jameson's inside with an unidentified hostage. The perimeter's airtight, and a traffic-control team's locked down the surrounding blocks. We've got men at all the exits and windows and up on the second floor at the stairwells. The command team and negotiating team are en route, but we got the LAPD crisis negotiator in place already. We blocked the phone lines from the building, so if Walker calls out, he's talking to us. The negotiator's on with him now, obtaining proof that the hostage is okay. Guerrera's rounding up Jameson's mother and father and getting no cooperation. His platoon-mate-guy in the VA? — is too sick to be moved."

As Bear swept around the exit loop, a blanket of parked cop cars drew into view, the strobing reds and blues projecting false movement all around. The desolate run of street beyond the vehicle barricade looked bizarre; Tim had never seen Wilshire devoid of traffic. Freed whistled through his teeth. A spotlight blazed off the closed venetian blinds blotting out a window on the ground floor of the Beacon-Kagan Building.

Tim said, "Contact Kaitlin Jameson-she's three blocks over at the UCLA Med Center. And find Dolan Kagan."

Bear slowed at the sawhorses, flashing his badge to the cop. Up the block, in the eye of the spotlight, the venetian blinds flashed open, revealing a silhouette bound to an office chair, an arm reaching into view to press a gun to his temple. The blinds snapped shut again.

Miller said, "Unfortunately, I think we just did."

Bear steered slowly, threading through the parked cars.

"Walker said he won't talk to the negotiator anymore," Miller said. "Only to you."

Tim said, "We're here. Look west. Bear's rig? Have someone meet me with a cordless."

Bear slant-parked beside a fire engine, and Tim hopped out. A guy in a SWAT windbreaker trotted over and tossed Tim a cordless. Tim headed to the front of the barricade, pressing the phone to his ear. "Rackley."

Acrylic packing tape secured Dolan at the forearms, ankles, chest, and thighs, adhering him to the office chair. Gripping the back of his neck, Walker rolled him down the corridor on well-greased casters. He spoke into the cordless phone he'd swiped from one of the lab benches. "Bring Sam here now, or this fuck dies."

Through the phone Tim sounded slightly winded; he was jogging. "We can't move Sam. He's in full liver failure."

"Full liver failure? Then you'd better get him here quick."

"We can't do that," Tim said. "He's in bad shape."

"I have the Xedral shot. It'll make him better. Send Sam in to me. I give him the shot, then I let Dolan go free."

"There's a better vector. That's what Tess found out. That's why they had her killed."

Walker halted, Dolan grunting as his grip tightened. "That's what my hostage told me. You think we should believe him?"

"Tess got ahold of evidence. I've seen it."

"So there's another shot. A better shot." Walker pressed the Redhawk to the hollow of Dolan's eye. "Do you have it here?"

Dolan tried to recoil but had little room to move. The chair slid a little, and Walker moved with it, applying pressure to Dolan's face. The glass sliding doors hissed open, and they drifted into the test suite, the monkeys sending up a racket.

"Lentidra," Dolan said. "Yes, it's here. But it's too late."

"What do you mean it's too late?" Walker said.

"He's in liver failure? Sam?"

"So we give him the good shot. We fix it."

"Viral vectors can't work if the target organ is in failure. The administration of the transgene'll just damage the liver further. Gene therapy has to start earlier-it's not a late-stage cure."

A long pause. At the end of the line, Tim was silent; he'd been listening, too.

Walker tensed his mouth, scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. He said, into the phone and to Dolan, "I don't believe you. Put me through to Sam's room."

Tim said, "I can't do that."

Walker fired a shot across the suite-a computer monitor jumped, the bullet embedding in its side. The monkeys, bizarrely, silenced.

Tim said, reasonably, "Everyone okay in there?"

"Put me through to Kaitlin at the hospital, or so help me God I'll kill this motherfucker."

"I'll see what I can do."

A few seconds later, Walker got a ring, and then Kaitlin's voice. He said, "Kaitlin, it's very important you answer me straight right now. Did Sam's liver give out?"

"He's in a coma, Walk." She sounded deadened, on the far side of a sobbing jag. "I want to hear his voice. Just one more time. But they said I'm not gonna get to."

Walker felt his forehead crinkle. "How long's he have?"

"Morning. Maybe."

He waited until whatever was fucking with his throat subsided. "I'm sorry."

An indelicate nose blow. "You didn't do it."

"No," he said. "For being a coward. Like you said."

Her voice took on a note of suspicion. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Are you high up? In the building?"

"Third floor."

"Get to a south window."

Sounds of Kaitlin running. She jerked in a breath. "Oh, honey."

"When the kid comes to, tell him I said he did good."

"Walker, they don't think he's gonna come to."

He hung up, crouched, and lowered his head, palming the back of his skull. Dolan started to say something, and Walker raised the Redhawk so it aimed at his face. His voice came low, gruff. "Do not say anything right now."

Between his feet the cordless rang. He picked it up.

Tim said, "You're a straight shooter, Walker. Here's how it is: We don't have anything to give you. You don't have anything to get. Dolan can't do anything for you anymore."

Walker started pulling Xedral vials from his pocket and throwing them against the far wall, one after another. A few of the monkeys reacted with anxious little calls. "How do you know I won't just kill this motherfucker anyway?"

"I don't. But you'd be killing the wrong guy. He wasn't in on Tess's murder."

"He was in on the rape."

"He was there."

"Being a coward don't buy you a pass."

"Sounds like Kaitlin just gave you one."

Walker threw another vial, finding the tinkle of breaking glass oddly pleasing.

"You're boxed," Tim said. "There's no way out that doesn't wind up at a dead end."