Chris Mooney - The Dead Room

Pine leaned sideways against the windowsill, his arms crossed over his chest. She grabbed the belt buckle and pulled the blade from its sheath.

'I don't know where she kept the actual tapes and files, but I know she carried copies.' Darby drew out the words, trying to buy herself some time. 'She kept copies of everything on a USB drive. Scanned documents. Audio files and pictures. I don't know where the originals are.'

'Did you see them? These scanned documents?'

'I did. We're talking dozens and dozens of items.'

The handle gripped between her fingers, she moved the blade around and started sawing through the rope binding her wrists.

'What was on them?' Pine asked, growing impatient.

'You promise you'll make it quick? I don't think I can stand any more pain.'

Pine sat back in his chair and wheeled closer, his jowls jiggling. She could smell the cigar smoke as he placed his hands on her knees. 'You have my word.'

'You've got to answer some questions for me first. I think I deserve that.'

He sighed. 'Make it quick.'

Darby felt the tension in a piece of rope snap in half. 'How did they find Kendra?'

'Wexler – Dr Wexler, the owner of the house. He called me, said Kendra had phoned him to ask if she could stay at his house for a couple of days.'

'Why did Wexler call you?'

'We… worked together. He performed certain emergency medical services for us when he lived in Charlestown. You can't go to a hospital with a bullet or knife wound.'

'How does Kendra know him?'

'Wexler was her doctor in Charlestown. She kept seeing him when he moved to Belham.'

'She just phoned him out of the blue?'

'Yes. It was a stroke of luck.'

For you, Darby thought, working the blade and also wondering just how many people this group of Feds had on their payroll.

Coop's words came back to her: These guys are slick. They never go to jail. They always have inside help.

'Kendra couldn't stay at a hotel,' Pine said. 'You can't pay cash any more, you need a credit card. Kendra needed a place to stay for a few days, and she didn't want to stay anywhere near Charlestown, so she decided to take a chance, tracked down Wexler and called him. He offered her the use of his house.'

'And then took a sudden vacation so you could call your friends and set her up.'

'Now it's your turn.'

His phone rang. He answered it but didn't talk.

She wiggled her right hand out from the rope, felt it slip across her fingers and drop to the floor. Shit. It's dark in here so just hope Pine doesn't see it. She went to work on her left hand, sawing quickly, the blade cutting and nicking the skin along her wrist, palm and fingers.

Pine hung up. 'We've got two minutes or else King is coming in.'

'The files are password protected.'

'They're audio tapes. You can't put passwords on cassette tapes.'

'They're audio files. You know what a flash drive is?'

'No.'

'It's a little hard drive. You slide it into the USB port of your computer. Kendra transferred the audio tapes into MP3 files, took her notes and scanned them, and put everything on to this little flash drive that fit nicely inside a watch.'

'I want the hard copies.'

'I don't know where they are. But the commissioner has the USB drive. Once the computer guys crack the password, she'll have everything.'

Pine's eyes narrowed. 'Are you screwing with me?'

'Call her. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you.'

He stood and took out his phone. Darby tried to pull her left hand free.

It was stuck.

Pine didn't call Chadzynski; he spoke with King. She could make out his voice echoing over the tiny speaker in the quiet room.

Pine's face remained curiously blank, like that of a man waiting for a bus. He stood only a few feet away. She couldn't stand; her ankles were still bound to the chair legs. If she could only get one foot free…

Both your hands are free and he's only holding his phone, not a weapon; you'regoing to have to make a move now before he -

Pine hung up. Darby came around with the knife, the four-inch blade sticking out between her fingers, and lurched.

Darby sunk the blade deep into Pine's scrotum. He howled and she twisted the blade once before yanking it free.

His hands flew to his groin, and when he buckled she aimed for his throat. He turned too quickly and the blade hit his cheek, sliding across the bone. He staggered and tripped. His enormous bulk toppled against her, shooting the chair backwards.

She banged up against the wall but didn't drop the knife. She started sawing away at the rope around her right ankle.

Pine was rolling on the ground, screaming, hands still cupped over his groin and blood spurting between his fingers. The screams echoed through the small room and she was sure King and whoever else was in here had heard them and were now running this way.

Snap and a piece of rope cut away.

'You bitch,' he wailed. 'You goddamn bitch, you'll pay, you're going to PAY.'

One, two, three cuts and her right foot was free.

Pine, panting and howling, face red from the excruciating pain, reached for the sidearm clipped to his belt. She got to her feet, and with the use of one leg moved to him, dragging the chair behind her.

She jumped on top of him. Slammed her knee deep into his groin and when he howled she hit his throat. He started gurgling and she hit his throat again. She broke his nose. Then she got behind him and snapped his neck, and his arms and legs stopped moving, as if they had suddenly given up.

She pulled the sidearm from his holster. A Glock. She found the knife on the floor, dropped the nine next to her and started cutting.

Snap on a piece of rope binding her left ankle.

A door slammed open outside.

Snap and another piece of rope gave way.

Footsteps – walking, not running.

Snap, snap, snap and she twisted her ankle free.

King appeared in the doorway, expecting to see Artie alive and her dead. Surprise bloomed on his face when he saw her lying sideways against the floor holding a nine.

She fired. One shot and half his head disappeared.

Darby scrambled to her feet. King's body jerked and twitched on the floor. Dead this time. Dead.

'Please.'

Pine's wheezing, cracking voice.

He stared up at her in horror. He lay still on the floor, bleeding out from his groin.

'I can't… I can't feel my… I can't move my arms or legs.'

'You're paralysed,' she said. 'I made you a quadriplegic. Think about me when they're changing your diapers in prison.'

'Please… please don't leave me like this, the pain…'

His words trailed off as Darby stepped over King's body and started to check the garage.

Clear.

She ran back to find the wooden table that held her SIG and phone. She slid the gun inside her holster. Picked up the phone and tucked it inside her pocket.

A shotgun rested at an angle against the wall – a Remington 870 police entry with a fourteen-inch barrel, magazine extender, mounted tactical light and side saddle holding six low-recoil shells. Perfect. She tucked Pine's nine in the back waistband of her trousers, switched to the shotgun and carried it with her as she moved, her eyes locked on the door at the far end of the bay.

She remembered that Madeira James from Reynolds Engineering Systems had sent a message. Wants you to call her immediately, King had said before reading the message. When he put the phone down, his face had changed.

Bad news? she had asked.

Nothing we can't handle, he said.

She ducked into one of the empty rooms and took out the phone. Turned it on and saw the woman's message and an attachment. She opened it and scanned the text quickly. Then she turned the phone off and tucked it back inside her pocket.