Stephenie Meyer - The Chemist

That meant there were four more, possibly heading out toward the sound of the crash right now. At least the dogs were beginning to congregate around her, all of them on silent mode thanks to Einstein’s presence. She wondered if they would have remembered her if she were alone.

“Sir?” she asked, trying to imagine how a cop would speak to someone in a car accident. “Where are the others?”

“Hitchhikers,” he said, his rolling eyes starting to move more purposefully. “The others are hitchhikers. We picked up four men and dropped them off here. Then there were dogs – crazy dogs attacking us. I thought they were going to chew through the tires.”

He was gaining more control, spinning the story carefully. He made a fist, then released it. She raised the gun again and kept her eyes on his hands.

“Were these… hitchhikers hurt in the attack?”

“I think so. I think maybe two of them. The others went in the house.”

So hopefully there were only two others. But was this the guy in charge? The age was right; however, she’d picked up a few things during her time in Chicago. In an orchestrated hit, usually the guys left in the car were lower on the totem pole. The driver was secondary. The star of the show would be the one the contract was made with. The one with the skills.

“I think I need a doctor,” he complained.

“An ambulance is on the way.”

The light from the SUV’s one surviving headlight was almost entirely blocked by thick grass and settling dirt, but there was enough that his eyes were beginning to adjust. She saw them widen when he abruptly realized there was a gun in his face.

He made a grab inside his jacket. She fired a round into his right shoulder; she didn’t want to aim for the hand and take the chance of the bullet passing through and into a vital organ. She wasn’t done with him yet.

He screamed, and his right arm jerked out in a pained spasm, flinging blood across her neck and chin. The gun he’d been reaching for slipped from his fingers, dropped onto his dead companion’s face, then bounced out of the car and against her shoe. She knew it wouldn’t be his only weapon, so she aimed down and shot him through the palm of his left hand.

He howled again and struggled against the seat belt as if he were trying to hurl himself through the empty windshield frame at her. Something was wrong with his legs – he couldn’t get the purchase he was looking for.

The action had roused the dogs, who were all snarling now. Einstein launched himself at the passenger side of the car, which was currently the top side. Bracing his paws against the frame of the missing window, he stretched his neck into the SUV and locked his massive jaws around the man’s right shoulder – the one she’d just shot.

“Get it off me! Get it off me!” the man shrieked in abject terror.

She took advantage of his total distraction to grab the gun at her foot. It was a cheap.38, safety off.

“Einstein, control!” Alex ordered as she straightened. It was the only command she remembered besides escape protocol and at ease, and control seemed closest to what she wanted. Einstein let go of the shoulder but kept his teeth right in the man’s face, slavering spots of bloody saliva onto his skin.

“Who are you?” the man screamed.

“I’m the person who is going to have this animal chew your face off if you don’t tell me what I want to know in the next thirty seconds.”

“Keep it away!”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Hector! He brought us in!”

“Where is he?”

“In the house! He went in and didn’t come out. Angel went in after him and didn’t come out. The dogs were going to rip the doors off the car! We bailed!”

“Who was on the sniper rifle? Hector?”

Einstein snapped his teeth inches from the terrified man’s nose.

“Yes! Yes!”

She’d never thought of using animals in an interrogation, but Einstein was an unexpectedly effective asset.

“Hector was going to make the hit?”

“Yes!”

“Who was the target?”

“I don’t know! We’re just supposed to drive and shoot anyone who tried to leave.”

“Einstein, get him! ” It wasn’t the best improv; Einstein’s eyes cut over to her, clearly confused. It didn’t matter to the man in the SUV.

“No, no!” he screamed. “I swear! Hector didn’t tell us. Those Puerto Rican hitters don’t tell outsiders anything!”

“How did you find this place?”

“Hector gave us the addresses!”

Plural? “More than one?”

“There were three houses on the list! We did the first one earlier. Hector said it was the wrong place!”

“What did you do there?”

“Hector went in. Five minutes later, he came out. Told us to move on to the next.”

“That’s all you know?”

“Yes! Yes! Everything!”

She shot him in the head twice with his own gun.

There was a countdown running in her mind. She had no idea how long it had actually taken to release the dogs, float downstream, and load the Humvee. She didn’t know when Hector had entered the house or how long it had taken him to get to her room. What she did know was that the pressurized canister of gas she’d left armed there would continue to quietly exude the chemicals it was packed with for about fifteen minutes after someone opened the door. Once the contents ran out, she had maybe thirty minutes more – dependent on the size of the person involved – before the quarry was back on his feet. It was going to be close.

She jumped into the Humvee, holding the door open so Einstein could climb over her. She threw the goggles back to Daniel, getting only one glimpse of his face before she was blind again. All she could see was that his expression was tense.

“Get us to the house. Same plan as before if anyone comes out. Stop far enough back that you can see the sides of the house; watch for someone coming around.”

“The dogs will let me know if they see something.”

“Right,” she agreed. The advantages of the pack were more extensive than she could have anticipated.

She removed her PPK and holstered the Glock in its place. She stuck the.38 in her belt, shoved the PPK into the bag at her feet, then dug through that bag, pulling the things she needed by feel. She switched the bulletproof hat for the gas mask, quickly tightened it into place over her mouth and nose, screwed in the filter, then grabbed two more pressurized canisters, zip ties, thin tactical gloves, and her earring box; she stowed them in the pockets of her vest. She extracted the heavy bolt cutters last and stuck them through the belt by the empty holster, one handle inside, one out. Though the cutters were compact for their abilities, the handles still reached nearly to her knee. They would impede her movement a little, but if things went the way she wanted, she would need them.

She didn’t have time to think about what Daniel might be processing right now – how he might feel about her killing a helpless man.

The house came into view, all the visible windows downstairs lit. The windows upstairs were blacked out too well for her to be able to tell if the lights were on or not.

“Do you see anyone?”

“A body – over there.” Daniel pointed toward the outbuilding.

“We need to make sure he’s dead.” There were still three men unaccounted for. The fewer breathing, the better her chances.

“I’m pretty sure he is. It looks like he’s… in more than one piece.” His voice sounded a little hollow.

Hers didn’t. “Good.”

She couldn’t see anyone near the house. They weren’t dumb enough to run out and see what was going on, apparently. No silhouettes appeared in the windows. Surely they would have shut off the lights if they were going to shoot from one of them. Maybe upstairs… the windows were so completely covered that she couldn’t even tell exactly where they were. Or the blackout treatments had been pulled back and someone was watching from a darkened room.