Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,23
Talon was merely hoping to interrogate the last man before permitting him to join his two buddies in hell.
Talon was a soldier, not a vigilante. He’d killed his share of terrorists and enemy combatants but didn’t go around taking out civilians, much less Americans. But he felt zero regret about showing these two bastards the high cost of war.
The cultist straightened and uttered a few words in a language Talon didn’t comprehend. Whoever was hiding behind that freaky mask was smart enough to know that you didn’t bring a knife to a gunfight. Nevertheless, what he did next caught Talon off guard. Without hesitation, the man drove his own blade through the bottom of his jaw, straight into the base of his brain. He collapsed in a writhing mass of gushing red.
Talon could’ve put him out of his twitching misery with a quick bullet to the heart, but the Delta Operator was fresh out of mercy. Talon watched in silence as the man drowned in his own blood.
CHAPTER NINE
BECKY FACED TALON and her haunted eyes blinked back tears. The woman was in shock, shutting down. Who could blame her? Minutes earlier she’d stared down certain death. Now she sat at the oak dining-room table in the adjoining kitchen, eyes fixed on nothing.
Talon wished he could offer her some coffee or a drink to settle her nerves, but the risk of leaving circumstantial evidence behind was too high. Better if they got out of here as soon as possible. Talon doubted that the neighbors had heard anything that would make them call the cops, but why press his luck?
Appraising Becky’s condition, he concluded that she was in no state for a ride on his motorcycle. Talon called Casca and the billionaire picked up on the second ring.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“Becky is safe and the cult is three members short.”
“Didn’t want to spare at least one for questioning?”
“I tried, but he wouldn’t play ball.”
“Where are you?”
“Still at the house. I could use a pickup.”
“I’m sending a car from my downtown office. Expect them to arrive within minutes.”
Casca clicked off. Talon’s gaze shifted to the quivering woman. He removed his balaclava. The poor girl needed to see a human face, not another masked assassin. Becky didn’t strike him as the type that would repay her rescuer by picking him out of a police lineup.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Talon considered how to answer. He could be the one asking the questions and risk Becky retreating into her own bubble. Or he could tell the truth and hopefully earn her cooperation. Talon opted for the second approach.
“Mark. I’m Michelle’s boyfriend.”
It took a moment for the words to register. A tear trickled down Becky’s cheek as the pieces clicked together in her mind. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t contacted her…”
She broke off.
“Tell me what you know,” Talon said.
Becky complied. In a halting voice that gained confidence as Becky went deeper into her terrible ordeal, she recounted what she’d witnessed at Omicron. When she reached the part where she contacted Michele, Talon interrupted. “How’d the cult find out you were talking to the press?”
“I’m not sure. After I told Michelle what I experienced, she asked me to get some tangible evidence. Without proof she wouldn’t dare run my story. I needed to bring her something that we could take to the cops. I never got a chance.”
She didn’t have to say any more.
Omicron’s security cams had probably spotted Becky sneaking into the meeting. It wouldn’t take much for them to hack her computer and discover that she’d been in contact with the San Francisco Chronicle.
“After I spoke with Michelle, I was too scared to go home. I spent the night with my best friend Janice. I only heard about what happened to Michelle the next day. That’s when I knew they were looking for me.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“I found a motel. I didn’t want to endanger Janice. For two days I tried to figure out what my next move should be. I was about to take my chances and go to the cops when…” Becky paused, overwhelmed by the memory of her brush with death. Talon guessed that along the way she’d probably made a mistake and left some sort of digital footprint. Or Omicron had hacked her phone records and found out about Janice Goldstein the same way Casca had.
Talon’s cell chirped and he scanned the incoming message. Becky’s ride had arrived and the driver was circling