Pale Death Page 8

  “Notice that nobody wants to use the ‘V’ word, even in their private, hidden notes?” Lee commented. “These guys are smart, sticking just to the facts as they did what they could to cover their asses.

  “Lee, this is page one, according to the number in the right-hand corner. Shouldn’t there be a page two, then?”

  He looked at her blankly. “Didn’t notice the page number. Guess we’d better keep looking.” He looked up at the metal bookshelves. “Damn. How many books are here?”

  “A lot. You started from the top, left-hand side, right?”

  He shook his head. “No, I just grabbed the five books in the middle of the bookcase. I was trying to psyche the guy out. Anyone starting systematically from the beginning or end might have given up after the first shelf or two. So I started in the center of the search area, so to speak.”

  “So check more books from the center.”

  He brought out two books to the left of the five he’d removed, and a couple more to the right of those volumes. “You check two, I’ll check two.”

  She took the books he handed her. “Bingo!” she said, even before he could open his first book. “Page two.”

  “Read it aloud.”

  She began immediately. “Our employer—nature of research—and community cover are all fantasy, as anyone can immediately determine just by entering this facility and having a cursory look around. Our real supervisor—listed only as a consultant in our reports—classified as Top Secret—is Dr. Victor Wayne, supposedly from the forensics office of the Justice Department. Dr. Wayne plays the perfect devil’s advocate, constantly trying to poke holes in our work and refute our conclusions, especially the evidence we’ve been compiling that proves Stewart Tanner is a miraculous human being with capabilities well beyond documented biological traits. All our test results, official notes, and observations are delivered to Dr. Wayne via encrypted files. Victor’s visits are frequent but unscheduled, and we are forbidden to discuss any of our work with any individual outside this office except for Dr. Wayne. Our research team believes that Dr. Wayne knows the potential applications of our studies and is keeping that from us. If any harm comes to Drs. Alderete, Prescott, or myself, investigators should first question our patient, Stewart Tanner (officially known as Patient Beta), or Dr. Wayne. Either may be ultimately responsible for our injury, death, or disappearance.”

  They sat there for a while, digesting the new information.

  Lee was the first to speak. “That explains why Dr. Wayne has been so interested in these murders from the very beginning, and seemed to know his way around this place so well. His meeting with me was probably just an excuse for his real visit—to this facility. If he’d have come here a half day earlier, he might have been one of those killed as well.”

  “Just Tanner’s bad luck. You know if he’d found these slips of paper, he would have gone for Dr. Wayne, especially if he’s after those who put him here.”

  “Partner, it’s time for a confrontation with Victor,” Lee said.

  Diane looked at her watch. “It’ll be four or five hours before Tanner can go outside again. Let’s do it now.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Diane’s Bureau unit had been dropped by an auto shop in Farmington to undergo repairs after last night’s collision with Tanner, so they were using Lee’s state police black-and-white. He drove while she made a steady stream of calls, checking for news.

  Still officially in charge of the original investigation, Diane had turned over most of the logistics of the search to the San Juan County sheriff and the Farmington Police Department, wanting to remain in the field rather than sit across the desk and issue commands. Still, she’d managed to stay in touch with the heads of every agency.

  Diane hung up from her latest call and glanced at Lee. “Dr. Wayne is at the local federal office.”

  Lee nodded. “I know where that is. I patrolled this area at one time, remember?”

  “How can I forget? Which reminds me. Have you picked up any rumors of Navajo witch activity in the county?”

  “No. Skinwalkers seem to be off the radar at the moment. There haven’t even been any awkward silences about suspicious neighbors on the NM side of the Rez.”

  Diane knew that Navajos wouldn’t speak publicly about the presence of skinwalkers, Navajo witches capable of shape-shifting into wolves and other predatory animals, but Lee had a sixth sense about them. He’d become very good at rooting their dens out, and had made them his special targets for several decades now.

  Diane had learned about skinwalkers the hard way—even before discovering Lee was a night walker. She’d lost her first partner to a shape-shifted Navajo in the guise of a black jaguar.

  The small Bureau office was at the rear of a local federal building. And, within minutes, they entered the bustling lobby of the four-story structure. News of a vicious serial killer had been everywhere, and it seemed to be the sole object of discussion behind every counter—that is, until Lee and Diane entered.

  “Everyone is watching us, Lee. Do I have my bra on backward or something?” Diane whispered.

  “Naw, it must be the newspaper articles.” Lee pointed over at a front-page report tacked to a big bulletin board. The headlines read “Serial Killer On Rampage” and below were other related stories, one titled “FBI Agent Attacked.” A recent photo of Diane was included.

  “They knew we were coming too,” Diane said, seeing Dr. Wayne standing halfway down a hallway that extended from the lobby to offices beyond.

  “Diane, we need to talk.” The voice came from their left. A muscular-looking Hispanic man in his early thirties stood up from one of the visitors’ benches and stepped forward.

  “Charles? I’m so sorry about Lynette,” Diane said. After a long hug, the man stepped back and stared at Diane, moisture in his eyes.

  “We need to catch this bastard, Diane, before he kills someone else’s sister.”

  Lee studied the man before them. Like his late sister, Charles was tall and fit, with handsome features and dark brown eyes. Dressed in a loose-fitting blue jacket and tan slacks, Charles looked military, all the way down to the buzz cut and ramrod stance. He was also carrying a handgun in a shoulder holster. If he’d gone ten feet farther into the room, past the metal detector, the man would have set off the alarm.

  “I’ve got a meeting to attend, Charles, but I need to ask you a few questions about your sister and her work.” She looked out of the corner of her eye and noticed Dr. Wayne had disappeared, apparently into his temporary office. “Want to do that now?”

  “Sooner the better. But not inside here, okay?” Charles looked over at Lee, gauging how he measured up, as some aggressive men tended to do. He couldn’t see Lee’s eyes because of the light-protecting sunglasses. “Just you, Diane.”

  “Sorry, Charles, but this is my partner on this case, State Policeman Leo Hawk, and we work together. I trust him completely, and so should you. Let’s take a walk across the street to that little park. We can speak freely there.”

  Charles shrugged. “If that’s my only choice.”

  They walked back out into the street, Diane leading the way and Charles a half step behind her. Lee followed to Charles’s right, not taking his eyes off the man with the gun.

  “Mr. Alderete, we need anything and everything you know about your sister and her work at that research lab. Tanner has to be taken down,” Lee said as they proceeded to the crosswalk.

  “Not just taken down—destroyed,” Charles said, letting his emotions show. “I’ll tell you what I know and why I’m here. Then either you do your job … or I’ll do it for you.”

  Nobody spoke again until they’d crossed the street and were standing in the center of the small, grassy square. A big, black two-faced clock stood atop an old iron streetlight pole.

  Lee watched Charles Alderete. The man was tightly coiled, but had the confident stride of an athlete who believed he was a winner. If he was afraid, it didn’t show.

  “Yo
u still own the gun shop in Albuquerque, Charles?” Diane asked casually. “And I trust you have a permit for that pistol in the shoulder holster?”

  “Yes, and yes. You can check my wallet if it’ll make you happy. I’m a legitimate firearms dealer, and that makes me a potential target for thieves. I’ve gotten into the habit of carrying concealed protection when I travel or pass through rough neighborhoods,” Charles said casually.

  “You just lost your sister, Charles, and I understand why you’re eager to even the score. But that’s an extremely dangerous idea—on every count,” Lee pointed out. If Charles was thinking of hunting down Tanner, chances were he’d end up facedown no matter how much confidence he had.

  “Hawk, most cops like you have never even fired your weapon outside the target range. You’d piss your pants just hearing what I went through in Iraq. I know what it’s like to hunt down another human being.” Charles crossed his arms across his chest and waited for Lee to react.

  Diane couldn’t suppress a smile.

  Charles stood there a moment, then his face started to turn red. “What’s so amusing?”

  “Chuckie, I can beat the crap out of you. And if you knew what Officer Hawk has experienced in his lifetime you’d faint dead away. A man who knows his own capabilities doesn’t have to posture or strut around.”

  Lee had remained expressionless up to now, but he finally cracked a smile as well. “Charles, I appreciate the fact that you placed your life on the line serving in our country’s military. But this is our job now, not yours. What we need from you is information that’ll help us bring down Tanner.”

  Alderete’s bluster finally faded and he nodded. “Lynette told me that they were working with a really dangerous man whose name was Stewart Tanner. She was terrified that if he ever got half a chance he’d murder all of them. Lynette said that they kept him in leg irons and handcuffs, and three guards went with him every time he stepped out of his cell. But she said that she could feel him just biding his time. She was right, judging from the way things went down.”

  “Two of those three guards died,” Diane said softly. “What did Lynette find out about Stewart Tanner anyway? Where did he come from, why was he so special, and why all the secrecy?”

  “According to what she discovered—and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone—Tanner was a civilian, a chef and restaurant owner from Albuquerque. When she told me his name I remembered reading an article about him in the lifestyle section of the morning paper. Tanner was very outgoing and popular with some of the late-night crowd. Apparently he had a phobia about sunlight due to a skin condition. Before he’d come down with that, Tanner had done a lot of hunting and shooting, but his skin condition pretty much ended that. So he made his restaurant into a night owl place. Lynette says some fed agency kidnapped him—all illegal as hell—after they got a tip that he wasn’t ‘normal.’ Tanner, according to Lynette, has remarkable healing abilities—like a cut would seal up and close within a few hours—bizarre stuff like that.”

  He looked at Diane, and Lee knew from his delivery and from the way he avoided meeting her eyes directly that Charles was holding back. Lynette had to have known a lot more than Charles was telling them, and Lee was guessing that she’d told him everything, maybe even the vampire angle.

  “What else did she tell you?” Lee asked, just to confirm his suspicions.

  Charles tried to challenge Lee by staring him down, but all the man saw was his own reflection in Lee’s shades. “That’s pretty much it,” he said, glancing away.

  Diane looked at Lee, letting him know that she knew Charles was holding out on them. “Okay. If you think of anything that might help us find this guy, call me.” She handed him her card. “Lynette and I were close once, Charles. Let me do this for her, okay?”

  Charles nodded, then placed the card in his jacket pocket. “You have a cell phone, right?”

  “That’s the second number on the card,” she said. “Right now we’ve got to go meet with one of the federal honchos, but we will track down Tanner. He’s our only job until it’s done. Assure your parents of that when you see them again.”

  Charles nodded. “Thanks for taking time to see me. Now that we’ve spoken, I’ll be heading back to Albuquerque.” He started to walk away, then turned back. “Diane, be very careful with this guy. Don’t let Tanner get close enough to get his hands on you. A double tap in the head might not be enough. Empty your frigging gun into his face, then reload and do it again.” Charles turned and walked toward the street, leaving them standing there.

  “Well, that cinches it. Lynette told him everything about Tanner,” Diane whispered.

  Lee nodded. “Unfortunately, Charles Alderete still has no idea what he’s really up against. Let’s hope he doesn’t get the chance to find out.”

  Dr. Victor Wayne shrugged. “You’re right, I’ve known about the basic research taking place at the lab—from the beginning. But I had no reason to believe that Tanner might be capable of overpowering his guards and assaulting his physicians like this—much less killing them.” Victor leaned forward in his chair—the brown leather executive model behind the oak desk with somebody else’s name on the coordinating nameplate.

  “So to you, Stewart Tanner was just a disturbed patient, undergoing treatment?” Diane countered.

  “Let’s not be naive about this, Agent Lopez,” Victor replied. “Patient Beta—Tanner—is criminally insane. He required confinement under very close supervision. Yet, due to his obvious physical capabilities and unusual ailments he’s somehow managed to convince a handful of federal officials—and the late staff of the lab—that he’s some kind of … superhuman monster.”

  “You seemed a little less relaxed last night when the armed professionals around you were being sliced and diced rather handily by Tanner. He was outnumbered four to one, and he didn’t even have a pistol,” Lee pointed out.

  “Hell, Officer Hawk, I know the man is a skilled fighter—an assassin type like one of those movie ninjas. But to insist he’s like some kind of … vampire? That’s a real load of crap, and you know it.” Victor stood, leaning forward with his hands on the borrowed desk for emphasis.

  “I don’t buy that notion either, Dr. Wayne. He’s just another out-of-control human with some unfortunately lethal skills,” Diane said. “But if you knew Tanner was so dangerous, why didn’t you pull the plug and shut down the lab months ago? You could have placed Tanner into a maximum security prison.”

  “The vampire thing was fantasy and a non-issue. But there were still questions about his quick healing abilities. What if Tanner had some antibodies or mutated genes that will lead the way to a breakthrough in the treatment of trauma patients, surgical healing, skin cancer, or any of a number of other possibilities? That’s the only reason why I’ve kept from, as you say, pulling the plug.”

  “But now Tanner has pulled it for you,” Lee countered. “And it looks like he’s going to keep everyone in this county awake at night until we get him back into custody. That’s what should really concern—and not to mention frighten—you and everyone else involved in this hunt.”

  Diane nodded. “Tell me what you know about Tanner’s alleged reaction to sunlight. I understand it’s a rare condition. I saw something about that on a news show once, and read about it in a couple of popular novels.”

  “Tanner is extremely vulnerable to sunlight, according to the data I’ve seen.” Victor sat back down again.

  “I saw the videos of some of the experiments, but those could be faked. What physical proof does the lab have?” Lee pressed. “No proof?”

  “Nobody is supposed to know what’s been going on there, so the paper trail is very slim—just numbers and scientific jargon. There were the camcorders, but the recordings are kept in the safe and unavailable. Cell phones weren’t allowed into the facility because some now take images. The project needed some kind of plausible deniability in case of bad publicity. We’re probably lucky that Tanner decided to destroy all the tiss
ue samples. At least they can’t come back to haunt us.”

  “So, officially, we’re not having this conversation?” Diane asked.

  “What conversation?” Wayne said with a shrug. “All we’re doing is coordinating our interagency tactics in order to apprehend a psychologically disturbed mass murderer.”

  “One more question. Who are you working for?” Diane asked.

  Lee and Diane waited, knowing that Victor Wayne wasn’t likely to answer. Admitting to anything came as unnaturally to him as sunbathing did to Tanner. And the only evidence they had was secondhand—unofficial.

  Silence stretched out. Finally Lee, who’d been in his normal position, standing with his back to the wall where he could watch the door and the interior at the same time, nodded to Diane. “Let’s get to it.”

  “Right. Dr. Wayne … will you be returning to Washington—Atlanta—Virginia?” Diane asked as she reached the door and joined Lee.

  Victor smiled, again ignoring the implication. “No, I’m going to be working at the lab—cataloging research and removing all classified information and equipment, even the destroyed biological samples. You two already know not to reveal any sensitive information to the press and public. I also insist that you restrict your written and oral reports to the facts as you’ve seen them.”

  Wayne was very cordial, but it was clear he was sending them a warning. Maybe he was with some branch of Homeland Security, perhaps a subagency deeply buried within the new, bigger than ever federal government. If he’d been Bureau-connected, Diane would have already heard.

  “I can only speak for myself, but except for very clear warnings of the danger Stewart Tanner presents to the public, I’m not going to be doing any speculating concerning what has been discussed and learned over the past two days regarding this case,” Diane said flatly.

  Lee shrugged. “Sounds reasonable to me.”