The invictus, p.27
The Invictus, page 27
“Lauren, hold on!” Craig yelled. He bolted toward the ledge, poised to vault up and battle Bishop. But just as he reached it, he was tackled from behind. One of the bodyguards had somehow wrested free and was forcing him to the ground just feet from the ledge.
Craig unleashed his fury on the man. He let loose a hail of punches and blows that the man tried to counter, but he was no match for Craig’s skill, driven by rage. He knocked the man out with one final blow to the head. Craig quickly got back up. He saw Danny out of the corner of his eye, careening toward the ledge, determined to rescue Lauren.
Adrenaline surging, Craig vaulted onto the ledge and ran toward the staircase. Pure terror flooded through his body as he felt Lauren’s life slipping away. She was in mortal distress, and her gaze began to soften as she looked off vacantly into the distance.
As he ran toward her, Craig extended his hand, feeling once again the funnel of power building in his palm. He would wield it against Bishop to dislodge his choke hold on Lauren. But before he could unleash it, he felt the searing pain of the gunshot at the exact instant he saw the flash of a gun barrel.
The blast caught Craig squarely in his ribs. He was thrown to the ground, clutching his chest with both hands. He had forgotten about the fifth bodyguard, who was now at the base of the stairs. Through the pain he watched Lauren cease to struggle. Her hands fell limp to her sides.
Bishop released her lifeless body and let it fall onto the staircase landing as Craig’s vision went black.
Mason was holding the assailant who had tried to stab him to the floor when he heard a gunshot ring out. He glanced up at the upper tier of the shop floor as Craig fell forward and collapsed onto it. Turning back to his opponent, Mason delivered a final thunderous blow to the assailant’s head. He paused for an instant to see the man was unconscious, then clawed inside his vest for his police radio.
“Squad Seven, this is Mason. I’ve got a ten-one. Repeat: a ten-one. We have multiple men down! Machine shop building on South Wolcott, just south of Forty-Fifth Street. Copy—now!”
A barely comprehensible radio message responded in the affirmative.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Danny, who remained frozen after seeing Craig fall. Mason instinctively ducked as he heard several more shots popping off from the stairs. Both he and Danny were now crouched beneath the shelter of the ledge. The bodyguard who had just shot Craig had fired several shots at them from his elevated vantage point at the foot of the stairwell.
As Mason peered over the ledge, he got a good look at Bishop’s face. The man was glaring down at Craig where he had fallen, a look of disgust twisting his features. Mason was perplexed by the snarl that curled Bishop’s face. Wouldn’t he be happy to see Craig, the target of his rage, so grievously injured, effectively neutralized?
The bodyguard drew out another handgun and squeezed off several more rounds of covering fire. Danny, Mason, the other detectives, and their assailants on the lower floor huddled on the ground. After a moment, Mason heard the sound of running feet. He raised his head just enough to see Craig still lying on his back. Bishop and his bodyguard raced up the stairwell toward the office and their escape. Bishop hesitated for a moment as he looked back down at Lauren’s body and shook his head dismissively. Then Bishop looked at Craig’s body a last time, bolted through the office door, and was gone. The bodyguard who had kept them at bay followed immediately behind.
With the threat of further gunfire gone, Mason jumped to his feet and trained his attention on Craig. His finger jabbed in the direction of the stairs and Lauren. “Walsh, get up there and see to her! I’ve got your cousin.”
Mason leapt up onto the ledge and raced across the floor toward Craig. He rolled Craig over onto his back. Craig’s eyes were closed, and his body was rigid. Mason feared the worst.
Craig’s hands were clutched to his chest. When Mason pried them off, he saw blood staining the front of Craig’s shirt. “Shit!” Mason shouted as he ripped open the top of the shirt. Mason dug inside his vest where he kept a handkerchief. He was preparing to press it against the wound he expected to find. Then he froze, and his mouth fell open. He peered at the flesh underneath the bloodstain but found no visible wound at all. Mason shook his head in confusion as Craig took in a sharp breath and his eyes flew open.
“What the . . . ?” Mason exclaimed.
Craig looked to be coming back into consciousness as Mason squatted over him. Mason watched Craig’s eyes grow wide as if coming back into awareness. Craig’s head jerked around and toward the stairwell. “Get off me, damn it!” he shouted.
“Henriksen, wait! Where are you hit?” Mason asked.
But the words had barely left his mouth when Craig clutched the hand that held his shirt and used his other hand to shove Mason’s shoulder hard enough to send him rolling off to the side.
Craig jumped up and ran, calling Lauren’s name as he made his way to the stairwell. Danny had just reached her and was kneeling to provide aid. Mason heard shouts and a commotion behind him as he got to his feet. Adams was busy securing one of Bishop’s men, zip-tying his hands at his back and then around a steel support column that rose to the rafters.
As Craig ran toward the stairwell, Mason pulled himself upright and shook his head in disbelief. That dude just took one square in the chest. What the hell?
Mason looked back to where Craig had fallen. A glint of metal on the floor caught his eye.
“Well, what’s this?” he said under his breath. He reached down and picked up a small, flattened slug. He rolled it about in his fingers—it was still warm. And it had a tackiness to it, as if it had been in contact with flesh.
“I’ll be damned.”
“Jack!” shouted Adams. “What gives?” He nodded in the direction where Craig had run.
“Dunno.”
Mason turned his attention to Sullivan. “Sully, how bad are you hit?”
Sullivan was seated with his legs straight out in front of him, only a few feet away from the man whose face had been blown off by the blast from Danny’s shotgun cane.
“Not that bad. I should be good. Think it’s only a surface wound. I’ll be up there in a sec.”
Sullivan was already busy fashioning a tourniquet out of his belt and wrapping it around his leg to stem the bleeding.
Adams finished securing the bodyguard Craig had choked out—who was now conscious—and walked up the side stairs to meet Mason. Mason was still perplexed, but he shoved the spent bullet into his pocket.
“What the hell was up with him?” Adams said, referencing Craig.
“I thought he’d been hit. I guess he wasn’t,” Mason answered.
“Did you call it in?” asked Adams.
“Yeah. We probably have a couple more minutes before one of us needs to get outside to flag them in.” He turned to see Danny crouched over Lauren with Craig behind him. “I need to figure out just what the hell is up with Walsh. Until then, I need you to get square with Sully—make sure you two keep this on the down-low until I can tease it out.”
“Jack, this is fucked up.”
“I know. What’s more fucked up is that the same guy who’s been consulting the force on terrorist shit is the one who orchestrated this. He lays a trap to take down Walsh and Walsh’s cousin. And the cousin’s girl? And us too, if they could’ve pulled it off.”
“I hear what you’re saying. I’ll close the loop with Sully. For now, Jack.”
His tone seemed to indicate that he expected to get an explanation for these bizarre events from Mason later. But Mason was still baffled by the situation. He knew that any answers would lie with Walsh.
The precious few minutes that passed had seemed like an eternity.
“Danny, how is she?” Craig’s voice, tinged with desperation, rang out from the platform on the stairs. “Come on, Danny! Is she . . . I mean, how is she?”
Squatting over Lauren, his back to Craig, Danny held two fingers against Lauren’s neck. He held still, hoping—praying—for a pulse. His eyes were tightly closed. His teeth were grinding. Then he shook his head slowly, almost imperceptible. But Craig, peering down with utmost intensity, wide-eyed, seemed to understand what that meant.
“No, Danny. No! Say something, damn it!”
Danny’s chin dropped to his chest. He opened his eyes and gathered a type of courage that he had never thought he would need to summon.
Turning toward Craig, he declared it. “She’s gone, Craig. I’m so sorry.”
As Danny rose, Craig pushed him out of the way and dropped to his knees. Caught off balance, Danny stumbled but grabbed for his cane to steady himself. Once fully upright, he stepped out of the way to give Craig a moment with Lauren.
Craig knelt down and gently lifted her head off the platform floor, his other arm supporting her limp body. Her eyes were slightly open, but vacant. Expressionless. It was Lauren’s face, but she was no longer there.
Danny felt his insides plummeting. He could only imagine how Craig felt.
“No,” Craig whispered. And with great care, he drew her body against his own. His hand disappeared into her wavy auburn hair.
Danny had no words. He knew Craig needed time alone with her. He climbed down the stairs and walked toward the ledge where Mason had come up to meet him.
“Is she . . . ?” Mason started.
Danny nodded.
“Oh, shit,” Mason said, his hand drifting up to his forehead. “This is terrible.”
Danny wanted to present a proper front to his superior given the complexity of what had transpired that afternoon. “I don’t get it. With Bishop. Why? How? And why pull Lauren into this? It makes no damn sense.”
As Danny spoke, a wave of guilt descended on his heart. Bishop had now been fully revealed for what he truly was: one of the dark descendants that Michael had shown him in the ancient vision in his mind. The same as in the re-creation Craig had conjured of the three gang members’ murders. Bishop had laid this trap tonight, using Lauren as bait—or leverage—against Craig. And while the fortunate arrival of Mason and the other detectives had disrupted his plan, Lauren had still paid the ultimate price.
“There’ll be time to figure that out, Walsh. But the situation is kind of a shit show right now.” Mason seemed to grow impatient, knowing the limited time they had before others would arrive. “I’m sorry, but you need to focus with me.”
Mason paused and scanned the scene. A thin veil of smoke still hung in the air. The factory looked like the aftermath of an ambush he’d seen in his military days. The eerie quiet that enveloped them was broken only by the sound of Craig sobbing.
Suddenly, there was a commotion on the lower floor.
Mason, Adams, and Danny turned their attention to it.
Two bodyguards had come to and were now up and blazing a path toward the open front entrance where Mason and the two other detectives had blasted through.
Adams reached beneath his arm for his shoulder holster, but Mason cut him off.
“Let them go!” he shouted. “We’ve still got that guy.” He nodded toward the one who Adams had zip-tied.
“Jack? What the hell?” Sullivan shouted, struggling to stand up on his wounded leg. He could only watch as the two escaped.
“That guy!” Mason reiterated. “If we got that guy, he’ll be able to lead us to the others.”
“Right,” Sullivan said with a hint of resignation. “That guy,” he repeated, looking appraisingly at the only remaining assailant who was tied to the column. Then Sullivan cocked his head to one side as he watched the man’s behavior. “Hey, what the hell’s he doing?”
Mason and Adams peered down from the top floor to see what the lone remaining bodyguard was up to. Although his hands were tied tightly behind him and around the column, it looked as if he was trying to gnaw at the collar of his windbreaker.
“Jack, what’s up with him?” mumbled Adams.
Then Mason’s face looked as if a realization had hit him. “No way!” he yelled as he sprinted across the floor and leapt from the ledge onto the main level. Adams followed quickly after him. Danny stayed back, as if wanting to keep an eye on Craig from a distance.
In only the handful of seconds it took for Mason and Adams to reach the man, the cyanide capsule he’d bitten off the top button of his jacket was taking effect.
Mason grabbed him by the hair as Adams stood back.
“Spit it out! Goddamn it, spit it out!”
The man began convulsing uncontrollably. Foam formed around the corners of his mouth.
“Did he just do what I think he did?” Adams asked over Mason’s shoulder.
The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body became still. Mason dropped the man’s head to the floor.
Appearing to shudder with anger, Mason shouted, “What the hell is going on here?”
It had been barely an hour since the ambush and was late in the evening. The area around the factory that had been dormant was transformed. Rather than darkness and quiet hanging over this rundown area of Chicago’s Bank of the Yard warehouse district, the street outside the machine shop was lit up. Flashing lights from police vehicles outside pulsed through the windows.
Craig, Danny, and the three detectives who had come to their aid were all still there, but they were now by no means alone. The only attacker Mason and the other detectives had in custody was dead, having taken his own life rather than face questioning.
The entire building was teeming with numerous elements of law enforcement: medical examiners were analyzing the bodies of Bishop’s bodyguard and Lauren; a forensics team was talking to Danny, Craig, and the other detectives to piece together what had happened; and a special weapons unit was sweeping the complex, assessing the calculated nature of the assault.
Most notably of all, James Haggerty, the superintendent of the Chicago Police was onsite, a testament to the brazen nature of the attack on his officers.
While law enforcement busied themselves about the scene, Craig sat apart from the others against a wall, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed, as though in a catatonic state.
Paramedics tended to Sullivan and his leg wound. Adams was giving a statement to another detective on the scene. Danny stood off to one side, observing the Chief engaged in discussion with Mason in the middle of the entryway.
As Danny’s gaze scanned all the activity underway, he had a new perspective, different from other crime scenes. The aftermath of such a confrontation wasn’t new, but it usually included Danny’s use of Craig’s abilities to comb for clues and to re-create a shadowy view of what had transpired. But neither he nor Craig needed those shadows now; they themselves had been the victims.
Danny looked over at his cousin’s slumped form. He tried to imagine what Craig’s perspective must be now. The circumstances—and the finality—of the evening’s events were crushingly different this time.
Danny’s heart ached for him. There would be no reversing what had happened or its impact; life would be forever changed for Craig. Until tonight, he had been on the periphery of Danny’s work and investigations. He would usually choose, or relent, to step in to help Danny. But he had nearly succumbed to an appeal that was both powerful and dreadful, something they both had searched to understand but hadn’t felt the full malevolence of—until now. Neither of them could escape wherever this would lead them. Craig had been sucked in, whether or not he was aware that he had come to that unique tipping point. From Danny’s loss of Emma, and now the death of Lauren, both cousins bore the deepest of scars in their bodies and now deep within their hearts.
They both felt they were on the cusp of understanding the origin and purpose of Craig’s powers. Danny had skated ahead, and he now understood the power and provenance of Craig’s abilities. Initially, he thought Bishop was a similar, kindred spirit to Craig, and learning from Bishop could be a “softer landing” before Craig learned what Michael had unveiled to Danny. Danny had worried that Craig wasn’t quite ready for this knowledge. The emergence of new clues and the return of Craig’s powers had energized them to try to figure out the puzzle. Bishop seemed like a logical piece to it. But now they had to face what Bishop’s deception had wrought: one of Danny’s fellow detectives was wounded, two of Bishop’s mysterious bodyguards were dead, and most painful of all, Lauren had perished during the melee.
As the day’s events weighed on him, Danny leaned on his cane and whispered, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
Danny’s quiet remark piqued the Chief’s attention. “What did you say, Walsh?”
“Oh, sir,” Danny stammered, straightening. “I’m just trying to understand what we’ve stumbled onto, I guess.”
“Come over here, son.”
The Chief wasn’t so old as to use that label, but he spoke to his officers in this genial way in certain circumstances to put them at ease and to further establish his control.
Danny walked over to the Chief as Mason took a step back from him.
“This is a hell of a mess, Walsh. The second time in two years that you were targeted.” He shook his head and furrowed his brow. “You need to know we’ve all got your back. Mason was telling me that something didn’t seem right about the way Bishop asked you down here.”
I never told him that, Danny thought. He must be covering for me. Thankfully.
The Chief went on. “It’s one thing for Bishop to have some kind of sick interest in you. You’ve certainly had a high profile over the years that’d make you a target. But all of this? Pulling in other officers too?”
Mason drew in closer. “Whatever Bishop had in mind to do here, the scene had clearly gotten too chaotic for him when I arrived with Sullivan and Adams.”
The Chief nodded, then faced Danny. “So, Walsh, how were you able to know you needed backup? Is that how Mason and the others were clued in to get down here?”
Danny hesitated. He didn’t know how to answer that question.
Mason intervened. “Walsh had a feeling something wasn’t right. But out of respect for the old man, he wasn’t looking to make a big deal about it. Once he told me that, I thought it best that the three of us come and check things out.”
