Bounty Page 12

  "Who's this?"

  "Name's Yuki." Ramon studied his notes, mostly so he could avoid eye contact without arousing suspicion. "Caught her poking around the Roberts crime scene. Tried to shoo her off, she ran."

  Richards smirked. "So you cuffed her on, what, resisting arrest?"

  "And disturbing a crime scene." Ramon closed his notepad with a sigh and pocketed his pen. This was going to be his first solo interrogation, and while he was confident in his skills, he still had those first-time jitters. The fact that his boss was now in the room, hovering, didn’t help matters. Not because Ramon didn’t want Richards to see him mess up, but because it severely limited what Ramon could ask.

  Ramon crossed the small room, grabbing the door handle before Richard stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. Ramon tried not to let Richards see the panic that flashed in his eyes at that moment, clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

  "Where's Jill?"

  "She had to go home," Ramon lied. "She wasn't feeling well."

  Richards nodded, slowly at first, before releasing his grip on the young detective's arm. "You need help in there?"

  Ramon shook his head and flashed a slightly cocky grin. "Nah, I got this."

  Chapter 35

  Ramon closed the door behind him before opening his notepad and dropping it against the table, making sure it made a loud smacking sound. Yuki didn't flinch, nor did her eyes raise to meet his glance. Were it not for the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders to indicate her breathing, Ramon might not have known Yuki was an actual person. She looked more like one of those wax statues, incredibly lifelike yet completely stationary.

  "Yuki." He shook his head and took a seat across the table from her, folding his arms over his chest and cocking his head to the side. "Don't suppose there's a last name to go with that."

  No response, verbal or otherwise. The lights above flickered, the droll hum of the ventilation system the only noise in the room.

  Unfolding his arms, Ramon leaned forward, pulled a pen out of his pocket, and rested his arms on the table. He flipped the pen in his left hand, studying Yuki. One of the first things Jill had taught him about interrogation: how to use silence to one’s advantage. To be honest, he was still trying to perfect that craft, but he was a far cry from the first month, where if he wasn't asking a question, he was trying to make sure whoever sat across from him ran their mouth -- because the more they talked, the more likely they were to give him something.

  "Are you aware that the Inner Harbor is an active crime scene?" he finally asked.

  Again, Yuki had no response -- not even so much as a request for a lawyer. Most of the time when a suspect wouldn't talk, they would at least grandstand and exercise their right to an attorney. Yuki wasn't even doing that. Her silent act was cute at first, but now Ramon was starting to get annoyed.

  "You know," Ramon sat back again, shaking his head, "I think you were aware. I think you were looking for something. What was it?"

  Yuki blinked once, but aside from that she remained silent and still.

  Ramon thought about glancing over his shoulder into the two-way mirror, but something told him Captain Richards was still in there and he didn’t want to possibly alert Yuki to that fact. This next line of questioning was risky; if Ramon wasn't careful, it would lead to Richards asking questions he couldn't -- or wouldn't -- answer. He also had to do all of this without implicating Jill.

  "Who's Patient Zero?"

  Yuki’s eyes were naturally black, but under the harsh light, they momentarily turned gray. Ramon couldn't tell what that meant, because the change was gone as soon as he saw it, but he finally managed to get a reaction. Ramon stood and began pacing around the table, his steps slow and full of purpose. He made she could hear his boots against the tile floor.

  "Is that what you were looking for?” Ramon pressed. “This 'Patient Zero'?"

  He watched as Yuki's shoulders rose and gradually fell. She'd taken in a long, deep breath.

  "What does 'Patient Zero' have to do with Dr. Roberts' murder?"

  Nothing.

  "Are you familiar with anyone named Nelson Blake?"

  Nothing.

  "Joel Freeman?"

  Still nothing.

  "What about David Gregor? Know anything about him?"

  Nothing. Again.

  Ramon heard a small tap on the two-way mirror. The sound stopped him in his tracks, and he could feel the panic starting to set in. He bit it back with a long sigh, though, before stepping out of the interrogation room -- where Richards stood waiting.

  "Yes, sir?"

  Richards pointed at the door to the interrogation room. "I hope you know what you're doing in there."

  "Sir, I --"

  "Do you have any idea how powerful David Gregor is?" Richards' stance softened a bit, but the fire was still in his eyes. "He gets word that we're throwing his name around in connection with a murder investigation -- true or not -- there's gonna be hell to pay."

  Ramon nodded, silently thankful this conversation didn't go the way he thought it would. "Yes, sir."

  "Be careful, Gutierrez." Richards turned to leave, but stopped and regarded the young detective again. "You sure there's a connection? Between Dr. Roberts and David Gregor?"

  Ramon just nodded, not trusting his voice.

  "And that our vigilante is involved somehow."

  Despite the panic gnawing away at his gut, Ramon kept it at bay and gave his boss a nod. Ramon could feel his pulse rate double, his stomach starting to churn. Ramon kept his hands at his sides, lest Richards see them starting to sweat. He somehow managed to keep his composure, taking a step toward the captain. "I don't think this is all coincidence, sir. I mean," he sighed. "I can't actually connect those dots yet, but I'm willing to bet a round at O'Shea's that they do connect."

  Richards nodded, as if satisfied with Ramon's explanation. "In that case, I want you and Andersen to see if you can't figure out who this... Bounty is. That might connect the dots for you."

  Ramon's heart rate practically tripled as Richards left. He stood perfectly still, watching Richards grab his coat and briefcase from his office before crossing to the elevator and disappearing for the night. Only once the elevator doors closed did Ramon expel the breath he'd been holding in, and he frantically reached for his phone, shaky fingers struggling to send a text.

  Shit's about to hit fan... meet at home.

  Chapter 36

  Fortunately for Ramon, Juanita was out with friends for the night -- meaning he and Jill would have the privacy they needed to talk about recent developments. Yuki was in Holding overnight; he decided he would take another run at her in the morning, see if he could piece together when she was at the crime scene. Ramon paced back and forth, wearing a dark line in the rug in his living room, anxious to hear the knock at his door. His heart pounded in his chest, the sensation reverberating to his temples.

  This is taking too long. Jill should've been here by now.

  Finally, the tentative rap at his door broke Ramon's pacing. Ignoring the stain in the middle of the carpet -- the result of Juanita’s disastrous attempt a few months ago at owning a puppy -- he made a beeline for the door, pulling it open and glancing out at the hallway before shutting the door again and locking it. He paid particular care to latch the deadbolt. Jill slipped into the apartment with a frown, hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat.

  "Hey." She pulled a hand out of her pocket and placed it on Ramon's arm. "Chill."

  "I can't." Ramon sighed and plopped down on his couch, a ragged tan piece of furniture that looked like it had taken a cross-country trip and barely survived the ordeal.

  Jill sat next to him, careful to avoid the loose spring under the center cushion, squinting and shaking her head. “Ramon." Her voice was steady, doing little to betray the fact that her partner's behavior had her on-edge. "What happened?"

  He swallowed, pausing as if he was forcing himself to look at her. "I interrogated Yuki." He shook his h
ead. "I got... if there's something less than nowhere, that's where I was. Patient Zero. Dr. Roberts. Nelson Blake. Commander Freeman. David Gregor. Nothing. She didn't even so much as blink."

  Jill sighed. "I wish I was surprised."

  "Richards was in the observation room."

  Jill's heart skipped a beat when she heard that, shaking her head. She tried to keep her gaze neutral, not wanting to let Ramon know just how fearful she was about her boss -- her mentor and surrogate father -- finding out about her secret life. Her hands were shaking, so she returned them to her pockets.

  "Does he suspect anything?"

  Ramon shook his head. "If he does, he's playing it close." He sighed, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "But he, uh..." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

  "Ramon." Jill grabbed for his hand, despite how shaky her fingers were. "What is it?"

  He turned to look at his partner. "He wants us to figure out who Bounty is."

  Jill frowned. "On top of solving Dr. Roberts' murder?"

  Ramon's sigh was heavy. "He thinks they're connected somehow."

  "And how would he come up with that theory?"

  Ramon visibly recoiled at the glare Jill shot his way. He leaned away from his partner, hands splayed in front of himself in a defensive posture. "I don't know!" His protest was a bit too loud, and he cringed at the force in his voice before straightening with a sigh. "I don't know. I didn't mention Bounty in the interrogation, and I don't think he could've gotten that from ‘Patient Zero’."

  Jill stood and began to pace, her footsteps tracking the same worn section of rug that Ramon's had minutes earlier. She ran her fingers through her hair before undoing her ponytail. Ramon watched as the brown locks splayed across her shoulders.

  "What's our plan?" Ramon asked with a hint of hope in his voice. "I mean, tell me you have a plan for this."

  "I hadn't settled on one yet."

  Ramon stood. "What if,” he cringed as soon as the thought popped into his head, "don't hate me for suggesting this, but what if we told him?"

  As much as Jill wanted to dismiss the notion, playfully chide her partner for such a suggestion, she had to admit it had its merits. But there were also drawbacks, and those were severe. "Admit to my boss that I'm a vigilante?" Jill tried to mask the uncertainty in her voice, but she understood Ramon knew her well enough that it wouldn't work. "Lose my badge and get arrested?"

  Ramon shrugged. "Beats him finding out on his own, right?"

  He had a point.

  Chapter 37

  Four years ago...

  Noril'sk was far from the sprawling metropolis almost 1,500 miles to the east in Moscow, but it served the exact purpose Project Fusion's benefactors wanted: seclusion and privacy. The facility buried in the snow roughly thirty miles south of the town itself could only be found by those who knew what to look for; in these conditions, it was just another mound of snow in a sprawling canvass of white. In that regard, Russia’s harsh winters provided the perfect cover for Project Fusion’s latest base of operations.

  Underground, the facility was state-of-the-art, far more sophisticated than science labs at even the foremost universities, hospitals, and research institutes of the world. Pristine white walls surrounded the labyrinth, Dr. Trent Roberts weaving his way around scientists whose names he barely remembered. Dr. Roberts stepped with pent-up excitement, feeling a lot like a child on Christmas morning on their way to the tree. His steps were so quick and forceful that even his soft-soled dress shoes clomped against the metal floors.

  Patient Zero's survival and quick recovery following the first trial of Project Fusion resulted in a slew of new volunteers from around the world, and the Russian government ponied up a seven-figure contract to have several dozen of its soldiers undergo the procedure. Prior to Patient Zero, the Russians were among the world’s most vocal skeptics. Since, they were the first in line with cash in-hand.

  The first six soldiers had undergone the operation overnight. The doctors who had performed the procedure were hunched over against a nearby wall, passed out. Soft snores joined the motorized hum of the ventilation system, and Dr. Roberts smirked as he walked by. If anyone deserved the rest, it was those doctors.

  Flipping through his charts, Dr. Roberts approached the door where the soldiers were being kept for observation until they awoke. Six hours had passed since the procedures, and Trent didn't expect them to wake for at least another six. Patient Zero had been an aberration in that respect, and truth be told, Dr. Roberts lamented the fact that he couldn't study her further to figure out why she regained consciousness so quickly.

  Flipping the lid on the metal console by the door, Dr. Roberts pressed a four-digit code with his thumb. The door unlocked with a hydraulic hiss, and as the door creaked open, Dr. Roberts' face scrunched in disgust, a foul stench assaulting his nostrils in an unrelenting wave. Trent covered the lower half of his face with the collar of his white coat, gradually stepping into the room and holding his breath. Yet he could still smell it.

  The heavy metal door latched shut behind Dr. Roberts, his body rendered still and rigid at the shocking sight before him. He dropped his clipboard before falling to his knees, covering his mouth with his right hand, trying to stem the bile rising in his throat. His efforts failed; Dr. Roberts hunched over and vomited all over the cold, metallic floor, his retches echoing against the walls.

  Still coughing, and wiping his mouth with his wrist, Dr. Roberts stumbled back to his feet. He blinked, convinced his eyes had betrayed him. The six soldiers who had undergone the procedure were all dead, strewn about the room, hanging listless from their beds. Dried blood trailed from their eyes down to their necks, the surgical wounds on their chests re-opened. Blood stained the floor and the walls, the dark red in stark contrast with the clean white that matched the rest of the facility.

  Somehow, Dr. Roberts mustered the mental fortitude to grab his clipboard again, frantically flipping through the papers in search of the last time someone had checked in on the subjects. Blood now stained his charts, and by extension, his fingers. He found the chart in question, his eyes dancing over the otherwise meaningless string of names, dates, and times. One hour ago. Dr. Sanchez had checked on them and reported that everything was normal. But six dead bodies strewn about with gaping chest wounds was anything but normal.

  Bashing his fist against a red button on the wall by the door, Dr. Roberts dropped to his knees again, having lost his footing when his dress shoes found a puddle of fresh blood. He grunted when his knees slammed into the floor. "Help!" His voice shook. "Somebody help! Emergency in the holding room! Emergency in the holding room!"

  Dr. Roberts turned and pressed his back against the wall. The enormity of the moment, and the stench of death filling the room, overwhelmed him again, and the doctor felt faint. He heard several footsteps barge into the room, faint shouting of expletives in several different languages and various admonishments of God before darkness took over and Dr. Roberts passed out.

  When Dr. Roberts regained consciousness several minutes later, he found himself one of the facility's infirmary beds, and the first thing he saw was the face of a displeased David Gregor. He swallowed back dread, forcing himself to sit up.

  "Trent." Dr. Roberts could tell Gregor's anger was barely restrained. "What happened?"

  Dr. Roberts shook his head and took a deep breath. He wasn't thrilled with the notion of reliving the gruesome scene all over again, and for a moment, he thought he felt more bile tickling his esophagus. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed to fight the sensation before heaving an exhausted sigh. "I don't know." He shook his head and hunched his shoulders. "I went in for a routine check-in and... they were all dead."

  Gregor pursed his lips. "Dead."

  Dr. Roberts nodded. "Blood... everywhere. Their surgical wounds had been re-opened."

  The businessman stood, removing his crimson suit jacket and tossing it over the back of his chair. "When did this happen?"

  "Not th
at long ago." Joel Freeman's voice caused Dr. Roberts to jump; he hadn't even realized the lieutenant colonel was in the room. "Medical logs indicate that Dr. Sanchez checked on the patients an hour before Dr. Roberts walked in, and that everything was normal."

  Gregor's eyes narrowed. "And where is Erik Sanchez right now?"

  Freeman's jaw clenched. "We're locating him."

  Shaking his head, Gregor grabbed his jacket again, slinging the garment over his shoulders before straightening his tie and buttoning the blazer. He snarled at Dr. Roberts before leaning in to whisper in Freeman's ear. "You find Sanchez and you bring him straight to me. Got it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Gregor disappeared, slamming the door behind him. Both Freeman and Dr. Roberts flinched at the sound of metal colliding against metal, the sound reverberating against the walls. Freeman crossed to the chair Gregor had been sitting in, sighing and cracking his knuckles.

  "Trent, tell me about the procedure."

  Dr. Roberts shrugged. "What's there to tell? We followed the exact same protocol we used with Patient Zero."

  Freeman grimaced. "Don't call her that."

  "Andersen." Dr. Roberts sat up again. "Everything we did when she underwent the procedure, we did with these six -- down to the same doctors, the same tools, the same steps... everything." He leveled a serious gaze at Freeman, noting the look of concern on the commander's face. "I don't think this was from the procedure itself."

  "You better be right." Freeman stood. "Either way, it wouldn't surprise me if they shut this thing down for good."

  Dr. Roberts had considered that reality over the years, knowing that even the slightest slip-up that led to a patient dying would probably spell doom for Project Fusion. He wanted to argue against it, but he couldn't come up with anything convincing enough to keep the checks coming and the governments listening. Russia was certainly going to bail, and word would quickly spread throughout the rest of the world. For all intents and purposes, this project was going to die.