Chapter 25: shock-and-awe; Open!; marked man
In-flight, Atlantic Ocean, January, 2015
In the background was a faint hum, whisper quiet, from their two jet engines. Large oval windows flooded the space inside with light. Harold could see the wings through them, flexing up and down in the air, from the desk where he worked. They looked like works of art out there – slender, tapered wings with the blue stripe painted on the leading edge, and the graceful up-swept tips at the ends. For an engineer's eye, this was beauty itself, and order. Inside, all was custom leather, sleek minimalism, efficiency – his office in the sky.
On Harold's screen was a map of northern Queens. A small blinking light, green, showed the location of Detective Fusco. Mr. Reese hovered nearby, monitoring the activity and any minute they expected another blinking light to appear as reinforcements arrived; their DC Team rolling in.
Finch and his Team were still 3 hours out of New York, but that hadn't kept Finch and Reese from orchestrating a response to the Zheng. They'd dangled Root in front of them, clearly taunting them, even returning to the same block in Queens where they'd held Reese and Shaw before. In that time, the Team had found the underground tunnel in the basement of the hair salon. It ran below all of the stores on that block. If the Zheng had taken Root there, she could be anywhere in that maze. Finding her, without losing people in the attack, was going to be the hard part.
The Zheng knew the landscape, and the Team had no idea where Root was, how many Zheng were there, and what traps they'd set. For their part, the Team had the better weapons and experience. Reese just wished they had more people to go in with – shock-and-awe kind of numbers – to overwhelm anything the Zheng could throw at them. He didn't relish the idea of hunting them down in dark tunnels, underground. And this wasn't the time to call in NYPD to help. Too many dangerous questions afterwards. And Finch had already tried Elias again. He and his men were going to sit this one out. So Reese would have to make do with his own Team.
Abuja, Nigeria, January, 2015
Mid-afternoon, and in only four hours darkness would descend on the city. But they didn't want to wait that long. Once Adebisi had confessed to Eke – that he'd fired the two gunshots, but neither one at the foreigners locked in the tiny closet, they'd turned their car back to the school.
They had to fix this – Olawale and the rest of their group were depending on them. They'd believed that Adebisi had dispatched the pair when he said he would, retribution for their lost friend and escape for the others. These foreigners had come to their school to make a deal with Olawale. For whatever reason, the deal hadn't worked, and the two took Olawale hostage, beating him for information, and looking to the students for the same name. Who was the man behind the legend? Who was the cyber-ghost they sought? None spoke, but one gave his life to protect their teacher, Olawale.
Olawale. He was not the man they thought they knew. In the beating, his disguise was discovered. A much younger man than he'd appeared. They were confused, but they'd taken him, unconscious, to a spot outside the city. When he awoke, he'd told them what they must do. People were going to come now, he'd said. Dangerous people, who would hunt them all down until they got what they wanted. The students would have to disperse, drop out of everything they knew, leave everything behind if they wanted to survive.
He gave them money. In a box hidden under the seat of his car, more cash than any of them had ever seen. He'd given it to them, and told them how to leave. Take his car, he'd said, and go. Drop one, then move on and drop another, with those in the front unaware of who left each time. So, if any one of them were caught, the rest might still escape. He'd done that for them. And then he'd watched them drive off, and leave him, alone.
Adebisi wiped tears away with the back of his hand. He saw the blood stains on the sleeve of his white shirt, where their friend had taken his final breath. There on the floor, in their school. Would he still be there when they got there? More tears fell. He hadn't deserved to die, shot down like a dog in the street. Adebisi stared at the handgun, there on the floor of the car near his feet. He would finish the job this time. For their friend, for Olawale, for all of them. They would get rid of the bodies, and then no one would come. No one would come to hunt them.
They rolled down the street near the school. Eke drove slowly, while Adebisi searched the street in front of the school. No one was there. It looked like it always looked. Good. No police, no one around. Eke turned at the next corner, into the alley behind the school. Empty, too. A few cars parked in the shade, but no people to see them. Adebisi wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning forward in his seat. Then Eke pulled over and stopped the car. He kept the engine running, and turned to Adebisi.
"Do you want me to come?"
Adebisi wanted to say yes, wanted Eke to come with him. But then he thought about what he must do in there, what he would see.
"No. Wait here for me." He reached for the gun, the one the foreigners brought to their school. He lifted it up off the floor, like some kind of evil thing in his hand. The door opened and he made his way with the gun at his side. The door to the school sat ajar. His heart jumped. Hadn't he closed it behind him? Couldn't remember. He started to panic. What if someone was there? He looked back at the car.
Eke was watching. He raised his hand and swept it in the air. Go. Go. Adebisi pushed open the door. It creaked on its hinges. The hallway first. Beyond that would be the room where Akeen would be. Dead. On the floor where he'd left him. He mopped his head. His heart was racing and he could hardly make his feet move forward.
At the end of the hall he held the gun up in front of his chest. Both hands. He looked quick, then back. Akeen was still there. He wouldn't look at him. He didn't want to see him like that. A resolve came over him; suddenly, he had to get this done.
Adebisi stepped out with the gun pointed in front of him, chest-high, eyes forward. He moved as silently as he could, step by step, past his fallen friend, to the doorway. It was dim inside, and he strained to look everywhere at the same instant. Nothing moved. Nothing threatened. He stepped in. Once more, around the perimeter with the gun high, he looked for anyone there.
And then he whirled around to the closet door.
Open!
No, no, no. It couldn't be. They were gone! He spun around, with his gun high, sure that they'd be right behind him. He backed up to the doorway, then back into the room, nearly tripping over Akeen in his panic. He turned and ran, then, down the hallway and through the door, across the alley to the car.
As he flung the door open, a shot rang out, and Adebisi felt the sharp hot stinging in his leg. He screamed and dropped the gun in the dirt.
"Step back!" he heard her say. He was bent forward with his hands on the back of his thigh. He turned to look over his shoulder. Kara was walking toward them, with her gun in her hands and her eyes fixed on them, cold and sure. Adebisi limped backwards, away from the door and the gun on the ground. She leaned down and looked inside the car.
"Get out!" she snarled. Eke wasted no time. He threw the door open and got out of the car. She motioned with her gun to come around to her side, and while Eke came around the back of the car, she leaned down to pick up the gun. She slid it under the belt at her back.
"You! Come over here!" she said. Eke walked nearer as she backed away. She motioned to Adebisi.
"Lift your arm up!" Adebisi raised his arm, the one with the blood stains. Then she told Eke to rip the sleeve from the opening at the cuff up to the shoulder. It took a couple of tries, but as his fear mounted that she would shoot him if he didn't do it, he ripped the sleeve. Then she had him rip the sleeve off at the shoulder seam and slide it down off his arm.
"Tie it around his leg," she said, pointing to his thigh where he was hit. Eke did what he was told and gathered the sleeve into a narrow bandage to tie around the leg. Once it was on, she motioned for Adebisi to get into the back seat in the middle. And to Eke, she said to get back behind the wheel.
"We're going to go for a little ride," she said, and slid into the passenger side up front.
Before they left, she pulled her cellphone from a pocket and put in a call. She was sitting there, in the front seat, turned backwards with her back against the dashboard, and her gun in front of her.
"I've got them," she said into the phone. They could hear a tinny-sounding voice, barely audible, coming from the phone while she listened.
"Yes, sir," she said, and looked up at them, as she pocketed the phone.
"Let's go have a little chat, boys," she said, and she motioned for Eke to drive off.
Miles away, Olawale had come to the spot he'd wanted to reach. He'd hiked in, careful to stay off the road in the trees, where he wouldn't be seen. He traveled slowly, painfully. The beating in the school had left him hurting. As young and strong as he was, the old man, Greer, was up to the task.
Had he been the real Olawale, his aging father – things might have turned out a different way.
These young students were on their own now. They'd have to fend for themselves until things sorted themselves out. If Greer and the woman were dead, others would come looking for them. He was well aware of Samaritan and what it could do. For a long time now, he'd been a marked man. He'd tried to stay low where he wouldn't be seen, but Samaritan hunted every second.
For Greer to come looking here, for his old friend, Olawale, to help him with a 'computer problem,' Greer must be desperate. Something dire must have happened to Samaritan, he had to believe. Good for him for the moment, if he was right. But, Olawale needed to hedge his bet. There was another he could reach, another man who could even the odds against him.
And if he could make it to his lab, he'd send a message for some help.
To Harold Finch.