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“I really don't know how I feel about the wig,” Damon said, looking at Alina from the passenger seat as headlights from a passing tractor trailer lit up the inside of the Shelby. “I don't know which is worse: the blonde or the mousy brunette.”
She glanced at him in amusement as she moved into the fast lane of the Atlantic City Expressway and accelerated.
“Are you calling my natural hair color mousy?”
“Yours, no. The wig, yes.”
“It was the closest I could find in the length I needed. I'm not ready to broadcast the new look just yet.”
Damon glanced at the screen of the navigation system, showing their course to Atlantic City.
“Are you sure they'll show?”
“Oh, they'll show. Stephanie will have passed on the tracking information by now.”
Damon glanced at her.
“I thought you adjusted the tracker GPS to not show the true location,” he said. “What changed your mind?”
“This was the easiest way to get them to come to me,” she answered with a shrug. “Once we're done, I'll change it again. It will also confirm that she really is passing on the information.”
Damon turned his attention to the darkness outside the window.
“What makes you so sure she'll know where we're headed?”
“She knows there's only one place in this direction worth going this time of year.”
He shook his head. “I hope you're right, otherwise this is a waste of time.”
Alina looked at him with a quick grin.
“Atlantic City is never a waste of time.”
He was silent for a few minutes as the sports car raced along the highway toward the Jersey shore. While Alina wasn't saying much about Stephanie's duplicity, he knew she was furious. Even so, she was doing everything in her power to give her friend enough rope to hang herself with, and Damon could respect that.
He pursed his lips thoughtfully as he stared out of the window. Alina believed Stephanie was doing what she thought was right, but he wasn't convinced. He wasn't clouded by past loyalty the way she was, and Hawk wasn't sure he bought the idea that Stephanie had been duped. From what he'd seen of her over the past year, which admittedly wasn't much, he’d never got the impression that she was easily fooled. In fact, quite the opposite. If the leak in Washington had managed to convince her that she was helping Viper by forwarding her location, then Agent Walker was more of a fool than Damon ever gave her credit for. John? Yes. Stephanie? Not so much.
An electronic ring broke the silence as a call came through from Alina's cell phone. Damon glanced at her in time to catch a quick frown. He looked at the screen on the dash. There was no name, just a number.
“Yes?” Alina answered by pressing a button on the steering wheel.
“Oh good, I caught you.” Michael's voice filled the car. “You busy?”
“I'm driving. Shoot.”
“So am I. My boss called me back to DC. Something came up and he needs me in the office in the morning.”
“You called just to tell me that?”
“No. I got a call from Joe, my buddy in Metro. He called to tell me about Senator Carmichael.”
He paused, and Alina waited.
“Do you want me to guess?” she finally asked.
“See, that was where you were supposed to say something like, ‘oh really?’” he retorted, drawing a laugh from her.
“You haven't learned yet that she speaks the bare minimum?” Damon asked.
“Is that the SEAL?”
“One and the same, gunny.”
“Welcome back. Where the hell have you been?”
Damon's eyebrows soared into his forehead at the combative tone in Michael's voice and he looked at Alina. She shrugged, a grin tugging at her lips.
“I'm assuming you have a reason for asking?” he asked after a pause.
“Next time you're taking off for any amount of time, do me a solid and let me know so I can keep an eye on Lina.”
Damon choked and turned his gaze to Viper's profile. Her face was impassive, her mask firmly in place.
“Does she need keeping an eye on? I always thought she did a pretty good job taking care of herself.”
“You didn't seem to think so when you asked me to watch her back for you two weeks ago,” Michael pointed out.
“Oh for God's sake,” Alina exclaimed. “Save the pissing contest, will you? What did Joe say about Carmichael?”
Damon bit back a laugh at the irritation in her voice.
“He was stabbed with the same weapon that killed Dominic DiBarcoli, for starters,” Michael said, “and in the same exact manner. On first examination, it looked like the same person killed both of them.”
“And on the second?”
“Different killer, same weapon.”
“They're sure?” Damon asked. “How?”
“Dominic was killed by a left-handed person, but Carmichael was stabbed right-handed.”
“But they're positive it was the same weapon?” Alina asked, her brows drawn together in a frown.
“Yep. Same depth, dimension and pattern on both wounds. But that's not what made them positive. Some of Dominic's DNA made it into Carmichael's wound.”
Damon and Alina looked at each other swiftly.
“They're sure?” Damon demanded.
Michael sighed over the phone.
“You keep asking me that, and the answer isn't going to change. Forensics tend not to make mistakes with stuff like that.”
“It's just unexpected,” Alina said. “You'd think a different killer would have cleaned the knife. Why didn't they?”
“Maybe they did and missed something?”
“Hm.” Alina wasn't convinced. “So Metro is looking for two killers?”
“Not anymore. That's the fun part.”
“Why do I get the distinct impression that what you think is fun, gunny, and what we'll think is fun are two very different things?” Damon wondered aloud.
“Remember Nasser Hussein?” Michael asked.
Damon looked sharply at Alina.
“The terrorist that floated up in the Potomac,” she reminded him. “He came in with Asad and Kasim.”
“I forgot all about him,” Damon admitted.
“So did I,” Michael said. “When they did the autopsy on Dominic, they found a hair under his fingernail. They tested it at the time, but didn't get any hits.”
“And now they did?”
“It wasn't just Dominic's DNA on Carmichael. They also got a match to Nasser. Lucky for us, Joe is the detective on both cases. He went back and had them check the hair from Dominic against Nasser and, lo and behold, it was a perfect match.”
Alina and Damon were silent for a moment.
“So, Nasser killed Dominic, then someone killed him, took his weapon and used it to kill Carmichael?” Damon said incredulously. “Yeah. Not fun, gunny.”
“Actually, it kind of is,” Alina said thoughtfully. “Nasser was stabbed through the neck, right?”
“Yes. It severed his carotid artery,” Michael confirmed. “And before you ask, no, it was not the same knife that killed Dominic and Carmichael. Nasser was killed by a shorter blade, no more than four inches long, and much thinner.”
Damon and Alina glanced at each other again, their eyes meeting briefly as the same suspicion crossed their minds.
“Any idea on the width on that one?” Damon asked casually.
“No. I can probably find out if need be,” Michael said slowly. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing specific.”
“Why take his knife?” Michael asked after a second of silence. “The killer had to have looked for it.”
“They saw an opportunity and took it,” Alina said. “They knew he killed Dominic. They took the weapon, and then found a use for it in making the police think the same person killed Carmichael. That's why they didn't clean the blade.”
“Was Dominic's cause of death released to the press?” Damon asked.
“Yes. Joe said the ME's first thought was a copycat, but Joe never released that the person who killed Dominic was left-handed. There's no way Carmichael's killer could have known.”
“And so they made their first mistake,” Alina said almost to herself. “Now why would they do that?”
Damon looked at her sharply but was quiet.
“Any idea why the killer would want Metro to think the same person killed them?” Michael asked after a minute. “Seems kind of dumb. If they'd just left well enough alone, Metro might never have connected the two.”
Alina smiled coldly.
“Lucky for us they didn't. Can you get more details on the knife that killed Nasser?”
“Sure, but I don’t see why you’re so interested.”
“Call it a hunch.”
“I’m starting to see why you annoy Stephanie so much with the whole riddle thing,” he muttered. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks, gunny. You owe that detective a drink.”
“Oh, he's already tapped me for a bottle of whiskey,” Michael said with a laugh. “Don't worry about him.”
He disconnected and Alina and Damon drove in silence for a minute.
“What are you thinking?” Damon finally asked, looking at her profile.
“Why is he making mistakes now?” she asked, a frown in her voice. “What's happening that he's getting sloppy?”
“Was it sloppy? Or was it simply a miscalculation? If the police are looking for a serial killer, they're not likely to stumble across the truth.”
“Statistically, most people are right-handed. He assumed that Dominic was killed by a right-handed person, but he didn't confirm. That's a sloppy mistake.”
Damon shrugged.
“Even professionals make mistakes,” he pointed out. “But, if we go with your thought that something is happening to force his hand, then what is it? What would make him get careless all of a sudden? He’s been one step ahead of you for weeks.”
Viper looked at him. “I can only think of one thing.”
“What's that?”
“Time,” she said grimly. “He's running out of time.”
Damon was silent for a long moment.
“If that's true, then so are we.”
Viper glanced over her shoulder at the door, noting the tall woman standing outside, talking on a phone. Turning her attention back to the shot glass on the bar in front of her, she nodded in thanks to the bartender and reached for the shot. She tossed it back, the top shelf vodka sliding down her throat easily.
“How's it looking?” Hawk's voice asked, his voice reverberating from the ear bud positioned deep in her ear.
She set the glass down on the highly polished wood and turned away from the bar.
“Two so far,” she replied, her voice low. “I'm bringing them up now.”
“Only two? That's boring.”
She strode out of the bar, passed the tall woman on the phone, and turned toward the elevators.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a man in his late twenties move out of a gift shop. He looked across the lobby at the tall woman, and Viper resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He might as well pull out a bull horn and yell over to her.
Stopping in front of the elevators, she pressed the up arrow with her knuckle and waited. The highly-glossed finish on the marble walls acted like a mirror and she watched as the pair closed the distance, the woman still on the phone.
“I don't care if he thinks it won't work,” she was saying, her voice carrying the short distance to Viper. “It's what the client wants, so we have to do it.”
The couple joined her at the elevator, and she turned to glance at them as the elevator doors slid open. The man nodded to her congenially.
“Look, I have to stop you there. I don't anticipate any issues. I have to go. I'm getting into an elevator. Just get it done.”
Viper stepped into the empty elevator car and the couple followed her. She pulled a badge out of her pocket and swiped it in the card reader on the panel, pressing the button for the penthouse. Then she moved to the rear of the car, allowing the man access to the keypad to select his floor. She leaned against the back wall, watching as he pressed the button for the top floor, right below the penthouse. The woman tucked her phone into her back pocket and glanced at the man.
“Sorry. It was work. They think the sky is falling,” she said.
“At least you got it out of the way. Now you can relax for the rest of the night.”
The doors slid closed and the car began its silent ascent. For a moment, there was absolute silence in the elevator. Then the woman moved.
Viper was ready. Before she had even partially turned towards her, Viper leveled a kick to the back of her knee, buckling her right leg. The woman tried to catch her balance with the other leg, but it was too late. Viper already had an arm hooked around her throat and was using her as a full body shield. Her captive was in the process of driving her elbow back into her gut when the cold point of Viper's combat knife pressed into the side of her neck.
“I wouldn't,” she murmured into her ear. The woman stilled, staring at the man. “Are we doing this the easy or hard way?” Viper asked him conversationally.
He held up his hands in surrender.
“Relax,” he said calmly. “I'm just going to reach for my badge. I'm a cop.”
Viper crooked one eyebrow as he kept one hand up and reached into his jacket with the other.
“Wrong answer.”
As she spoke, Viper threw her combat knife with unerring precision. The blade sank into the base of his throat, finding the soft spot between his collarbones, slicing through his trachea and into the esophagus. His eyes widened in shock and a gurgle escaped as he stumbled backwards, a 9mm pistol with a suppressor attached dropping from his fingers. With a hard, swift movement, Viper twisted the woman's head, snapping her neck. She slid to the floor, and Viper stepped over her quickly. The man was reaching for the knife embedded in his throat and she shook her head, pushing him against the side of the elevator.
Gripping the hilt of her knife, she pulled it out. Blood began to pour from the wound and Viper released him, allowing him to slide down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. His eyes were already glazing over as she bent and picked up his gun. She fired one shot into his heart, then turned and fired another into the woman's chest.
Glancing at the display above the doors, she bent and went through his pockets quickly, pulling out a phone, wallet and another pistol. She did the same with the woman, extracting the phone and a single weapon. A moment later, the elevator doors dinged and slid open, and she slipped out into the thankfully empty corridor.
“There's a present coming your way,” she said calmly, turning away from the elevator as the doors slid closed again.
Moving swiftly, she went down the thickly carpeted corridor until she reached the end, then moved to the doors of a stairwell around the corner. Through her ear bud, she heard the elevator ding again, then Hawk grunted.
“You shouldn't have.”
She suppressed a grin and went into the stairwell, glancing down the many flights of stairs. A door opened on the floor below and her brows came together in a sudden frown. Pressing herself against the wall, she watched as two shadows emerged and started up the stairs toward her floor. Viper pulled out the gun she’d taken from the man in the elevator and checked the safety. The two men hadn't looked up yet, allowing her to take her time.
Their first indication that things weren't going as planned was a bullet ripping through the lead man’s temple. He swayed and, before his companion realized what was happening, he pitched sideways and over the railing. Viper didn't spare the falling man a glance as her second shot entered the other man's forehead. His head snapped back and he fell against the wall, dropping his weapon before his body tumbled backwards down the stairs, coming to rest on the lower floor outside the door he’d come through seconds before. A sickening thud echoed up the stairwell a moment later when the first body reached the bottom, but there was no one to hear it.
The door to the penthouse was already swinging closed behind Viper.