Girl Undercover 12: Showdown Page 4

  “I hope you don’t mind that I brought George along,” Brady continued when I didn’t immediately answer. “I ran into him as I was leaving the office and told him about your phone call. I thought that, since the two of you have always been close, it would be okay. When I explained how incredibly upset you were, he insisted on coming along with me.” Brady’s lips stretched into a smile so warm that I was again momentarily fooled into thinking that he was the same as always. “So we could both cheer you up, get you on the right track again.”

  “Oh,” I said and made myself look as miserable as I could, having suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be paralyzed with sorrow. Discreetly glancing at George, I searched his face, his hooded eyes and thin lips, to see if I could determine what was going on here. But the face of the pot-bellied man with the eternally red cheeks and curly, brown hair didn’t reveal a thing it was so free of any emotion. As usual, he wore a drab-colored sweater with a V-shaped neck over a checkered button-down shirt and equally drab-colored corduroy pants. No matter what the weather was like, George’s office outfits stayed the same.

  “Hi, Gabi,” George said, attempting a smile but failing miserably. He looked like he was feeling sick instead. What was the matter with him?

  “Hi, George,” I replied weakly. “It’s so nice of you to want to come and check on me.”

  “How could I not?” he said. “I was very worried about you. I know how much you’ve struggled with Nick’s murder.”

  “I was able to get away from the office sooner than I had expected,” Brady cut in, taking a seat on the leather armchair that faced me. He leaned closer to me, studying me. “You look a lot better than what you sounded when we spoke over the phone earlier. In fact, you look better than ever, I must say.”

  Brady’s light blue eyes gleamed sarcastically, and I knew then that he had seen through me earlier. Which was surely why he had asked George to come along when he’d decided to go see what I was up to now. I didn’t believe for a second the story Brady had just fed me about them bumping into each other on his way out. I wondered how long George had been on Brady’s side and what had made him choose Brady over me. I couldn’t imagine The Adler Group had bothered to make him go through the same process in order for him to become an untouchable as they must have done for Brady. As much as I cared about him, George was simply not that important a person to waste all that effort on. Which meant that he’d hardly become UT voluntarily, either, having undergone the pill treatment Dr. Kelly had told me about that would essentially castrate him.

  Had Brady managed to convince George I was crazy just by telling him he thought I was? That I had finally snapped? It sure seemed that was the most likely possibility as weird and low-spirited as George was acting. Well, unless Brady had given him an injection of Zoc 1, which would instantly turn him into a zombie. It was impossible to tell what the reason was as George had always been a low-energy person, being such an introvert.

  “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better,” I replied, gazing beyond George, who was standing behind the armchair in which Brady sat. By now Jose should be back from checking on Donald out in the car. What was taking him so long? We could still make this work even though George had come along with Brady. It would be harder of course, but not impossible.

  “Well, since you’re doing so much better, George and I will be leaving,” Brady said, getting to his feet.

  No, you can’t leave yet, I wanted to scream at him, but restrained myself before the words could jump out of my mouth. I had no doubts that Brady was armed. The question was if George was. If I pulled my gun on Brady, would both of them pull theirs on me?

  Chapter 4

  “Hands up,” I heard a familiar voice say directly behind Brady and George then. I let out a silent breath of relief. Thank God, Jose was back…

  Not one to lose an opportunity, I quickly pulled out my own gun and pointed it at the two men.

  “He told you to bring your hands up, so do it,” I said firmly, aiming primarily at Brady.

  Jose had appeared behind them, and both men raised their hands in the air.

  Brady gave me an evil smile that reminded me of Dr. Juback. I cringed in my seat.

  “What is it you think you’re doing, Gabi?” he asked me slowly, menacingly.

  To my surprise, George turned to look at the aging captain then, hissing, “I hope to God that she’ll make you pay for what you did to Irena.”

  Both Brady and I were staring at George, he appearing as shocked by the quiet computer forensics specialist’s harsh words as I was. Irena could only be one person—Irena Sokoloff, the psychologist that had been in a fatal accident early this morning. And someone I knew George had once been involved with, I suddenly remembered. I wasn’t entirely sure of the status of their romance at the moment, but given the look on George’s face, which was anything but zombie-like now, it seemed that at least he had feelings for her still.

  “What do you know about the accident?” I asked George.

  His eyes still on Brady, he said between clenched teeth, “I heard him call someone and order that they run over Irena, make sure she died. At first I thought I had misheard him. In fact, I was so sure I must’ve misheard him that I didn’t call Irena to warn her that someone was trying to kill her before it was too late.” Bringing his hands to his chin, he bit his fist, gazing off into the distance, and muttered, “Oh, God, why didn’t I call her…?”

  Joy flowed through my veins as I realized that George was with me as much as ever. At the same time, I felt the pain he must be feeling at having realized that his boss had had someone he cared about killed. It was a strange, bittersweet sensation.

  “I had no choice but to have her killed,” Brady said in his defense. But he was looking at me, not at George. The stares the latter gave the older man were so deadly that I needed to do something before he jumped Brady.

  “George,” I said. “Come here.”

  Appearing deeply torn, George’s eyes flicked between me and Brady. Finally, he walked over to where I was on the couch. Jose stood right behind Brady, holding his gun against the back of the captain’s silvery head.

  Looking at George, I patted the seat immediately next to me. “Please have a seat, honey. Trust me, I’m gonna make him pay for what he did to Irena.”

  George took a seat, his eyes on Brady still.

  “Tell me all that you know,” I said to the man beside me, sensing that George carried more secrets within him. Valuable secrets.

  “Ever since he had the heart attack, it’s like he’s become a different person,” George said, facing me now. “I called his house when he was released from the hospital to tell him how glad I was that he had recovered so quickly and that if there was anything I could do to just let me know. You know what he did?”

  I shook my head no.

  “He said thanks, then hung up on me. At first I thought that he must be upset or depressed, so I just let it go. My father had a couple of heart attacks, so I know firsthand how traumatic they can be. He was still acting gruff when he returned to the office yesterday.” He tilted his head toward Brady, who was glaring at him. “Again, I wrote it off as something having to do with the heart attack. Then I heard him talk to someone about Irena over the phone when I went to get some coffee, but, like I told you, I thought I’d misunderstood the conversation. I didn’t think he’d meant for someone to literally run her over. Still, I was going to mention it to Irena when I saw her again that it seemed Brady had it out for her for some reason.

  “Then, when I got to the division an hour ago for my afternoon shift, I was told about the accident and I knew I had heard everything correctly.” George closed his eyes and shook his head, exhaling slowly. Then he looked at me again. “I knew something had happened to him. I had no idea what, just that he wasn’t the same man as before. Right as I was about to call you to tell you about Irena and what I had overheard, he came to my office and asked me if I could come along with him as he went to visit you. I was
surprised to hear that you were back, but I still agreed and we instantly left the station. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

  “I’m sorry about that, George,” I replied. “I should’ve, but I honestly didn’t have time. A lot has happened in the last few days. Really bad stuff. Incredible stuff that’s hard to wrap your mind around. When you find out, you’ll understand.”

  I turned to Jose and nodded my head at Brady. “Take him to a chair in the kitchen.”

  “Move,” Jose said and pushed Brady toward the dome-shaped doorway. The captain grumbled something unintelligible, but began walking in the direction of the hallway that connected to the kitchen.

  Picking up the zip ties that sat in a grocery bag on the floor, I got to my feet. “Come with me,” I told George.

  Together, we walked out into my kitchen where Jose had already made Brady sit on one of the chairs. The smaller man had one of his arms around Brady’s neck in a loose chokehold, while he held his gun to his temple with his other.

  Brady glared at me as I approached. “Gabi, you’re going too far. If you don’t let me go immediately, I’ll make sure you’re done in law enforcement. You know that, with all my contacts across the country, all I need to do is say the word. You can’t believe what George is telling you. I had nothing whatsoever to do with Dr. Sokoloff’s death.”

  “No?” I said and brought his hands before him, holding them together by the wrists as I found a zip tie in the bag that I had dropped beside Brady. “Just as you had nothing to do with making sure there were no cops coming to help me when I called the division for help.”

  “That was you?” George said, gazing at me, appearing amazed. Patting Brady’s shoulder, he added, “Captain Brady here made it seem like it had just been some nutcase calling the station. The operator told me about it as I was leaving for the day. In hindsight, I should’ve known he was lying when I caught the hostage situation on TV later that night.”

  I used two zip ties to bind Brady’s hands together in his lap, then squatted so I could tie his ankles to the chair legs. “That was not all he did to try to stop me from getting the assistance I needed.” Gazing up at Brady, I said, “I spoke to Sergeant Jackson this morning. He told me you told him I was not to be taken seriously because I had gone crazy with grief. So he cancelled the autopsy I asked him to do on one of the abductors.”

  “That’s because you are crazy!” Brady fired back, his light blue eyes ablaze with fury. Looking into them was like looking into a complete stranger’s, he was so different. I swallowed hard and focused on the task at hand. In a short while, he would be back to normal. He had to be.

  “There,” I said and stood back up. Gazing over Brady’s shoulder at Jose, I said, “What’s the deal with Donald? Is he out there?”

  “Yep. And you were right that I’d met him before. He’s a good guy.”

  “That’s good. Are we sticking to the same plan?”

  “Sure, why not? We’ll just tell him we needed George here to help subdue him. Makes sense.”

  George looked confused. “What are you about to do?”

  I shot Jose a look that I hoped conveyed that I needed him to just agree with me, not trip me up as I served George my lie—I had quickly decided that telling George the truth was much too time-consuming, so I had no choice. “Brady suffers from paranoid schizophrenia, but refuses to accept this fact. I’m pretty sure Irena knew about it, too, which was why he had her killed before she could tell anyone. So I’m now going to give him a shot of Haldol. It’s an anti-psychotic medication that treats his condition. Someone’s gotta stop him. I’m a little nervous about giving it to him, so Jose has a friend who’s about to join us to show me how to properly inject it.”

  “Oh,” George said. “I guess his behavior makes sense then.”

  “She’s lying, George,” Brady hissed, furious. “I’m not crazy. She’s about to kill me. Please don’t let her.”

  George gave him a cool glance. “After what you did to Irena, she can do whatever she wants to you as far as I’m concerned, Captain.”

  “Don’t even waste your time, Captain,” I told Brady, then my eyes went to Jose, who had just finished attaching zip ties around Brady’s upper arms and the chair back. “Go get Donald.”

  Jose nodded and left, leaving me with Brady, who insisted that I was about to kill him to George, who, in turn, kept telling Brady that he didn’t care if I did. I went to get the Haldol that was still in the living room and when I returned to the kitchen, the two were still at it.

  Their back and forth was giving me a headache, so I was more than relieved when Jose finally returned with a rangy, thirty-something male in ripped jeans and a gray hoodie. Donald had a dirty-blond shag and a long scar that went from the edge of his mouth to the outer corner of his right temple.

  “This is Donald,” Jose said, motioning toward the taller man, who gave a shy nod. “Donnie, this is Gabi and George. George had to help us subdue him.”

  Donald nodded like this was completely understandable. Given how unsurprised he appeared at the state in which we kept Brady, Jose must have done a good job filling him in on what to expect when Donald lay eyes on my sick “father.”

  Preferring not to complicate things by mentioning the father-part, I quickly pulled out the Haldol from the paper bag and said, “Thanks for coming to help, Donald. He’s pretty bad off as you can tell, so let’s not waste any time. Please show me how to inject this stuff properly.”

  “No problem,” Donald said and smiled, displaying a row of mostly crooked teeth. “I’ll do anything for Dante and his buddies. If you want to get this over fast, maybe I should just inject it?”

  “Really?” I said. “Yes, that would be great. We’re kinda in a time crunch.”

  Relieved at his unexpected offer, I handed him the Haldol bottle and the paper bag. “There are syringes in the bag.”

  “Okay, great,” Donald said. “Let me just go wash my hands.”

  He walked over to the sink and used some of the dish liquid to thoroughly soap up his hands, then rinsed them off. By the time he returned, I noticed that my heart had sped up, beating faster and faster. Very soon we would either have cured Brady from being this monster—or we would kill him.

  I watched how Donald rolled up the sleeves of a loudly protesting Brady and examined the insides of his arm. Jose put a gun to Brady’s head and told him to be quiet or his brains would be on the floor. The threat was surprisingly efficient, because Brady instantly shut up.

  It took Donald a little while to find a good vein as Brady had a few extra pounds on him. When the ex-junkie finally found one that seemed like it would work, he tapped it, then nodded.

  “This one will do,” he said. Glancing at me and George, he said, “One of you might want to hold on to his hand while the other restrains his shoulder so he doesn’t move.”

  I waved over George so that he could hold on to Brady’s shoulder, while I kept his arm still. Having wiped the bottle top and the area on Brady’s arm with an antiseptic wipe, Donald removed the plastic wrapping from a syringe and plunged the needle through the bottle’s rubber top.

  The ex-junkie paused and looked at me. “How much do you want me to inject?”

  “50 mg.” My heart was beating so hard now I feared it might explode. Sweat that felt like ice had formed around my hairline and in my armpits, coursing down the sides of my face and ribcage. I felt faint, my knees weak, and I was convinced that my complexion had lost all its color I was so terrified I’d gotten this all wrong. My mouth was dry and I licked my lips repeatedly. I kept clenching and unclenching my jaw. I prayed that neither Donald nor George noticed any of my ticks, or they’d start to wonder why I appeared so incredibly nervous.

  Donald filled the syringe with the liquid and put the bottle on the nearby kitchen table.

  As he got ready to stick the needle into Brady’s vein, Brady spat him in the face.

  Seeing how Donald winced and paused, I stifled a gasp. Pleas
e don’t let that stop you.

  “If you stick that thing into me, I’m going to have you killed,” Brady hissed as Donald wiped at the spittle that slowly made its way from his right eye down his cheek, over his scar, like a transparent, elongating worm. Then he grabbed hold of Brady’s arm and stuck the needle deep into his vein, pushing the plunger all the way down to the bottom. All the liquid had gone into the red-faced, old captain.

  Brady’s mouth fell open like he was screaming, but no sound came out. He kept glaring at Donald, gasping for breath. His eyes rolled back in his skull, only the whites showing for a few terrifying seconds later. Suddenly his eyes closed, then his lips; finally, his head fell to his chest, hanging limply. No one saying anything, we just stared at the tied-up, lifeless man whose cheeks quickly lost all its angry color. The seconds ticked by, and we kept staring in silence.

  My throat had become so tight I could barely breathe. Oh, God, we killed him…

  Donald was the first to say something. “Um, I think something might be wrong.”

  I felt Jose’s gaze on me as I kept staring at Brady, not wanting to believe that what I had feared had in fact happened. Well, it’s better that he is dead than that he stays UT, I tried consoling myself. You knew all along that this was a possibility, Gabi. You took your chances; now accept the outcome.

  I was struggling to pull myself together so I could do something, say something, when Brady’s head stirred almost imperceptibly. A moment later he muttered something unintelligible.

  Oh, my God, he isn’t dead!

  Pushing away Donald, I fell to my knees before my boss, slapping his cheeks lightly. He muttered something else, then tried to open his eyes. Within short, he was looking at me, blinking against the bright sunlight that filled the kitchen.

  “Gabi?” His voice was weak.