Chapter
48
FOUR FACES STARED back at John Puller.
Four women.
They were young. They were professional.
And they were all dead.
He had looked at these photos before, without much success.
He leaned back in his chair in his motel room and did another search on the name Atalanta. According to mythology, Atalanta had been left on a mountaintop by her father to die. Only Atalanta was cared for by a she-bear and survived. She became an exemplary fighter and huntress and a committed virgin, spurning advances from all men and even challenging them to footraces, with death to the loser. But a clever fellow enlisted the aid of Aphrodite and beat Atalanta in a race. They married and had a son. Then Atalanta and her husband were turned into lions by a goddess who felt they had disrespected her.
Puller rubbed his eyes and wondered where any of this crap was getting him. He had never once in his life used mythology to track down a criminal, and he really didn’t want to start now.
He settled on his other possible lead. Crushing injuries. The women had all suffered crushing injuries.
He closed his eyes and thought back to the crime scene at the Grunt.
The medical examiner had used that word several times.
Crushing.
Paul the bouncer looked to be in his fifties. He had completely destroyed a group of big, strong men. Manhandled them in fact. Puller had been jumped by one, and though he had beaten the guy with his superior fighting skills, he hadn’t crushed any part of the man. And it had been a tough fight.
And Paul had clearly wanted to get out of there before the police arrived. So who, or what, was this guy? Was he the super freak that he and Knox had speculated might have come out of Building Q? Thirty years ago he would have been in his twenties. But if so, why would he be a bouncer at the Grunt? Had he remained in the area after all these years? Why? It made no sense.
Puller’s phone rang. He looked at the screen.
It was Knox.
Puller hesitated. But if he didn’t answer, he supposed she would just call back until he did.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” she said immediately.
“Why?”
“Because all hell broke loose last night in Hampton.” She paused. “What do you know about that?”
“I heard the sirens.”
“Don’t lie to me, Puller! I’m staring at a police report that has you listed as being on the scene and shooting and killing someone.”
“Well, that was quick work on your part.”
“So what do you know?” she persisted.
Puller hesitated and looked at his watch. “You have time for some breakfast?”
She didn’t respond at first. “Just like that? After kicking my ass to the curb?”
“We all have to eat.”
“Where and when?”
He told her.
He grabbed a shower, changed his clothes, and drove to the hole-in-the-wall diner he’d spotted previously. He didn’t want to do this, because he didn’t fully trust her. But another part of him realized he needed Knox’s resources if he was to have any chance of solving this case.
Knox was already seated at a booth in the back with a cup of coffee in front of her. She wore jeans, a black blazer, three-inch boots, and an expression that could have melted titanium.
He sat down across from her, ordered a coffee, and fingered the plastic menu she slid across to him.
“You look good,” he said.
She took a sip of coffee, gave him a blank stare, and said, “Don’t try to play nice. You are already on my last nerve.”
“Didn’t know that.”
“Like hell.”
He sat forward. “You eating?”
“I’m close to pulling out my gun and shooting you.”
He looked down at the menu. “Let me order first. I’d rather die on a full belly. I’m going to have the All-American. Lots of carbs and protein. From your expression I’m going to need it.”
She watched him order and then shook her head when the waitress turned to her for her order.
The waitress left and Knox sat forward. “Well? You called the meeting.”
Ten minutes passed and Puller talked the whole time, telling Knox in information-filled paragraphs almost everything he had learned since he had last seen her, including following Helen Myers to Building Q where she had met up with Josh Quentin. And the French gent who’d taken a morning train to Washington, D.C. And about Paul the bouncer and his extraordinary fighting abilities. He pulled out his camera and showed her the pictures he’d taken. When he got to the more technical frames Knox focused even more intently.
“Puller, this one has to do with cell mutation.” She forwarded the frame. “And this one looks like it’s some sort of organ regeneration concept.”
“Well, I’m glad you can make some sense of it.”
“If they were passing secrets I thought it would be dealing with the exoskeletons and liquid armor the woman told you she was working on there. This stuff isn’t military-grade material.”
The next moment his breakfast showed up.
He glanced at Knox, who was staring at him. “You look hungry all of a sudden,” he said.
“I’ll have the pancakes,” she said to the waitress.
The woman walked off and Puller dug into his meal. As he lifted his fork to his mouth, Knox put out a hand and gripped his arm.
“Okay, Quentin is passing this stuff to Myers and Myers to the French guy. It’s not military secrets, but it’s obviously something valuable.”
“Right. I wish I could have stopped the guy, but I had no grounds.”
“But you have his picture and the fact that he speaks French. That’s something. I can get his image into a facial recognition database. It’s not just criminals but also people of particular interest to our government. If the guy is on that list we’ll find out who he is.”
“Sounds like a start. And we can also lean on Myers to cooperate if the database comes up zero.”
“This bouncer guy. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. His name is Paul. We have his description. We can get a BOLO out. He wanted no part of the cops.”
“But do you really think he’s the guy who murdered those women? I mean, what are the odds?”
“Longer than I can calculate. But that still doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. People do win the lottery. Maybe this is just our turn.”
“So he killed all those guys with his bare hands?”
“Yes. He crushed them, in fact.”
Knox drew in a quick breath. “Like the murdered women?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask the people at the bar about him?”
“I intend to. Last night was a little chaotic.”
“Right, of course. But if we can get to this Paul guy.”