Omega Dog (29 page)

The cardiac tamponade had been cleared, the fluid removed, and Venn’s heart had emerged relatively unscathed, apart from a slight arrhythmia which he was likely to have for the rest of his life, but which he probably wouldn’t notice. The surgeons had also discovered blood in his abdominal cavity, and it turned out he had a torn spleen. That had to come out, too.

He’d been incredibly lucky, as he later told Beth. The awning had broken his fall on the way down, and Corcoran’s body had provided something of a cushion. There’d been no head injury.

Professor Lomax had found her at the hospital – she’d completely forgotten that she’d left him behind in the car – and she’d wept combined tears of fear and relief on his shoulder.

It was only a week later, when Venn was conscious again and the doctors permitted the FBI and NYPD to talk to him, that he and Beth found out what had subsequently happened.

She’d left her phone in the car when she’d run to help Venn. Lomax, after he realized she wasn’t coming back, had thrown caution to the winds and marched over to the growing ranks of uniformed police officers who were gathering at the foot of the building, peering up and trying to work out where the two men had fallen from, and how come one of them was shot.

‘I think I might be able to help you officers,’ Lomax said, holding up Beth’s phone with the recording of Corcoran’s confession.

In the next twenty-four hours, the entire Manzullo crime family in New York City was taken into custody in one of the biggest single swoops on organized crime in US law enforcement history. Pride of place among the arrested went to DeeDee Rosetti, the head of the family.

Two days later, further arrests followed within the Pentagon. The Defense Secretary resigned, unable to hold onto his position when such grossly criminal behavior had been taking place on his watch, even though he wasn’t implicated.

The CEO of Walton & Critchkoff Pharmaceuticals was arrested, along with several members of its board. Two other board members committed suicide. The company went into liquidation.

A call went out worldwide for anybody who’d taken part in any trial involving the compound C-77 or its related agents, including Zylurin, to come forward and undergo an exhaustive medical examination.

All charges against Joseph Venn relating to the murder of Clarence Smith outside the bar on Bleecker Street, were dropped, when a man came forward and, in exchange for immunity from prosecution, confessed he’d been paid to bribe Smith to attack Venn outside the bar. The man also admitted he’d waited for Venn to disappear after beating Smith up, and had then gone into the alleyway and killed Smith himself.

Now, Beth took Venn’s arm. They turned to look at the grave once more.

The name on the stone read
Luisa Perez
.

‘Rest in peace, Luisa,’ she murmured to her friend. As she said each week when she came up here to pay her respects.

As they walked down the hill, Beth slowing a little to accommodate Venn’s stiff gait, he said to her: ‘Ready for this?’

‘No.’ She squeezed his hand, gave him a tight smile. ‘But I’m ready as I’ll ever be.’

They caught the subway to the hospital together. Professor Lomax was already there, in the waiting room. He hugged Beth, clapped Venn on the shoulder.

Ten minutes later, the doctor called them all in. His face was unreadable.

He sat them down opposite him across his desk. Before him he had a lab report on a sheet of fax paper.

Beth stared at it.

This was the moment she’d been dreading for the last two weeks, ever since she’d taken the test.

The blood test that would determine if she had the genes which made her susceptible to the carcinogenic effects of C-77.

Over the past six months, Professor Lomax had been working with his colleagues in the genetics department at Yale to find out why almost nine in ten people exposed to C-77 developed leukemias or lymphomas, while the other one didn’t.

A month ago they’d cracked it. The “non-convertors” to cancer possessed particular genes on three separate chromosomes which seemed to offer a protective effect. The reason wasn’t known yet.

Across from her, the doctor put on his glasses. He peered down them at the report.

Then he glanced up at Beth.

His eyes were smiling.

‘You’re clear,’ he said.

While Professor Lomax broke into applause, Beth clung to Venn.

Not saying anything. Not crying.

Feeling nothing but an overwhelming sense of
hope
.

––––––––

G
uadalajara, Mexico

The woman in the evening dress slit high on her thigh both attracted attention and was invisible.

She drew the eye because of her beauty. Slender, poised, with the fluid movements of a cat, she radiated sex appeal. Every now and again she tossed back her glossy black tresses, the movement making them ripple.

But she was invisible because the lobby of the Paraiso Hotel was full of exotic, alluring women. She was one of many.

The lobby hummed with early-evening life and anticipation of the night to come. Waiters swooped about with trays bearing cocktail glasses. Middle-aged businessmen sat at the bar, eyeing the women. On a platform in one corner, a mariachi band played mellow sounds.

The woman watched the doors.

There were two likely candidates – but no, the guys were too young, and didn’t fit the profile.

The man Shelly Anderson was looking for was in his thirties, big, and tough-looking.

A bit like Joseph Venn.

She still had to admire the way he’d handled the Land Rover. Using its rear end like a dinosaur wielding its tail, to flick its attacker away.

If it hadn’t been a Lamborghini or other kind of sports car, with an open roof, she’d have been killed. As it happened, Shelly had managed to grab onto a branch as the car plummeted to the forest floor after going over the edge. Her pelvis had damn near been wrenched free from the rest of her torso, but she’d succeeded in hauling herself out and clinging to the branch as the Lamborghini smashed into the ground and exploded.

And she’d had the wits to scramble away among the trees and hide, before Venn looked over the edge and saw her.

The job was off after that, of course. Shelly was dogged, but she wasn’t stupid. Dr Elizabeth Colby was just going to have to be one that got away. And good luck to her.

Well, it wasn’t entirely due to luck. Colby had had Joseph Venn to help her.

Venn.
Shelly found herself thinking of his wry mouth, his probing gaze. His strong hands.

For a few moments she allowed herself to fantasize.
Those hands, roving down over her ass. His lips finding her own mouth, her throat, her breasts.

He was a supremely effective weapon. And Shelly loved her weapons.

Ah, well. There were weapons enough in the world for everybody.

Shelly regretted leaving behind her toys. Not just the Hummer and its artillery, but her collection at home, too. But she knew there was no going back. She couldn’t go near her home. Couldn’t go anywhere near New York City again.

Emigration was the obvious choice.

Now, half a year later, she was reborn. She had a new country – Mexico – to call home. One where the winters weren’t nearly as shitty as New York’s.

She had a new look. Careful hairdressing and dark-colored contact lenses had seen to that.

She had a new identity.

And she was building a new client base.

There he was. Striding confidently across the lobby toward her. A big guy, rough-looking.

He spotted her, came over. Shelly raised one eyebrow, touched her tongue tip to the corner of her mouth.

‘Conchetta?’ he asked brusquely, in Spanish.

‘Well,
hello
there,’ she said. ‘You must be Mr Domingo.’

He’d booked her through a high-class escort service. Or so he thought. The service was actually a front for her current client, a rival drug lord to this guy.

‘Honey,’ he said, taking her wrist and hauling her upright, ‘I’m not really in the mood for small talk, all right? The room’s upstairs. Let’s go.’

Shelly let him tug her toward the elevator. He was so impatient that he pressed the button to close the doors even before she was all the way inside. The doors shut on her purse.

She tugged it free, but the doors opened again. He pounded on the
close
button once more.

‘Jesus,’ he snarled. ‘What the hell do you chicks keep in those goddam bags, anyhow?’

Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, my friend
, Shelly thought.

And she turned her head a little to hide her smile.

––––––––

T
hanks a bunch for reading
Omega Dog
. Hope you liked it. A full list of all my books appears on the next page.

Joe Venn returns in
Delta Ghost
.

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My Amazon author pages are
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here
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, where your comments are always welcome. If you’d like to email me, perhaps with comments about this novel (good or bad!) please do:
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Omega Dog
, if you think the book’s worthy of it. We authors love our reviews the way Shelly Anderson loves her weapons...!
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Thanks.

––––––––

T
im Stevens

––––––––

Ratcatcher

Delivering Caliban

Jokerman

Tundra

Haven (short story)

John Purkiss Box Set Volume 1 (Ratcatcher, Delivering Caliban, Jokerman)

Spiked (short story exclusive to mailing list subscribers)

Cronos Rising (coming in 2014)

Severance Kill

Annihilation Myths

Redemption Road (coming in 2014)

Omega Dog

Delta Ghost

Alpha Kill (coming in 2014)

Reunion

Snout