Free The Last Flight of the Argus by E. R. Torre

there was no ledge. With a sixty-three floor drop, there was no way Gail Griffen could escape that way. It meant she was still in the apartment.
    B’taav stared at the doors to either side of him. The bedroom or the bathroom. Gail Griffen was behind one of them. Gail Griffen, the petite, frail looking twenty six year old woman who had somehow beaten two men –one of them armed with a fusion gun– to death.
    Gail Griffen. There was more to her. Much more.
    You’re either in the bathroom or the bedroom , B’taav thought. Door number one or door number two.
    The bathroom was small, confined. To the Independent, it was more likely she’d be in the bedroom.
    B’taav stepped to the bedroom door and, with his free hand, grasped the doorknob. He slowly, gently, turned it. The door wasn’t locked. With great care, He pushed it open.
    The door let out a soft creak but otherwise gave. B’taav stepped back, unsure what to expect. He pressed his body against the wall beside the door and waited. Nothing happened. After a few seconds, he eased off the wall and stared into the room. He found inky darkness.
    B’taav’s eyes took only a few seconds to adjust. While they did, the Independent’s stomach churning with thoughts of what lay within, waiting for him to step inside.
    Soon, B’taav identified the freshly made bed. Beside it was a night table. On the night table was an antique paperback novel. Beside the night table was a covered window. Beyond that the double door to the closet. One of those doors was open. B’taav spotted no clothing on the hanger and a black suitcase against the inner wall. Gail Griffen was packed up and ready to go.
    B’taav aimed his gun at the closet door. He could only see half of the closet’s contents. For all he knew, Gail Griffen was hidden behind the second, closed door.
    He had little choice but to check.
     
    Shepherd reached the door to apartment 6345 and found it open. Like B’taav had done moments before, he listened for any sounds coming from within.
    He heard nothing. He thought about calling out for B’taav, but he needed to assess the situation before letting anyone know about his presence.
    It was the prudent thing to do.
    He also thought about waiting for backup to arrive. By now, Police Officers were on their way up. An overwhelming force would ensure control over the situation.
    But what if B’taav lay injured in the apartment?
    Gail Griffen’s buy of Merrick Enterprises information had gone sour. A gun was drawn and shots fired. B’taav was in there.
    He might be injured.
    Officer Shepherd had no choice in the matter. He stepped forward, past the door, stopping at the threshold.
    “ By the Gods,” he whispered.
    In fifteen years of duty, Officer Shepherd saw plenty of horrors. As the old adage went, you never got used to such sights. But he had never seen anything like this before.
    Shepherd walked to the first body and shuddered as he checked for a pulse. When he found none he approached the other victim.
     
    B’taav rested his hand on the closet door. He slid the closet door open and pointed his gun at the darkness within.
    There was no one there.
    B’taav found the light switch and clicked the closet lights on. A single change of clothes were on a hanger. It was what Gail Griffen wore a few days back, to the restaurant. B’taav reached for the light switch and was about to turn it off when he noticed something lying beside her suitcase.
    It was a plastic vial and syringe. B'taav picked the items up. The vial was labeled Ac2. B'taav gasped. The massacre in the apartment suddenly made sense.
    “ B’taav?” came a voice from the living room.
    B’taav dropped the vial and syringe and rushed to the door leading back to the living room.
    “ She’s in the bathroom!” the Independent yelled.
    For the first time since knowing him, Shepherd heard terror in the Independent’s voice.
     
    B’taav sprung out of the bedroom as Gail Griffen smashed the bathroom door from