CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE #2
“A visionary. A teacher who understands the fundamental corruption that plagues our world.” Crawford's eyes took on an almost religious fervor. “He showed me how synthetic chemicals poison everything they touch. How people spread molecular contamination through their research and development.”
Miles felt rage building in his chest. “My fiancée was one of the people you killed.”
Crawford seemed surprised, but in a delighted sort of way. “Oh…oh my. I’m terribly sorry about that. Nothing personal, of course. Or maybe it was. Maybe the Elementalist knew you were looking into me and added her name to the list on purpose. Which one was she?”
Miles stepped forward, closer to Crawford as he made fists with both hands. “You killed her in her home. Elena.”
“Oh, yes! The most recent. She was creating synthetic compounds that would alter human brain chemistry. Artificial molecules designed to interfere with natural processes.” Crawford shook his head sadly. “She was one of the most dangerous individuals I was assigned to eliminate.”
“How many?” Vic asked. “How many people has The Elementalist had killed?”
“Dozens. All across the country. Each death is carefully planned and executed by devoted followers who understand the necessity of purification.” Crawford looked proud. “I’m quite proud to be part of it.”
Miles felt something snap inside him. The confirmation that Elena's death wasn't random, that she'd been specifically targeted, hit him like a physical blow.
But he forced himself to stay calm. To think.
They could still get information out of Crawford.
If they pushed hard enough, maybe they could even get a name for this so-called Elementalist.
“Does The Elementalist know who I am?” Miles asked. “Was Elena targeted because I was tracking down his minions? Because I helped stop his little soldier in San Francisco?”
Crawford tilted his head, considering. “I honestly have no idea.
My instructions were simply to eliminate sources of molecular contamination in the DC area.
Elena's pharmaceutical work made her a natural target.” As Crawford spoke, Miles noticed a workbench to his left covered with tools.
Screwdrivers, pliers, measuring devices.
He shifted slightly, moving closer while keeping his attention focused on Crawford.
“The gold murders in San Francisco… Diana Hartwell. That was you?”
“It was both of us,” Vic said. “And now we’re going to bring you in, too.”
“Not if I activate this fluorine. I am fully prepared to die if I need to. I have a list of at least five more to kill, but I have done enough to spread the message. To make sure the world sees and knows.”
Miles's hand brushed against the workbench. His fingers closed around a small screwdriver, maybe six inches long with a sharp metal tip. He palmed it, keeping it hidden. “Did you write the letters or was that someone else?”
“That was me. I wrote them and left them…hoping the authorities might understand. But here we are…my words gone to waste.”
"That was no explanation. That was taunting."
Crawford shrugged and then went on as if he was uninterested in the letters. “You know, I studied Diana’s methods extensively,” he continued. “The Elementalist shared video recordings of her work. Educational materials for those of us still learning our craft.”
The casual way Crawford talked about murder, about Elena's death, made Miles feel sick. But he forced himself to keep listening, to keep moving incrementally closer.
“You're insane,” Vic said. “All of you. This isn't purification, it's just murder. You have to see that.”
“You don't understand.” Crawford's grip tightened on the trigger device. “The synthetic chemicals poisoning our world require drastic action. Traditional law enforcement can't address the root problem.”
Miles was close enough now. Maybe eight feet from Crawford. Close enough to lunge if he could create a distraction.
“Elena,” Miles said, letting his voice crack. “She was going to be my wife.”
Crawford's expression softened slightly. “I'm sorry for your loss. I truly am, believe it or not. But you must understand, her death serves a greater purpose.”
“A greater purpose?” Miles let tears come, let his shoulders shake with overwhelming grief. “She was everything to me.”
“Miles,” Vic said, her voice sharp with warning. She could see what he was doing, but she was too far away to help. “Miles, stand down.”
“Elena…” Mile said. He was drowning in the sorrow of it all, but also waiting for just the right moment.
“Drop the trigger, Crawford,” Vic demanded. “Now.”
Crawford turned slightly toward Vic, his attention divided between her weapon and Miles's staged breakdown.
And it was exactly the opening Miles needed.
He launched himself forward, the screwdriver gripped in his right hand.
Crawford saw him coming at the last second and tried to step back, but Miles was already on him.
The screwdriver drove hard into Crawford's left collarbone, just above the shoulder. The impact made a sick popping sound that Miles felt all the way through him. Crawford screamed and, at the same time, Miles used his free hand to knock the device out of Crawford’s hand.
Vic moved instantly, kicking the trigger across the floor and away from Crawford. She looked terrified, perhaps realizing that they had just been about half a second away from death by fluorine.
As the device skidded across the floor, Miles pulled the screwdriver free and drove it into Crawford's right arm, just below the shoulder.
Crawford collapsed, blood spreading across his shirt in an amount that was far more than Miles expected.
But he was barely aware of it. He was enraged.
He was lost to his anger and grief and in that moment, all he wanted to do was inflict pain on Crawford.
Miles followed him down to the floor. His fist connected with Crawford's nose with a wet cracking sound. Then his jaw. Then his brow.
“You killed her!” Miles screamed, hitting Crawford again. “You killed her!”
“Miles, stop!” Vic grabbed him from behind, trying to pull him off Crawford. “He's down! Stop!”
But Miles couldn't stop. All the rage and grief he'd been holding back since finding Elena's body came pouring out. He drove his fist into Crawford's face again, feeling cartilage crunch under his knuckles.
“Miles!” Vic wrapped her arms around his chest and hauled him backward. “He's unconscious! You're going to kill him!”
Miles struggled against her grip, still trying to reach Crawford's motionless form. “Good! He deserves to die! He killed Elena!”
“We need him alive! We need information about The Elementalist!”
The words finally penetrated Miles's rage. He stopped struggling and looked down at Crawford. The man's face was a bloody mess, his breathing shallow but steady. The screwdriver wounds were bleeding copiously.
Miles suddenly felt empty. Drained. The adrenaline that had carried him through the fight was fading, leaving only exhaustion and grief. He collapsed against Vic and moaned out: “She's gone,” he whispered. “Elena's really gone.”
“I know,” Vic said softly, still holding him. “I know.”
The tears came then, accompanied by wails of anguish that echoed off the basement walls.
All the pain he'd been suppressing since Elena's death poured out in broken sobs.
Vic knelt beside him, also making sure to position herself next to the fallen and freely bleeding form of Crawford.
and pulled out her phone. She placed a call to the Bureau's emergency line and wasted no time.
"This is Special Agent Stone. I need paramedics and backup stat!
" She gave Crawford's address. "We have one suspect in custody, badly injured but stable.
And I need a hazmat team. We've got industrial amounts of fluorine gas down here. "
Miles barely heard her. He was thinking about Elena's laugh, her smile, the way she'd looked in her wedding dress during the final fitting. All of it gone because Crawford and his twisted ideology had declared her molecularly corrupt.
All because of a monster calling himself the Elementalist.
Crawford stirred slightly, blood bubbling from his nose. His eyes opened and focused on Miles with difficulty.
“The purification,” Crawford mumbled through swollen lips. And somehow, the man was smiling. Actually smiling. “It's... just beginning.”
Miles felt the rage surge again, but Vic's hand on his shoulder held him back at the first sign of another violent outburst.
“Let the paramedics work on him,” she said. “Then we'll get answers.”
Miles nodded, wiping tears from his face with bloody knuckles. They'd found Elena's killer, but he knew deep in his heart, right down into his bones, that Crawford was right about one thing.
This was just the beginning.