|
|
Where to hide it? Sarah Hensley is not Charlotte Corday, and I'm not gonna end up the same way. At least they aren't lopping off heads yet. She probably would end up dead, she thought, if they caught her. Shot while resisting arrest. There might be citizens with phones recording, even a news crew or two, recording it all. It all depends on who's getting killed, whether it makes any difference. There was video of Jacob being killed too, and he was the wrong kind. There was a TV crew, and the video quickly disappeared. The original one anyway - the fact that there were dozens or hundreds of copies made no difference. Sheeple. She'd probably heard the word before, for the past couple of years she had heard it a lot. Mind-numbed, desensitized, apathetic. All the words they used to describe the population that watched its worlds world falling apart, with the attention span of a squirrels. I was one. Probably most of us were once, but after you wake up you couldn't go back to sleep if you wanted to. The world can be exploding around him and a man will stop to remove a stone from his shoe. -- Priscus Hostilius That was on a screensaver on one of the computers in Clay's office. "That's the way most people are," Clay had told her. "An old girlfriend told me once - after she dumped me and married someone else - that other peoples' problems are always more important to them than yours." I told him it seemed that he got lucky. He laughed, said I was right. I also told him Priscus Hostilius sounded like a made-up name. I guess he expected people to know that. Or the people he associates with anyway. He's probably the one that made it up. Jake was my twin brother. He wasn't other people. Jacob Hensley had been part of the Obsidian Lotus group, and probably wouldn't have been on the regime's radar but for he melodramatic name they'd chosen. It turned up a time or three too many in the data streams the ISD took an interest. They had done nothing more than operate some innocuous blogs and print pamphlets and flyers. But someone somewhere decided they needed a beatdown. Jake and his girlfriend arrived at the office during the raid. He called the group's lawyer before approaching the scene. Upon being accosted by one of the agents and producing his ID he was promptly handcuffed and placed in a car. As the trashing of the office was winding down and the boxes of evidence being removed he and two others similarly detained were released. As they walked back toward the office four agents emerged and began shooting. It was all there in living color, three unarmed men shot down as deliberately and casually as swatting flies. The four agents kept walking without looking back. Sarah had the names of the agents. That was over a year ago, today the identities would never be known, as agents were masked. My brother died there in the parking lot, so did Jeremy Hendrix. Mike Ellis survived, but they arrested him a week later. He's still in jail, no charges, no trial date, no bail. Mike and Jeremy had family too, Mike a wife and kid. Sarah knew Jeremy's girlfriend, and her anger was no less than Sarah's. Alexis has had a shot. Time for mine now. Two months earlier an off-duty ISD agent had hit on the wrong girl in the wrong bar. A wrong girl named Alexis. The next morning his body was found in a Wal-Mart parking lot. A .38 caliber vasectomy, the line from the old Dirty Harry film finding new fame after fifty years. Sarah had been in the bar in Knoxville when Alexis made the connection, then followed them to the Wal-Mart store on Parkside. Alexis had asked the agent to stop there on the way to his place. Sarah watched until Alexis exited the car and walked towards the Target store a couple of hundred yards away. About twenty minutes later she was waiting in front of the store as Alexis emerged. Another ten minutes and they were on I-40 heading west. Alexis had been disguised and wiped the car clean, and left a red herring that should have the investigators chasing a wild goose that existed only in their imagination. "You didn't leave any DNA, did you?" Sarah asked. "He never got that far," Alexis laughed. It was the first time she'd laughed in a long time. Maybe a little hysterical, maybe not. Then she was serious again. Silent. For several miles. Talk about it? Or let her have some time? After a while Alexis spoke again. "I shot his balls off," she said. "Then I put the barrel against his forehead. He was still in shock I guess, mouth open but no sound coming out. Eyes like.... he knew he was about to die." "You going to be all right?" asked Sarah. "Three more of those will help," Alexis replied. "Even if I have to split them with you." "Have a schedule in mind?" "As we ID them, we set up the kill and do it. I don't mind it if takes a while, let the others think about when it's coming for them." "Do you think they'll get it," Sarah asked. "With the misdirection." "Do you?" "They're not very bright," said Sarah. "They'll follow the easy clues for a while. But yeah, at some point the computer will spit out the possibilities. When we do the next one, it'll narrow it down some. Meanwhile, we might try something else." Alexis waited. "Wesley Crawford?" Sarah asked. "If we do him," Alexis said, "they'll probably connect the dots more readily." "Right. Then the remaining three know it's coming for them." "I like it. How do we go about it?" "Crawford's a sick son-of-a-bitch," said Oscar Thomas. "Word is he goes both ways, likes'em young. He slaps the girls around some from what I hear." "Not the boys?" "Maybe, maybe not," Oscar replied. "I know he beats women through my connection in Knoxville. He has a regular supplier there for the girls. The boys, we don't know. Possibly from his masters - they do that sort of thing for some of their minions. It keeps them dependent, and they have something to hammer them with if they get out of line." "Necron?" Alexis asked. "Maybe. Probably. Most people at or above his level are thoroughly compromised before they're appointed. Sex, drugs, the usual. Necron is the main one for sensitive internal matters." "Neither of us can pass for a boy of any age," said Alexis. "Want to risk getting beat up?" "Are you planning to go after him?" Oscar asked. "As in terminating?" "Have you heard anything lately about an ISD agent getting whacked?" asked Sarah. "Of course I have," Oscar replied. "Woke me up at four on a Sunday morning. You know anything about it?" Neither replied, Oscar swiveled in his chair and moved a mouse on one of the four computers. The screen woke up with a proverb. A big red banner with the words 'That which does not kill me has made a grave tactical error.' Like Clay. These guys like their philosophy. I like that one. Oscar moused and clicked for a few moments, opened a window showing a screenshot of the Knoxville News Sentinel website. 'Parkside Mall homicide victim was ISD agent', it proclaimed. "Amarillo called me not an hour after they found the body," said Oscar. "It probably would have waited until a decent hour if a curious security guard hadn't got curious about the car. Then, before it got into the regular news, we find out somebody decided to play Dirty Harry. You're both a little young to remember that. "Let me guess," he continued, "one or the other of you picked him up in a bar, like in the movie, got him to a good place to kill him. Not that a shopping center parking lot is a good place. Is that about it?" "Where would a couple sitting in a car in a Wal-Mart parking lot attract more attention?" Sarah asked "On a back street?" "You've got a point. And probably not knowing your way around Knoxville... you both live in Jonesboro?" They both nodded. Oscar moused and clicked and scrolled. "It was your brother, Sarah. And Alexis - Jeremy Hendrix was your significant other. They're running all that through their computers now, and their names will turn up. And yours. And since they're both dead, they'll be looking at next of kin. And significant others. "In fact they'll be looking at anyone even remotely likely to take umbrage at their little massacre. But you two are very close. I'm surprised they're not already after you. "Or maybe they are. I'm going to alert Felix in Amarillo, have him put some eyes on you. It's likely you're on their radar. And forget about Crawford." Sarah and Alexis stood up. "No way," they both said at once. "Sit down," said Oscar. "Now isn't the right time." "They killed my brother," Sarah said. "And Alexis's fiance." "Hold on," Oscar said. "I said it isn't time...now. Let me finish. "There's a lot going on, and it's getting more complicated every day. There's an underground war going on, as you know. Several of them. The southern and northern alliances are independent of one another, operationally. They talk and share information, and some resources. But the provisional governments were created separately, by different people, and while they have pretty much the same objectives there's not much coordination at this point. "We're working to rectify that, but the situation is complicated by at least a half dozen partisan outfits operating on their own. Some of they are pretty big. It'll take a while to lay it out for you, but if you can wait a while you can get assistance from us. Crawford, as a field supervisor of the ISD, was already on our list, for several reasons. As for the remaining agents that did the shooting, they can wait a while. And wonder if they're next." "How long is a while?" asked Sarah. "Crawford has been under discussion for a while," Oscar replied. "The incident you're interested in is just one, as you may know. He's run several more operations like that, and apparently they plan to continue. Just last week they killed an old man in Oakland, old and crippled and probably a little nutty. Surrounded his mobile home and told him to come out, as soon as he opened the door they shot him several dozen times. Word is they were standing around the body yukking it up for a while before telling the local law they needed to have the body removed. Then got in their cars and drove off. Just like that. "Some of your boys may have been the shooters - even as corrupt and soulless as they are getting men to shoot people in cold blood isn't that easy- yet. So Phantom Lancer is on the job." "Who is that?" asked Alexis. "A cell in Quebec Niner. Does things like that." "Like what?" "Killing people. Targets selected for their value to the bad guys, or guilty of especially heinous crimes." "They're going to kill Crawford?" "Soon, I suspect." "Let us do it," Sarah said. Oscar looked at the two women, seemingly trying to decide on a response. "Don't even think about saying no," said Sarah. "Impossible," Oscar said. "You were lucky once, you might be again. Or not. Let the professionals handle it." "I'm twenty-two years old," Sarah said. "My brother would be as well, if they hadn't killed him." She looked over at Alexis. "You know it's the right thing to do," Alexis said. "I know it's the right way to let you get yourself killed," replied Oscar. "Or worse, captured. Do you know what they'd do to you? What they're doing in the gulags is nothing by comparison. I can't allow it, and if I tried I'd be overruled." "By whom?" asked Sarah. "It has to go through Amarillo. I'm just the liaison for this sector." "They send the hit squads from Texas?" asked Alexis. "Mostly. There are some operators here, others based in the sectors where they reside, but Amarillo is the boss. You mucking around on your own, can screw things up big time. Coordination is essential, there's no way you'd get through your hit list without getting nailed." "So let them coordinate, we make the kills." Oscar wanted a smoke, and a drink. And it wasn't yet noon. "Look," he said, "if we'd known what you were up to... you're both part of Onyxx. Whacking that ISD agent was unauthorized." "No one said anything about whacking anyone," Sarah replied. "Or not doing so." "Need to know," Oscar said. "You didn't need. In any case the operation was unauthorized, Hawk isn't going to be happy. At all." "How about we transfer to Quebec, whatever it is?" asked Alexis. "Quebec Niner. You don't just 'transfer'. I probably shouldn't even be talking about them. What they do is seriously mission-critical stuff. Personal revenge -- look, what they did to you was... I can't pretend I know how you feel. I have an idea, but they've killed so many innocent people, and thousands more are being brutalized in the gulags, we don't have the resources to track them down and deal with them." "We're volunteering," Sarah said. "And you said they're probably going to whack Crawford. Why not let us take care of it?" "Like I said, you were lucky. You have to get lucky four more times, and now they're onto you. Do you really think you can pull that off?" "Just let us be the shooters," said Alexis. "It will save you exposing a couple of agents." Oscar turned back to the computer he has using. Sarah and Alexis looked at each other, and waited. "Can I buy you a drink?" Oscar asked. "Knowing what happened to the last guy that did?" asked Alexis. Sarah looked over at her. She was smiling. I don't know if that's good or bad. Oscar pushed his chair back and stood up. He picked up one of several phones on his desk. "I need one, come on." They followed him out of the office to the elevators. They waited as Oscar dialed a number and waited for an answer. "Can you meet me at N3 in a few minutes?" he asked. "OK," he said after the call ended, "let's take a ride." Oscar's car was in a reserved space near the rear entrance. It was a cranberry Ford Taurus station wagon with a showroom new appearance. Sarah knew some of the bigwigs in the resistance were fond of old cars, well-preserved or restored. "Oh eight," Oscar said when she commented. "Bought a set, a sedan and an Escape and this one, all the same color. Took about six months to locate them all, had a little reconditioning done in the Mesa Verde freehold." The name meant nothing to Sarah, but she didn't feel like pushing her luck by asking. Oscar had already as much as told her they were on thin ice. Oscar drove onto Manchester, heading east. Out of town. Sarah had taken the front passenger seat, watched Oscar. He drove like someone who drove a lot and probably enjoyed it. He checked the mirrors frequently. "We're going to talk to someone," he said. "Tennessee is crawling with regime agents. We figure on it being a border state when things finally blow up, and they do too, if they have that much sense. We're all under surveillance." A few miles from the office Oscar stopped at a Super 8 just off I-40. He parked as far as possible from the entrance and killed the engine. "The owner is one of us," he said. "It's one of the few where the staff speaks English and doesn't smell funny. That may arouse some suspicion but it's clean. Our contact should be with us shortly." As he spoke another car entered the lot and headed their way. A truck anyway, a white Ford Ranger, one of the old small ones, new-looking but otherwise unremarkable. The driver parked with a space between the Ranger and Oscar's Taurus. Oscar opened his phone and called again. He had the speaker off so they didn't hear the answer. "The ostrich yawns," he said and disconnected. Are these guys being melodramatic? Oscar seems normal enough, and Alex suggested I see him. The driver of the Ranger got out and walked over. "Come on," said Oscar as he opened his door. Sarah and Alexis got out as well. The Ranger driver was a young man, young enough for Clay to be his father. Or grandfather. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a long-sleeved khaki shirt with button-down flaps on the breast pockets. He was wearing moderately pricey-looking cowboy boots. "Mark, these two lovely ladies are Sarah and Alexis," Oscar said. "Sarah has the pony-tail. Ladies, Mark Collins is one of my Quebec Niner colleagues. Mark, Sarah and Alexis have been working for Onyxx for a few months. You remember the incident in Jonesboro?" "Yeah." Mark had opened a package of Backwoods cigars. He offered it to Oscar, who took one. "What's the connection?" "And the ISD agent in the parking lot in Knoxville?" asked Oscar. Mark lit his cigar, put the lighter away and regarded Sarah and Alexis. "These ladies?" he asked. "They took umbrage to having Sarah's brother and Alexis's fiance murdered in broad daylight with no consequences," Oscar said. "You popped Brian Elliott?" asked Mark. Sarah looked over at Alexis. Alexis nodded, saying nothing. Mark chewed his cigar and looked at Oscar. "First I knew was an hour ago," Oscar said. "Want to have lunch?" asked Mark. "Oscar said something about a drink," Alexis said. "I could use one." Oscar and Mark took a final puff on their cigars and dropped them on the pavement. "Let's go see the boss," Mark said. David Hawk was an older man, looking something like the fabled absent-minded professor. Sixtyish, brown tweed jacket and trousers, and a cigar that smelled worse than the flavored cigars popular with resistance men. And some women, Sarah knew, from her work at Onyxx. He didn't stub out the current stick, just laid it in the ashtray. One of those, Sarah thought. They followed him into a conference room that served as a dining room. A staff member came in and conversed briefly with Hawk and disappeared. Hawk also left, while Oscar and Mark went to the bar a the end of the room. "Beer and wine in the cooler if you don't fancy the hard stuff," Mark said. He put two tumblers on the table and put several cubes of ice into them. He poured some Wild Turkey into them and handed one to Oscar. Sarah opened the small regrigerator and looked inside. A six-pack of Heineken with two bottles missing was kept company by two bottles of Arbor Mist. Sarah held up them up and looked at Alexis, who pointed to the white Zinfadel. Sarah opened it and poured two glasses. They joined Mark and Oscar at one end of the table, sitting across from them. Sarah took a sip of her drink, leaned back and closed her eyes. She had just realized how tense she had been all morning. "All right, what have we got here?" It was Hawk. Sarah opened her eyes, wondering how long she had had them closed. Had she dozed off? Hawk had set a Heineken on the table in front of him, beside a Vectrix tablet on a stand adjusted almost to vertical. He took a drink and set the bottle down, looked over at the Vectrix and then at Mark and Oscar. "Henry is having some vittles sent down," he said. "Be just few minutes. Why don't you tell me about our guests." "Sarah Prescott and Alexis Sullivan," Oscar said. "They work in Onyxx." Hawk touched the tablet a few times, tapping, scrolling. He looked at Sarah and Alexis. "I see," he said after a couple of minutes. A waiter pushed a cart through the door, waited. Hawk motioned to him and he rolled the cart to the table. He deftly placed dishes and utensils before them, Sarah and Alexis first, they Hawk, Mark and Oscar. The offering was like an above-average catered meal of the sort encountered at upscale rubber-chicken events. The waiter closed the door as he left. "Let's eat," Hawk said. "We can talk later." Later, the chicken alfredo and spaghetti squash disposed of, Sarah toyed with her fork and waited. Hawk had divided his time between eating and watching his computer, occasionally touching it but mostly watching. Finally Hawk spoke. "Which one of you did the deed?" he asked, looking at Sarah and Alexis. Alexis raised her hand. "How did it go down?" he asked. "Are the news reports accurate?" Alexis told him. "I'm impressed," he said when she finished. "With your luck, not at all by your judgment. But you may have potential. "I should probably order you to stand down, and keep you under surveillance. You've been a couple of loose cannons, but if you're willing to be a team player I'm willing to give you a chance. But forget your vendetta. The people you're after are going down, and more besides. But it has to be part of a coherent operation, and no free-lancing. Are you willing to join the team?" "Yes," both said at once. "All right," Hawk said. "Mark will introduce you to your team. Oscar, keep me informed." Oscar and Mark both nodded. Hawk got up and got another Heineken from the cooler. "Let's to," Mark said. "Sarah, you and Alexis will be moving into the Academy. I hope I'm safe in presuming you haven't discussed your adventure with anyone else. Don't." Wesley Crawford locked the two deadbolts on the door to his inner sanctum. He was alone and the house was locked up tight. He looked at the computer monitor once more, all exterior entrances were locked and the alarm activated. If an intruder got inside the house there was another locked door blocking access to the one he had just locked. He took a drink of brandy and lit a cigarette, then fished a USB stick out of his pocket. A trusted colleague - trusted because of the dirt Crawford had on him - had slipped it to him while meeting privately in his office after the morning briefing. The contents would be copied to a computer that was not connected to the Internet or his local network, and wireless access was disabled. He knew several people who had been compromised because they were careless. And undisciplined. Only law enforcement armed with search warrants could even come inside his house, and in such an unlikely event any incriminating evidence could be quickly destroyed thanks to an IT tech who shared his predilections. The computer had no internal storage, it was booted from a USB-attached SSD and data transfers were by hand-carried USB sticks. Carried by him, and only he came into this room. There was another room in the guest wing where he had his fun with the warm bodies provided by Medusa. In this room he entertained himself sometimes found inspiration for new ways to have fun. He plugged in the stick and waited for the file browser window to open. Three hours later he was somewhere close to being dangerously drunk. All I need is to fall and crack my skull, have them find me in here. If I'm dead I won't care, but wouldn't want to be in the hospital not knowing if the place was secure. Not that there was any real need to worry. As a field supervisor he immune to any legal repercussions, unless he really screwed up and had to be gotten rid of. That was one way of doing it -- expose his perverted and illegal pleasures to public ridicule and put him in prison to boot. Or worse. I'll call Medusa tomorrow, have her fix me up for Saturday night. Now that I've decided what I want. Sarah didn't feel the cold metal now, the knife in a sheath above her left knee, the band holding it against the back of her leg made from a piece of compression legging. It was only mildly uncomfortable, she could stand it for long enough to the the job done. "Crawford has a special room," Alice Hamilton said, "where he takes his women. He locks the house up tight, turns off all the lights, blackout curtains in this room." Alice Hamilton worked for Medusa. As far as anyone knew Medusa was a procurer with a long history in Knoxville, a history that made it easy for the government to control her. The government was her only customer now, as it protected her - as long as she didn't get out of line - and gave her all the business she could handle. Enough that she was able to beg off when asked to procure more unsavory products. Homosexual adults was bad enough, but children was another thing altogether. They found someone to do it, but she didn't want to know. And she didn't want to be in the business any more. She provided a service as old as humanity, and it would go on with or without her. But she had made a deal with devil and wanted out. Some of her girls quit, and some just disappeared. She hoped they had just left town, but feared that might not always be the case. Alice had worked for Medusa for years and knew where all the bodies were buried, not that the information was of any use now. They would kill her and Medusa if they became a liability. So it was time to disappear. After one more job. "One of the guys in the Knoxville office makes the deliveries," Alice continued. "He drives right up to the garage and the woman gets out and goes in a side entrance. Wig had and sunglasses, bulky clothes, to make then hard to identify if they're seen. Or on video - spying on each other is common among these people. "Anyway, that will allow you to get inside with a weapon. He won't be expecting it, he's been using our service for a couple of years. But you could carry a gun and just blast him as soon as the driver is gone. Are you sure you want to do it this way? He'll have a gun, more than one probably, in the house." "I can handle it," Sarah replied. "And I'll have backup. But it has to go down like this." "It's your funeral," said Alice. "I know he's a dirtbag, but it seems risky. Anyway, his usual procedure is to take the girl to the room and have her undress, and then he does his thing. It's..." "I've read the reports," Sarah interrupted. "Yeah, it's pretty sick. He won't get that far - I've got some tricks and like I said, my backup will be monitoring me the whole time." "OK, I get it. I don't want to know the details. Medusa and I are putting our necks in the noose if you don't get us out of here, but it's a risk we're willing to take." "We appreciate it," said Sarah. "We'll take care of you." "We'll be gone before it goes down," Alice said. "Friday at five the driver picks you up at The Tunnel. Medusa and I will be leaving as soon as we get word it's done. We'll be in Texas by the time they find the body. He sleeps in the day after one of these, and no one will be looking for him until late Monday morning, when he doesn't show up at the office." "Good luck," Sarah said. "I suppose you must have some idea of how important this is." "I know how serious the situation is," Alice replied. "We never thought much about politics before, but the past couple of years... I guess if you've been tuned in all along it wasn't a surprise, but we weren't. Like a lot of people." Too many people. Sarah thought, but there was no point in saying it. At least some were catching on. "Stay in Texas," said Sarah. "I don't know about Tennessee. We'll stay here as long as we can, but it's hard to say how things will shake out." "We will," Alice replied. "Stay safe." The Tunnel was a private club on Kingston. A large parking lot separated it from the street and a row of tall shrubbery obscured the view of the building. Without the sign on the street it would be hard to find unless one was looking for it. Low visibility. Alice says it's a front for several operations like Medusa's. They don't need to advertise. Sarah looked at her phone one last time as the driver slowed and turned into the parking lot. 2114. She had switched it to military time months ago when she started working at Onyxx because they used it, and found she liked it. The driver stopped in front of the entrance. She knew the protocol - get out and go in, ignore the driver. There had been no communication beyond the password exchange when he picked her up. He was also hiding his identity, wearing sunglasses after dark and a baseball cap. She wouldn't be able to pick him out of a lineup and he wouldn't recognize her without her wig and sunglasses. She presumed the car was also not readily traceable to the organization. She exited the car and walked towards the entrance. A doorman looked at her pass and motioned her past. Inside she sat down at one of several small tables, the only one in the room. A waiter approached. "This way," he said and turned towards the bar. She followed him behind it and into a storage room. He opened an door to the outside and she went out. A car was waiting and she opened the back door and got in, sitting back and closing her eyes. She looked at her phone again as they stopped at Crawford's house. She had gone on several casing runs during the three weeks she had been at the Academy. As the driver stopped and waited for her to get out she presumed Crawford was watching. Alice had told her that he would open the door as she approached. He did, and she followed him inside. Not being too careful. But I'm just a hooker to him. He's been doing this for a while, no reason to be afraid of one of Medusa's girls. Until now. Too late. Apparently Crawford was interested in getting down to business, as he led her straight to a room and opened the door. "Go in and undress," he said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He seemed to be slightly intoxicated, which would give her an advantage. He was also only an inch or so taller than her and maybe twenty pounds heavier. The smoking jacket he was wearing revealed a bare chest. Can I get that lucky? She took off the coat and sunglasses but left the wig. It looked natural enough at a casual glance, and in any case he was probably accustomed to hookers wearing wigs. Surveillance cameras would be another matter - she hoped he didn't record himself. He was probably sick enough to do so, but maybe just smart enough not to. The plan was to have a team inside before the body was found. She knew from Alice that he called to have his guests picked up when he was finished, and it was always several hours. He's dead in about half of one of those hours. Plenty of time. She did not remove the short sweater dress she was wearing, intending to take if off as the door opened again. It was several minutes before it did, and as the doorknob turned she reached down and grasped the hem of the dress on both sides, pulling it up and off. She heard him move past as her vision was obscured, then dropped it to the floor. He was lying on the bed, upper body elevated by pillows, the smoking jacket open. Underneath was only a pair of paisley boxer shorts. She waited, feeling slightly chilly in the flimsy bra and panties. She was still wearing the thigh-high stockings and high-heeled pumps as well, something Alice had advised her he liked. And they hide the knife as long as I don't turn around. "Come over here," Crawford said. "Lie down here beside me." She lay on her left side, right arm along her side with her hand flat against her thigh. He seemed even more unsteady now, and she rolled slightly towards him, releasing the knife as she did so. As she had done dozens of times in practicing on dummies at the Academy, she slashed hard across his neck where the right branch of the carotid artery should be. He's gonna bleed out pretty quick, gotta make this fast. Crawford jerked upright, hands clasping his neck, blood running between the fingers. They had a crazy look. She drove the knife into his lower abdomen on his left side, pulling it across towards her. Pulling it out, she plunged it in again, into the center of the horizontal cut, pushing upward. Is that like a seppuku cut? I never can remember which side the samurai started on. Either way it's done. Crawford wouldn't have anyone to lop off his head and end his suffering though. Sarah got up onto her knees, swaying as the mattress gave, falling over on her side. Crawford was thrashing, his hands now on his new wounds, now completely red. She got to her feet, stood looking down at her work. Writhing and moaning, feebly trying to raise an arm towards her. What for? What's he thinking? "You chose he wrong team," she said. "I'd prefer to see you hang with your comrades when this is over, but this is more fun. "Jacob Hensley. Does the name mean anything?" Crawford stared, his eyes told her he knew. He tried to speak, but only some garbled sounds came out. "He had a sister," she said. "We were twins. Your man that got his balls shot off a while back, Jeremy's fiance did that. Sweet dreams, you bastard." She had some blood on her hands, a lot of blood. She knew she would be leaving fingerprints, but did her best to minimize them. In the attached bathroom she used a towel to turn the taps to wash her hands, then threw the towel into a hamper. They'd find it of course, but the knife she had left lying on the eviscerated body would tell them plenty. In any case they would now be onto her and Alexis if they weren't already. She put her dress back on and picked up her coat. She extracted a phone from one of the pockets, opened it and selected and tapped a number. "Kingfisher One." It was Steve Kennon, one of her backups. "I'm afraid I've eaten all the fish," she replied. "Execllent," Steve replied. "Give us five minutes to get to the door." "Roger," she replied. Now to get out. She knew there were two locked doors between her and the outside, but they could be unlocked from the inside. She put the phone in a pocket and opened the door. The next door let her into the main house, and she made her way to the garage. She looked out the window of the door she had entered by earlier. A car entered from the street, turning away to present the passenger side as it stopped. The front passenger door opened and Alexis got out and opened the back door. Sarah opened the door and ran to the car and got into the back seat. Alexis got back in front and they were moving. She leaned back and closed her eyes, waiting for the adrenalin to subside. She was cold, even wearing a coat and in a warm car. Her hands were shaking. After ten minutes in a hot shower she felt better, and certainly cleaner. She had discarded the clothes she had worn, including the shoes and dress. Alexis had brought a trash bag and she put them in and tied it closed before getting in the shower. She put on a T-shirt and jeans and went into the living room. Alexis got up from her chair and hugged her. "You all right?" she asked. "As much as I can be," Sarah replied. "Definitely better than I have been in months." "I know what you mean. It took me a while, but mostly I was worrying about getting caught." "They probably would have eventually," said Sarah. "Oscar was right, we were lucky. Luck isn't a good plan." "Yeah. Let me get you some wine." Sarah followed her into the den. The bar was well-stocked but Sarah and Alexis both preferred wine. There had been an empty glass on the cocktail table when Sarah came back from her shower. Alexis filled two more and handed one to Sarah. "Here's to retribution," she said, raising her glass. "Retribution? I like that." Sarah raised hers. They sat in the living room and sipped wine, watching the television with the sound turned down. It was nearly midnight when the news hit the usual channels. The "BREAKING NEWS" banner across the bottom of the screen appeared and Alexis picked up the remote and increased the volume. The ubiquitous immaculately coiffed newsperson appeared as another banner appeared in the upper left. "BRUTAL MURDER" over an image the usual silhouette of a body sprawled apparently facedown. Sarah looked at Alexis. "Someone screwed up," she said. "They did?" "Brutal murder," said Sarah. "Sounds like the details got out before they knew what they had. If any government types were on it they'd have shut it down, at least for a while. Until it could be managed. Not that the info wouldn't get out, but it would be unofficial. Rumors, plausibly deniable." "Yeah, they didn't describe how I did the guy I did. No official comment, even after everyone knew." "I'd guess the cops on the scene, and the paramedics, had already spilled it. I wonder how they'll handle this one." They had been in debriefing until after midnight and the news still hadn't broken. Afterwards they had come over to Sarah's place, but were too keyed up to sleep. After a shower Sarah joined Alexis for a drink, hoping it would relax her. I just killed a guy. Brutally. Yeah, it was brutal, the way I intended it. What's happened to me? "Alice said it might be as late as Monday," Alexis said. "Apparently someone checked on him earlier." "Yeah. I guess he was important enough they might call him on a weekend." "Well, it's out now. It should be interesting." "You girls are going dark," Oscar said. "When this meeting is over I'm having you driven to your respective homes with armed guards. You'll have an hour to take whatever essentials you'll need." Sarah and Alexis looked at each other, but before either could speak Oscar continued. "We can more the rest of your stuff later, when the heat is off. But for now you can't even stay in Tennessee. You'll be safe in Texas. Sarah, they'll have your fingerprints, possibly video that can ID you even with the disguise. They'll know it was you before long, and Alexis will will be presumed to be involved." "Can't we stay at a safe house," Alexis asked, "long enough to complete the job? Surely with all the other stuff you're keeping hidden you can keep us concealed. We won't complain about the accommodations." "There's going to be a massive manhunt underway within a few hours," Oscar replied. "And your other targets will be under surveillance - you can't get near them without being seen. And they'll most likely be reassigned now. The regime goons are slow but not that slow. And their systems are almost as good as ours. Every way they run this scenario you two - and maybe two or three others - are prime targets. "If the remaining agents are reassigned it will take a while to locate them. Until then there's no sense in you being exposed. And once it's established that you've left the area there's no point in them looking. Especially if you're in Texas." "With Alice and Medusa?" asked Sarah. "Alice and Medusa were on their way out of town within an hour after you were picked up at the Tunnel," Oscar said. "They've arrived safely and plan to stay there permanently." "I take it Medusa is need-to-know," said Alexis. "She seems interesting." "She is," Oscar replied. "Interesting and you don't need." "Alice seemed nice for a hooker," said Sarah. Oscar ignored the remark. "We get it," Alexis said. "So we take a vacation in Texas." "It may be a long one," replied Oscar. "Your vendetta isn't exactly a high priority. It happens to coincide with regular operations. But you'll get your chance."
|
|