Fractured (Unreel series Book 1)

by Sanna Wolf-Watz

  There was nothing else in the room except for a large plasma screen. On the screen he could see another room where a huge mahogany desk was in focus. Behind it stood an enormous, winged armchair, its back facing the camera.

  Thomas looked over to Sofia and opened his mouth to ask her what she made of all this when he heard a slight squeak from the screen as the chair started to turn.

  The man sitting in that chair was enormous. He filled out the whole chair, which creaked threateningly when he moved. He had long, tawny hair pulled back into a pony tail and a huge walrus moustache that took up half of his big, slightly blotched, face.

  When he opened his mouth to speak, the moustache bobbed up and down as if it had a life of its own and Thomas had to make a conscious effort to meet his gaze.

  “Welcome, Ms. Hansson, Mr. Jefferson.”

  When they didn’t reply the giant in the chair smiled a lazy smile that instantly had Thomas’s guard up. People smiled like that when they were trying to sell you something. Whatever this guy was selling, Thomas wasn’t buying.

  “Well, I daresay you’ve come a long way from Kansas,” the man said before throwing his head back with a happy guffaw.

  Neither Sofia nor Thomas so much as smiled, but that didn’t stop him. If anything he laughed harder at their disapproving glares..

  “You have to excuse an old man. One develops a weird sense of humor in this line of work,” he said, drying his eyes on a red polka dot handkerchief..

  “And what line of work is that?’” Sofia asked.

  “Ah, that such a simple question will require such long and complicated answer, but I suppose you deserve to know a little about what it is that you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

  “What we’ve gotten ourselves into?” Sofia asked, outraged. “We’ve been kidnapped! Twice!”

  The man’s expression turned cunning. “Is that so? Then I don’t suppose you’ll mind telling me what you know about Op 92?”

  Thomas felt like he was going to throw up. He must have made a noise because Sofia came hurrying up to him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re the same people that took us,” he hissed at her. “The guy you took out yesterday with the vase, he kept asking me about Op 92.”

  Sofia blanched, but when she looked over at the screen she was scowling. “You are going to let us out this instant or you’ll be sorry.”

  The man looked at her disbelievingly. “Will I?”

  “When we get out of here we’ll…”

  “You won’t do a single thing to me.”

  “We will. We don’t appreciate being drugged, abducted and held against our will.”

  “The drugging and abducting wasn’t us,” the man said. “We’re freelancing. The idiots responsible for that belong to a government organization. They’re not a bad lot really, but they do tend to get carried away.”

  “Way away,” Thomas muttered.

  “Are you some sort of private security company?” Sofia wanted to know.

  “In a way. This is a gross oversimplification I’m afraid, but what we do is essentially that we find bad people participating in harmful activities and try to prevent them from doing it…”

  “So you’re an intelligence agency, Mr.…?” Thomas interrupted.

  “Smith. No, we’re an intelligent agency. Completely different thing. Our job is not only to stop the bad people from doing whatever it is they’re doing, but to keep others from taking up the mantle.”

  “Do you have a name?” Sofia asked him.

  “Agency of Counterproductive Activities,” the large man replied immediately.

  Sofia snorted a laugh, but the man in the chair didn’t so much as smile. “You can’t be serious,” she said.

  “I am. We stop terrorists, arms dealers and so on in such a way that all the deeds they have already committed will work against what they’ve been aiming for. Get it? Counterproductive? If you make a bad plan counterproductive it becomes a good plan,” he explained slowly, as though speaking to a couple of five year olds. Much better than just stopping the culprits in any silly way.”

  “And you do this for whom?”

  The man grinned behind his moustache. “We have several countries on our client list. The US is, of course, one of them.”

  “How does that work? There has to be a lot of… counterproductive directives,” Thomas said.

  “It works surprisingly well, all things considered. We’re basically independent and the list of unwanted activities for us to put an end to is vast.”

  “But what…?” Sofia started to ask, but Smith held up his hand.

  “I’ve answered enough questions for now. I want you to look at the images on this screen for a moment and tell me what you think.”

  Photographs appeared on the screen to the left of him. The pictures showed, with astonishing clarity considering the distance they must have been taken from, Thomas meeting someone wearing large sunglasses. There were a lot of pictures, some of them close-ups, showing him handing over a large bag to the man in sunglasses while trying to discreetly look over his shoulder as if to see if he was being watched. Thomas stared at the pictures. He’d never seen that man in his life.

  “I don’t know where you got those pictures or who they show,” he said and looked at Smith. “But that’s not me.”

  “They can have been manipulated,” Sofia suggested.

  “No,” Smith said with the same curt, polite tone he had been using during their whole conversation. “No, they have not.”

  “Then what are they?” Thomas asked exasperatedly.

  “They are pictures taken by one of our agents in Turkmenistan.”

  “Where?”

  “A country in Asia,” Sofia clarified for him.

  “I’ve never been there,” Thomas said.

  “Oh, we’re not saying that you have.”

  Both Thomas and Sofia looked up at Mr. Smith. “You’re not?”

  “No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a high school student from Little Sippleton in Kansas.”

  “But who is that in the pictures?” Sofia asked.

  “Ah, yes. This intriguing young fellow’s name is Daniel Macnoor.”

  Thomas put his head in his hands, but Mr. Smith continued unperturbed. “He’s an internationally renowned arms dealer.”

  Sofia discreetly pinched herself in the arm. This couldn't be happening. She and Thomas were either being punk’d – wait, was that show still running? – or she was dreaming. She twisted her fingers, biting back the pain, but the pictures in front of her remained the same.

  Mr. Smith stared from her to Thomas and back again. Thomas was still hiding his face in his hands and Sofia was worried about him. He was not taking this well. Then again, what was a healthy reaction to finding out one had a criminal doppelgänger? She shifted her focus back to the pictures.

  “This guy sells guns? He looks like a kid. There’s no way he’s lived long enough to become internationally renowned,” Sofia said.

  “He’s twenty-four. He took over his father’s business at the age of twelve. He’s wanted in fifty countries and features on the hit lists of countless intelligence agencies around the globe.”

  “Right,” Sofia said and stepped back from the screen, “Well, good luck with that. Can we go home now?”

  Mr. Smith shook his head. “No, we need Thomas here to assist us on a mission. I’d love to say it’s voluntary, but you know how it goes. Besides, it’s not like we can let him walk out the door. It’s merely a matter of time before someone mistakes him for Daniel Macnoor again and then where will he be?”

  Back in a cell, most likely, so not a great deal different from where he was now. She didn’t care about their arguments for keeping her and Thomas locked up like this, she wasn’t going to let them hold her prisoner.

  “You can’t volunteer someone for a suicide mission without consulting them.”

  “I can. Besides, he’s still a minor so he can’t te
chnically volunteer at all.”

  “Exactly! And…”

  “We got his parents’ permission. They signed right here,” Mr. Smith said, holding up contract to the camera. “Lovely patriotic father you’ve got, Thomas. He said a bit of military discipline would do you good. Told us you could do with having your boundaries pushed. And your parents, Sofia, were under the impression that you were becoming depressed and needed an adventure.”

  Thomas looked up from his hands and paled as he read the signatures at the bottom of the page. Sofia kept her focus on Mr. Smith.

  “What have my parents got to do with any of this?” she asked, knowing fully well how unlikely it was that they’d ever get her mother to sign anything.

  Carina Hansson believed all contracts were made with the sole purpose of tricking you and on principle never signed an agreement without reading through all the paragraphs at least twice. She wouldn’t sign over her only daughter to an obscure organization that shot and kidnapped people.

  “You’re part of this too.”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t see my face up on that screen,” Sofia said. “In fact, I’ve had quite enough of this so I’m going to go.”

  She turned around and limped back towards the door. Thomas looked up at her with incredulity.

  “You’re leaving me? Here?”

  “I’m not going to be stuck here because you happen to have one of those faces,” Sofia told him as she made her way over to the door.

  That she would be calling the police as soon as she got away from here was nothing Mr. Smith needed to know. Thomas could thank her when he was safely back in Sippleton.

  Mr. Smith laughed. “You’re not going anywhere Ms. Hansson.”

  “Watch me.”

  She was getting out of here if she had to tear that door apart with her bare hands.

  “You don’t want to that,” Mr. Smith said when she pulled at the locked door. “Why do you think they picked you up in the first place? They know you’re his girlfriend.”

  Sofia stopped dead. She was getting fed up with other people telling her what her relationship status was.

  “I do not have a boyfriend,” she hissed and turned around. “I don’t understand why everyone is having trouble getting that through their heads. I’m this close,” she said, showing the small distance between her thumb and index finger, “to printing up t-shirts saying ‘Sofia Hanson is NOT dating ANYONE’.”

  “Why are you fooling around with this one then?” Mr. Smith asked, pointing to Thomas.

  “I’m not fooling around with him! We don’t even like each other!”

  “Ah, young love,” Mr. Smith said, his moustache wiggling with glee. “Daniel Macnoor is rumored to be dating the lethal and elusive bounty hunter Amorina Morteus. According to several sources they meet up in odd little towns so that no one’ll find out about their affair.”

  “First of all, what an incredibly silly name,” Sofia said exasperatedly. “Secondly, that ruse clearly didn’t work if someone is spreading rumors. Thirdly, I still don’t see what this has to do with me. Anyone will be able to see that I’m not her, obviously. Don’t even try to sell me on a second doppelgänger.”

  Mr. Smith’s smile widened. “No one’s ever seen Ms. Morteus. I’m guessing the first lot mistook you for her because the two of you were spending so much time together and now… well, now that we’ve been circulating pictures of the two of you closely entangled…”

  “What? Me entangled? With whom?”

  “Mr. Jefferson here, of course.”

  Sofia glanced at Thomas who looked as stunned as she felt. “I have never, nor would I ever want to be, entangled with Thomas,” Sofia told Mr. Smith haughtily. “I happen to have a long list of things I’d rather be entangled with. Boa constrictors, mad dogs, blood sucking bats. Those are the things right at the top.”

  Mr. Smith smiled that creepy smile again. “And still we were able to obtain these pictures.”

  New photos appeared on the side of the screen. These pictures showed her and Thomas in the car together. Thomas was in his boxers, of course. It was a good look for him, Sofia admitted to herself.

  There were a few pictures of when they were looking at each other intently and another couple of pictures where she was passed out on his chest.

  She didn’t have to think long about who’d taken those pictures. Gloria had been busy driving, Zack on the other hand… She didn’t know why she was surprised. That man was perfectly evil. No wonder he’d been so eager to sedate her. She’d been honey trapped with the help of a stun gun.

  “Why? Why are you doing this? Why not get hold of the real Dan and Amo… whatever her name is?” Thomas asked through gritted teeth.

  “Why would we? We have the two of you right here and–”

  “And you don't know where they are,” Sofia said and felt vindicated when Mr. Smith's smile wavered.

  “The strategy of this endeavor is too complicated for the two of you to grasp,” he said pompously. “The only thing you need to bother your young, still underdeveloped, brains with is that right now a lot of heavily armed people are doing their best to get hold…”

  ”Who are you calling underdeveloped?”

  ”… of you. You walk out of here and you’ll be gone. If you both stay with your handlers here in the Shack instead, you will be safe and soon get a chance to make a contribution for the greater good. Afterwards, we’ll clear your names and let you go. It’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

  “Go to hell,” Thomas replied, his face livid.

  Mr. Smith smiled his ironic little smile.

  “Glad to see we have come to an understanding,” he said. “Your training will begin in a few hours. For your own sake I hope that you are fast learners. Now, don’t let me detain you.”

  Before she had time to reply by listing all the things she’d like him to do to himself, the screen went black and the heavy wooden door finally opened behind them. Zack entered the room a moment later, grinning smugly.

  “Good chat?” he asked.

  “Like you don't know,” Sofia growled at him.

  “I'm sure I don't know what you’re…”

  Sofia took a step closer to him and jabbed her finger into his chest. “It's your fault” jab “that I'm going to” jab “have to stay” jab “here. I’m refraining from” jab “punching you because I appreciate that you” jab “took care of my feet last night and this morning, but if you take one” jab “more picture of me, you pervert, I will knock you out!” she hissed before walking past him out the door.

  Zack massaged his chest and stared after her. “That's going to bruise,” he muttered.

  “Good”, Thomas said and walked past him.

  Zack grabbed hold of his shoulder and turned him around and Thomas had to clench his jaw to not cry out in pain as the man’s fingers pressed against his bruised skin.

  “I don't like your attitude, Jefferson.

  “I don’t like you,” Thomas replied.

  Zack smiled coolly and tightened his grip around Thomas's shoulder and Thomas nearly lost his footing. “I saved your pathetic little life at the gas station yesterday and you haven't even said thank you.”

  “Thank you for kidnapping, cuffing and throwing me into the backseat of your car”, Thomas said, struggling to get out of Zack's grip.

  “You should avoid sarcasm,” Zack sneered. “It takes a certain level of intelligence to make it work.”

  “My bad, I apologize for overestimating your intelligence”, Thomas replied.

  Zack's smile turned cold. “You know, if it hadn't been for me and Gloria, you and your … friend would be little more than ashes right now.”

  “I'm sure you saved us purely out of the goodness of your heart” Thomas muttered and finally managed to get loose and head out the door.

  “Lose the attitude, Jefferson!”

  25

  Falling Down

  Mr. Jones hadn’t been this excited in a decade. He honestly ha
dn’t known he could still work up the energy for it. This, he decided, was what he lived for. This was what had sent him into this business in the first place and kept him there for decades.

  “Do you think they bought it?” one of his oldest associates asked as he made his way over to the monitor Mr. Jones was watching.

  “We’ll see. They didn’t immediately reject the idea. That’s something,” Mr. Jones said, careful not to let any of his emotions shine through.

  His associate removed the large moustache from the skin above his thin lips. He proceeded to pull off the bow-tie and removed the thick, tawny wig from his head. “I can’t believe they didn’t recognize me,” he said after dumping all the props on a nearby table.

  “They do great work in makeup. Besides, every magician knows people see what they’re expecting to see. It’s how our brains work.”

  “Mm,” the man agreed, studying the two young individuals on the screen as they stormed out of the room. “I suppose you know where you’re going with this.”

  “I know where I want to go.”

  “And you’ll get there with those two?”

  Mr. Jones grinned. It was an unusual expression for him and his facial muscles strained with the sudden, surprising movement. “I usually get what I want.”

  Gloria was waiting for them in the hallway. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised by their furious expressions. “Not as many answers as you’d have liked?”

  “And no answers they did like, I bet,” Zack said with a smirk, coming up behind them.

  “We can’t stay here–” Sofia began to say.

  “And you can’t go. Better to do the best of a bad situation, don’t you think?” Zack said, folding his arms over his chest.

  “He’s got a point. You’re not getting out of here, you know,” Gloria said with a shrug. “We’re under orders to train you both physically and mentally…”

  “God help us,” Zack said with a disdainful look at Sofia.

  “… before you…”

  “I’m not having him anywhere near me,” Sofia snapped.