Lynx

by Matt Rogers

  They headed north, mingling with the swarms of civilians heading home from work, or out to dinner, or to a ball game, or to the theatre, or anywhere entertaining in the greater metropolitan region of New York City. Slater sensed an undercurrent of camaraderie in the air, and for a moment he regretted the fact that he’d never known a normal life. There was something simplistic and welcoming about heading out for the evening after putting in your eight hours at the office. He’d never known that.

  He’d known pain and death and accomplishment.

  That was all.

  Slater caught Williams glancing to the left at a particularly busy intersection.

  ‘Russell,’ he snarled in the man’s ear. ‘I’m right here.’

  Williams cocked his head, shrugging off the thought of escape. Slater saw a visible shiver run down the man’s spine. He knew how close he’d come to catching a bullet in the spine. An unpleasant concept, especially to a man who’d never been in a fistfight. He’d no doubt sent men off to die, and trained child killers to slaughter dictators, but he hadn’t experienced the visceral reality of it. Not up close, in the flesh. Now he could picture the lead puncturing his vertebrae, paralysing him, leaving him to bleed out with his face squashed against the grimy pavement of a New York sidewalk, blood mixing with saliva and dirt around his lips and eyes as he faded into—

  From that moment onward, Williams complied.

  ‘You really came on your own?’ Slater said after a prolonged silence.

  Astonished by the stupidity.

  ‘I thought you were better than this,’ Williams said. ‘It never crossed my mind.’

  ‘Well, I’m not.’

  ‘I won’t be alone for long.’

  ‘I imagine there’s strict protocol in place. If you don’t contact certain parties in a certain timeframe, then…’

  The back of Williams’ head nodded. ‘You’ll be running from a storm. You won’t outrun it forever.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances,’ Slater said. ‘You lot hunted me before. You’ll just have to do it again.’

  ‘We called it off. Because we thought you would put your head down and live a normal life.’

  ‘Fat chance that was ever going to happen,’ Slater said. ‘Stop. Right here.’

  Williams stopped in his tracks, so abruptly that Slater almost ran into him. The sidewalks were mostly deserted. They’d reached the Upper East Side. It was that time of the evening where the neighbourhood’s residents ducked into private limousines or town cars to head to their social functions.

  They certainly didn’t walk.

  And as a result there was no-one around.

  At least, not for a short while.

  Slater had maybe half a minute.

  So he pulled the Sig Sauer out of his pocket, seized Williams around the throat with a looping forearm, and pressed the gun to the man’s temple with enough force to get his attention.

  ‘Through that door,’ Slater snarled.

  ‘Right here?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘Knock.’

  ‘A certain number of times, or…?’

  ‘Just knock.’

  Williams knocked. A few seconds later a pair of silhouettes appeared behind the milky glass, stalling, maybe checking security cameras. Slater thought he heard someone curse out loud. Then the door swung open, and Slater came face-to-face with the same two sentries he’d brutalised the day before.

  Guy One and Guy Two, with Heckler & Koch pistols in their hands and horrific welts and bruises on their faces.

  73

  Slater smiled. ‘Bet you’re happy to see me again.’

  Two gun barrels raised to his face.

  Slater yanked Williams in front of him, keeping the Sig Sauer pressed to his temple. He was distinctly aware that everyone in the vicinity wanted his head on the chopping block.

  He said, ‘Don’t do anything stupid, boys. How are your injuries?’

  ‘Get out of here,’ Guy One said.

  It came out all mangled, no thanks to his broken nose and swollen cheeks and uneven jaw. It seemed they’d yet to receive medical attention. Guy Two had no swelling, but he’d been brutally knocked out the previous day, and he didn’t seem to be operating on the same level of reality as his colleague. He had a glassy look in his eyes and pale clammy skin. He could barely stand. Slater took one glance at his knees and noted they’d both swelled to the size of pumpkins.

  He said, ‘The big boss hasn’t sent you to the hospital yet?’

  ‘Punishment,’ Guy One mumbled. ‘For letting you get past. Now fuck off before I bring all the Whelans down on your head.’

  ‘Because that worked so well last time.’

  ‘Just get lost, man.’

  ‘Soon. You know who this is?’

  Slater jerked the Sig Sauer against Williams’ head.

  Guy Two shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘It’s Tommy’s accountant. You know what that means, right?’

  They had no reason to believe otherwise.

  Guy One shrugged. ‘Not our business.’

  Slater said, ‘He and the big boss have a good thing going. I pull the trigger right now and a lot of pipelines go belly-up. The cash flow stops. Your empire crumbles. You really want to be the ones responsible for that?’

  Guy Two muttered, ‘How the fuck does he do this shit?’

  Guy One said nothing for a long time, then he glanced toward the ceiling. A subtle tell. Indicating separation from the top. Isolation. The sentries were outcasts as far as the upper echelon of the Whelan family was concerned.

  He said, ‘What the hell do you want, man?’

  ‘A car.’

  ‘What — that’s it?’

  ‘I thought you’d be hesitant to give it up.’

  ‘Take our fucking car, man. Take our money, too, if you want. Just don’t come back.’

  Slater twitched. Clearly he’d generated more fear than he first thought. He nodded.

  ‘You got the keys on you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘The car’s here? Behind me?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s the Ford. The big one.’

  ‘You’re not going to report it missing, are you?’

  ‘It’s stolen, and the plates have been swapped. We’re a mob family, you fucking idiot. You really think I’m going to the cops about this?’

  Slater smiled. ‘Pleasure doing business with you.’

  No-one said anything.

  Slater said, ‘The keys.’

  Guy One reached for his back pocket. Slater sensed a blast of adrenalin in his temples like an injection to the brain. If the situation demanded it, he would take the P228 off Williams’ head, shoot both sentries dead, and have the barrel back against his skull only a second or two after taking it away.

  Hot and steaming, freshly used.

  But Guy One came out with a bunch of keys, as promised. There was no need for alarm. He held them out, looking at the floor.

  Defeated.

  Slater took his left arm off Williams’ throat, grabbed the keys, and slotted them neatly into his back pocket. Then he returned his arm to the choke hold.

  ‘One more thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A roll of duct tape.’

  ‘You serious?’

  ‘Dead serious. You got one lying around?’

  ‘There’s one in the back room.’

  ‘If you even fucking think about picking up a phone and warning your family, I’ll shoot the accountant, I’ll shoot your friend, then I’ll come in there and shoot you. And then the rest of them, too, for good measure. I’ve got nothing to lose. You got it?’

  Guy One nodded. He put his weapon on the floor. Guy Two mirrored the action, even though he hadn’t been instructed.

  Utterly defeated.

  ‘Be right back,’ Guy One muttered.

  He strode away, disappearing into the darkness of the lobby, and Slater stiffened. Now was the moment. It could al
l come crashing down around his head in an instant. If Guy One fetched help, it would be over. Williams would escape in the carnage, or get killed in the crossfire, and that would be that.

  But defeat hung thick in the air.

  Guy One returned in less than a minute, wielding three thick rolls of heavy duty duct tape. He passed them across. Slater slotted them into coat pockets.

  ‘Thanks,’ Slater said. ‘Close the door now. If I see it open again, I’ll shoot you both dead. I mean it.’

  ‘I believe you,’ Guy One said.

  He closed the door.

  The silhouettes disappeared.

  Slater shoved Williams toward the only Ford in the vicinity — a giant Raptor pick-up truck — and hurried after him.

  74

  They drove in silence until they were out of the city limits.

  Slater racked the seat back and set himself up in a comfortable position. He couldn’t say the same for Williams. He’d used all three rolls of duct tape. The man was bound so tight to the passenger seat that he had no hope of budging an inch. Wrapped in a grey cocoon, he stewed silently in place, bolt upright, his jaw clenched and his gaze fixed out the window, staring at nothing in particular. Wondering how these circumstances transpired.

  ‘I need to piss,’ he muttered.

  ‘No you don’t,’ Slater said. ‘And if you really need to, then go right there. You think I care?’

  ‘It’ll smell.’

  ‘Clearly the files didn’t make my past experiences clear enough. Where I’ve been. What I’ve seen.’

  ‘Oh, I can imagine.’

  ‘Then shut up and tell me where to go. The only way you come out of this alive is taking me to Shien. Anything else and I’ll put a bullet in you.’

  ‘I don’t think you will.’

  Slater glanced across the cabin. ‘Want to test it?’

  ‘How do you see this going?’ Williams said, suddenly hostile. ‘What’s your best-case scenario here? You get her, and then what? You can’t travel anywhere. We’ll have a photo of your face at every airport in the country. We’ll be looking for her, too, under the guise of a missing persons campaign. We’ll have the both of you on every major news network in the country within hours. You’re making a huge mistake.’

  ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’

  ‘You’re a fool.’

  ‘And yet, here I am. Still kicking.’

  ‘Think about the alternatives,’ Williams said. ‘Really think. Your best bet is to let me out of this car and forget any of this ever happened. I’ll chalk it up to a manic episode and never come looking for you again. We can both pretend the other doesn’t exist. That’s your best outcome.’

  Slater didn’t respond.

  Williams said, ‘It’s understandable. What I saw in your file … that’d fuck anyone up. A whole career of it. We can write it off. Post-traumatic stress. You lost the plot for a brief spell, but we’ll sweep it under the rug. Because of what you did for your country.’

  ‘Where in North Maine?’

  ‘Christ, Slater.’

  ‘We’re in for a drive. Better you give it up now than spend the whole drive stewing over whether it’s worth your life.’

  Williams bowed his head. ‘Okay. If this is the way it’s going to go, then okay. Have it your way. I’ll take you to the facility. You promise you just want the girl?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘You won’t interfere with my operation?’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

  ‘Why do I sense you’re lying?’

  ‘Why do you think you’re in a position to do anything? You’re discussing ramifications that aren’t relevant. Right now all your brainpower should be focused on giving me the location or accepting a quick death.’

  ‘Your file says it all. You’ve never killed anyone without being provoked or forced into a situation. This would be a new low. Slaughtering an intelligence officer in cold blood. A man who never laid a finger on you. I don’t think you’d do it.’

  Slater lowered his tone, putting his emotions on his sleeve, and said, ‘If you don’t give me the location, Shien stays in the program. She grows up. She’s brainwashed. You’re killing that little girl’s chance of a normal life, without her consent, and therefore you’re killing her. She’ll never be normal. I saw what you did to Ruby. I saw what she is. I’m a special type of monster, but I can detach from it, and I made the choice myself. You put Ruby Nazarian in the program at a young enough age to completely wipe out any hopes of her being able to distance herself from the life of a killer. And if the same’s going to happen to Shien, then I’ll take that very seriously. And I’ll shoot you in the head. I’ll dump your body somewhere in North America and they’ll never find you. If you think I’m bluffing, try me.’

  Now Williams didn’t respond.

  Slater said, ‘Fucking try me.’

  Williams said, ‘It’s near the Allagash Wilderness Waterway.’

  Slater said, ‘Good decision.’

  ‘Can’t say the same for what you’re doing.’

  ‘I’ll be okay.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘When were you supposed to check in?’

  ‘A few hours ago.’

  ‘What’ll be happening now?’

  ‘Not a whole lot. But it’ll ramp up exponentially as the time passes. Trust me — you’ll have all law enforcement in Maine on you soon enough.’

  Slater stared across the cabin, read Williams’ face, and stamped on the accelerator, surging up I-95. He overtook a semi-trailer and a couple of trundling passenger vans and found a stretch of open highway. He gunned the engine, and the Ford screamed in protest.

  ‘The Allagash Wilderness,’ he said. ‘How far’s that from here?’

  ‘If you don’t stop — maybe eight or nine hours.’

  ‘I can do that.’

  He accelerated harder.

  Williams slumped down in his duct tape tomb and closed his eyes.

  75

  Three hours into the drive, Slater almost fell asleep at the wheel.

  The monotony got to him, and his body entered autopilot as it recharged his energy reserves. He was well-rested, but the stress of the situation drained on him, and the next thing he knew the world went dark.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, and suddenly he was two lanes across, on a direct collision course with a massive oil tanker. He jerked awake, wrenched the wheel, and repositioned himself in the centre lane. A sedan behind him blared the horn. He stuck a hand out the window in a wave of apology.

  Williams allowed a smirk to creep across his face. ‘Getting tired?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You sure? You know what you’re going to be walking into? You’d best be prepared.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen, because I’ll have you at gunpoint. You’ll do everything you can to keep the situation under control. You’ll lead me to Shien, and that’ll be that. The both of us will disappear.’

  ‘And then we’ll hunt you.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll kill you. And everyone in command there. It won’t take much. All I’ll need is the provocation. Just the slightest bit.’

  I-95 stretched on into the darkness, endless and flat. They were past Boston, fast approaching Portsmouth. Night fell thick over their surroundings, masking everything but the interstate.

  Slater said, ‘You don’t want to change the location, do you? I’ll give you one chance.’

  Williams said, ‘What?’

  ‘If you’re leading me into the middle of nowhere in hopes of breaking free, I’d strongly advise you against it.’

  Williams did his best to shrug, but the thick layers of duct tape prevented any upper body movement. He settled for a cocking of the head. ‘You think more of me than you should.’

  ‘You’re admitting weakness?’

  ‘I’m admitting common sense. You’re not going away easily. The file states that in no uncertain terms. Best to give you
what you want and attempt to pick up the pieces later.’

  ‘Why’d you do it?’ Slater said, suddenly hot with anger. ‘You couldn’t have given her a normal fucking life? Was that too much to ask after I rescued her from that darkness?’

  Another half-hearted attempt at a shrug. ‘You’ve got a narrow-minded view of the world. You have to. We send you from operation to operation, and we did it for a decade. All you focus on is what’s in front of you. Like right now. You can’t look at the big picture. You can’t look at anything from the top down. But that’s the most important part of intel. It’s why I started Lynx in the first place. Like you said. Utilitarian. But it’s so much more than that. We’re getting things done you couldn’t dream of.’

  ‘Or maybe I’m not just a mindless minion,’ Slater said. ‘Maybe I have thought about it. And maybe I realised a long time ago that looking at anything from the big picture is a recipe for disaster.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Nothing changes. Zoom out on anything and it shows you how bleak things are. All you can focus on is isolated incidents. Or you’ll go mad. I’m sure it happens more often than not in your profession. You said it best — my career was singular. One focus. One mission. Over and over and over again. You, on the other hand, have to grapple with the morality of it all. And I don’t envy you. It leads you down dark paths. It’s only natural. I don’t blame you for what you’re doing. All I care about is a promise you made.’

  ‘The girl is better off in my facility.’

  ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree.’

  ‘You’re naive if you refuse to look at the big picture. You’re a piece of shit. You can’t handle the grey zone, and you don’t belong in this world. You should get out before you ruin more lives.’

  ‘Get off your high horse,’ Slater snarled. ‘You’re brainwashing kids.’

  ‘Ten years from now, there’ll be a horde of dictators, sex slavers, guerrillas, drug barons, cartel thugs, and sadistic psychos who all get away with their crimes. They’ll profit massively, live full wholesome lives, get everything they ever wanted, and then die peacefully in their sleep of old age. All because you pulled a young kid out of a facility in North Maine. You’re the hero of your tale, Slater. The righteous knight rescuing the girl from the bad man. But have you ever thought you’re the villain of someone else’s?’