Unstable Target: Six Assassins Book 3

by Heskett, Jim

  Isabel didn’t want to say the last part out loud. She knew what she had to do. All that remained was the doing of the thing.

  Could she really do this?

  She stuck the pistol into the back of her waistband and left the car. The night chill settled into her bones, making her shiver. A crew of college kids wandered by on the sidewalk as they chatted about their upcoming Art History test. She waited for them to pass, listening to them bicker and laugh, and she thought about her time in school. The athletic dorm, morning drills on the court, gorging herself in the cafeteria afterward with her teammates. They always sat at the same table in the caff, and it was the "jock section," but being a jock in college didn't foster the same negative stereotypes as it had in high school. She'd been happy in those days.

  A full life of possibility ahead of her.

  Isabel punched the button on the pole at the intersection and crossed the street. Her tennis shoes slid across the wet road, leftover sleet from the last snow.

  All the while, she kept her gaze locked on those curtains. The lights stayed on, with no movement behind them. But she had to believe her target was home. Ember had to be home.

  Into Ember’s parking lot. Almost every spot out front was occupied, so Isabel navigated between the cars, toward the stairs. Ember’s car sat quietly in a spot on the north side.

  Isabel was about to emerge from between a Ford truck on the right and a Subaru wagon on the left when a pair of arms materialized from the front of the truck. Then, a head appeared in front of the left headlight. Ember.

  Ember grabbed Isabel by the shoulders and spun her around. Isabel whirled, with no control over her limbs. But as Ember reached out to grab her arms, Isabel gave Ember a hard shove to create a little space.

  Isabel made a fist and swung around to launch it at Ember’s stomach. But Ember pulled back even farther, anticipating the blow, which threw Isabel off-balance as she carried through with the motion.

  Ember sidestepped to the right and used Isabel's careening inertia against her. She tugged on Isabel's wrist, sending her into a freefall, straight toward the ground. Isabel collided with the pavement, forcing her hands out to keep her face from smacking on it. Cold pressure jarred her as she attempted to support her weight.

  As she labored to rise to her feet, Ember leaped behind her and jerked her up. One arm went under Isabel’s chin, the other as a bar across her abdomen, pinning her arms from behind. Isabel tried to fight, but Ember kept her sealed up tight. Isabel couldn’t break free.

  Ember dragged Isabel off to the side. Her feet slid, her arms pinned. She kicked and tried to maneuver, but the shorter Ember had complete control. Isabel had no choice but to go where Ember was taking her: around the side of the building, to an alley.

  Once they were between the condo building and the grocery store to the north, Ember gave Isabel a shove. She staggered a few steps and braced herself against the building.

  Isabel spun around to see Ember standing there, holding Isabel’s Glock, the barrel pointed at the ground. Her shoulders heaved, her jaw was set, her eyes locked on Isabel. The whole scrabble from jumping out behind the car to arriving here had taken no more than five seconds.

  Isabel couldn’t believe how thoroughly she had been defeated by this older and smaller woman. She was like a little pale ninja.

  “Don’t,” Ember said, shaking her head, shoulders heaving up and down. “You can’t take me. Don’t even try.”

  Isabel, panting, leaned back against the building. “I can see that. So, now, you kill me? You’ll kill a federal agent?”

  “Unlike you, I don’t want to do that. I have nothing against you, Agent Yang. I know you think I've gone feral out here in Colorado, but I'm not a bad person now. I still have principles.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Ember pursed her lips. “Did you come here to kill me?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I can’t let you do that, so, if you have a plan B, you better switch over to that one. Maybe you didn’t know this, but I won the FBI’s female kickboxing tournament three years in a row.”

  Isabel rubbed her neck, where Ember's grip would probably leave a bruise. "No, I heard about that. What am I supposed to do now? You won't come willingly, and I can't make you come with me. I'm at a loss. I've failed at my job, and I can't see a way out of this."

  “Go back to DC. That’s where your answers are, not here.”

  Isabel’s heart thumped. With nothing left to lose, now was the time for answers. “I have to ask you about something. Something I found. A document.”

  Ember arched an eyebrow. “Exciting. I love questions that begin with such cryptic intros.”

  “In Marcus Lonsdale’s desk, I found a redacted document. It had your name on it, and his. It’s a disciplinary report. I need to know what it means.”

  Ember stood, her lips thin, saying nothing. Isabel waited until she decided Ember had no intention of answering.

  “What’s in the redacted sections of that document?” Isabel asked.

  "That's behind me now, and I have no intention of reliving that part of my life. You need to ask Marcus."

  “I’m asking you.”

  Ember shook her head. "I don't really have the time or the mental energy to deal with you and Marcus right now. Please, get on a plane, go back to Washington. Leave me to live my life out here. However much of it I have left. You can give me that, at least, because there's a good chance I'll be dead sometime in the next few weeks."

  Isabel slid down the wall until her butt touched the cold ground. She put her head in her hands, trying not to weep. “My career is over. All that’s left is for them to make me clean out my office so I can do a walk of shame with the cardboard box.”

  “I think you're taking the most extreme road with this, but I get it. You walked into this situation, and you never asked for it.”

  “I don't know how else this ends but ugly,” Isabel said.

  “Do you remember my neighbor, the hot guy with the tattoos?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you ever remember hearing the name Layne Parrish in Washington?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s not in the Bureau, as far as I know. Why?”

  "I think my neighbor isn't who he says he is. I was on my way to stop this nutty-bonkers guy from killing a woman he'd kidnapped when Layne intervened and saved her first."

  Isabel grunted a sigh. "What are you doing with yourself out here in Colorado, Ember? You're not checking in with your handler, so I have a hard time believing that you're still out here, building a case against the Denver Assassins Club."

  "Right now, I'm trying to save the life of one more kidnapped woman. Sometime in the next four days, I'm going to either save her and catch the guy responsible, or he's going to assassinate me first, and the woman will die anyway. I prefer the former if that wasn't clear enough."

  “I don’t understand.”

  Ember hunkered down to meet Isabel’s level. “A few weeks ago, I got into trouble with the DAC. There was a conflict… two people assigned to the same contract, which isn’t supposed to happen. Even though I’m starting to think it wasn’t an accident. Anyway, the other assassin was going to kill me over this, so I killed him first, but there are laws in the Club against doing things like that. I was disciplined with a black spot. That means six assassins come at me for six consecutive weeks in a trial by combat. I’ve already taken out the first two.”

  “How do you do this?”

  Ember’s head cocked. “Do what?”

  “Kill people for money.”

  “Have you ever discharged your service weapon in the line of duty? When doing that, have you ever killed someone?”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  Ember pushed out her lower lip. “Isn’t it? You get a paycheck. The government tells you who to kill. You don’t get to evaluate it beforehand and consider whether or not you’re willing to draw down on someone. I do. In the last year, I�
�ve killed three murderers and two rapists who slipped through the American justice system. I killed a thug in Uganda who stole a truck full of Red Cross antibiotics so he could sell them in Kenya for ten times the value. I only take on contracts I want. That’s how I sleep at night.”

  “What’s Uganda like?”

  “It’s a shit-show.”

  Isabel blew out a long and slow breath. “There's no diplomatic way out of your trial by combat situation?”

  Ember shook her head, saying nothing.

  “How long did you think it would work out here, living this double life? Didn’t you expect it would catch up to you at some point?”

  “I don’t know,” Ember said, through a labored sigh. “I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe not as much as I should have.”

  Isabel didn’t know if she believed Ember’s last statement. Ember had an accomplished poker face. “If there’s no way out of this, then run. Just run. I’m sure you can get a passport and find your way to Greece or New Zealand.”

  “If I do that, they’ll come for me, and you have no idea how thorough and determined some of these people can be. And, the kidnapped woman will die. I have to see this through.”

  Isabel held out her palms, staring at them under the meager light in the alley. She felt a tear form in the corner of her eye. “What am I supposed to do about you?”

  Ember pressed the button to eject the magazine, jettisoned the round in the chamber, and handed the pistol back to Isabel. “Forget me. Go back to DC. Find out why Marcus Lonsdale is lying to you about all this.”

  “I think maybe he wants to pin the blame on me if this operation goes south.”

  Ember nodded. “Yeah. That sounds about right. Don’t let him do that to you.”

  Isabel accepted the pistol and stood.

  “I like your shoes,” Ember said.

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go inside my condo and sleep for a few hours. Please don’t try to kill me again.”

  Ember gave Isabel a pat on the shoulder before leaving the alley. Isabel remained there for a moment, alone, cold, holding a useless gun in her hand.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  EMBER

  Day Four

  Ember sat outside Good Samaritan Hospital in Lafayette. She thumbed through her recent calls list to find Gabe’s number, then tapped to call him. The modern and glass-lined buildings towered over her, and she studied them as the phone rang. For some reason, she kept thinking of Charlie. She thought of him dying in a Boulder parking garage two weeks ago. It was as unfair as anything else in this life, but she could at least feel grateful she’d known him.

  “Yes,” Gabe said, sounding half-asleep.

  “You sure this is the right hospital?”

  “You’re at the one in Lafayette?”

  “Yeah, it’s about three miles north of where she was found last night.”

  Gabe yawned. “That’s the one. Believe me, it was not easy to find her. She’s checked in under Jane Doe. Your best way in is through the emergency room entrance. Anywhere else, it’ll be too hard to navigate.”

  “Probably with a ton of cops around her, when I do figure out which room she’s in. She goes from being trapped in an iron maiden to being trapped in a hospital room full of uniformed guys.”

  “What are you going to do when you find her?”

  Ember considered this for a few seconds. “I need to learn whatever she can tell me about Quinn Voeller. I have a feeling she won’t know much, but anything could be useful. Also, if she knows anything about the DAC. Who knows what that sociopath has been telling her.”

  “She could expose the Club if Quinn hasn’t been careful.”

  “Yes, she could. But that’s not my top priority at the moment.”

  “Fair,” Gabe said. “Can’t help you with where to go once you get inside. Just her name.”

  “Jane Doe. Yes, Gabe, you’ve been incredibly helpful.”

  “I’m doing the best I can.”

  Ember snickered. “I know, I know. I’m just messing with you. But I know how to find her once I get inside. It’s easy. I’ll just follow the trail of cops.” She listened to Gabe breathe on the other end of the line. “You okay? Sleep any better last night?”

  “Thanks, yeah, a little. Now I’ve been mostly obsessing about my upcoming Club membership test. A whole new reason to lose sleep at night.”

  “Don’t stress. Whatever it is, you can’t prepare for it. I mean, all the work you’ve done with me has been your preparation. Everything we do is a test. You’re more qualified than you think.”

  “Thanks, Ember. That means a lot to me. Not sure if I’ll sleep any better tonight, but I do appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “Also, I’m pretty sure if you fail, I’ll have to put a bullet in you, so, there’s that.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I actually can’t tell if you’re joking with me or not.”

  “Good. It’s time to make my move here.”

  Ember said her goodbyes and ended the call, then slid on her blue Denver Broncos cap as she left the car. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tucked it into the back of her jacket, then headed for the emergency room entrance. Eyes down, keeping her body tight and close. She was wearing green scrubs, but that camouflage wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny.

  She walked inside, keeping herself small, looking for double doors. She wasn’t familiar with this hospital in Lafayette, a suburb between Boulder and Denver.

  As a crew of EMTs wheeled a crash cart across the room, Ember lowered her head and tagged along. They disappeared through doors on the east side, and Ember slid in soon after. Blinding fluorescent lights above and pale pink walls on either side. Sights and sounds of chaotic activity everywhere. There had been a major car accident or shooting or something. Doctors and nurses were running around, some of them with blood on their scrubs. Ember had been in a hospital a little over a week ago, after the poisoning at the Boulder Branch. Not a pleasant memory.

  She wanted to make this trip as quick and efficient as possible. Ember kept her head low and pushed through the hall until she saw a bank of elevators a hundred feet down. Four cops all entered the elevator, and Ember waited until the doors closed, then she watched the numbers above it until they stopped at 3. Good chance they would lead her exactly where she needed to go.

  She headed for the stairs, then hoofed it up to the third floor. She opened the interior door to find the cops exiting the elevator at the same time. Panting, shoulders heaving, she held back and watched them all filter out.

  She waited to see which way they would go, then fell in step behind them. They were chatting, waving their hands around, not paying any attention to her. As long as they stayed that way, this should be no problem at all. But, walking around in scrubs without a name badge was a little odd, so she didn’t want to attract any undue attention to herself.

  Then, one of them turned. Ember had to make a split-second decision. After all the activity in recent weeks and months, she didn’t know for certain the police weren’t on the lookout for her. But, better not to chance it.

  She spun around and took a few steps back in the other direction, then she ducked into a room on her left. The footsteps continued toward her, heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe.

  She pulled herself against the wall next to the door. In this room, an old man rested on the bed, beeping machines around him as he gave her a quizzical look. Ember raised a finger to her lips and added a wink. The old man nodded and closed his eyes, subtly shaking his head.

  The footsteps paused, and Ember thought they were close enough to be right outside this room. Holding her breath, she considered her response. She had no weapons on her and easily decided to run if the cop confronted her—no need to kill a police officer just doing his job.

  A moment later, the footsteps resumed, back in the other direction. Getting quieter. Her thumping head outweighed the sound of t
he footsteps, and she chastised herself for letting the stupid tension of the moment get to her.

  Ember peeked her head out of the room and saw the cop had rejoined his buddies. They continued on down the hall, chatting, waving their arms around in animated conversation. Ember kept herself at a safe distance but pulled close enough to spy what they were saying.

  For two full minutes, she tailed them, always considering nearby places to divert if they turned their attention toward her.

  Then, one of the cops stopped outside a room and picked up a clipboard from a hook. “Wait a second,” he said, squinting at the text on the page, “isn’t this the… the VIP they brought in last night?”

  “Yeah,” said another cop. “They took her to the… you know, the place DPD has.”

  One of them whispered to the other, and he nodded and put the clipboard back into place. Without another word about it, they continued on down the hall. Ember hung back until they’d made a turn down the hall, then she approached the clipboard, grinning.

  Exactly what Ember had been searching for.

  Ember spun on her heels and held up her phone as she tapped to call Gabe again. “Hey. I need you to find something else. A safe house.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  WELLNER

  The President sat in his car in the parking garage underneath the Denver Consolidated Holdings building. His two personal security guards plus two building security guards stood outside the car, waiting for him to exit. The car was still running, a low rumble of the heater pushing dry and warm air around his feet.

  Wellner’s hand rested on the door handle. He couldn’t force himself to open the door. This was silly. Wellner knew as much. Four of the best security people in the whole Club stood within five feet of him. None of them said a word, but he could imagine what they were thinking. Too scared to walk fifty feet from the car to the elevator. He bet these pros weren’t experiencing this same level of crushing fear. They were too skilled and capable to succumb to panic.