Vigilante Investigator Series Box Set

by Eden Sharp

  Yeah right.

  ‘Not so much. Her old boyfriend’s on the scene.’

  Kelly turned, almost in slow motion.

  ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Knox said.

  Kelly’s default position was to assume any woman that didn’t want to sleep with him was gay.

  ‘Jealous, much?’ Kelly asked.

  Knox shook his head. It was best not to engage.

  Kelly nodded and smiled. ‘And you didn’t get a look in. Man are you losing it. And getting old too.’

  ‘Are you done?’ Knox said.

  ‘Sure. It’s your party, you can cry if you want to.’

  Knox hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It was funny how he almost missed waking up each day in a desert wondering if he would ever reach his next birthday. How somehow the risk could make you feel more alive. Dying was the easy part. It was living that scared him to death.

  He spotted Besson heading their way. Head and shoulders above everyone else. A confident gait and unmistakable presence. A couple of guys nodded as he passed. Knox scanned the faces surrounding him. No McGlynn.

  Kelly nudged him in the ribs. ‘We gonna have some fun tonight okay big boy?’

  Knox ignored him. The standing room round the bar was filling up. He stood to free up a seat for his boss. For now at least, but maybe not for much longer.

  Kelly asked the barman for a whiskey then drained his bottle and added another beer to the order.

  ‘Bathroom,’ he said and vacated his seat as Besson arrived.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ Besson said and slid in to Kelly’s seat.

  Knox nodded, tipped his beer in acknowledgment and sat down again. ‘It’s getting busy in here. Nice place though. Angela not with you?’

  ‘Nope. I guess she’s making her own way.’ Besson’s slow Louisiana drawl fit the ambiance of the place.

  Knox toyed with the idea of asking for his opinion about Lau but abandoned the idea. Besson and McGlynn had history. They were business partners while he was just someone on the payroll. He considered texting her to see what time she planned on showing up.

  Kelly arrived back at the bar, caught the bartender’s eye and pointed at Knox.

  ‘Slippery Nipple,’ he said.

  Knox saw the look on the bartender’s face. They exchanged glances. It clearly wasn’t that kind of place.

  ‘Jack and a beer’s fine’, he said.

  Either the liquor would kick in soon or McGlynn would show and hopefully put his mind at rest. Then he could start to feel like he was enjoying himself.

  Angela McGlynn

  I was feeling on the down swing about being jumped by unknowns and pretty irritable that I didn’t have time to go home, eat, shower and change my clothes. That was before the cortisol come down.

  I felt my cell vibrate in my pocket and saw a text from Knox. Hep too busy. Change of plan. Now at Bar 38 on Pacific Avenue. I felt guilty about how Knox had been compromised and that I didn’t yet have a gift for him. For now I willed myself into a better mood to celebrate his birthday.

  I had to look up the new venue but found it easily enough. As soon as Jeff and Kelly decided to call it a night I could have the conversation I needed to with Knox and try and straighten things out with him. I knew he suspected me but figured as the Feds had not been at my door he had decided against saying anything. What I needed right now was an ally. Maybe he could help me figure out who these new players were.

  Bar 38 was small and pretty empty and I could see why they’d chosen it as an alternative to Hep which even on a Thursday night could be uncomfortably crowded. This was a place where you could have a conversation with your liquor rather than having to lip-read when whatever band was playing ratcheted up the decibels as the night wore on.

  Three barstools formed a cluster at one end, the others more evenly spaced. What I guessed to be a Jack on ice next to a bottle of beer sat in front of one of them, with a solitary bottle of beer placed in the middle followed by a glass of paler liquid, probably whiskey knowing Jeff, in front of the third. A good-looking young barman with a head of tight brown curls and blue eyes went from bored to attentive.

  ‘I’m guessing you’re Angela?’ he said.

  I nodded and slid an unoccupied barstool onto the end of the three.

  He was already filling a glass with ice and free-pouring a generous amount of Jack into it before I could say a word and it was clear Knox had taken care of a pre-order to be served upon my arrival which was a nice gesture. Conciliatory even. The guy topped it off with Coke from a bottle then put the glass of down in front of me.

  ‘Your boys are in the bathroom, he said. ‘Something about a bet.’

  With Kelly involved, I didn’t want to know.

  I would have ordinarily sunk my first drink in one go. Whether it came to drinking or fighting my motto had always been the same - make the first one count. But instead I took a couple of big gulps and then just sipped at it on account of an empty stomach.

  The barman did what everyone in his position did when business was slow. He began polishing glasses that didn’t need it and straightening bottles, all the while looking through the mirrored shelving and checking over every now and again to see if I needed a refill. Even with the sipping, my glass was draining pretty fast.

  My heart skipped into an arhythmical pattern for a second. Heat prickled across my chest and I noticed how hot it was. I swiveled on the stool and began to take my jacket off and felt a little sick. Not only hadn’t I eaten anything recently but the weather was unseasonably warm. I steadied myself on the edge of the bar and my stomach began to signal that I might be about to vomit.

  The barman came over. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I think-’

  Saliva filled my mouth and I wondered where the bathroom was.

  31

  A guy held a cold flannel to my forehead. I was lying on a leather couch.

  He offered up a cup. ‘Black coffee,’ he said.

  I took a sip. It was strong and hot and it made me feel slightly better. My hand was shaking so he took it from me and put it down next to me.

  ‘I think we might need to get you a doctor,’ he said.

  I wondered where Jeff was.

  ‘My friends-’

  ‘Hey, it’s Charlie. Don’t worry. I’m here to take care of you.’

  Charlie appeared in my line of sight. He crouched down next to me.

  ‘You’re okay,’ he said. His long, slender fingers stroked the side of my face.

  I reached down for the cup and took another sip but the coffee was stone cold.

  ‘Remember that time I hacked into the CIA?’ Charlie said.

  I was confused by that. I didn’t know that he had.

  ‘No?’

  ‘I told you all about it, remember? The files I downloaded?’ he said.

  He was holding my hand in his, rubbing the back of it in small soothing circles.

  ‘I don’t-’

  A line of drool escaped the corner of my mouth and I swallowed. I went to sit up but found I was already sitting up.

  ‘The doctor’s going to give you something to make you feel better,’ he said. Except this time I wasn’t sure the voice belonged to Charlie. I looked at him. I saw Charlie and then it wasn’t Charlie but someone else. I felt a sharp prick in my arm. Drowsiness washed over me but it didn’t seem like a good time to take a nap. I was too uncomfortable.

  I looked down at where I was sitting. The chair was hard and metal and bolted to the floor. I looked at the legs of the table I was sitting at. Again, metal and bolted to the floor. I was so tired. I leaned forward onto it and rested my head in my arms and shut my eyes.

  I woke up because my bladder was full. Even though the knuckles of one hand were digging into my cheek, for a moment I thought I was still in the bar and wondered if Knox, Jeff and Kelly had come back from the bathroom and I’d learn what the bet had been about but then I realized I couldn’t be and that something had happened to m
e and I’d been brought somewhere and the whole situation had changed.

  Unaware of whether anyone was watching me or not I decided to keep my eyes shut for a few moments more so they wouldn’t know my brain was kicking in to gear as I tried to collect my thoughts. Eventually I felt so cramped I needed to get up and stretch so I opened my eyes and saw that I was in some institutional type room lying on cheap, low grade, industrial carpet, with a table and a couple of chairs, some type of interview room or place of interrogation, and the panel of mirrored glass at the far end told me someone was watching. I raised myself to sitting unsurprised that my head was swimming though it wasn’t too bad considering my Jack had been spiked and I got to my feet.

  I walked a couple of widths of the room back and forth taking as much in as I could about my surroundings and felt the oxygen flowing back into my muscles but my legs soon became unsteady. I leaned against a wall, half to prop myself up and rest and half as resistance, so I could stretch my hamstrings, calves and shoulders and try to feel each part of myself connected and whole again.

  I realized that if this were a place of interrogation then a normal tactic would be to keep me waiting and thinking, in the hope that the fear of the unknown might induce panic and get me ready to spill my guts as soon as anyone walked into the room. So I casually wandered over to the table, pulled back one of the chairs, stepped up onto it and then onto the table and lowered myself down to a cross-legged meditation pose, the backs of my hands resting on my knees with each thumb and forefinger forming a circle. I closed my eyes and began to rerun events and try and figure out how I’d ended up here.

  I hoped it would piss them off and make me look unconcerned and also put the onus on them to move along with proceedings. The first thing I realized was that I’d been spoofed with the text message that had appeared to be from Knox. The drinks had been a nice touch providing the extra proof that I might have needed to stop my gut telling me something was off.

  That they had access to this kind of information told me they were more likely to be intelligence and less likely to be cops. With the drugs I figured they were probably not the Feds which only left the Company.

  The door opened, so I opened my eyes. A thirty-something guy with a shadow of a beard wearing a blue shirt and dark pants walked towards me. I straightened out my legs, slid off the table and assumed a defensive stance behind it using it as a barrier between us.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he said, his tone hard, authoritative and non-concessionary.

  I so hated being told what to do so I stayed where I was.

  ‘Take a seat otherwise I’ll put you down and cuff you,’ he said. This time he was more relaxed like he didn’t really care if I made it easy for him but that the order was an absolute and that I would comply one way or another.

  Now I was pissed. I was still very weak but against my better judgment, indignation made me dig my heels in more. We had ourselves a stand-off, each of us squaring up either side of the table.

  ‘Take a seat so we can talk and get this over with,’ he said, gearing down the menace into something more like a compromise.

  This was a deal that appealed to me more so I sat.

  He produced a plastic cup, put it on the table then came round to my side and crouched down next to me.

  ‘Water,’ he said.

  My mouth was dry, I felt groggy.

  ‘I need the bathroom first,’ I said.

  Now the immediate threat was over and my cortisol levels were receding, for the second time in how many hours I wasn’t sure, I didn’t think I could control my bladder through a lengthy questioning session.

  I noticed a thin line of not-quite-there moustache, his very short dark hair and pleasant blue eyes.

  ‘Are you feeling okay?’ he said. ‘Have some water, you’ll feel better,’ his voice now soothing and increasingly calm.

  ‘I need the bathroom,’ I said.

  ‘You were sick,’ he said. ‘You’ll be dehydrated.’

  ‘But first, I really need to go-’

  He stood up and slammed his fist down on the table.

  ‘There is no fucking bathroom break,’ he screamed.

  ‘How are you doing though?’ he asked, in a soothing, lilting tone.

  That’s when I realized I was definitely in trouble.

  32

  My need for the bathroom evaporated as my body responded once more to the immediate threat.

  ‘Where are the files that Lau took?’ the man said.

  ‘Who the hell are you and what files?’ I asked.

  ‘The ones from the hack into the Agency?’ he said, his words slow and deliberate as though he was talking to a first-grader.

  My brain started to put together the pieces it needed to make sense of everything. Images of Charlie intruded and faded but I couldn’t tell what had happened or hadn’t.

  ‘I don’t know anything about this. Looks like you brought me to a black site for nothing,’ I said. As soon as I’d spoken the words I had to hold down the panic that I could be absolutely anywhere in the world.

  He pushed his face, twisted with rage, right up into mine. ‘Maybe not for nothing. After you’ve been here for a few days, sitting in your own piss, maybe you’ll change your mind.’ Spittle flew out of his mouth in staccato bursts spackling my cheeks and eyes. ‘Maybe we’ll take away your clothes so you can sit here naked.’

  I had a psychological understanding of the methods used to influence the human mind and this was unremarkably standard, but I didn’t doubt it could come to something more sinister. Trouble was I didn’t have anything to offer unless I fabricated a story that would stand. I just couldn’t be sure of the end result. I wanted him to know that I understood the techniques in order to move things along but I needed to know what he knew about me and who he thought I was.

  ‘You do know that superficial charm coupled with emotional shallowness is a marker for psychopathic tendencies right?’ I said. ‘Did you have problems in your early life? A lack of behavioral control?’

  ‘Your apartment on First Street? Even with the concierge service, private elevator and keypad entry? Not difficult to access,’ he said.

  Gleaning that snippet of information made me feel sick.

  ‘Criminal versatility is another,’ I said.

  Behind my glibness the realization had dawned. If they had accessed my apartment they could have found my machines.

  ‘You’re Lau’s girlfriend,’ he said.

  That stalled me for a second. I had been but not everyone knew that. Some people, like Guzek and possibly the Feds, thought I was now. Did this mean he did or didn’t know about my involvement with the NSA? Would that help me? I needed to question him without giving anything away just as he was trying to do to me.

  ‘I don’t know anything about any hack into your agency,’ I said. ‘Why would I?’

  I was happy with that. It gave him no further information and left the options open to who I might be and put the onus back on him.

  He moved gracefully round the back of my chair and got in close crouching down by my left-hand side like a feline cozying up to its prey before a strike. I very much felt like the mouse.

  ‘Pathological lying is also a psychopathic marker,’ he said.

  He was good. Back to me again. No alluding to what he knew. A hint of hidden knowledge and therefore threat. I felt I was communing with the dead.

  I decided to clam up.

  He rose up, sat on the edge of the table and stared down at me.

  Annoyingly, an uncontrollable desire to pee returned. I contracted and relaxed my pelvic floor muscles alternately. I hated the low status position and wanted to get up and move around. If he forced me back into the chair however I lost. If I fought him, even if I had enough strength, I didn’t doubt he would have back up on call. I couldn’t go anywhere anyway and I’d pee myself. I fixed my gaze on a point at the wall opposite and concentrated on it until my eyes went blurry.

  He stood up and walked out of t
he room. The door closed behind him and I wondered how long they’d make me wait. All the time I knew I was being watched and I tried to keep as still as possible as I fidgeted microscopically back and forth in my seat trying to forget about my immediate need.

  I looked down at my crumpled shirt. It looked like I had slept in it. My jeans were now barely black, ashen with grime. At least I had my boots. My feet hurt like I’d been wearing them for too long. My jacket was missing and therefore my phone.

  When my interrogator came back into the room my stomach hurt from holding on to a full bladder. Stabbing pains in my abdomen made each muscle-clenching movement I needed to make all the more harsh.

  ‘Haven’t you had enough?’ he asked. ‘I have. How about you tell me about the files and you can use the bathroom? There’s one right outside.’

  I hadn’t come up with any useful story in the interim. I still needed to figure out who he thought I was and what he knew before I told him anything whether fabricated or not. I resigned myself to the fact that I may be about to pee myself. Not that he would care. People in his job were so emotionally disconnected that they could function as if other people were objects to be manipulated and destroyed without any concern.

  ‘A tendency to boredom and callousness. You really do have all the signs,’ I said.

  He smiled. ‘What am I supposed to do about that? Get all teary-eyed?’ The smile faded. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you tell me or not. We’ll just go straight to the source. Pick up Lau. Fly him abroad. Make him disappear. You’re free to go.’

  I wondered if this was part of the act. If it was meant to be a ray of hope before it all turned to despair. I had to give myself a minute before I could stand up, get my bladder under control. I shifted in my seat.

  ‘Really,’ he said. ‘Leave.’

  I stood up and started walking to the door, concentrating hard. I sensed rather than heard him move up behind me. I half-turned to face him as he grabbed my arm.

  ‘Find out where they are or I’ll have Lau rendered out of here to some fucking hell hole,’ he said. ‘As for you…’ He relaxed his grip on my arm but leaned in, his lips close to my ear. ‘I had a job once at an apartment similar to yours,’ he said. ‘Sure it’s more secure than Jeff’s house in Little Haight but not enough. You’ve got a week to get the files back. If you don’t I’ll come pay you a visit and sit and watch you sleep for a while before I suffocate you. This face will be the last you’ll ever see.’