Assassin Zero

by Jack Mars

  He drew her into a tight hug, and she put her arms around him. They stood like that, just holding each other, and waited for the end.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  Sara followed the olive-skinned young man down the beach. She took her time, trying not to look like she was following him, walking barefoot in the surf and watching as people went by. Occasionally glancing out at the sea. But always keeping him in her peripheral vision as he walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  The urge was stronger now. Her throat prickled, goose bumps rising on her skin at the very thought of getting a fix. But still she kept it together as best she could.

  The youth in the cut-off gray hoodie passed the old rickety pier and kept walking, heading toward the Virginia Beach boardwalk in the distance. Sara let him gain enough of a lead that he wouldn’t think she was trailing him, but not so far that she couldn’t keep an eye on him. After about twenty minutes of strolling in the wet sand, she finally saw him pause, look around cautiously, and then vanish in the shadows beneath the boardwalk.

  She hesitated. Though the day was bright, the expanse beneath the pier was not. It wasn’t pitch-black, not by a long shot, but there were plenty of thick, round wooden beams for people to hide behind. Plenty of shadows to creep from. Plenty of opportunity for someone to prey on a sixteen-year-old girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  But the need was stronger than logic, even stronger than her fear. With her shoes in her hand and the cash burning a hole in her pocket, Sara clenched her jaw and headed beneath the boardwalk.

  For the first several yards there was nothing but odd bits of trash, random soda cans and potato chip bags, pizza crusts and cigarette butts. Then there were bodies—just a few, but enough to freak her out. People sleeping in the sand that would stay dry until high tide. Whether they were homeless or junkies or both, she couldn’t guess. But she picked her way further, looking for the young man with the wiry frame and the amateur tattoos running down both arms.

  She heard voices before she saw him, and quickly ducked behind a wooden pillar. When she dared to peer out she saw the boy, not ten yards from her, in the further shadows beneath the boardwalk. He was talking in low tones to a dirty man with a patchy brown beard and a rat’s nest of hair stacked upon his head. They shook hands, or at least it looked like they did.

  Sara recognized a hand-off when she saw one. Drugs and money were exchanged in that handshake, though both parties were well-practiced enough that no one watching would have seen either.

  She had been right about him. And now the urge became an itch, one that could only be scratched in one way. A heat rose in her chest and up to her throat at the very thought of it, and to her own surprise, her mouth actually watered.

  Still she waited, at least until the man with the patchy beard stalked off. The youth was alone. He looked around again, and then surreptitiously counted the few bills in his palm. He nodded to himself once, apparently satisfied.

  Then Sara stepped out from behind the pillar. “Hello?” she said cautiously.

  The young man took a step back, surprised as he was to see her. But then his eyes immediately narrowed into a look of distrust and anger in equal measure. “What you want?” he demanded.

  “I want…” She cleared her throat. “I need a hit. Just a little something.”

  The young man glanced left and right again in suspicion. “You kiddin’ me? Get yo’ ass back to the suburbs, girl.”

  “Please.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the cash that Maya had given her. “Whatever I can get for fifty dollars. It’s all I have.”

  She held it out for him. The young man raised an eyebrow and at first didn’t move. After a long moment, he slowly walked toward her and snatched the money out of her hand. Sara bit her lip hard, fully realizing that there would be little she could do if this guy decided to walk off with her money.

  Instead he reached into the breast pocket of his sleeveless hoodie and produced a tiny baggie of white powder. He showed it to her. She reached for it. But he pulled it out of her reach.

  “You gotta do it right here,” he told her.

  Sara glanced around. She didn’t like being under there, in the shadows beneath the boardwalk with the strewn trash and the bodies lying around. But the urge was stronger than her doubt and unease.

  “That way I know you’re not a narc,” the boy added.

  “Fine.” Her voice was tight and came out timid. “I will.”

  He handed it to her, and then he took two steps back as he tucked her money into his pocket. Her fingers trembled as she carefully untied the knot in the top of the bag. As carefully as possible, she poured the contents onto the back of her hand, on the fleshy bridge between her thumb and forefinger.

  It wasn’t a lot. She wasn’t sure of the going rates of street drugs, but it looked paltry for the fifty dollars she’d given him. Still, her brain yearned for it. Her stomach twisted in knots in anticipation. Besides, it had been weeks since she’d had anything but caffeine. This would do the trick, she was certain.

  She brought her hand up to her nose, plugged one nostril, and sucked it up in one snort.

  The young man grinned at her. “Shit, I had you pegged all wrong. You a pro, huh?” He chuckled as if he’d told a joke.

  But Sara ignored him. She tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted as the drugs altered the pleasure centers of her brain and flooded her skull with endorphins.

  Yes. This was what I needed.

  But then—her eyes opened suddenly. A wave of dizziness swept over her like a rogue wave. She teetered on her feet, barely catching herself before she tumbled right over.

  She didn’t understand. It was such a small amount. There was no way it was too much for her…

  Unless…

  The young man chuckled again. The ground tilted as Sara saw him pull out a cell phone.

  They’re laced.

  The drugs are laced with something.

  Whatever they were mixed with was far more powerful than anything she was used to. She staggered again, catching herself on a wooden pillar. A splinter pierced her palm, but she didn’t feel the pain. Her brain was active, alert, crying out for her to flee, but her body wouldn’t respond.

  The young man put the phone to his ear. “Yo. Go tell Big Man I got one for him. Under the boardwalk. Blonde girl, teenager. Real white-bread. She ain’t going nowhere for at least twenty minutes, but be quick.”

  No.

  Her knees hit the sand even though she didn’t realize she’d fallen forward.

  No.

  The young man had called someone to—to come get her.

  Get up!

  Her legs felt like jelly. Her mouth was dry as cotton, though her stomach wanted to vomit. There was no misunderstanding the young man’s intentions. He was handing her off to someone.

  Traffickers.

  The thought came like the shriek of a ghost from her past. She was vaguely aware that she was rocking, her arms folded over her chest. Her face was wet. Was it wet? She touched the tears that fell from her eyes, her fingers leaving gritty flecks of sand on her cheek.

  “Dad,” she murmured. “Dad, help me.” At least she thought she said it aloud. Maybe it was just in her head.

  “Yo. This the girl?” A new voice. Deeper.

  “Man, you see any other white girls whacked out of their minds?” the young guy said quickly. “Hurry up, before someone sees.”

  Oh my god. How did they get there so fast? It had only been seconds—hadn’t it? Maybe it had been minutes. It could have been an hour for all she knew.

  “Come on, girlie,” said the deep voice. “We’re going for a ride.”

  “No,” Sara protested, though it came out a whimper. Her vision was blurred, but she saw a large man ambling toward her, wearing a black tank top and a gold chain. He reached for her.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Unh!” The big man’s body suddenl
y jerked. He fell to his knees in front of her.

  “What the fuck?” shouted the younger guy. “Bitch, you better not—” His protest was cut off by a wail of pain that didn’t even sound human, let alone male.

  Sara could do little but quiver in the sand. The big man tried to get up, but his head jerked violently, and he fell on his side in front of her. His eyes were open but glazed. Behind him, the young guy tried to run. Someone was on him in a second, much faster. But smaller than him. They grabbed the young man around the neck from behind, twisted, and full-on choke-slammed him into the sand. He gurgled and sputtered as he struggled to breathe.

  Sara squeezed her eyes shut.

  Hands were on her then, grabbing her shoulders. She shrieked and squirmed away, but they held fast.

  “Sara!”

  What? How…?

  She opened her eyes. Tears welled immediately, blurring her vision all over again. She knew that voice, though she couldn’t see clearly.

  “Maya.” She tried to say it, but her tongue felt too thick for her mouth.

  “Come on. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Her sister put one of Sara’s arms over her shoulders and supported her waist as she hefted her to her feet.

  It seemed impossible. She was hallucinating, she was sure of it. But she could hear Maya’s steady breathing, could smell her familiar scent. After a few moments they were in the sunshine again, warm on her face, and Sara looked.

  It was her. Maya was really there, and Sara was crying all over again.

  “They… they tried to…”

  “Shh,” Maya said soothingly. “I know. But they didn’t. I’m here.” Then she had a phone to her ear. “Alan, I found her. Pick us up at the mouth of the boardwalk.”

  Alan was there too, somewhere nearby. “How?” Sara managed to ask.

  Maya let out a sigh. “I love you,” she said, “but you are really damned predictable.”

  I love you too, she wanted to say, but her mouth was desert-dry. Or maybe it wasn’t just in her head. Maybe she had actually said it aloud. The beach tilted left and right as Maya helped her shuffle through the sand, and when Sara’s head lolled and came to rest on her sister’s shoulder, she left it there.

  It felt safer that way.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Zero held Maria tightly against him, breathing in her scent for what would be the last seconds of his life. Any moment, the reactors would melt the fuel elements, releasing deadly radiation and a contaminated cloud that would spread into town and cities up and down the Chesapeake’s coast.

  He didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to think of the good times, with Sara and Maya, with Kate, with Maria, with Alan. Vacations and dinners and inside jokes. That’s what he focused on, forcing his mind to daydream, to not think about if it would hurt, or how long it would take to kill him…

  Then there was a grunt.

  A shuffling of feet.

  Maria looked up, frowning. Zero did too. He blinked in confusion at what he saw.

  Todd Strickland entered the round control room, and he wasn’t alone. He had one arm around the waist of a dark-haired woman, her arm slung over his shoulders.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Maria asked in shock. “You should have gotten the hell out of here!”

  “Well, excuse me,” Strickland muttered, obviously out of breath, “for trying to save the eastern seaboard.”

  Zero still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The woman was professionally dressed with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were unfocused and glassy, and he could see a thin streak of dark blood trickling from her ear. She grimaced with each step in obvious pain. It didn’t look like she could stand on her own; Zero assumed she had ruptured an eardrum and it had thrown her equilibrium out of balance.

  But she’s a survivor.

  This woman had clearly bore the brunt of the sonic attack—and she had survived.

  “Card.” The woman gestured toward one of the dead bodies on the floor of the control room. “Keycard.”

  “What?” Zero asked dimly.

  “Find the keycard, Zero!” Strickland barked.

  “Right.” Zero fell to his knees and rooted around the dead man’s white lab coat. He located a plastic card clipped to the inside of it and yanked it free.

  The woman’s fingers trembled as she took it and pointed to a console. Strickland helped her to it, and with some difficulty, she slid the keycard into a slot above a keyboard. A monitor blinked to life. With Todd supporting her, she typed in a command—excruciatingly slowly, one key at a time, hunt-and-peck style, swaying all the while.

  Maria’s fingers found his and squeezed tightly. Zero closed his eyes.

  He heard a slight whir from overhead.

  When he opened them again, white lights blinked to life in the control room.

  He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in a long whoosh.

  “I don’t understand,” Maria said. “The Russian told us there was no way to stop it…”

  “Not… for you,” the woman managed to say.

  Zero understood. The Russian thought that their sonic weapon had taken out the employees of the facility. There was no way for Zero or Maria or Strickland to stop the meltdown—but a trained nuclear engineer would know every failsafe in the facility.

  “Coolant… is flowing,” she winced. “But we should go. Radiation…”

  “There still might be a leak,” Strickland finished for her. “Let’s go!”

  Maria rushed forward and hauled Mischa to her feet. She held the girl by the elbow and led her quickly out of the room. As she did, something small fell from the girl’s fingers. Zero glanced down at it quizzically.

  It was a candy. A Tootsie Roll. But he didn’t have time to wonder about it. Instead he supported the engineer from the other side. She yelped slightly as Strickland and Zero lifted her between them, and they half-jogged out of the room and down the corridor.

  Maria held the steel door open, and as Zero exited he kicked the pebble out of the jamb. The door slammed closed behind them with a resonant clang.

  The sun felt good on his face. After everything he’d been through, everything he’d done, he’d almost been killed in silence—twice. But out here, it was anything but silent, and he was glad for it.

  The thrum of no fewer than six helicopters filled the air in a buzzing roar. National Guard trucks surged into the parking lot to the south, filled with personnel fully dressed and armed to the teeth for a battle that wouldn’t be coming.

  Maria held Mischa by one arm and waved her CIA credentials aloft with the other as soldiers swarmed toward them. “CIA!” she shouted over the din. “The meltdown has been averted! Hostiles are dead! Keep that door closed! There’s still risk of radiation leak!”

  Strickland and Zero passed the engineer to a pair of National Guard medics, but not before the former leaned forward and whispered something to her. She nodded, and smiled an exhausted smile back at him before letting herself be carted off for care.

  “What’d you say to her?” Zero asked.

  Strickland grinned sheepishly. “I said, ‘thanks for saving our lives.’”

  Zero returned the grin and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks to you too for saving our lives. You could have gotten out.”

  Strickland shrugged. “Life would be a lot more boring without you around.”

  “Heads up!” Maria called to them. She gestured with her chin at one of the helicopters as the skids touched down on asphalt. The door slid open, and a discerning man in a suit stepped out.

  Edward Shaw, director of the CIA, spotted them immediately and made no attempt to hide the urgency in his gait as he approached them.

  “Director,” Maria nodded to him as he neared.

  “Who’s this?” Shaw asked point-blank, nodding to Mischa.

  “She was with them.”

  “The Russians?” Shaw asked.

  “The Chinese,” Zero corrected
.

  Shaw frowned at that, but only slightly. Then he nodded once as he came to an understanding. “Evidence?”

  “Dead commandos,” Maria told him. “The agency should be able to ID them as Chinese nationals.”

  Shaw beckoned two dark-suited agents over, and then pointed to the girl. They took her from Maria, each holding a shoulder. Mischa’s face remained as impassive as ever, even as the agents began escorting her roughly away.

  “Hey, wait.” Zero stepped forward as the agents paused. “She’s a little dangerous, but she’s just a kid. Remember that, would you?”

  Mischa looked up at him. Her eyebrows met low on her forehead in a look that suggested she was trying to figure him out.

  “Sorry about the bump to the head,” he told her.

  “I…” Mischa glanced to the sky, as if there was something written there. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” she murmured.

  “Where will she go?” Maria asked as the two agents escorted the girl away.

  “For now? Langley holding cell,” Shaw replied. “Until she feels like talking.”

  “And, uh… where will we go?” Strickland asked cautiously.

  Shaw’s nostrils flared. There was plenty of reason to fire them on the spot, or arrest them, or even have them shipped straight to H-6. But there were just as many reasons not to.

  “Home, Agents,” he said at last. “You’ll go home. Right after you’re medically cleared and debriefed.” Shaw turned on a heel toward the waiting coterie of agents that would serve as a clean-up crew for the mess that waited beyond.

  “Sir?” Maria called after him. “One moment. I… I want to step down.”

  Shaw paused. “This can’t wait until later, Johansson?”

  “No, it can’t. I want to return to field agent status. Immediately.”

  He waved a hand impatiently. “Fine. Done. I think we’re all better off that way anyhow.”

  Zero bit back a smirk at that. But it faded quickly as he remembered one last thing. He trotted after Shaw, leaving Strickland and Maria out of earshot. “Director. What about OMNI?”