Assignment- Adventure A SpyCo Collection 1-3

by Craig A. Hart

  “Venus and Tiger—it would seem our plan to draw out the enemy has worked better than we thought possible. We are, at this very moment, surrounded by gunmen. How many, I do not know. In addition to this charming development, Hall has apparently snuck out of the house like the delinquent guttersnipe he is, to continue his gallant quest for his wife’s murderer. And it would appear he has somehow coerced Darkstar into joining him.”

  Lyndsey cleared her throat nervously and said, “I don’t think she would need much coercion.”

  “Explain,” Moore demanded.

  “Let’s say there are some burgeoning sparks between those two. What’s more, Adabelle sounds like she might share some of Perry’s more aggressive traits. Before you arrived, she suggested a rather gruesome end for Flick, which if I remember correctly ended with disemboweling him and illegally dumping his offal into the Bosporus. That sound about right, Burke?”

  “About.”

  “Well, this is splendid,” said Moore, strangely calming down even as the news became worse. “We are in a house being watched by an unknown number of armed men, who after nearly thirty minutes of observation, did not move and are thus most likely waiting for an order to do so, and Perry and Adabelle have chosen this time to become boyfriend and girlfriend assassins, leaving us in an extremely perilous position. I could imagine us holding out, were we altogether, but being so weakened…well, I simply don’t know. I could not imagine our position being worse.”

  “Could be raining,” Burke offered.

  “Rain would improve the situation, you horse’s ass,” Moore snarled.

  Adabelle glanced at her phone and compared the address in her contacts to the one on the building before which they stood. It was the third of the “out of network” doctors they’d visited. The first had not been at home, the second apparently knew nothing, at least nothing an offer of money—and then a secondary offer of violence—would make him give up.

  “This is taking too goddamn long,” Perry growled, his increasing frustration beginning to boil over.

  “I’m sorry, Perry. They didn’t think to all set up shop on the same block. Apparently, they didn’t realize you’d be in a hurry. Thoughtless of them, I agree.”

  “I’d hoped to kill this son of a bitch and get back before Moore found out we were gone.”

  Adabelle looked at him with one of her perfect eyebrows raised. “A little bit optimistic, don’t you think? I’m afraid we’re going to be, what’s the words you American kids love so much? Oh yes. Busted. We’re going to be busted.”

  The street on which they stood was not well illuminated. In fact, the closest street light was a few blocks away. But it lit Adabelle’s face enough for Perry to catch himself thinking, That is the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. His internal reaction to the thought was almost immediate. That’s what you told yourself the first time you saw Trina. The viscerous conflict was abruptly interrupted when Adabelle began pounding on the door.

  “Kapıyı kahrolası aç!” she shouted.

  A few windows in the neighborhood lit up, but not the ones on the building in which she was interested. She banged her fist against the door and repeated her command.

  “What exactly are you saying?” Perry asked.

  “‘Open the fucking door.’”

  “Why wouldn’t he have answered, I wonder,” Perry said, sarcasm oozing from every word.

  “Oh, well then, have at it. Your Turkish isn’t great, so I’ll even translate for you, if you’d like.”

  Perry gave the door a rap and said, “Paramız var!” The window immediately grew bright and the sound of movement from within could be heard.

  Adabelle grinned. “‘We have money.’ Very clever. Very good.”

  The door opened the distance its chain allowed, but Perry was not interested in conversing through a crack. He gave it a mule-like kick, ripping the chain from the door frame and sending the balding man in an old-style nightshirt toppling ass over tea kettle backward, eventually falling in a heap on the floor.

  Adabelle strode toward him, then straddled him and sat down on his chest. “Let’s talk,” she said in English.

  The man’s expression was a study in complexity. Surprise, anger, confusion, and desire mixed comically over his jowly face as he tried to grasp the situation. Perry could forgive the man. It wasn’t every night one was unceremoniously awakened by the promise of money, then attacked and straddled by a beautiful woman holding a gun and looking like she knew how to use it.

  Adabelle leaned lower and looked the man directly in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have to mention that lying to us would be very unwise. Do you understand?”

  The man nodded.

  “Good. We’re looking for a man who may have sought medical treatment. Have you had any recent patients?”

  The man’s face tightened a little and Perry knew the look. It was the look of someone about to do something stupid, something like refusing to answer a simple and direct question. Apparently, Adabelle knew the look as well, because she wasted no time escalating the situation. Reaching down into her boot, she withdrew a small dagger. Then she half rose and yanked the nightshirt up between her legs until it was bunched on the man’s hairy chest, revealing him to be completely naked underneath. Adabelle tightened her grip on the knife and with the other hand, grabbed the man’s entire package around the base. She pressed the knife blade against the sensitive skin and said sweetly,

  “You have exactly one second to begin talking before I begin surgery and, while I question the extent of your own medical credentials, I am completely without training. You’ll probably bleed out before anyone finds you. And that’s assuming I don’t stuff your balls in your mouth and staple your lips closed, or tie your hands behind your back and cut off your eyelids.”

  Perry had noticed the sweat begin to pop out on the man’s forehead the moment Adabelle’s hand had closed around his junk, but having heard the words, his face was now awash in perspiration. Even Perry was feeling a bit shocked to hear such threats coming from Adabelle, and he had to remember she was not an innocent maiden in need of protection. That was something he’d have to watch carefully, as his male instinct was to don a superhero cape whenever a woman was threatened. He suspected Adabelle would resent what she would probably see as his assumption she couldn’t take care of herself.

  “Your second is up,” Adabelle said, and pressed down with the knife.

  “I will speak!” the man said, his voice squeaking with terror.

  “Then get to it,” Adabelle ground out, the scarily sweet tone completely gone and replaced with that of a Grade A badass.

  “Yes, yes—I treat but one man in last twenty-four hours. Tall man, dark.”

  “What did you treat him for?”

  “He had burn on head and face. Boiling water.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I do not know. Please—let go of...my things!”

  Adabelle shook her head. “Not until we know everything. And I feel like you’re holding out on us.” She tightened her grip.

  The man yelped. “I do not know where he is! He only said to fix him up as good as I could because he had business to finish in the city.”

  Perry stepped forward, his insides twisting with anticipation. “What kind of business?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Where will this business take place?”

  “I do not know!”

  Perry growled and turned away. “Cut off his balls. Leave the dick for now.”

  “Sure thing.” Adabelle adjusted her grip and poked with the knife.

  “No! I do not know, I swear it!”

  Perry turned back around. “You may not think you know, but you must know something. Exactly what did he say?”

  “I cannot remember.”

  “You’d better start goddamn remembering.”

  The man’s eyes, bloodshot and brimming with tears, rolled up in his head as he searched his memory. “He said he had business to finish.
”

  “You said that.”

  “He was angry. Would not sit still for the treatment. Kept pacing and muttering. I did not try to listen.” The man thought some more and then his face brightened with hope. “Ah! He said he was going to ‘finish it all’ and the ‘chickens would soon be in same basket.’ I did not know what that meant.”

  “I do,” Perry said, already halfway out the door.

  Adabelle scrambled to her feet, leaving the man to cradle his battered privates, and ran outside.

  “Perry! What is it? Where are you going?”

  Perry didn’t stop moving. “Flick said he was going to finish it all. That his chickens would be in the same basket. What does that sound like to you?”

  “It sounds like he fucked up the cliché. Isn’t it supposed to be ‘eggs in one basket?’” Adabelle’s face suddenly paled as realization dawned. “Oh my god. My house.”

  “Damn right, your house. Moore, Burke, and Lyndsey are sitting ducks.”

  “It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  Perry finally stopped. “Do you think we’ll go to hell for making jokes at a time like this?”

  “If we go to hell, it won’t be for making jokes. It’ll be for making bad ones.”

  “That was my best material.”

  “Then you’re definitely going to hell. Now come on, we have some SpyCo agents to save.”

  18

  Getting back into Adabelle’s house should have been about a thousand times easier than getting out had been, but before they even reached the alley, Perry could see there were complications. Complications that took the form of blue and red flashing lights.

  “Police,” Adabelle whispered as they ducked back against a building.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Are you not seeing that car? Copper for sure.”

  “Think for a minute. Why would an alley between two neighborhood businesses need a police presence at…” he glanced at his watch. “... 4:15 a.m.?”

  “Maybe someone heard us move the manhole cover?”

  “That was four hours ago. I think they’d have cleared the scene by now if all they were doing was responding to a report of clanking metal in an alley.”

  “Then it’s Flick’s people.”

  “That’s the most logical scenario.’

  “Kind of flashy. Why would they want to attract so much attention?”

  “It’s kind of like hiding in plain sight. Yours is a very quiet, reserved neighborhood. The people who live here are less likely to come gawk at a police scene than they are to maybe peek out the window. These guys are sealing off the area, and they are banking on your neighbors staying inside. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they’ve gone door to door insisting upon it.”

  “Which means Flick and perhaps whoever he’s working for are already inside.”

  “Again, I’d be pretty surprised if they weren’t. Which means we need to be also.”

  “We’d be dead before we reached the door if we tried the front entrance. The back door leads to a small yard, but it’s fenced and I don’t think we’d fare any better trying to go through the gate or over the fence.”

  “No, the tunnel is the only option, but Johnny Fake-Law is going to make it a little sticky. This may call for something a little messy.”

  Adabelle let a quiet laugh escape. “Ah, the Perry Hall trademark. Mess.”

  After a brief exchange of whispered plans, Perry moved through a few yards too well-lit for comfort, but still with sufficient shadows to augment his own skills at stealth. He got into position a little past where the SUV was parked. He could see one man with a submachine gun posted in front of it, but there was no one in the car or, as far as he could see, in the alley.

  A moment later he saw the man turn to face away from where he was crouched as Adabelle approached the sentry, weaving a little as though she were intoxicated. She was singing.

  “Dur!” the gunman said.

  Adabelle acting as though she was seeing him for the first time. In spite of being told to stop, she stumbled a little closer. Perry guessed the guard did not know Adabelle by sight, or he probably would have already shot her.

  Weak planning, he thought.

  Adabelle was standing about six feet from the guard, smiling. In Turkish she said, “Do you think these are evenly matched?”

  As she spoke she unzipped her top, exposing two of the most perfect breasts Perry had ever seen. For a quick beat, he almost forgot he had a job to do. Then, filing the visual away for later use, he quietly but quickly crept up behind the man and in a single, fluid motion drove Adabelle’s knife into the man’s right temple. He’d been right. It was messy. But it was also silent and provided an instant solution to the sentry problem. Adabelle pulled up her zipper and they hurried into the alley.

  “Did you like what you saw?” she teased as they reached the manhole.

  “Too busy to notice,” Perry lied, removing the lid as quietly as possible.

  As they climbed down into the tunnel, Perry mentally replayed the scene and again had to force himself to focus. Adabelle led the way through the cistern and up to the door leading into her basement. Because they were hoping to remain undetected for as long as possible, they moved in darkness. Adabelle relied on her knowledge of the path and Perry relied on keeping a hand on her back. As he felt the soft fabric of her light sweater he found himself thinking yet again of its zipper. Damn it, Perry. For three years, you’ve thought like a Franciscan friar, and now you can’t stop being a horny teenager. Focus! His thoughts were so loud he was afraid Adabelle might hear them.

  They reached the heavy wooden door and found it was still slightly ajar, as they’d left it. They squeezed through without opening it farther. The light in the basement, which they’d left on, was extinguished now. Of course, they would have looked downstairs to see if there was anyone hiding. Perry hoped the fact that the large dresser still hid the door meant they hadn’t bothered to look behind it. It was in the same position they’d left it.

  They moved into the basement and slowly made their way up the stairs, as always placing their feet on the edges of each step to minimize the chance of announcing their approach with a creak.

  Perry was banking on the fact they would have cased the basement, and finding nothing would not bother to post anyone by the door leading down to it, meaning they should be able to get at least as far as the kitchen without anyone knowing. He still had Adabelle’s hastily cleaned knife, now secreted behind the belt at the back of his pants. His gun was in his right hand. Depending on how many people Flick had with him, they might be able to end this quickly.

  Adabelle turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. A dim band of light showed through the opening, and Perry moved close behind the beautiful agent.

  “Be careful,” he whispered.

  She turned and in the faint glow Perry could see she was smiling, her eyes shining with appreciation for his concern.

  A good sign, Perry thought, afraid even a little protectiveness might be met with scorn from this independent woman.

  Adabelle poked her gun through, and an instant later, to Perry’s shock, she was yanked through the door, which flew the rest of the way open. He couldn’t see who’d pulled her up the final stair, but he did see who was greeting him.

  Flick’s face now looked as if it had melted, and was bandaged in places, though Perry could tell by a couple random pieces of medical tape that more dressings had been applied and later pulled off. Even with the burns and the angry-looking bald spot, it was a face he could not mistake.

  “We meet again,” Perry said.

  In their past encounters, Flick had been prone to witty banter, and, in the case of their last meeting, violent threats. Now he seemed less interested in extended discourse.

  “Get the fuck in here,” he said, pointing a long-barreled handgun at Perry’s face.

  Perry stepped through the doorway and saw Adabelle being pushed, her arms pinned firmly behind h
er, in the direction of the living room. Flick held out his hand, and Perry surrendered his weapon. Flick aggressively poked Perry in the spine with his gun.

  “Move,” he said.

  Perry was given to picturing worst case scenarios, therefore the scene in the living room was far less horrific than he’d dared hope for. Burke, Lyndsey and Moore were all there, tightly bound and lined up side by side on the sofa, but they were alive. Even better was the absence of Erol. Perry took this to mean he had again avoided detection. Brave, smart little kid. Perry’s heart cramped a little at the thought the boy might be upstairs hiding in yet another closet.

  Six armed men in the room made sure none of them moved. Adabelle was pushed roughly into a wooden chair which had been brought from her dining room table, and was tied tightly to it. Flick directed Perry to an identical chair on the opposite side of the room. He moved behind him and pressed the gun against the back of Perry’s head. One of the men approached with a length of rope, but Flick waved him off.

  “Don’t bother. He won’t be alive long enough to need that.”

  For the second time in a handful of weeks, Perry found himself at Flick’s mercy, with the end of his life looming. The last time, right before he’d realized who Flick was, he’d grimly accepted his fate, thinking of it as an end to his suffering. This time felt different. He’d obviously not had time to think through all the ramifications of Adabelle coming into his frame of reference, but damn, she’d made him feel things he’d thought he’d never feel again. He’d never stop loving Trina. But some part of him, despite years of the blackest pessimism painting his every thought, wondered if maybe he might find something beyond Trina, beyond the pain. Another poke in the back of his head from Flick’s gun ended his speculation, but not his feeling that this time, he didn’t want to die.

  At that moment, another person entered the room.

  He was, without question, the ugliest human being Perry had ever seen. He made Flick’s burn-scape of a face look angelic in comparison. His skin was red and blotchy with sores, some of which appeared to be oozing. His head seemed larger than it was possible for his body to carry, and indeed it tilted to the side slightly, as if collapsing under its own weight. He was of average height, but his frame was almost round, so rotund was his body. His eyes were puffy, almost closed from the fatness of his face, but Perry could see they were different colors: the left was brown, the right steel-gray.