“How may I assist you?” He smiled cordially at Diane.
“Um, I guess I live here now?”
Kernan tipped his head and swiveled to his computer terminal. “Last name?”
“Pembrook.”
He tapped quickly at the keyboard. “Diane?”
“That’s me.”
“I’ll just need to see your identification.”
Diane dug around in her bag and found her wallet. Kernan reviewed her ID card and nodded to her badge. “Very well. You’re up in 20187. Facing east. Very inspiring view of Lady Liberty, most days, well… if you have a decent telescope.”
“Great,” Diane said. Instead of a key, she was handed a silver card.
“Don’t lose this. There’s a $350 replacement fee. Welcome home,” Kernan said, and shook her hand. Diane didn’t step away from the counter. He blinked and said, “Is there something more I can do for you?”
“I have no idea where I’m going.”
“Ah.” He leaned over the counter and arm-pointed to his right. “Go to elevator banks B or C. C is best, as it only services floors 15-21. A only goes up to 14, so don’t take that unless you’re visiting our shops or dining establishments. There’s also an athletic club on three, and a spa on five.”
Diane stepped away from the counter numbly. This was much too much to process. She thanked Kernan and hurried to elevator bank C. She didn’t want any more delays. She had to see her new place.
She got her own elevator cabin. The walls were half dark wood, half mirrors. A video monitor embedded in the left panel beside the elevator doors displayed ads and information about the on-site dining and shopping opportunities. A woman smiled and enjoyed a massage. A trio of young men and women jogged happily on their treadmills. A suited man with gray temples toasted his junior partners in a formal restaurant setting. It wasn’t the Cotillion, Diane noted, but it seemed comparable. She looked forward to trying it out sometime. Maybe with Lyssa.
The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open gracefully. A brass plate confirmed her arrival on the 20th floor. The walls were two-toned, with rich wood paneling on the bottom half and off-white fabric wallcovering on the top half. Diane let her fingertips brush against the bumpy texture as she made her way to 20187. Her pulse quickened when she found 20183. At last, she reached her door. She touched the card to an access point and heard a soft click. She pushed down on the door handle and held her breath as she crossed the threshold.
She dropped her bag as the door closed gently behind her. “Holy crap!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Diane fantasized about getting her own place, she expected something like the apartment she shared with Veronica, at best. Nothing luxurious, just somewhere to crash and maybe cook a meal here and there. She wasn’t sure if she was in the right building, or the right apartment. Everything looked new and unspoiled. The carpeting was plush. The walls were a comforting light brown. Unlike her dorm room, the apartment was fully furnished, kitchen and all. Stainless steel cookware hung over a marble-topped island. She staggered into the living room to find a large sectional and two sleek chairs. She had a dining room that seated six. There was a large monitor mounted over a fireplace.
She rubbed her eyes and tried to comprehend what she was seeing. After her dorm and her jail cell, this far exceeded her expectations. She didn’t think she deserved any of it. She stepped into the bedroom and gasped at the sight of a king bed, made up with cream-colored bedding and loaded with pillows. She pressed her hand down on the mattress, then flopped onto her back. She sank down into a heavenly cloud. She looked up at an ornate light fixture that was accented with crystals.
There would be time enough to lay in bed, she thought, and she forced herself back onto her feet. She returned to the living room and looked at the thick curtains. She felt around for a pull rod or a drawstring. She instead found a remote control in a holster. She pressed a few buttons until she found the one that opened the curtains. The mechanism hummed as the window slowly came into view. Diane gasped at the next amenity: a full balcony with a glass table and four chairs. She unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped outside.
A light breeze tousled her hair as she looked out across the city for Hudson Bay. She imagined the Statue of Liberty standing stoically on its perch, as it was dwarfed by the size and scale the surrounding urban landscape.
“Un-fricking-believable,” she said. For once, it felt right.
After a few minutes of admiring the view, Diane went back inside and slid the balcony door closed. She completed her tour with a trip to the bathroom. It featured a spa tub with water jets and a separate shower stall. An array of bath products lined the counter beside the ample sink. She felt afraid to ruin everything by using the toilet, but urgency took hold and she gawked at the space from a different vantage point.
She told herself again that she didn’t deserve any of this. She was just a run of the mill patrol officer, at best. Truly, she wasn’t, she thought. The others had gone through the academy and had all kinds of schooling backing them up. What were her qualifications? The word made her anxious to know where her dictionary went. After she cleaned up after herself, she went off looking for her personal effects.
The apartment featured a workspace. Her tablet sat neatly on the desk. Her dictionary was placed off to one side. She slid the drawers open and found a note pad and pens. Another held instruction manuals for the various items in her apartment, such as the fireplace and entertainment system.
She wondered what they did with her rifle. She found it standing upright in the back of her closet. Her civilian clothing hung on the left side of the closet. She found no sign of her black body armor. Had it been a dream? It felt real. She had worn it. She had defended herself against three operatives. A masked man in a white lab coat told her what they had done to speed up the healing process after her shoulder surgery.
Or… had he? Everything was dreamlike and lacked clarity. Why did he wear a mask? Why were the walls glossy black? The briefing room beyond the mysterious Room 305 had looked that way, she recalled. Maybe her brain applied that look to everything else in her coma-fueled dreams.
She shrugged and decided to check out the entertainment system. She brought the instruction manual to the sectional and sank into the cushions. A menu of options appeared after she switched on the monitor. One explained how to turn on voice commands. She frowned at the instructions and decided to try it out. “Main menu,” she said. “Entertainment. Programs. Fortune and Destiny.”
She felt a rush of excitement when a list of available episodes appeared. The most recent one looked unfamiliar. She selected it and told the system to play it. Two minutes in, she shook her head. “Stop.” It was the last new episode she had seen before the channel started showing “classic” episodes.
She threw her head back and sighed. Would she ever find out who had been Alexa’s secret rival? She looked back at her tablet. Maybe she wasn’t getting the latest list. She wanted the familiarity of her tablet. She retrieved it from her desk and sat back down on the sectional. She frowned at the confirmation that no new episodes had aired since she was hospitalized.
She decided to call Lyssa and tell her about the new apartment. The accommodations were nice, but she wanted company. Lyssa would be right over, she figured. It wasn’t like she was working and couldn’t get time off.
To her surprise, Lyssa didn’t answer. A screen popped up asking her to send a text message.
After she tapped out a brief message, Diane turned off the television and carried her tablet into the bedroom. She pulled a few of the pillows off the bed and tossed them on the floor. She removed her shoes and socks and kicked them aside. She drew the covers back and slipped into bed. She decided she would follow doctor’s orders and get started on her bed rest. A soft alarm bell sounded from the living room. She sucked in her breath and picked up her tablet, thinking Lyssa was contacting her. The tablet was blank. She tossed the tablet aside and closed her eyes.
The alarm sounded again, louder this time. Diane huffed and padded out to the living room. The television glowed and a man wearing a featureless white mask filled the screen. Diane gasped at the sight of him.
“Agent Pembrook. You have an assignment.”
“I… I was told to get bed rest.”
“You were given clear instructions as to your primary objective. We expect your commitments to be honored in a timely manner,” he said flatly.
“I don’t… I haven’t got anything. Where did my armor go? I don’t have a weapon. I don’t even know where I’m supposed to find my target.”
“Get dressed.” The screen went black. Diane was left alone in her living room, dumbfounded.
She returned to her bedroom and put on her socks and shoes. Once they were on, a panel slid open beside her bed. She walked toward it cautiously. She found a white passageway through the new opening. She passed through it into a small room that contained her body armor, belt, and sidearm. She put it on and snapped the belt in place. She looked up at the glowing white ceiling and said, “Okay, now what?”
The doorway to the room slid shut. Diane felt her stomach lurch as the room seemed to travel downward at a high rate of speed. It slowed to a stop, and the door hissed open, revealing a black SUV. Two operatives stood beside it and nodded to her. One gestured to the back door. Diane got in and the door slammed behind her. The operatives took their seats up front. One turned and nodded. “Asset acquired and online,” he said in a clear voice.
The other operative nodded and put the SUV into gear. A garage door opened slowly. A bright burst of sunlight shot through the opening. Diane shielded her eyes. The operative who sat diagonal from her turned and pointed to his helmet. She lowered her hand and smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
“Your mission briefing is on the seat. It stays in the vehicle at all times, understood?”
Diane looked over at a glossy black folder and nodded. “Understood.”
She opened the folder and thumbed through a series of documents and photographs. She reacquainted herself with her target. Apparently, there had been some activity on the docks over the last few days. She patted her sidearm absent-mindedly as she reviewed the briefing.
The SUV rolled out of the building and took a sharp right turn. Diane braced herself and focused on her mission briefing. She had received her reward in advance, she determined. It was time to hold up her end of the bargain.
The SUV stopped at a one-story building close to the waterfront. The operatives signaled to her to exit the vehicle. She closed her briefing folder and placed it neatly on the seat beside her. She jumped out of the vehicle and fell in line behind the other two operatives. They drew their weapons. Diane followed suit. She checked her sidearm and noted the magazine was full. She snapped it back into place and prepared for engagement.
The operatives stood to either side of a plain steel door. Diane stood to the right. The lead operative signaled a three-count without speaking, then pulled the door open. The trio quickly entered the building. Diane saw a folding table and a few empty chairs. Whatever had been going on was long over. She felt her guard slip at the realization.
The other operatives remained on high alert. They crept through the empty space, giving hand signals as to whether to proceed or hang back. Diane heard someone whistling through a door and immediately returned to heightened awareness.
The operatives took their places to either side of the door. After another three-count, the lead operative kicked the door in. A man looked up from a pile of papers and raised his hands. “Hey, how did you—”
The operatives forced him to the ground and applied restraints to his wrists and ankles. The lead operative lifted his chin. “How many more of you are there?”
“J-just me, I swear.”
The lead operative removed something from his belt and sprayed it in the man’s face. After a moment, his eyelids drooped, and his cheek pressed against the floor. The operative nodded and signaled to Diane and the other operative to search the rest of the building.
Diane felt her pulse quicken as she left the room. Was her target nearby? If so, could she get a clean kill? Would he be alone? She tried to put such questions out of her mind and remained focused in the moment. They cleared three rooms and seemed to be on their way to clearing the fourth when two men carrying machine guns whirled around in surprise. Diane instinctively raised her sidearm and pulled the trigger, taking out the left one with a single shot to the head. The second one swore and opened fire.
Diane dove out of the way. Her fellow operative took a bullet to the chest and left leg. Diane got up on one knee and fired a second shot, dropping the hostile with a bullet to the neck. He crumpled to the ground and his gun clattered as it fell.
Diane checked on her fellow operative. He laid in a pool of blood. She shook her head, wondering why they had to wear body armor if it wasn’t preventing anyone from getting killed. Three more hostiles rushed into the room, guns drawn. Before Diane could shoot, the middle one fired and struck her in the chest. Sparks flew as the bullet impacted her armor. She looked down, expecting to see a gaping wound. The armor was intact.
She fired her weapon in rapid succession and took out the hostiles in a row. The center one writhed on the ground. Diane crept forward and kicked his gun out of reach, keeping her sidearm trained on his forehead. “Where is Booker?”
The man spat blood and curled his lips into a sneer. “Never heard of him.”
Diane stepped on his chest and pressed down, keeping the gun aimed at his head. “Matthias Booker. Where is he?”
The man smiled, then started to convulse. Diane removed her boot from his chest, but he continued shaking violently before falling eerily still. She stood over him for a moment, looking for signs of life. When she was sure he was dead, she stepped away and kicked another gun across the room in disgust.
She heard a rustling noise behind her. She spun around and fired a shot into the man’s temple as he produced a small handgun from his waistband. The lead operative burst into the room and stood at the ready to open fire.
Diane waved him off. “He’s dead. They’re all dead. Big fat waste of time.”
The operative lowered his weapon and motioned to the fallen officer. “Did you do this?”
Diane shook her head. “No, they got him. Fricking machine gun. Cut him like a butter through a hot knife.”
The lead operative cocked his head at this but said nothing. He signaled to her to follow him back to the initial engagement point. The man they had bound was beginning to regain consciousness. The lead operative turned to Diane and pointed to their captive. “Stay here and watch over him. I’ll call for the extraction team.”
“Where’s he going to go? We can do it together.”
“Negative. This is an unsecured asset. We cannot risk forfeiture. I’ll be back to assist after I complete my request.”
Diane glared at him. She wasn’t familiar with this outfit’s methods and procedures, but on a gut level something seemed off. What if more hostiles were nearby? She didn’t understand why it would be better for her to fend off another wave of attackers protecting someone who in her estimation wasn’t worth the hassle. Better to get clear of the building than to die in a pointless shootout, she decided. “How long is this going to take?”
The lead operative shrugged. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Stand guard. That’s an order. He must be taken back to base for questioning.”
“Do you think it’s going to do a lick of good?”
“That’s for the interrogation unit to determine.”
“What if he had drawn on us, and we had taken him out like the others?”
The lead operative stared at her blankly, in that she couldn’t register his facial expressions through his shiny black visor. His right hand hovered over his sidearm. “The cleanup team would process him.”
Diane nodded and fired a single shot into the bound man’s head. “Glad that’s settled.�
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The lead operative jumped back and drew his weapon. “Agent Pembrook. You were not authorized to terminate the suspect. He had valuable information we could have extracted about Booker’s activities and operation.”
“He lied about being here alone, after swearing to us. I don’t care what or who he knows.” She stepped over to the pile of papers the man had been riffling through before being caught flat-footed. “See this? This is the kind of information I’m interested in. Easier to carry.” She scooped up the papers and waved them to the lead operative. “Call in the cleanup team.”
“I don’t take my orders from you.”
“Oh, sorry, that’s my mistake.” Diane raised her sidearm and put a bullet through his chest. The operative dropped to his knees, then to the floor. Diane removed his helmet. A young man of about 25 looked up at her, his jaw trembling. “Figure the next ones will. I’ve got bulletproof armor. You’re expendable.”
She jammed his helmet back on and returned to the SUV. She got behind the wheel and fingered the comm unit as three unmarked black SUVs pulled up behind her. Four operatives poured out from the first vehicle and surrounded her, two to a side. She raised her hands and the door was thrust open. She was yanked from the SUV and marched to the rear vehicle. The rear door was pulled open and she was pushed inside. She was startled to find a man wearing a crisp black suit and a glossy white mask.
“Agent Pembrook. I believe an explanation is in order.” His voice was calm and pleasant, which Diane found jarring under the circumstances.
“The raid was a bust. Booker is long gone.”
“You terminated a vital security asset without prior clearance,” he said.
“That guy wasn’t going to give us crap. I snagged some paperwork that might tell you far more than he ever would.”
“I was referring to Agent Jackson.”
“Oh. We had a disagreement over tactics.”
“So you killed him?”
A Dangerous and Cunning Woman Page 12