by Heskett, Jim
But he knew he was tired of being a prisoner in motel rooms.
He stood and took his coat from next to the front door, then emerged out onto the walkway. A biting cold sizzled his bones. Snow everywhere, still. Even with the sun overhead, the air plumed in front of his mouth when he breathed.
Zach headed for the business center, an amenity this motel had that the last place lacked. Next to the front office, his keycard let him into the closet-sized room with a printer, computer, and a boxy-looking thing that was apparently a fax machine. Zach had never actually seen one of those before in real life, just in old movies. He’d certainly never tried to use one. The only fax he’d ever sent he’d done completely online, without needing an actual machine besides his laptop.
The desktop CPU tower was one of those beige-tinted ones, like all ancient computers were, and Zach wondered if there was a desk on the planet strong enough to support this beast’s weight — it sat on the floor beneath the table. The monitor perched above the gargantuan computer tower had a screen that curved inward at the edges, like old televisions. He was a little afraid that if he tapped on the clacky keyboard too hard, it might collapse into dust.
He first pivoted the webcam sitting on top of the computer monitor to face the wall, then moved the mouse around to wake up the computer. He had to blink a few times to get his LASIK-adjusted eyes to focus right. Zach typed his room number and last name to access. He had checked into the motel under the name Paul Walker and had paid with Ember’s cash, so he didn’t worry about this activity tracking back to him. Mostly. He worried a little, because it wasn’t too long ago he had used a public computer at the library in Fort Collins and had ended up being tossed out for researching Firedrake and Draconis. And that had led to child porn being planted in his apartment.
Was his apartment all closed up? He hadn’t paid the rent, and his landlord had a no-tolerance policy. The old guy had reminded Zach about it several times.
If he went to his place, would he find a crew of goons sitting outside in an unmarked car? Even if he did, what would they do to him? His apartment always had plenty of people out and about. Plenty of potential witnesses to a potential kidnapping.
Zach waited an eternity for the computer to think, chugging and clicking and making weird humming sounds. Eventually, the web browser loaded the website for one of his classes. Early Childhood Education. Zach didn’t care much about childhood education, but it was an easy elective to add three more credit hours to the total. This professor wasn’t a stickler about attendance, and she put lectures and homework on the website. It was always nice to have an easy class to look forward to each week.
Zach clicked on a PDF handout, but when the computer tried to open the file, he received an error message that there was “NO PDF READER INSTALLED.”
“You kidding me?” he said, squeezing the mouse a little too hard. How could he view handouts if he couldn’t open them on this damn computer? He was supposed to read and make comments on this document by Friday.
He returned to the internet to download and install a PDF reader, but soon found he lacked the admin permission to install software on this public computer. At his apartment, he had a modern and functional laptop lying dormant on his coffee table. One that would have no problems opening a PDF file. But Ember said to stay away from his apartment. Stay away from campus, and anywhere else that could get him into trouble.
What could he do if he couldn’t get access to the things he needed? Miss assignments and tank his grades for the semester?
Zach sat back and ran his hands through his hair, staring at the error message on the screen.
Chapter Three
EMBER
The assassin strolled into her mentor Fagan’s kitchen, staring at the two mugs of tea on opposite ends of the small table. Snakes of steam rose from each, curling and then disappearing into the air. Dozens of times Ember had sat at this table, receiving counsel from the elder Fagan, talking over contracts and Club bylaws and trading gossip about people they knew.
Fagan, her mutilated facial flesh freshly moisturized, stood at one end of the table. She was wearing a bulky blue hoodie and black sweatpants. A frown darkened half of her face, or the half of her face capable of frowning. Her lip quivered, her one good eye wet.
“I’m so sorry, Ember.”
“Me, too. For all of us. It’s not just my loss.”
“But you knew Gabe better than anyone.”
“I’ve seen more than a few Boulder Branch members die in my tenure, but never a recruit. And never when I had no idea who killed him. That’s the thing that sticks in my gut more than anything. Was he killed by someone in the Club trying to get at me? Was it something stupid, like a robbery gone bad?”
“I had a recruit once, a woman named Jyllian. I’ve had lots of recruits over the years, obviously. Not like this one, though. She was all full of fire and brimstone and contradictions, a bar-brawling angry woman who liked poetry and roller derby and kittens and dipped Skoal. By her second week, she knew every one of the Club’s bylaws inside and out. By her fifth week, she was nearly done with training and I was convinced she was going to be DAC President someday. Then something went wrong on a contract. Something inane like a civilian saw the wrong thing and called the cops. She had to make a split-second decision and ate a bullet rather than go to jail. That one hit me pretty hard, but that’s how it is sometimes.”
“But you know who killed her.”
Fagan nodded as she sat and beckoned Ember to join her at the table. “True. That’s the difference.”
Ember sat and sniffed her tea, letting the damp aroma drift into her nostrils. She held the mug until the heat penetrated, stinging her palms. Part of her wanted to hurl it against the wall. Maybe if she were at home in her condo, she would have. Fagan probably wouldn’t appreciate a tea stain on her kitchen wall.
“I want you to move in with me,” Fagan said.
“Oh, but my dear Fagan, I don’t know if I like you in that way yet.”
The older woman scowled. “I’m serious. Don’t go back to your condo, at least until this matter with the third-party assassin has been handled. You have to consider what is an acceptable risk.”
Ember sipped her tea and thought about it. As she had attempted escape from last week’s assassin’s house, Ember had encountered a hitman she had never seen before. The working theory was this man was someone sent by Zach’s employer, Thomas Milligan. But that was only a theory. He hadn’t been a Club member, as far as Ember knew.
So, he could have been anyone from anywhere. That uncertainty bothered her the most.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to move in here. I’ve handled myself okay so far. I’ve seen your guest bedroom, and your mattress looks lumpy. I don’t know it for a fact, but it sure looks lumpy.”
“There’s a pea underneath it I would happily remove for you, my princess.”
Ember stared blankly back at Fagan. It wasn’t often the older woman tried to tell a joke, and it was even more of a unicorn for the joke to be a funny one. She wished she could give her mentor the satisfaction, but no smile came to Ember’s lips.
Fagan continued, unfazed. “Still. If your friend’s employer is out for you, then the rules are different. They will not abide by Assassins Club standards. Let’s eliminate as many variables as we can.”
“Don’t you remember my first week of this black spot? That sniper assassin from Westminster Branch tried to kill me in my apartment. He even killed my next-door neighbor, that asshole.” Ember looked up to see Fagan still scowling, still giving her that disapproving-schoolteacher eye. “The assassin was the asshole, not the neighbor. The neighbor was fine.”
“It’s not worth the risk. Look at it objectively.”
“Sure,” Ember said, if only to end this part of the discussion. “I’ll stay with you. Just for a little while.”
“Good. Your friend, Zach. Tell me—”
Ember held up a hand. “It’s personal. Nothing to do with the Club. I’d l
ike to keep it that way. Next topic.”
Fagan paused, then said, “Fair enough. But you wouldn’t be the first Club member to have a ‘personal’ entanglement get in the way of her regular duties. That’s all I’m saying. As someone in the middle of an extended trial by combat, I would think you would be keenly aware of that fact.”
Ember pursed her lips. “You’d think.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah. I don’t know why I’m being so sarcastic, because I know you’re just looking out for me.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Ember sighed. “I’ve always been the sort of person with too many balls in the air. It just feels normal to me.”
“I want to stay focused on what’s in front of you. There will be plenty of time for ‘friends’ later, but only if you survive the next two weeks. Let’s keep it simple.”
“Simplifying my life sounds like a great plan. I’ll put it on the to-do list.”
“Also, I will look into Gabe’s death. I don’t want you to distract yourself with it, with Bam coming after you. I will keep you updated, of course, but you stay on task.”
“Maybe that’s for the best. What do you know about this ‘Bam’ character?”
“His name is Brody Jenks. He’s young, I know that. Early twenties, was arrested for selling narcotics a few years ago, has an affinity for smoking pot. He’s skinny and lanky, but he’s well-versed in martial arts. He’s a fifth-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do.”
“Really? At his age? That’s impressive.”
Fagan nodded and sipped her tea.
“What else?”
Fagan shrugged. “Not much. He hasn’t been around long enough to have much of a history. He’s been at Five Points for a year or so. But in that short time, he’s earned a reputation as a shoot first and ask questions later sort of assassin.”
“That helps explain why he chose to hitch his wagon to the savages at Five Points. Not many of them are the sort of people you’d ask to give a eulogy at your funeral.”
“And Niles Thisdell was his mentor, which is why he’s on you this week. It’s personal for him, which is another layer to consider.”
“Last week, Veronica went after me out of revenge. I killed a civilian by accident, and Veronica claimed I’d mistakenly offed her sister. It was personal for her, too.”
Fagan flexed her jaw. “How are you doing with that?”
“I can’t think about it. I don’t kill civilians. If I stop to dwell on how guilty I feel over doing it, I’ll crumble. So, I’m keeping it locked up in a little box inside my head.”
“I completely understand.”
“Anyway, on the surface, it looks like Bam is doing the same revenge thing, but this feels different. I don’t get the sense that Bam has a grand plan. And I’m not sure if that makes him more dangerous or less dangerous.”
“Plan on it making him more dangerous, just to be safe.”
“And he had the strangest… coldness to his voice. Kinda disaffected, I guess?” Ember sipped her tea. “He told me there’s a bomb in Denver, and it goes off unless I can find it by tonight. He told me to look at ‘Niles’ favorite spot’ or something like that, but I have no idea where to look. Any clue what that could mean?”
Fagan’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I have an idea about where that is.”
“You do? How in the world do you know that?”
“Remember when I had a contact lean on Niles’ doctor to get info about Niles’ cancer diagnosis?”
“Yeah?”
“The doc told my guy that Niles did something really weird. Three different times, he took business cards out of his pocket to scribble notes, and all three times, it happened on the back of business cards for some place near downtown called ‘Pink Door.’ It’s a strip club.”
“A strip club? Niles?”
Fagan nodded. “That’s the one. It’s not too far from the Five Points Post Office, actually.”
“Interesting.” Ember traced a finger around the rim of her tea mug. “Seems a little thin, though.”
“It happened three times. Enough for the doctor to notice. Why would he have three cards for this place if he didn’t hang out there often?”
Ember sighed. “I take your point. It’s still thin.”
“You have something better?”
“No, I guess I don’t. I hope it turns out to be a good lead, because if I don’t find this bomb by midnight, then I don’t see my week getting better from there.”
Chapter Four
WELLNER
DAC President David Wellner stood in the parking garage and adjusted his glasses. He was in the northwest corner, far from his car, far from the elevator up to his office in the Denver Consolidated Holdings Building. He was even far from his security detail, who he had ordered up to his office since returning from lunch.
Every day, he tried to rely on them less and less. They were like a pair of crutches, keeping his legs from regaining full strength by struggling through the pain on his own.
Standing in this parking garage alone frightened him, but it was a good sort of fear. Not that it made him feel good, but it was a necessary fear. One that Wellner needed to face. Only a couple weeks ago, a deranged DAC member had made an attempt on his life in this same parking garage. He kept hearing those footsteps, kept smelling the scent of his secretary’s pepper spray, unintentionally seeping into his lungs while she defended him against the attack.
And for two weeks, Wellner had believed his Vice President Jules had sent that man to kill him so she could steal his office. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The man had allegedly attempted to assassinate Wellner because of a personal grudge. But all signs had pointed to Jules. Could it not be her? If it weren’t, then Wellner had greatly underestimated the general level of anger in the DAC at the moment.
The elevator opened, and dress heels clacked on the concrete. At first, Wellner felt his pulse skyrocket, since he couldn’t see the elevator from here. It was hidden behind a column. He leaned to spy past the obstruction and then saw her. Naomi. She was wearing a bulky wool coat that hid her curvy frame, but she still sashayed with a swagger that got his speedy heart pumping a little harder.
After hiring her, he’d felt a few days worth of guilt, that maybe he had only done so because of her looks. There had been other candidates on an equal level at the time. But he had chosen her, and she had saved his life, so hindsight seemed to have proven her to have been the perfect choice.
That she was a stunner in any outfit was just gravy on top.
Naomi was grinning, holding a clipboard in one hand. Wellner leaned back against the wall, letting a breath eke out from between his lips. The walk from the elevator to his chosen spot in the garage seemed to take forever.
“Afternoon, sir,” she said in a low voice as she came to a stop in front of him. Her lips were red, wet, and plump.
“How was your lunch?”
She made a face. “Lots of traffic, with all the snow everywhere.”
“Yeah. Never seen a blizzard this early in the season before. How is your family thing? You know, from the other day?”
She blushed a little, which he took to mean she was impressed with him asking about non-work matters. They rarely talked about their personal lives, and for good reason. But while Wellner had mostly good intentions with his secretary, he did need to be on his guard. Trust no one. Not even the people closest to him, as Naomi had taken an unexpected leave during the day to attend to a personal issue. Security had investigated and found nothing suspicious. Didn’t hurt to follow up, though, and to keep an eye on her.
“Good, David. Everyone is good. Thank you for asking. I don’t know if you heard this newest development, but Golden has filed their second complaint about someone breaking into the Post Office last week. Gabe from Boulder Branch.”
“Yes, I saw that. Let’s put them off about that for as long as we can. I don’t have the headspace to deal with them right now.” He pointed at th
e clipboard. “Is that good news or bad news?”
“Ember Clarke’s week four black spot results.”
Wellner accepted the clipboard and scanned it. Ember Clarke had killed Veronica Acevedo at her home yesterday morning in Golden. He already knew all of this after a meeting with Ember’s mentor, Fagan. Still, he had to sign the document so it could go into a file folder somewhere, to be stored in an archive no one would ever open again or even care about. Almost sixty years of DAC tradition dictated as much.
“Is there anything on the unnamed third-party hitman who was there while Ember was escaping?”
Naomi shook her head. “No, sir. Definitely not a member of the Club. I was hoping to interview Ember about it, but she hasn’t returned my calls so far. I’ll try her again today, if you’d like.”
“I wouldn’t expect her to be responsive about coming in for a sit-down. It’s possible this person had some personal grudge against Veronica, or… it could be because of our other thing.”
Wellner knew he didn’t need to spell it out for Naomi. He had suspected this hitman might have had something to do with Jules. He had no proof and didn’t think there was a way to acquire genuine proof of it. But sending a hitman to interfere with the trial by combat seemed exactly like the sort of thing she would do. Any chance to embarrass Wellner in the eyes of the Review Board and take him down a notch, she would do it.
“Could be,” Naomi said. “I have an update on that, but there was one other thing first. It’s not just Golden Branch upset. There were reports this morning about a fight breaking out between members of Westminster Branch and members of Highlands. No one died, but a couple of Highlands members are in the hospital. They’re in serious condition.”
“Shit. How many is that now?”
“That makes eight incidents in the last two weeks, with half of those only coming to light in the last couple days. Three different Branches have been involved so far. It’s not only the number of incidents that’s increasing, it’s the severity. Several on the Board want to schedule additional sessions this week to talk through all these recent events.”