Vendetta Target: Six Assassins Book 5

by Heskett, Jim

  Jack Rothman was not a member of the Denver Assassins Club, but he had worked with Ember and other members so many times, she felt like he was a rare outsider she could talk to. Like the Oracle, but without the testiness. But he also didn’t know she had actually come to the DAC as an undercover FBI Agent, so she left that part about Marcus Lonsdale out of the Serena story.

  “That’s about it,” she said.

  Jack gave her a wry smile. “You have a boyfriend, eh? Come to get him a bracelet? Maybe a nice necklace?”

  “Really? That’s what you took from that story? I tell you I’m being hunted by at least three separate killers, and you want to know about the guy I’m dating?”

  “I can’t help it, Ember. I’m a romantic. Plus, I know you can survive a few assassins trying to get the best of you, but marriage? All dolled up in a white dress with your hair braided down your back? I’d buy tickets to that show.”

  Ember ignored him and continued on. “I didn’t even tell you the worst part. My recruit was murdered in a motel room five days ago, shot and left to bleed out on top of a dirty bedspread.”

  Jack’s buoyant smile vanished. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Yeah, me too. It was like losing my little brother all over again.”

  “Awful. Just awful.”

  “But the world hasn’t stopped spinning, so I’m here.”

  Jack patted his belly and spread a smaller and more reserved smile. “You’re not here to see old Jack for stimulating conversation though, eh? You must need something.”

  “Right. I didn’t come for jewelry. I need something from the back room.”

  “Of course,” he said as he took a few steps back and pulled the curtain to the side. “Follow me to my chamber of wonders.”

  Jack led her into the back room, which contained benches and tools for making jewelry, and then a separate section of locked cabinets for special customers. There were so many cupboards and boxes and chaotic shelves here, no one would ever suspect the lethal implements hidden inside those locked cabinets.

  “What are we in the mood for?”

  “There’s this guy after me. He has a thing for bombs. He says he has three more planted around Denver, and I’ve got three days left to find them. I tried to slap a bug on him, but he found it. At least, I think he did. Or else the battery conked out early, because of the cold, maybe?”

  “You need a better bug.”

  Ember nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I have a feeling if I can get surveillance up in his house, he’ll say something to lead me where I’m supposed to go. Also, I have a feeling he may just be blowing smoke, and he might not actually have the bombs.”

  Jack pushed out his lips for a few seconds. “I have just the thing for quiet and unobtrusive surveillance.” He unlocked a drawer and removed something that looked like a tiny flexible flashlight with a clear bulb on one end, about two inches long, connected via a cord to a rectangular plastic thing the size of a deck of cards. He held up the stick-like end. “Camera. Audio recorder." He held up the rectangular box. “Battery pack. You can disconnect this if you plug it directly to a power source, but this pack on its own gives you eight hours record time and almost fifty hours on standby. It’s motion and voice activated. Very efficient. You cannot go wrong with this. I can send you a link to download the monitoring software.”

  He held it out and Ember accepted it. She turned it over in her hands. The pack was heavy for such a small object. The monitoring software would be a problem, as that sort of thing had always been Gabe’s domain. Maybe Fagan could assign someone to help her out with installing it and running it.

  “Target live in a house or an apartment?” Jack asked.

  “Apartment.”

  “Your best bet is to put it somewhere low, like in his wall. Tunnel through the neighbor’s apartment, if you need to. Better yet: stash it inside a baseboard heater so you can piggyback on the power source. If only the camera end is sticking out, he’ll never notice it.”

  “That’s smart. Thank you, Jack.”

  “No problem, baby girl. I’ll put it on your tab.”

  Ember nodded. “I appreciate the credit, but I’d like to settle up now. I’m not so sure if I’ll be around to pay in another day or two.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ISABEL

  Isabel Yang stretched in her car as the sun set. She wasn’t sure why she was sitting in the parking lot of the Millennium hotel. She had a room here for the entire week, and it was warm and cozy. But she couldn’t see Ember’s condo from her window. They were full up due to a conference, and she couldn’t change rooms.

  Out here in the parking lot, she had an unobstructed view of the front. The weather so far today had been better than her heat on/heat off escapades from before, so she wasn’t uncomfortable. But it wasn’t ideal.

  Since the awkward exchange with Serena Rojas yesterday outside of the burrito shop, Isabel had been trying to track her. So far, no luck. But if Ember did come back to her condo, Isabel expected Serena would try to find her here.

  Also, Isabel had been spending her time researching their mutual boss, Marcus Lonsdale. He had made no contact with her for going on two weeks now. His secretary still had dumb reasons why he wasn’t available. Others who might know of his whereabouts were either ignorant, or feigning ignorance.

  Isabel wasn’t buying a word of it. His cold shoulder had repercussions, however. Isabel had had difficulty accessing other resources in Washington. After two or three off-putting phone calls to colleagues back in DC, she had decided her circle of trust had to be pulled in to the absolute minimum. No telling who Marcus could have poisoned against her.

  What was he doing? Would he stay out of contact and ignore Isabel forever? It literally wasn’t possible. They were both due in DC next Monday to provide an update on the presentation they had given four weeks ago about organized crime in Denver. What would happen then, if they were in the same building at the same time? Obviously, he wouldn’t cop to having her followed. He would have some excuse about this whole messy exchange.

  Or maybe Marcus would have her fired. Maybe she would show up and Security wouldn’t allow her in the building, and Marcus would give some crap answer about serious dereliction of duty, with faked emails and a record of write-ups he’d doctored to make it seem as if she’d had a streak of insubordination. Isabel didn’t know what to expect; she hadn’t set foot in Washington since learning about Serena Rojas. If someone had a problem with her extended trip to Denver, no one had said a word.

  Isabel had received her direct deposit paycheck last Friday, so she hadn’t been fired or cut off yet.

  Her eyes flicked wide open when Ember parked in front of her condo building and labored out of the car. Her shoulders were slumped, her gait meandering as she ascended the stairs, using the guide rail for help. She had seemingly aged a decade since Isabel had first met her, months ago.

  She seemed like someone beaten down.

  Ember tossed a look over to Layne Parrish’s front door, the neighbor she had known as the “hot tattooed guy” for an extended period. Isabel knew who he really was. Ember still had no idea.

  As Ember paused at the walkway landing atop the stairs to remove her keys from her purse, a shadow sped across the parking lot in the waning light. A figure moving with extreme speed.

  Isabel sat up straight, her senses on full alert.

  She opened her car door and jumped out, making sure her pistol was in the shoulder holster under her jacket. She raced across the hotel parking lot adjacent to Ember’s lot. For a few seconds, the building obscured her view. Her feet splashed puddles full of icy water as she ran.

  Once she had cleared the obstruction, she saw Ember standing in front of her door, about to insert a key. Serena, like a ninja in all black, sprang up the stairs after her. The stairs did not shake or make any noise to alert Ember.

  Isabel sucked in a deep breath to shout, but Ember opened her door and disappeared ins
ide. As she tried to shut the door behind her, Serena darted in after her. Like a flash, then gone. The building returned to its silent state.

  Isabel broke out into a full sprint, despite the slick pavement under her feet. She grabbed the railing to the second floor and bounded up the stairs, two at a time. At the top, she used the railing to pivot and race down the walkway. The concrete jiggled under her feet.

  Isabel skidded to a stop outside Ember’s door and drew her pistol as she jumped into the open doorway. When she could see in, the action was already underway in the apartment.

  Serena laid a left hook on Ember, who then reacted with a punch to Serena’s gut. Serena reached a hand toward her back to grab something, and Ember jumped forward, trying to take the advantage. She grabbed Serena’s other hand and jerked it toward her and then up, twirling Serena around so she faced the other direction.

  At that moment, both Serena and Ember were both now looking at Isabel who had appeared from nowhere, confused looks on their faces at the surprise figure standing in the open doorway.

  The confusion didn’t last — the fight continued. Ember jabbed Serena’s arm up, causing the hired assassin to yelp. Then Ember wrapped both her arms around Serena in a tight embrace from behind, and they toppled to the floor. Serena on top, with Ember’s ankles locking out Serena’s knees. Ember’s hands looped under Serena’s armpits and then behind her head, forcing her arms into the air.

  Serena launched an elbow into Ember’s side. The FBI Agent on the floor growled in pain, but she did not let go of her captive.

  Isabel aimed her pistol. “Don’t move. Either of you.”

  Serena went slack immediately, but Ember held firm. She didn’t release, but she stopped fighting. They both held in place, panting, eyes on the woman with the gun.

  “Isabel?” Ember asked, coughing and wheezing. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to save your life.”

  “I was doing just fine. Who the hell is this on top of me?”

  “Serena Rojas,” Isabel said as she kicked the door closed behind her. “Let her go. We’re going to all shift a few feet away from each other so we can have a civil conversation like adults, with no punching, no kicking, and no triggers pulled, okay?”

  Ember complied, moving her ankles outward to release Serena’s legs, then Ember gave the government assassin a shove to the side. Ember quickly scooted away until she bumped into her couch. Ember wiped spit from the corner of her mouth, chest heaving.

  Serena landed on her back, then she turned over. Isabel took a step forward and pointed the gun. “Serena. Don’t.” She waved the pistol over toward a framed picture on the wall to the right of the door. “You go stand over there.”

  “Would you really shoot me, Agent Yang?” Serena said, strangely calm. She wasn’t even out of breath. She rose and slinked over to her assigned spot. They were now in a triangle, each one at least five feet from the others.

  “I’ll shoot if I have to.”

  Ember pushed herself into a sit against the couch. “Okay, so Isabel told me about you, but I didn’t realize you two were acquainted. How come I didn’t hear you until you were right behind me, Serena? Were you on top of the building?”

  Serena shook her head. “I’m good at what I do. I came up right behind you. You had no clue.”

  “Clearly. Would I be dead if Isabel hadn’t come to my rescue?”

  Serena pursed her lips, breathing and staring, but she did not answer the question.

  Ember wiped the spot on her face where Serena had punched her. “It might surprise you to learn this, but you’re not the only person trying to kill me this week. I hope that doesn’t make you feel less special.”

  Serena glared and still said nothing.

  “Who are you?” Ember asked.

  “I work for a small team in Washington. So focused and invisible that it doesn’t have a name. That’s all I’m willing to say.”

  “Tell her about Layne Parrish,” Isabel said.

  Ember’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Serena, eyes wide, leaning forward. “What do you know about Layne Parrish? Do you know where he is? He’s my neighbor, but he disappeared a couple weeks ago. Kind of in grand fashion, too, actually.”

  Serena still said nothing. Her eyes darted back and forth between Isabel and Ember, as if still trying to size up the situation and plan her next move.

  “Layne and Serena work for the same team in DC. They’re both spies.”

  Serena seethed at Isabel. “Damn you, Yang. It’s not your place to say that.”

  Ember sat back and let out a big breath. “A spy?” Her mouth hung open as her eyes darted back and forth across the ceiling, processing the information. “That makes so much sense, actually. If he was trying to work me, or turn me into an asset, he took his sweet-ass time. I think we were neighbors for almost a year before we ever actually spoke.”

  “He wasn’t trying to work you,” Isabel said. “Just keeping an eye on you as a favor for people in the FBI. Not Marcus, though. I said the name and Layne had no idea who I was talking about.”

  Ember pointed at Serena. “But you know who Marcus is, don’t you? He hired you to kill me, an FBI agent deep undercover investigating a possible link between the DAC and international terrorism. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up?”

  “I’m not sure what I think,” Serena said, biting her lower lip. “You don’t seem like you’re working too hard to accomplish your goal. And Layne is retired, by the way. He has nothing to do with active operations, or the FBI, or Marcus Lonsdale.”

  She spread her legs out a little wider, and Isabel tensed her pistol arm. She kept her finger off the trigger, but close enough.

  Serena held up a hand. “No need, Agent Yang. I’m leaving.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me what a badass you are,” Ember said, her eyes shooting daggers at Serena. “I don’t see it.”

  The government assassin scowled, and then she tensed for a split second. Isabel barely had time to notice it happening. In a flash, Serena shifted across the carpet toward Isabel. Five feet in a fraction of a second, like a blur of black fabric. Serena’s fist shot out and grabbed the barrel of her pistol, then she jerked it out of Isabel’s hand. It was ripped away in an instant. Before Isabel could draw a breath to gasp, Serena had ejected the magazine and the round in the chamber. Then she lowered the gun and let it tumble to the carpet. It thumped when it hit, breaking the silence.

  All the while, this hired killer kept her eyes on Ember. The whole series of movements had taken less than one second.

  Ember whistled. “Okay, that was impressive.”

  “Now, I’m leaving,” Serena said.

  “Will I see you after this?” Ember asked. “Please say the answer is no. I have no desire to fight you again.”

  “I’m undecided about my next steps,” Serena said through clenched teeth.

  “Fair enough. Tell Layne I said hi. And that I’m not mad at him for lying to me for a year. Maybe not that last part. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m mad at him about that.” She paused as her eyes drifted down to Serena’s feet. “Also, I like your shoes. Can I ask where you got them?”

  Serena looked from Isabel to Ember and then back again. She ran a hand through her dark hair to smooth it, then she turned toward the door.

  “Fine, don’t tell me about the shoes,” Ember said as she lifted a hand to wave goodbye. “Please don’t try to kill me again.”

  Once Serena had left the room, Ember breathed out a sigh. “Maybe you should have shot her. I don’t think that’s the last time we’ll have to deal with Serena Rojas. Especially not if she has moves like that.”

  Isabel wiped a hand down her face, and then retrieved her weapon. “I’m working on it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  WELLNER

  David Wellner paced. Six tokens ringed the table, from the President, Vice President, Switchboard Secretary, Historian, Chief Administrator, and Policy Sheriff. Al
l the Board members of the DAC, the ones responsible for maintaining and upholding the legacy established by the Club’s founder and early governing body, almost sixty years ago.

  This room in the Denver Consolidated Holdings building had no windows—for security purposes—but it felt especially dim and bleak this evening. Wellner remembered the days when they used to smoke in here, back when he was only a Branch rep. A nicotine fog would hover under the lights, menacing and chalky. While those times were gone, nothing could make this room feel lively and comforting.

  This evening, there were no Branch reps present, since this was not a disciplinary meeting of the Review Board. This was more of a “state of the union” sort of gathering, called by Vice President Jules Dunard to talk about the growing tension and isolated incidents of violence which were becoming less and less isolated.

  Wellner understood the subtext of this meeting: he was losing control over the Denver Assassins Club. The Branches had long tossed bylaws out the window in favor of doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. But lately, openly flaunting traditions had become the norm.

  And David Wellner was the captain of the ship on this descent into anarchy. In the eyes of the Board, all of this was his fault. That’s what he assumed they were thinking, anyway.

  Wellner paced because he didn’t know how to sit still at the moment. He didn’t know how to look Jules in the eye, since he had tried to have her killed twenty-four hours ago during a botched assassination attempt at her home. If he met her gaze, he would find out if she knew. And right now, he couldn’t handle that.

  Whatever was to be done about Jules Dunard, now was not the time. He would have to eventually tackle the monumental problem of his Vice President, but it was too risky at the moment. He was still astounded she hadn’t said anything about it yet.

  So, he walked in circles around the table, hands behind his back, his belly pushing against his button-down shirt, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. Heart beating like a chainsaw ripping. Lap after lap, listening to people around the table talk and trying to process their words, while the sounds mostly passed over him like water.