by Heskett, Jim
Bam pointed. “You better clean that up. I’m not going to do it.” He hesitated a moment, eyeing Ember. “Why did you come to my place tonight?”
“I wanted to ask you about Gabe.”
He looked like he wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. “I see. Okay. You’ve got your answer, so you should do something about Tanner before you leave. I’m done talking.”
“Where are the bombs?”
“I already told you. Find Niles’ car.” Then his face changed, and he pointed down into the water. “Is that yours?”
Ember looked in horror as her surveillance camera and battery surfaced and bobbed in the water. No chance of using it now, so she shrugged and said nothing.
He pointed up toward his apartment. “I’ve had a long day. Tanner isn’t the only person I know who’s died today, actually. So, I’m going to load up my two-foot bong and smoke myself to sleep. If you come for me, you don’t find out where the next three bombs are. Think about that.”
Ember did, for a moment. If she could apprehend him, maybe she could torture the information out of him. But also, last time she had tried to take him, Bam had beaten her quite easily. It wasn’t worth the risk, when she couldn’t predict the outcome.
So, he marched off and Ember did nothing as he went. There didn’t seem to be a better choice than to play his game, at least for the moment. His subtle power over her was maddening, but she didn’t know what else to do about it.
Ember knelt down and grabbed the corpse—the thug formerly known as Tanner—by the arm and pulled him up out of the pool. As she did, she noted a laminated card sticking out of his back pocket. She plucked it and held it up to the lone light illuminating the pool area. It was for Ace Paintball Colorado.
Two more days until the Branch paintball event. Ember had a feeling if she didn’t find the three bombs by then, she never would.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ISABEL
DAY FIVE
Isabel watched from her rental car as Layne Parrish parked in a cul-de-sac halfway down the neighborhood street and then rounded the car to the rear passenger side. He opened the back and unbuckled the little girl from her car seat. The kid looked to be about four or five years old, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, with perfect cheekbones and perfect Caucasian skin. She looked like a doll come to life.
Layne held her hand, his massive one gently closing over her tiny one, tattoos poking out of the sleeve of his jacket, as he escorted her up the lawn to the house in Broomfield. The girl dragged a stuffed frog toy along the ground with her other hand.
Layne knocked, and a few seconds later, the door opened. There stood a slender and tall white woman, like an adult version of that little girl. She was model-gorgeous.
“Wow, Layne.” Isabel muttered to her dashboard. “Well done nabbing her.”
Layne dropped to a knee and gave the little girl a kiss, then he stood and shook hands with the grownup. The woman was not smiling, not scowling, but looking blank and in no mood for conversation. No hug, no kiss, only strained expressions and the touching of hands. These two seemed more like exes than lovers. Now that Isabel thought of it, Layne didn’t wear a wedding ring. So, he had nabbed her before, but he hadn’t held on. Or maybe this statuesque beauty was the one who’d lacked the holding-on ability. Either way, none of Isabel’s business.
Layne backed away from the front door of the house as it shut, then he paused when he met Isabel’s eyes.
From inside her car, she gave him a dip of the head, which she hoped he took to mean she wasn’t stalking him, but only wanted to talk. Layne tilted his head toward his car, which she took to mean he wanted her to follow him so they could talk somewhere else. He pulled out his keys and slid into his car.
Isabel started her rental as Layne reversed out of the cul-de-sac, and then turned deeper into the neighborhood. He drove to the end of the street where it dead-ended in a different cul-de-sac. Isabel parked in front of a house on the side. She waited a moment to make sure no one was going to burst out of a front door and yell at her for parking here, but it didn’t seem to cause any trouble.
Layne left his vehicle and pointed to a small sidewalk walkway that disappeared between two houses, out toward the open hillside behind the neighborhood. The walkway led to the top of a hill, looking out on the Front Range mountains, at walking trails and pasture in the open space. A vast valley of grass and patches of snow.
Isabel came to a stop behind Layne, who was now staring at the mountains with a slight grin on his handsome forty-ish face. The early morning light cast a yellowish hue on the peaks, still coated with white from snow fall last night. Isabel took in his girth. He had tree-trunk arms, a thick neck, tiny waist. He could have been a pro bodybuilder. Isabel wasn’t used to standing close to guys like this.
“I’ll never get tired of this view,” he said.
“Thank you for meeting with me. It’s been strange circumstances, no doubt.”
Layne turned around and met her eyes. “You might have gotten the impression, based on how difficult Serena’s been, that she and I are untrusting and calloused. Serena is not a bad person. She’s just focused on her goal, that’s all. The little team she works for? She took over my spot when I retired.”
“But you still work there sometimes?”
He tilted his head back and forth. “Yeah, I know, it’s confusing. I’d much rather spend my days pushing my daughter on a swing set, but our boss can be very persuasive. I’ve gone back for various things a few times unofficially since I officially left the team. But I’m not on the payroll or anything like that.”
“Ember told me that a couple weeks ago, she was trying to rescue a woman who had been kidnapped, and you swooped in at the last moment, rescuing her first from some torture device in a shipping facility down the street from here.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s the damnedest thing. What Ember didn’t know—what the guy who took her didn’t know—was that that woman is scheduled to be a witness in a high profile federal case against a money laundering scheme run out of Colorado Springs. Totally random; just one of those things. I did a favor for a friend in the US Marshals by getting her back safe and sound. That’s all. Obviously, I couldn’t tell Ember about it. And I found out later the guy who kidnapped her died when he walked into an oncoming delivery truck, so it seems better for everyone to keep it all quiet.”
“You do a lot of favors for friends, it seems. Like moving into Ember’s condo complex.”
Layne nodded and sucked through his teeth. “I was friends with Allison Campbell’s old handler, before he passed. He told me he was already seeing the change in her, long before she stopped reporting in and went dark. I was looking to buy a condo about a year ago, and he told me about her. So, I bought the place down the hall from hers, and I’ve been quietly keeping tabs on her since.”
“She’s been looking for you.”
He frowned. “Yeah, I know. I’ve mostly been up in the mountains. I have a cabin in the southwest part of the state, and I split time between here and there. I keep the condo in Boulder also to stay close to my daughter.”
“Dividing your time like that must be rough.”
“Yeah, but it’s all for her. And shared custody is no fun. Trust me.”
“Ember knows who you are now. She knows you weren’t her neighbor just by chance.”
Layne put his hands on his hips. “That was going to come out, eventually. How did she take it?”
“I don’t know. She’s so sarcastic all the time, I don’t know whether to believe half of what comes out of her mouth.”
“Fair enough. What can I do for you, Agent Yang?”
“I need your help. I need you to convince Serena to back off from her mission to kill Ember. The guy who hired her—Marcus Lonsdale—is not a good man.”
“Yeah, I get the feeling Serena is starting to see that, too.”
Isabel’s head twitched at this unexpected tidbit. “What makes you say that?”
“She told me you got the drop on her last week in Lyons. And she told me she tried to tackle and subdue Ember at her condo yesterday and failed. I find it hard to believe Serena would have allowed herself to be bested twice. She doesn’t make mistakes. I’ve seen her in action, and if she wants someone dead, that person better have a will drawn up already. That tells me her heart isn’t in this one. But either way, I know she’ll listen to me, so I can talk to her.”
“I appreciate that.”
He paused, then dug his hands into his pockets. “Anything else I can do to help?”
“Actually, yes. I’ve been trying to dig deeper into the other side of this, but I hit a wall. I have an FBI colleague in DC, retired, who used to be friendly to me back in my early days. He was helping me, but he came down with the flu and has been unavailable.”
“What do you need?”
“Can you help me look into Marcus Lonsdale? There’s something going on with him. It has to do with Ember, but I can’t get anywhere concrete. I can’t put together all the pieces. He has too many friends in Washington.”
Layne barked a laugh. “I’m not scared of connected guys, trust me. I don’t know this Marcus person, but if I could play profiler for a second… let me see. He’s brash, good-looking, ambitious, smooth-talking, gets promoted often while his competitors seem to vanish off to less-prestigious jobs, and he goes out for drinks with half the town?”
Isabel nodded. “That’s spot-on. Very impressive.”
"I’ve known plenty like him,” Layne said as he held out his phone to her. “Put in your number. I’ll do what I can.”
Isabel felt a rush of excitement bubble up from her toes as she accepted the phone. She didn’t know why, but talking to Layne made her feel as if everything would be okay. As if he were the sort of person who could get things done.
She entered her number and email into his phone and handed it back. “Thank you. I appreciate the help. It’s been nothing but one step forward and two steps back.”
“Yeah, I hear that, man. How is Ember?”
“Running on fumes.”
“I’m sure. Multiple people coming to kill you gets old pretty fast.” Layne took a step toward Isabel and held out a hand to shake. “Let’s see if we can’t help lighten the load for her a little.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BAM
Trucks thundered over the bridge, making it shake. The concrete structure seemed sturdy enough as tires continuously pummeled it, testing its weight.
Bam crossed underneath, going from light to shadow. He wore his jacket zipped up, both hands in his pockets. The gun was in the back of his waistband, a calculated move Niles had taught him. If you make your opponent focus on the pockets he can see, he will forget all about the real location you’ve hidden your gun.
Bam hadn’t come here to kill anyone. But he didn’t know what to expect.
Standing next to his open trunk, the Highlands member named Vaughn had one hand in his pocket, one hand on his car. He wore a hint of a smile on his face, cordial and unassuming.
Vaughn waved him forward, and Bam made a slow approach. This Highlands guy was short, squat, black, with threads of gray in his short and curly hair. He had enormous bags under his eyes, looking as if he hadn’t slept in months, and chapped lips. Bam could tell he was Highlands, though, by his button down and slacks. Those preppies were always dressed up. They didn’t have an actual dress code, as far as Bam knew, but they acted like it. According to Niles, they had started dressing that way in the 1980s to differentiate themselves from Golden, the other high-society Branch.
“You Bam?”
“That’s me. You must be Vaughn.”
“That’s what my momma calls me. But I used to get the full name, if she was mad enough.”
“I don’t want to know your last name.”
Vaughn grinned. “I don’t plan on telling you. But it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle for either of us to find out.”
“No, I guess not.” Bam came to a stop five feet away. He kept his eyes on the Highlands member, not yet looking at the trunk. “You armed, Vaughn?”
Vaughn gave a small nod of the head.
“Well, I am too. No need for us to get emotional about it. We’re here for business, not… pleasure.”
“I agree,” Vaughn said. “I’m always in favor of keeping the lines of communication open.”
“And I’m in favor of no one ever knowing I was here.”
Vaughn shrugged. “That’s your business. I don’t have anyone to tell. I would like to know what you plan to do with these detonators, though. I’m not all about the company line, but I would hope they’re not going to be used to blow up my Post Office. Or my house, or whatever.”
Bam considered his answer, looking up at the sky as charcoal clouds rolled in. The truth was, he didn’t yet know exactly what he planned to do with the detonators. There were any number of things. He could space out his last three bombs, sending Ember on a goose chase all around Denver, until the last one tore her to pieces. Or, he could park them all outside her condo and bring the building down on top of her while she slept.
Would obliterating her be a fitting tribute to his mentor Niles? Is that what he would have wanted? Not only that, but Bam also had to consider what newly departed Payton would say about it. They were both dead because of her, one directly, and one indirectly. Not to mention Tanner in the pool.
Niles and Payton had both been all about the revolution. Both of them were eager to tear down the Denver Assassins Club and all of its bloated parts, then to rebuild something simple and focused and profitable. That’s what Niles used to say, at least.
Based on everything Niles knew and had seen, Bam should have been all about the revolution, too. But he wasn’t sold. It seemed like a lot of hassle to replace the old thing with a new thing that probably wouldn’t be much different, anyway.
“Well?” Vaughn asked.
“You’ve got nothing to fear from me. What I’m doing with these is my business, but I don’t have any reason to come after you.”
Vaughn’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. “I know about Five Points’ reputation.”
“That we’re psychos? That we’re a bunch of nihilist weirdos who want to see the world burn to a crisp?”
Vaughn said nothing as a truck thundered ahead, making the concrete structure above them shake and rattle.
“I’m not a psycho,” Bam said. “I’m not out to hurt people for no reason. But you look like a smart guy.”
“I like to think so. Smells like revolt in the air, if you ask me, though.”
“You have to know something is coming,” Bam said. “Maybe it’s nothing, or maybe it’s all going to hit the end of the line soon. And you have to think about where you want to be when that happens. I’m not a revolutionary, but I would like to end up on the side of the living.”
Vaughn glanced down at his trunk, where Bam could see a lone suitcase sitting there. “Times is hard, that’s for sure. Is that what this transaction is for? You need detonators for a coup?”
Bam pursed his lips. He did not like how curious Vaughn was about everything. He had expected to walk up, drop off his money, and walk away with a trio of detonators. Not all this chit-chat. “I don’t think that’s your business.”
“Come on, now, don’t get upset. We’re just talking here. You could tell me it’s all about hunting Ember Clarke, if you want. I know your Branch is after her this week. We had her two weeks ago. Quinn was our guy. He was one messed-up freak, if you ask me, so it’s no wonder he failed. Shit, nobody else wanted the contract to begin with. Highlands has no beef with Ember Clarke.”
“I heard about Quinn. He let his personal feelings get in the way of doing his job.”
“And how about you, Bam? Are you level-headed? You going to stay on track and take her out?”
Bam flexed his jaw. This Vaughn guy had a never-ending stream of questions. And this meeting was starting to make the hairs on the back of
Bam’s neck stand up, and not only from the grinding and ceaseless traffic noise overhead.
Vaughn beamed. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Something in that smile didn’t sit right. It felt smarmy and condescending.
Another truck rolled over the bridge, noisy and harsh, and it made the whole thing shudder. Bam whipped his hand back to pull his gun. He got three fingers around the grip and freed it from the back of his waistband.
By the time Vaughn had caught on and started to draw his own, Bam had his Sig Sauer out and pointed at Vaughn’s chest. Finger on the trigger, with a round already in the chamber, ready to go.
He pulled the trigger two times, making the Highlands member stumble back. Mouth open, shock on his face. Vaughn grunted to lift his arm to point his revolver, so Bam pulled the trigger two more times.
Vaughn’s arm and his body both dropped, his chest full of holes and covered in blood. His head came to rest against the rear passenger tire, keeping his face angled upward, staring in rage at Bam. But while he bled, his arms stayed at his sides and he didn’t make any effort to stand. Four bullets were enough. His eyes were still wide open, even as the life rushed out of him.
Bam wondered what would happen if the Review Board knew he was here. What punishment would they give him? He had an equal chance of receiving an execution order and a slap on the wrist. That was the haphazard and unpredictable way the Board did everything. They claimed to be all about the rules and strict adherence to them, but it was a crap-shoot.
With the noise from the bridge, Bam had barely heard the gunshots. His ears rang, though. And now, his heart pumped, adrenaline coursed through him, and he felt light on his feet. He felt good. Powerful. Hungry. He wanted to empty the Sig’s magazine into Vaughn, but there wasn’t any point in that.
He’d gone from a blank and empty feeling in his chest to feeling vibrant and alive. It was better than any drug he’d ever had.