Fallen Angel

by John Ling

  As they cruised down Broadway, Kendra scanned the side streets. It was a metropolitan labyrinth. There were multiple points of ingress and egress, along with plenty of room to manoeuvre, which made for countless diversions.

  Kendra checked her six.

  The car had closed in.

  It was only one vehicle-length behind now.

  They want revenge for what I did to their colleagues in the park. That’s why they’re so eager.

  Turning around, Kendra searched for the best place to stop, and she saw it coming up just ahead. It was a bus lane, where a small crowd was embarking and disembarking. Perfect.

  ‘Right there,’ she told the taxi driver as she leaned forward and pointed. ‘Behind that bus.’

  ‘That’s an illegal stop. I can’t do that.’

  She pouted and tipped her chin. ‘Aw, come on. Just this once?’

  He hesitated, then shook his head wearily. ‘Okay. For you. Just this once.’

  ‘You’re sweet.’

  As they pulled up to the sidewalk, she pressed a wad of money into taxi driver’s hand and stepped out. Plunging into the crowd, she glanced over her shoulder.

  As expected, the car on her tail had coasted to a stop as well, and two operators disembarked, fanning out in a pincer movement. They were trying to catch her from both left and right.

  Meanwhile, the operator behind the wheel started pulling away from the kerb, revving his car’s engine, trying to overtake the bus in his path.

  Kendra swallowed.

  She knew what he was planning to do.

  He wants to get ahead of me and box me in. Give his friends a chance to strike at me from behind.

  But Kendra had no intention of making it easy for them.

  She needed to disrupt that strategy and force them to reconfigure.

  So she zeroed in on the pedestrian crosswalk ahead, and without waiting for the light to turn green, she darted across the street. She zigzagged through the gaps in traffic.

  Vehicles honked.

  Somebody shouted.

  Panting, Kendra reached the sidewalk on the other side.

  She rounded the corner.

  She was now on a one-way street with traffic flowing from the opposite direction, and the car on her tail couldn’t possibly come after her. So the operator had no choice but to bypass the street and orbit around the block.

  But the operators pursuing her on foot weren’t so easily deterred. They quickly recovered from their surprise and came after her. They were widening their pincer formation now, staring hard, abandoning any pretence at being covert.

  With her heart hammering, Kendra picked up the pace to avoid being flanked.

  Because there were so many civilians around, she didn’t believe that they would use a gun. No, if they really wanted to liquidate her, it would be up close and personal with a needle or a knife.

  So don’t give them the opportunity. Just don’t.

  Kendra pivoted into the next street.

  She glanced across the road.

  For a moment, she considered detouring into the primary school just ahead. She wondered if it would give her more room to manoeuvre; more flexibility to go tactical. But, almost immediately, she dismissed the thought.

  Damn it. I can’t possibly put children in danger.

  Kendra rounded the next corner.

  Behind her, the operators were closing in fast, dodging and weaving through the crowd.

  Just ahead, the car had reappeared at the intersection, accelerating in.

  They’re gaining confidence now. They think they have me boxed in.

  Kendra craned her neck this way and that way.

  She made a snap decision.

  Go right.

  She veered off the footpath and hurried down the ramp beside her. She entered the parking garage below the Westfield shopping mall.

  The smell of exhaust tickled her nostrils, and the sound of squealing tyres filled her ears. She had only one option now – to misdirect her pursuers in the vastness of the mall itself.

  29

  Kendra ran up the escalator that led into the mall, elbowing and shouldering her way past the shoppers in her path.

  When she reached the top, she ventured deep into the complex, taking random turns before ducking into a clothing store.

  Kendra picked out a cardigan jacket, a beret cap and lightly tinted sunglasses. She paid for them and put them on immediately. Unslinging her backpack, she hand-carried it loosely by her side.

  It wasn’t a complete makeover, but at the very least, she had made herself a little less recognisable.

  As she stepped out of the store, Kendra spotted one of the operators approaching from her left.

  His movements were frantic as he sprinted from shop to shop, and his lips were moving as he spoke into his sleeve. He was obviously in radio contact with his partner, and they had split up in order to search opposite ends of the floor, trying to flush her out.

  Kendra inhaled and exhaled.

  She walked into the home-improvement store directly opposite and positioned herself at an oblique angle. She pretended to examine a display of porcelain and china.

  The operator was closing in now.

  She could see him from the edge of her eye.

  He was only a few paces away.

  She could feel her throat tightening like a screw, and her fingers were flexing.

  No sudden moves. Not yet.

  The operator lingered and performed a quick scan of the store. With his adrenaline and anxiety clouding his perception, she was counting on him not to recognise her. And he didn’t.

  Shaking his head, he moved on. His back was now turned, his attention fixed on the next store.

  Now.

  Kendra stepped out of the store and kicked him on the inside of his knee. She heard it crack, and as he fell, she glided past, snapping her knife open and cutting into his arm. She opened up his brachial artery with a nine o’clock slash.

  The operator screamed.

  Kendra slipped into the crowd, blending in.

  Confused onlookers gasped and murmured. Several people reached down to help him. For all they knew, he was a clumsy young man who had just suffered a fall. A very bad fall.

  Kendra walked away at a deliberate pace.

  Not too fast, not too slow.

  She soon spotted the other operator rushing in from the opposite direction. Predictably enough, he had come to the aid of his distressed comrade.

  Kendra stretched her lips thin and bowed her head.

  The operator passed her by.

  Kendra exhaled. She didn’t have to worry about him any longer. Because that was the beauty of crippling one pursuer. By doing so, you distracted his partner as well. And with the arterial wound she had inflicted, it was a sure bet that he would have one hell of a time trying to stem the bleeding.

  Now all Kendra had to worry about was the operator in the car. She had to assume that he would be parked right in front of the mall, covering the main entrance, trying to catch her if she exited that way. But, no, she wasn’t going to use that route. Instead she returned to the escalator and exited the mall via a side entrance.

  Eyes darting, she avoided heading back towards Broadway. Instead she threaded her way through several other streets, and once she was sure that she had acquired enough distance, she approached a cab stand.

  Kendra selected the last taxi in the row and tapped on the window. ‘Gidday. Can you take me to Mount Albert?’

  The driver lowered the Kindle he was reading. ‘Sure can. Hop on in.’

  As they pulled away from Newmarket, Kendra checked her rear.

  Nodding in relief, she slipped off her cap and her sunglasses.

  She was clean.

  Finally.

  PART THREE

  .

  30

  Mount Albert was an inner-city suburb that had been built on the remains of an extinct volcano. The streets here curved and rolled. Ethnic shops and restaurants sat o
n every corner, and the air was tinged with the scent of herbs and spices.

  Kendra had the taxi driver drop her off at the intersection of Balmoral and Dominion, and she hit the pavement, performing a surveillance-detection run.

  She looped left around the block, then looped right.

  She ventured into side lanes that led her past brick-and-tile houses, then doubled back out.

  Everything looked good. She had been clean since she got here, and she had stayed clean. And yet... she felt anxious, as if worms were crawling in her veins, chewing her from the inside out.

  What was this?

  Fear? Doubt? Paranoia?

  Blinking hard, she dug out the packet of medication that she carried in her pocket. She popped it open, palmed two pills and slapped them into her mouth. She gulped them, and they went down hard, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

  She could only hope that they would keep her going.

  But for how long?

  It occurred to her that she had pushed herself too hard already; pushed herself too far. And everything that had happened today was putting a terrible strain on her ability to cope.

  Maybe she was in real danger of falling off the edge and plunging back into madness.

  Kendra shook her head and scrunched up her face.

  I have to hold on. I have to see this thing through. For Ryan’s sake. For mine.

  She performed one last sweep before closing in on the community library. It was a squat building at the bottom of a slope, surrounded by shady trees, charming in a rustic sort of way.

  Kendra circled the library, taking the chance to peer through the windows.

  She saw only youngsters and pensioners.

  Nothing threatening.

  She made for the entrance, and the automatic doors whooshed open.

  A teenage girl with spiky hair and droopy eyes immediately approached her. ‘They say it’ll rain the day after tomorrow.’

  Kendra hesitated. She sure as hell wasn’t expecting this, but the challenge was legit. So she answered with the correct countersign. ‘It’d better rain. The grass on my lawn is turning brown already.’

  ‘Here you go.’ The girl passed her a sealed envelope, then walked away.

  Kendra tilted her head and tore open the envelope.

  She unfolded the piece of paper inside.

  It was a handwritten note from Jim Braddock.

  Meet you at the end of Lyon Avenue.

  31

  Lyon Avenue was three blocks down.

  When Kendra got there, she spotted a black Toyota SUV parked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Its engine was droning, and it flashed its headlights twice. It was a signal that it was safe to approach.

  So Kendra did.

  As she drew closer, she recognised Jim Braddock in the front passenger seat, looking craggy and grizzled like he always did. He was a bear of a man with the stillness of a Buddha.

  She recognised the guy behind the wheel as well. Adam Larsen. He looked sleek and urbane, like he had just stepped off the pages of a Hammett novel.

  Kendra popped open the SUV’s door and slipped into the back seat, she could feel an undercurrent of nervous energy in the air. It was an unspoken feeling of tension that hung heavy.

  She looked at Jim, then at Adam. ‘Well, well. Fancy meeting you gentlemen in the neighbourhood.’

  Adam thumbed his nose and gave her a thin smile. ‘Good to see you too, Kendra. Heard you got held up.’

  The concern on Jim’s face was fatherly. He reached out and touched her hand. ‘The police network’s been filled with chatter about disturbances in Remuera and Newmarket. Are you okay?’

  ‘I...’ Kendra hesitated and bunched up her shoulders. ‘It’s been rough and tumble, but I’m managing.’

  She gave Jim and Adam a rundown of events. The bombing at the department store. The firefight in the parking garage. What she uncovered at the Hosseini residence. The VAJA operators that she had to neutralise.

  When she was done, Jim exchanged a guarded look with Adam. Then he returned his gaze to Kendra. His gravelly voice was soft. ‘Little girl, I’m sorry that you had to go through all that.’

  Kendra grimaced. ‘The hardest thing was what I saw at the mansion. Those people...’ She trailed off, then swallowed. ‘And VAJA? I just can’t bring myself to believe that Ryan could have gotten himself mixed up with terrorism. Or Leila and Saeed, for that matter. It just doesn’t... fit.’

  Kendra unzipped her bag and reached into it. She dug out a stack of pamphlets. She handed some to Jim and some to Adam.

  Adam flicked through. ‘It sure looks incriminating.’

  Jim tapped his finger. ‘Or designed to appear that way.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t mean to sound indelicate here, but how much do you know about what Ryan’s been up to? I mean, since your relationship with him ended.’

  Kendra leaned back against her seat and folded her arms. ‘To be honest, not a whole lot. When I left ten years ago, Ryan was angry, heartbroken. He yelled at me. Warned me never to contact him. Never to look him up.’

  Adam nodded slowly. ‘And... that’s what you did.’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I figured it was for the best. For both our sakes.’

  ‘So you never trawled Facebook or Twitter? Just to sneak a peek at his life every now and then?’

  ‘No, never. Believe me, it was hard. Fucking hard.’ Kendra tipped her chin. ‘But, somehow, I mustered up the self-discipline never to do it. Once or twice, though, I did stumble upon the odd story about the Hosseinis in the New Zealand Herald. Their philanthropy. Their investments. But, even then, I always clicked away. I didn’t need the grief.’

  ‘No. No, I’m sure you didn’t.’ Jim exchanged another look with Adam.

  And there it was again – that cagey expression on their faces. That partaking of conspiratorial knowledge, like they were keeping something from her.

  The moment stretched into awkward silence, punctuated only by the humming of the SUV’s engine.

  Kendra thought back to how it all began.

  Jim was the father of Section One. It was a black-ops programme that combined civilian intelligence gathering with paramilitary direct action. It allowed small teams of covert operators to find, fix and finish threats anywhere, everywhere.

  Adam had been one of those shadow warriors. He was the tip of the spear. Smart enough to gather on-field intel and tough enough to transition into the wetwork.

  For all intents and purposes, Section One was a revolution. One that hit fast and hard, neutralising persons of interest, disrupting terror networks. And it laid the groundwork for a new intervention policy – why publicly commit thousands of troops for kinetic action when you can just send in a handful of quiet professionals?

  Easy in. Easy out. Seamless.

  That is, until an op went bad in Kuala Lumpur, leaving a senior officer named Nathan Raines dead. Then the powers-that-be got cold feet, and they slashed funding. They also muscled through an oversight committee and culled the herd.

  Jim was sweet-talked into retiring.

  Adam was unceremoniously dumped from Section One.

  Kendra, of course, had missed out on all the fun and games. She was already out of the game at the point. Consigned to therapy.

  In a sense, they were all in the same boat.

  They were star operatives who had been put out to pasture.

  Absolutely tragic.

  Kendra curled her lip and leaned forward. She jabbed the back of Adam’s headrest with her finger. ‘Look, I woke up this morning feeling good about myself. Like, shit, I’d actually made some progress. No more moping around. No more feeling depressed. And by lunchtime, I could actually sit in a crowded café and not suffer an automatic panic attack. And that was big for me. Huge. Because it felt like I had finally – finally – reached a milestone. I was starting to get a grip on all the bad stuff that’s been bouncing around in my head. Exorcising all the ghosts. And then...’ She shot Jim a disgruntled look. ‘Well, Ryan parachut
ed back into my life, and everything’s gone to hell. And – oh yeah – innocent people are dead.’ She cleaved the air with her hand. ‘And, suddenly, I’m dancing with smoke and mirrors, risking my life when I shouldn’t have to. And I’m wondering how someone like me goes from a cheerful morning to a shitty afternoon like this. So, for fuck’s sake, what aren’t you telling me? What?’

  Adam blinked. He opened his mouth like he was about to respond, but then he hesitated. And he turned to Jim, raising his hands in mock defeat. ‘It’s your call, Mr Wizard. But, yeah, she deserves to know.’

  Jim shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. ‘Okay. All right...’

  ‘If you’re worrying about my state of mind, well, don’t,’ Kendra said. ‘I’ve proven myself capable. More than capable. So give it to me straight, minus the sugar-coating.’

  Adam smirked. ‘She’s a tough chick. She can handle it.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Jim nodded, relenting. ‘Okay. Let’s dial back the clock a little. About six months ago, the GCSB learned that a VAJA operative, code-named Onyx, had arrived in the country. He was posing under the cover identity of Behrouz Farhadi, an Iranian businessman living in exile.’

  ‘What’s his real name?’ Kendra asked.

  ‘His real name is Karim Movahed. Former colonel in the Quds Force.’

  ‘Bad news, then.’

  ‘Very. Now, through a social dinner, Onyx makes contact with Saeed Hosseini, and from there, he touches base with Ryan. He’s looking for software engineers. A pool of talent with a very specific skillset. And Ryan’s company seems to fit the bill. This gives the GCSB the jitters, and Trevor Walsh immediately places the Hosseinis under surveillance.’

  Kendra shook her head, uneasy.

  Trevor Walsh was the director of the GCSB, which was short for the Government Communications Security Bureau. It was an agency that specialised in signals intelligence – the covert interception of data streams.

  With bases in Waihopai and Tangimoana, the GCSB’s infrastructure acted as a giant sponge, capturing and storing anything transmitted via radio waves, satellite links and hard lines. Algorithms and analysts then trawled through the data, looking for red flags.