Ethan Justice: Origins (Ethan Justice #1)

by Simon Jenner

  “I said who else knows?” Fisher shrieked, his face still staring at his own feet like he was ... like he was what?

  Ashamed. That was it. The twitching maniac was ashamed that others knew about his sordid secret. He was so ashamed that he couldn’t look John in the face. John seized the moment and raised his gun.

  “Put the weapon down, Fisher.”

  “Who else knows?” Fisher repeated, his head jerking like a nodding dog on a car dashboard, refusing to look up at John. “Tell me who else knows. They all ... they all have to die.”

  It was John’s chance. The man was lost in his own world of crazy. So why couldn’t he pull the trigger?

  “Put the gun down,” John repeated at the top of his voice.

  Fisher looked up, and shock spread across his face. His enemy had turned the tables. John was transfixed by the writhing face whose cheeks, lips, eyelids and nose convulsed. At the last moment, he saw Fisher’s arms raise the gun. John didn’t feel himself pull the trigger. A piercing whine sounded, and a half inch circular hole appeared in the centre of Fisher’s forehead.

  For the briefest of moments, John could see through the hole to the newsstand and another hole beyond before blood and brains filled the space, blocking the view and Fisher’s body crumpled to the hard floor. A wisp of smoke floated from the hole in Fisher’s head as the brain matter oozed out behind it.

  “That’s for Mark, you sick bastard,” John said, marching towards the dead body. He bent down and removed the gun from Fisher’s hand. He pulled the grip clear of the barrel and firing mechanism, noticing that both dials were set to maximum. He might not have died alone if Fisher had fired first.

  John looked across to Savannah where two members of an ambulance crew were seeing to her wound. When did they turn up? She was sitting up and talking to them. He could see Johnson talking to an armed police officer. Before he could make a move, a burly police officer snapped handcuffs on him from behind. John looked up to the ceiling of the station but aimed his annoyance at the heavens beyond.

  “Oh come on!” he yelled as he was dragged backwards and into a caged van.

  27: Monday 26th September, 19:20

  In a basement, in the bowels of London, at the Earthguard hospital, exact location unknown, John Smith was sitting on Savannah Jones’s bed. Savannah, with the aid of the high-tech bed, was sitting up dressed in plain, light blue pyjamas supplied by Earthguard. John wondered if they were bulletproof, like the coats.

  The large private ward, complete with fridge, large flat screen television and room service, put the private healthcare service to shame. John, after minor nose surgery to move a small piece of bone back into place, had his nostrils stuffed with gauze.

  “You look ridiculous, Smith,” Savannah said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

  John squeezed back and spoke like he had a cold. “It’s only for today. How’s the leg?”

  “Fine. The doctor said that if it wasn’t for Johnson using his belt as a tourniquet, then I’d be dead.”

  “Yeah, he’s quite the hero.”

  “You are,” Savannah said, stroking his cheek. “You saved Twickenham from destruction.”

  He blushed. “I think that was Johnson again. Besides, you had your fair share of selfless action.”

  John, who had been longing to kiss Savannah since he had left surgery and taken up residence in her room, leaned forward and pecked her on the lips.

  She smiled as he drew his head back. “Is that the best you can do, Smith?”

  His mouth returned to hers. His tongue’s entry was eagerly accepted by her parted lips. The sound of a closing door stopped them in their tracks. The deep growl of a man’s throat clearing alerted them to another’s presence in the room. Surprised, John rotated his neck and caught his nose on Savannah’s, sending spasms of pain through the recently straightened appendage.

  A few choice swear words hovered on his lips as he automatically brought up his hand to cover his nose. Agent Johnson was standing in the centre of the private room with the aid of two crutches, wearing pale blue pyjamas and a dark blue dressing gown. John was amazed at how little noise the agent’s crutches had made. Was it the Earthguard training, or had John’s mind been lost in the kiss? He suspected it was a little of both.

  “You’d better watch what you do with that or it’ll need resetting,” the Earthguard agent said, his lips squeezed together in a poor attempt to keep a snigger at bay.

  “Very funny,” John said, still wincing in pain. “Did they take out the wires from your lips while removing the bullet so that you can manage a smile now?”

  “I didn’t recognise you without your coat,” Savannah added, laughing. “Won’t they let you wear it in here?”

  Johnson’s mouth resisted, twitching at the edges, before widening into an enormous grin.

  “Look, I’d put my hands up and surrender, but I’d probably fall to the floor so I’ll just say that you guys win. Any room on that bed for me?”

  Savannah patted the left side of the bed by her injured leg. “Of course, it’s not often a girl gets to have two heroes on her bed.”

  In two swings on the crutches Johnson was at the bedside, lowering himself next to Savannah, taking great care to avoid her damaged leg.

  “Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but I was getting bored with the TV in my room and thought I’d check up on you both.” Johnson placed his hand on Savannah’s lower leg away from the injury. “I might have known that Justice would be here trying to take advantage of your inability to run away.”

  Savannah laughed so much that the bed started to shake.

  “Stop it, you’re making my leg hurt,” Savannah complained, teardrops congregating at the corners of her big brown eyes.

  John began to laugh too, but the tears which welled in his eyes were from the pain in his nose which didn’t react well to the rhythmic head movement. The change in Johnson’s demeanour was beyond dramatic. With a smile on his face and no long dark coat, he was barely recognisable as the man who had guided them through their ordeal of the last three days. It dawned on John that he would miss the tall man, especially since he had gained a sense of humour.

  “So it’s all over now? You don’t need us anymore?” John asked.

  “Yes and no,” Johnson said. “Yes, it’s over. Both guns are safely in our hands and scheduled for destruction.” The agent narrowed his eyes and picked at the bedcover, seeming to run through his thoughts. John and Savannah’s interests were heightened by the pause. “As far as needing you anymore, I have a proposition for you both.”

  John and Savannah looked at each other.

  “Go on,” John said, keeping his eyes firmly on Savannah’s.

  “I have persuaded the agency that Ethan here...”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “It’s your name from now on. All records for John Smith have been erased, never to return.”

  “I rather like it. It’s very manly,” Savannah said, eyes wide and excited. “Go on, Herb.”

  “Manly ... really?” John said, not convinced.

  “For now, you’ll have to get used to it. Anyway, as I was saying, the agency has agreed to fund your own detective agency and put you through full agent training.”

  “To be your partner?”

  “Not at this point, and it’s unlikely to happen with your family ties. You can run your own private investigations and make some good money along the way. We will provide you with all the equipment you need which will put you way ahead of any rival agencies, and when I need your assistance, you can help me out ... fully paid of course.”

  “And Savannah?”

  Johnson turned to Savannah who was clearly thrilled about her role in all of this. “You can work for Justice Investigations and assist Ethan if you want.”

  Savannah tugged at John’s white t-shirt, another gift from Earthguard Health Services. “Can we, John? I mean Ethan?”

  Her eyes pleaded with him, but it was a big decis
ion, and he didn’t want to be rushed. She would always be impulsive. It was obviously part of her make up. There was no doubt in John’s mind that she would get him into more scrapes before long. There would be a lot of excitement too.

  “I’d like to talk to Savannah alone and then run it by my family, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure, I’ll leave you in peace now. But before you turn me down, I’d just like to say that I’ve never seen anyone more naturally gifted and suited to this type of work.”

  John regarded the agent closely but saw no signs of a joke at his expense. He looked at Savannah, who shrugged her shoulders. If he agreed to Johnson’s offer, he would ask the agent to repeat those words to his parents.

  “I’m not kidding, Justice. You were made for this. Just give it plenty of thought, that’s all I’m asking.”

  John admired his souped-up Rolex. “Can I keep the watch?”

  “Yeah, and one of our trademark coats that I know you’ve been hankering for. I’ll rustle up another watch for Savannah if you agree. Are you a Cartier or a Rolex kind of gal? We don’t have as many female operatives and so there’s less of a choice for the ladies.”

  “I was a Timex kind of gal actually, so either’s good.”

  “No problem.” With the aid of his crutches, Johnson stood up and bent over to kiss Savannah on the cheek. “Sorry for what we put you through, and good luck getting back on your feet.”

  Savannah punched his arm playfully.

  “Forget it. I had the time of my life. Smith ... I mean Justice did too. He just won’t admit it.”

  So much trouble, thought John.

  Johnson, resting his elbow on the crutch, extended his hand half way to John. John jumped off the bed and walked around to the side where Johnson stood. He grabbed the agent’s hand and shook it hard.

  “Whatever I decide, it’s been ... well ... something else,” John said.

  “Yeah, I know. There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” Johnson withdrew his hand. “I’d better get going. I’m expecting a visit from Susan Meredith, Fisher’s psychologist.”

  “Do I sense a little romance blooming?” Savannah asked, both rows of teeth exposed by her grin.

  “More like some long overdue head work I would imagine,” John said.

  “We’ll see. Have to get myself a suitable mask first, if you know what I mean. First date in a while.”

  John didn’t and Savannah appeared similarly baffled. Before either could ask, Johnson turned and left just as quietly as he had arrived. John returned to sit on Savannah’s bed when a knock came at the door, and a white coated doctor in his late forties with thick grey hair entered with a clip board and pen.

  “Ah, there you are, Mr Justice,” he said, comparing his notes to the ones at the foot of the bed. “I was told I’d find you here. Might as well check you both together.”

  John cringed at the sound of his new name. It would take a lot of getting used to. How was he going to explain the change to his parents?

  “Miss Jones, you are doing just fine, and we’ll have you back on your feet before you know it.” The doctor walked up to John, grabbed his chin and proceeded to gaze at his nose from several angles, his facial expression changing with each viewpoint. “Better than the original I’d say, Mr Justice,” he finished, making a note on a separate form. “I’ll leave you both in peace now.”

  The doctor made his way to the door and turned back to face them just before he reached it. “Third button on the top right of the bed remotely locks this door if you’d like some privacy.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Savannah said. The door clicked shut. She took hold of John’s hand again. “So what do you want to do about Johnson’s offer?”

  John really had no idea. “There’s no rush, right?”

  “If you say yes...” She picked up the remote control and locked the door. “And if you speak to me with your Russian accent...”

  “Yes?” John said, liking where this was going.

  “I’ll let you see what’s under my pyjamas.”

  Savannah pushed John off the bed and lifted the covers to reveal matching bottoms to the pyjamas. One leg had been removed to allow easy access to the heavily bandaged wound.

  “What’s it to be, Justice?” she asked, undoing the buttons on her pyjama top.

  “You can call me Dmitri,” said Ethan Justice. “Get ready for famous Moscow manoeuvre.”

  The End

  What Happens Next?

  Catch up with Ethan and Savannah in their next adventure, “Ethan Justice: Relentless”.

  Today he’s crowned a hero.

  Tomorrow he’ll be fighting for the lives of his loved ones.

  The time for Mr Nice Guy is over!

  BUY now from Amazon US or Amazon UK.

  OR

  For a limited time, get a FREE review copy. Visit SimonJenner.com/Relentless-Free/ for more information.

  Please continue to sample the ‘Prologue’ or skip ahead to read a note from the author.

  Ethan Justice: Relentless - Prologue

  I stare at the wall-mounted screen as my legal counsel prepares to commit blackmail. The Centre is several miles away, providing me safe distance from the scene of the crime. With lightning-fast Internet and high-definition cameras, the picture is worthy of the BBC.

  My view is of the back of Chris Burlington’s bald head and the front of Sergeant Jackson, who sits across the desk from the solicitor. The police officer, thirty-four years old, thickset and slouching in his seat, doesn’t look the least bit intimidated.

  A Bluetooth headset allows me to communicate directly with Burlington. I don’t want him messing this up. A police sergeant on the books doesn’t bring in the money, but it provides protection from interference.

  “Show him the video file,” I say.

  My solicitor twists the large-screened laptop allowing Jackson a better view. The sergeant sits up and leans across the desk, chewing gum with an over-confident sneer that will be wiped away soon enough.

  “Play it!” I command.

  The bald head twitches at the sound of my voice. I can’t see Burlington’s face, but the nervous tic reminds us both who is in charge.

  “Is this going to take long?” asks Jackson. “I thought I was here to see a new girl, not you.”

  “All in good time. First watch and be entertained,” says Burlington.

  I lean forward on my sofa and look into the blue eyes of Jackson as he gazes at the laptop. Despite the clear picture, I can’t see enough detail on the thirty-two inch LCD television. I need a bigger screen. I will treat myself later today. Bushy eyebrows shoot up as the star of the video clip recognises himself. Surprise evaporates and shoulders slump. Mouth drops and eyes close in shame. My body quivers anticipating his next reaction. I’m guessing threats. It’s usually threats.

  Jackson launches himself up and bangs his fists down onto the desk. “You bastard. I want the file and all copies, or I’ll close you down.”

  Bingo! Burlington jerks back in his chair at the ferocity of the outburst. He’s such a girl. We’re pulling the strings here.

  “Stay calm,” I say. “Don’t screw this up, or I’ll ...” I stop myself. Best I don’t add to his worries now.

  “Did you hear me, Burlington?” rages Jackson, striding around the desk, grabbing the solicitor by the knot of his tie and hoisting him out of the chair with impressive ease. “The files now before I snap you in two.”

  Tingles erupt at the back of my neck, and I’m tempted to let Jackson carry out his threat for my amusement, but I have to think of the bigger picture and dampen my playful urges.

  “Tell him her age,” I say into the mike. “And get this thing wrapped up.”

  Burlington is on tiptoes, his words croaking due to pressure on his windpipe. “Vanity is fourteen years old, Sergeant Jackson,” he says, his face an inch from the snarling officer’s. “She’d never been touched before.”

  Jackson pulls Burlington closer until their nos
es press together. “I could crush you here and now.”

  A shrill scream emits from the laptop. Both heads turn towards the source of the noise.

  “You made a real mess of Vanity, Sergeant Jackson,” reminds Burlington. “A service like that doesn’t come cheap.”

  The officer releases his grip on Burlington’s tie, and the solicitor drops back into his chair. Jackson’s hands clasp the top of his head. I can almost hear his teeth grind behind the pained grimace. “What do you want from me?”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  A red-faced Burlington loosens his tie and releases the top button of his shirt, panting as he recovers his breath. “We’ll let you know.”

  Good. I told him to use that line. Burlington is regaining his confidence. He has his uses.

  Jackson drops his arms by his sides. “I want this sorted now. I don’t want it hanging over me. I have some savings, a few thousand.”

  Burlington rides the advantage. “I don’t think so. Consider it a long-term relationship. You do as you’re told, and we’ll allow you to indulge yourself every once in a while. Let’s call it a marriage of convenience.”

  Jackson steps forward and raises his fist above Burlington, who cowers, hands in front of his face, legs lifted and bent into his chest. For a moment I think there’s going to be a brutal assault, and I consider my options. A setback for Burlington but it would cement a much stronger hold over Jackson. The fist lowers, and shoulders droop once again. Victory is mine. “Fuck you, Burlington,” spits Jackson, stepping back.

  “So we understand one another?” asks Burlington, a mild trembling evident as he repositions himself on the chair. I’m impressed by the speedy recovery.

  “For now.” The policeman narrows his eyes thoughtfully. He’s already thinking of ways out of the mess he has dug himself into. There are none. “Are we done here?”

  “We’re done,” confirms Burlington.