by Matt Rogers
‘Oh?’
‘Your psychological profile’s been compiled pretty extensively over the years — as you can imagine, given the amount of leeway you had. We have reason to believe you’re sane enough to cut ties with.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘You’ve got your head screwed on straight. And if you don’t want to work for us, we can’t force you. Despite what you might think.’
‘You could try.’
‘Wouldn’t work out well, would it?’ Williams said. ‘For either of us.’
‘You, mostly.’
‘Let’s agree to disagree, then.’
‘So what is this?’ Slater said. ‘Just you giving me a friendly heads-up not to hide?’
‘Pretty much. And to let you know that when we say “clean slate”, we mean “clean slate.”’
Slater didn’t like where this was headed. ‘What have you done?’
‘All those juicy government funds you hoarded over the years. We took them back.’
Slater paused. ‘I doubt it. I took precautionary measures.’
‘We know. Zurich. That’s cute.’
‘Shit.’
‘Didn’t take long to trace your movements, and find your accounts. Even though the Swiss banking laws are strictly in favour of privacy, we convinced them otherwise. Just this one time.’
‘How’d you manage to do that?’
‘We can be … persuasive. I think you forget what you used to do for a living.’
Slater nodded. ‘Understood.’
‘Think of it as a fresh start. You can work normal jobs. Make an honest wage. Earn an honest living. You and I both know you’re too pure to steal your way into another fortune.’
‘You think I have a problem with robbing bad people?’
Williams paused. ‘You got cash on you right now?’
‘A bit.’
‘How much?’
‘Three hundred thousand. Give or take.’
‘Hand it over.’
‘What makes you think I’ll do that?’
‘Because I’ll kill you if you don’t — and if I fail, you’ll have the United States government hunting you down until the end of your days. You don’t want that hanging over your head for the rest of your life. Hand it over. Clean slate. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.’
Slater paused for the briefest of moments — in truth, there was nothing to consider. He reached into his jeans and withdrew the three bundles of cash he’d stuffed in his waistband. He handed them over to Williams, then lifted his cotton jumper to reveal his waistline was bare.
Drained of every last drop.
‘You satisfied now?’ he muttered.
‘Not about satisfaction. This is a reset button, Slater. You’re free to go and do whatever the hell you want with the rest of your life — whatever trouble you get in, it’s on you. But you don’t get any advantages due to your skillset. Start over. Be a good person. Don’t get wrapped up in shit like,’ he looked Slater up and down, ‘whatever the hell you’ve got yourself wrapped up in.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Slater said. ‘Job’s done here.’
‘Is there going to be headlines plastered all over the news tomorrow morning?’
Slater spat another glob of blood across the sidewalk. ‘What do you think?’
‘Should be obvious what I think.’
‘Trust your gut. I did the right thing.’
‘I don’t doubt that, or I wouldn’t be sitting here.’
Slater turned his gaze to Williams and studied the man now that he’d managed to compose himself. Williams wore a black suit with a white shirt underneath, open at the neck. He kept himself in impressive shape for a desk jockey, complete with thick salt-and-pepper hair that showed no sign of balding, even though he’d have to be close to fifty by now. Overall, he looked good.
Then Slater’s gaze wandered over to Shien, sitting quietly alongside them with her arms wrapped around her knees and her face pointed toward the ground. He noticed her eyes drooping — the past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, and now in the silence the girl was tired. She tucked her chin to her chest and began to doze.
Slater beckoned for Williams to lean in and lowered his voice. ‘You need to take her.’
Williams froze, darting his gaze across to Shien and back to Slater.
‘What?’ the man hissed under his breath.
‘You heard me.’
‘Slater—’
‘Take all my money, strip me of everything — I don’t give a shit. But she needs a home.’
‘She’s your responsibility. I don’t even know who she is.’
‘Her parents were killed. Well, one of them, at least. The other bailed. She’s had a rough time these past few weeks. Take her back stateside. Find her a foster home.’
‘Not a chance. You know the kind of trouble we could get in for that?’
‘Not really. And it can’t be any more trouble than you’ll be in with me.’
‘Slater.’
Williams spoke with finality, with the kind of grave weight that words could only carry if they were backed by obscene power. The man had the control of the United States Armed Forces at his fingertips — Slater knew the kind of unofficial rank Williams possessed.
Making an enemy of him would be a death sentence.
But not before Slater could cause a storm.
‘You know what I know,’ Slater said. ‘About how it all works. About the intricacies of the system. You know the kind of damage I can do in a short amount of time if I really set my mind to it.’
‘We’ll kill you. I could kill you right now.’
‘Could you?’
They faced each other across a gap of less than a foot, both seated, their voices still low, tension running thick in the air. Beside Williams, Shien dozed where she sat, head still drooped.
‘Let’s not do this,’ Williams said.
‘Smart man. I’m half dead but I could still mop the floor with you.’
‘Slater, I didn’t come here to fight.’
‘Then be reasonable. You’ve taken everything from me without much of a reason. I’ve sat back and accepted it, even though I didn’t do anything to you and your people. Ramsay’s actions are on you. But fuck it. Who cares? At least humour me by doing this one thing for me. I know you’re a good man. I know you don’t want to see her die.’
Williams paused, offering Shien another glance. ‘And if she stays with you…’
‘She dies. You know better than anyone what my life is like.’
‘You can change it, you know.’
‘Somehow I don’t think I can.’
‘You think you’re destined to do this kind of thing forever?’
‘Maybe. In the heat of the moment, impulse tells me to act. I’ve never ignored it and I don’t plan to in the future.’
‘You sure this is the only option?’
‘If the people I was up against recover, they’ll be looking for her. Get her away from here. Use your resources. Find her a home. A good home. She deserves it.’
‘And what do I get in return?’
‘How about the fifty-two million dollars I earned over the course of my career? How’s that for a compromise? Not like I have much of a choice anyway.’
‘Was it that much?’ Williams said with a low whistle. ‘I never got told specifics.’
‘Uncle Sam. He pays well.’
‘Not anymore. You and King were paid the equivalent of your worth. There’s no-one like you two anymore.’
Slater shrugged. ‘I’ll survive. You’ll do this for me?’
Williams paused, mulling over the offer. ‘It’s going to be a problem for us if I refuse, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know you’ll get yourself killed if you go up against us.’
‘You think it’s worth the trouble?’
The silence dragged out — ten, fifteen, twenty seconds.
‘No,’ Williams conceded
. ‘Probably not. But that’s not why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because you did good goddamn work for us.’
‘Thank you, Russell.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘You’ll make sure she gets the best treatment?’
‘The very best. You know as well as anyone what we can do if we apply our resources.’
‘She deserves it. She’s been through hell.’
‘Because she met you.’
‘She was going through hell before she met me.’
‘You seem to consistently amplify problems.’
‘I think I solve them. Different perspectives.’
‘Keep going the way you’re going and you won’t be solving them for much longer.’
‘That’s my concern now, though, isn’t it?’
‘It sure is. This is goodbye, Slater. Forever. As of this second, the United States government doesn’t recognise your existence. Go and do what you want with the rest of your life.’
‘I was going to anyway.’
‘Well, now you don’t have to look over your shoulder for us.’
‘I’ve got more enemies than you lot.’
‘I can’t imagine why. You seem to attract destruction.’
‘Quite the life it’s been…’
‘You enjoy it?’
‘I don’t know if anyone can enjoy it. But I’ve never known anything else.’
‘You think you’ll keep getting into trouble?’
‘Seems to be something I don’t do too well avoiding.’
‘Well, good luck. Maybe it’ll be harder to wreak havoc on a limited budget.’
‘You’re still okay with leaving me with nothing? After everything I’ve done for you?’
‘Clean slate,’ Williams repeated.
Slater sighed.
The stillness of Macau’s outer suburbs washed over them — for a moment the commotion and the tension died away, replaced by something close to a soothing calm. Slater struggled to his feet and stared down at the unlikely pair — Russell Williams and a nine-year-old named Shien.
Her eyes remained shut.
She was dozing in the silence.
Slater made eye contact with Williams, and they both realised what needed to be done.
Slater had put the girl through enough. He had never been one to mince words, and any time he spent unnecessarily lingering around would make it all the more harder to say goodbye. And that wasn’t Slater’s world — finding the correct thing to say, helping Shien understand why he needed to leave and find solitude.
At least for this portion of his life.
He was bred for the road, for chaos and confusion, for dealing with problems as he stumbled across them. This was not the life for a child, and sooner or later he and Shien would have had to part ways. He’d done his job — he’d spared her from a fate worse than death — and that was enough.
She would understand.
The sooner he faded from her mind, the better.
Memories had to die, so that she could live a full life.
So he nodded once to her tiny sleeping form and turned on his heel and walked directly away from her and Russell Williams, leaving her in the hands of a man he’d trusted with his own life for over a decade. He would do her no harm — Williams was a good man. Slater had no qualms over leaving her with him.
But he had qualms about leaving like this.
Stripped of everything he’d worked for, torn away from the concept of a secure retirement, he limped into the darkness, dragging his mangled leg behind him like a wounded dog.
Into the unknown.
And, deep down, laced with discomfort and unrest, Slater realised he wouldn’t have it any other way.
No money, no future, no prospects.
Just a lifetime of experience as a warrior and a raging desire for trouble.
He ducked into the lip of a neighbouring alleyway and left both Shien and the U.S. government behind forever.
58
Williams sat patiently on the sidewalk, watching Slater’s silhouette mould into the night. He stared down at the three stacks of bills in his hand and shook his head in disbelief, tucking the bands into his jacket pocket. He hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of stripping the man of everything he’d slaved away for, but it had been an explicit demand from the very top.
If Will Slater wanted to walk away from his old life, he had to leave his riches behind with it.
Strangely, Slater hadn’t seemed perturbed in the slightest. Williams knew if he had fifty-two million dollars sitting in an account, he wouldn’t part with it amicably. Besides, it represented a lifetime of Slater putting his life on the line for his country. It represented relentless hard work and commitment to a life that had been in no way pleasant. It paved the way for a portion of Slater’s life where he could rest, and recover from over a decade of hell. Now that had all been thrown into disarray, for reasons that Williams considered entirely petty. He didn’t agree with his superiors’ judgment, but he was forced to carry out their orders regardless.
Frankly he’d been expecting more of a fight.
Then, suddenly, it all made sense.
Fifty-two million dollars provided comfort. It meant Slater could hole up in a luxurious retreat and live out the rest of his days in undisturbed peace.
Williams had seen the manic look in the man’s eyes.
Slater was a man of movement, and struggle.
He wouldn’t sit around enjoying life. He couldn’t.
When the government stripped him of his fortune, it would force him into a nomadic lifestyle.
Something he embraced.
Beside him, the young girl who Slater had referred to as Shien stirred. She opened her eyes just in time to catch a final glance of Slater disappearing into the darkness — off to cause more carnage, no doubt.
‘He’s … leaving,’ she muttered, still slightly groggy.
‘He is,’ Williams said.
‘Are you okay with letting him go?’
‘Who’s going to tell him otherwise? Slater does what he wants. Always has, always will.’
‘What happens to me?’
‘I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. How are you feeling?’
Shien watched the empty space Slater had occupied moments earlier. ‘Like … everything’s going to be okay. I haven’t felt that way in a while.’
‘That’s good.’
‘You’re not going to hurt me, are you?’
Williams followed her gaze into the darkness. ‘I promised Slater I’d take care of you.’
‘People go back on their promises.’
‘Not when you’re promising that man.’
‘He’s different.’
‘He sure is.’
‘Where’s he going?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Will he be okay? He seemed hurt.’
Despite everything, Williams smirked. ‘You haven’t know Will Slater long enough. That’s nothing to him. He’ll be up and about in no time. You don’t want to be around him when that happens. Now, come on. Let’s get you out of here. We have a flight to catch.’
59
Two weeks later…
Zürich
Switzerland
On a freezing morning in the Greater Zürich Area, a man in an expensive black overcoat stepped out from underneath a broad concrete archway, his boots making fine imprints on the light dusting of snow coating the sidewalks. Despite a slight limp in his right leg, any onlooker would consider him in phenomenal shape, with a powerful musculature clearly visible underneath his designer clothing.
He paused for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk, inhaling a massive gulp of the crisp morning air. He checked in either direction for any nosy civilians before sliding a gloved hand into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrawing a slim grey smartphone. He navigated to a banking application, refreshed the page, and couldn’t resist flashing a grin complete with two rows of gleaming white teeth.
For Will Slater, it was a good day.
The opportunity had presented itself, and he’d seized it. It hadn’t taken much critical thinking to recognise that everyone involved in Peter Forrest’s dirty profits had swiftly departed from the land of the living a couple of weeks earlier. The triad had been thrust into tatters, and the culprits of the brazen theft attempt had been left with bullets in their heads in the sub-level of a casino complex. Forrest himself had died a gruesome death — a fact that had been confirmed to Slater on the evening news some time ago.
Mountain Lion had burst at the seams as a horrific list of illegal operations had been uncovered by a Macau task force. Hundreds of arrests had been made. Affirmative action had been taken without hesitation, and the Macau casino industry had gone into panic mode.
But none of that really mattered to Slater. He’d pulled a certain child out of the depths of hell, and that gave him all the satisfaction he was looking for.
He glanced one final time at his accounts, now crammed with money that had been resting in limbo for weeks.
No-one would miss it.
And Slater would put it to better use than the authorities. He still had a lot of living to do, and a lot of justice to dish out.
Sometimes it paid to habitually memorise crucial information.
Like account numbers, and confirmation codes, and triad bank details.
Four-hundred and thirty-five million dollars richer, he strode off down the street, wondering where the next chaotic sequence of events would occur.
He couldn’t wait.
WILL SLATER WILL RETURN.
MORE BOOKS BY MATT ROGERS
THE JASON KING SERIES
Isolated (Book 1)
Imprisoned (Book 2)
Reloaded (Book 3)
Betrayed (Book 4)
Corrupted (Book 5)
Hunted (Book 6)
THE JASON KING FILES
Cartel (Book 1)
Warrior (Book 2)
THE WILL SLATER SERIES
Wolf (Book 1)
Lion (Book 2)
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