by Heskett, Jim
“With you,” she said, and clenched her jaw to keep from crying. “That’s my answer from now on, if that’s okay with you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Of course, you can join me on my grand tour of Denver’s seediest motels.”
“Sounds like an adventure to me.”
“That’s not the only reason I called.”
Ember watched a Boulder member round the building and take a puff from from a vape device. Asian guy, tall and slim. She didn’t recognize him. Must have been one of the new recruits Fagan had brought on board in the last couple of weeks. Who would train all these newbies now? What did they know about Ember? Were they going to speak of her fondly when discussing the Branch’s history, or would she be a stain, excised from the archives and only spoken of in whispers? Would there even be a Branch and history to speak of?
Technically, it wasn’t her problem any longer. She was not a member, and she had no right to access that information now or in the future.
“Oh?” Ember said to Zach. “Why else did you call?”
“You and I both know Thomas isn’t going to stop chasing me. I’ve been thinking. I have a plan. A plan to draw him out and end this on our terms, so we can take the power back and be the ones deciding how this goes.”
She wasn’t used to Zach being so proactive. It kinda turned her on.
“Okay,” she said. “We can talk about it tonight. I’m in the middle of something right now, but I’ll come back to our room after this. You better not be asleep when I get there.”
“Is that so?” he said, and she could hear the grin on his face.
“Yes, that’s so. I’ll just wake you up if you are.”
He hesitated, as if unsure how to end the call. For a moment, she thought he might say those three little words, but he didn’t. If he had, Ember didn’t know how she would’ve reacted.
Instead, he offered a more cordial goodbye, and they ended the call.
Ember wiped the tears from her cheeks, stowed her pistols, and regarded herself in the rearview. “Get your shit together,” she said to the reddened eyes looking back at her.
After that, she left the car. The young Asian man watched her as she crossed the gravel parking lot. She gave him a wave, and he only stared. Did he know who she was? Unclear. Ember couldn’t remember the last time someone had resigned from the Club, and how they had treated that person after. Actually, thinking about it, she couldn’t remember members ever resigning from the Club and turning in tokens to the Denver Holdings Building.
Around the back, Ember pressed her keycard against the blank space next to the door, and it drifted open. At least, they hadn’t recoded the door yet.
Familiar sights and sounds drifted from down the hall. Assassins talking, training, all the customary background noise she had come to associate with this place. At first glance, everything here appeared to be business as usual.
Ember stopped halfway down the hall when she noted a whiteboard with Fagan’s handwriting all over it. The chore assignment board. Fagan was famous for her chore lists. Someone else would now have to take on this task, just as someone had done it before Fagan’s time.
At least, that’s what Ember assumed. For all she knew, Fagan had introduced the damn practice herself. Didn’t matter — it wasn’t Ember’s problem any longer.
A head poked out of a conference room up ahead. Kevin, the brawny former Five Points member who had helped her take on Helmut at the motel the other day. His face was banged up: black eye, fat lip, scratches on his cheek.
She smiled when she saw him, an automatic reaction. Guilt had plagued her for leaving him to fend off Helmut as she had escaped with Zach. Seeing him alive and whole lifted a thousand pounds from her shoulders.
But Kevin didn’t smile back. He stepped out into the hallway, fists balled. “The Boulder Post Office is for members only. From what I’m hearing, that no longer applies to you.”
He took a few steps toward her, now standing about ten feet away.
“I know,” she said. “I was hoping I could talk to the Branch Historian. Just real quick, no big deal. I only need a couple of minutes to ask about something in the archives.”
He shook his head. “We don’t have a Historian.”
“What do you mean?”
“He disappeared. Killed, run off… we don’t know. Look around, Ember. There are about ten people total in this building, and probably not for long. We’re planning an operation to recover some guns stolen from us. After that… I don’t know if we’ll be a Branch any longer. But, then again, none of this concerns you, does it?”
Even though Ember had thought the exact same thing a dozen times since coming here, his last comment still stung. His tone was harsh, venom on his face. He looked like he would be just as happy putting a bullet in Ember as he would be talking to her. Good thing for her they didn’t allow guns in this building.
Kevin crossed his bulky arms. "The Club is dying. Or, it’s already dead and doesn’t know it yet. We don’t have any desire to loot its corpse.”
“Yeah,” she said, somber and slow. “It’s hard to believe.”
“It is what it is. The Historian isn’t here, so you can see yourself out.”
“That’s not the only reason I’m here. I came to turn in my keycard.”
Kevin, stone-faced, spread his legs and held out a hand, palm up. His eyes were blank and unreadable.
Ember approached him and set the keycard in his waiting palm. “Thank you for helping at the motel the other day. I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet. It meant a lot to me to have backup.”
He gave her a small shake of the head as he closed his palm over the keycard and slid it in his pocket. “Fagan is dead because of you.”
“It's true. But I never wanted any of this. It was either kill her, or let her kill me. I hope you can see I didn’t have a choice.”
Sneering, lips pressed tight, he stared at her. “Do you have any other business with the Boulder Branch?”
“No, I guess not. I don’t keep anything here I need to take with me.”
“Then turn around and walk out the way you came. Do you need an escort?”
She could feel her heart breaking, sizzling inside her chest. “No, I know the way out. I’m going.”
Kevin said nothing, and Ember was starting to feel stupid standing here. Without another word, she moped toward the Post Office exit, knowing she would never come back.
Chapter Ten
WELLNER
DAY THREE
David Wellner stared at the blue light on the webcam perched atop his computer monitor. For a day, he had known he needed to make a public address to the entire Club. Or, at least, what was left of it. From the most recent reports, about a quarter of the DAC had been killed in skirmishes between the Branches. A quarter more were either jailed or hospitalized. At least a dozen Holdings building employees had either called in sick or hadn’t bothered to show up for work today.
Wellner looked at the video recording program, open on his desktop. His digitized face stared back, dour, chubby, worn down. The blue webcam light beckoned him.
He should say something. He should clench his first and deliver a speech worthy of a halftime high school underdog football coach, to spur his team on to an improbable second-half comeback. But Wellner didn’t know if he had it in him. The DAC was in chaos, and he didn’t believe any motivational speech could bring it back from what looked like an inevitable collapse.
He wasn’t even sure what he would say. A part of him wanted to hit the broadcast button and give everyone a chance to jump ship. Something like, Dear assassins. There is a reckoning coming. A tidal wave that will destroy us all, and this is your last chance to save yourself and get the hell out of Denver before we’re all swallowed by the irresistible force of Marcus Lonsdale and his selfish agenda.
But he didn’t know if that would make any difference, either. The Club was beyond saving, beyond repairing. Wasn’t it?
The
intercom buzzed. Before he could hit the button to ask Naomi what she wanted, a knock came at the door. Wellner looked up to see Jules Dunard opening the door, sliding in, and shutting it behind her.
Wellner’s eyes flicked to the drawer containing his revolver. He resisted the urge to reach for it. “I have a secretary for a reason, Jules.”
“I know, David. But we’re past that now.”
“Past it?”
“Yes, we’re at the point now where we either cut our losses and run, or we dig in and fight to save what we have left.”
He glanced again at the drawer with the gun in it. Wellner knew Jules was right, but his instinct made him want to respond in a combative manner. He didn’t even know why. “It’s that dire, is it?”
“For weeks, you’ve acted in an increasingly erratic fashion. You’ve monitored my conversations. You’ve spoken to other Board members about me in secret. I understand you found footage of me talking to a few different Branch members and you’re trying to use it as evidence that I’m creating some sort of drug cartel inside the DAC?”
“Are you?” he said, with a face set in stone.
Jules laughed. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. A drug cartel? Do you have any idea how insane and paranoid that sounds?”
“Doesn’t necessarily make it not true.”
“You have executed Club members in good standing for nothing. It’s time we pull you back in before you can do any more damage to an already injured creature.”
“What are you saying, Jules?”
“I’m going to call an emergency Board meeting for tomorrow, most likely in the afternoon. Kunjal has been out of town, and as soon as he’s back, we’re all getting together.”
“An emergency meeting for what?”
Jules gave him an incredulous look and raised her arms, pointing up to the sky. “To save the Club, for one. Perhaps to discuss if there is anything even worth saving.”
He swallowed a lump. “Is that all?”
“No, it’s not all, and you know it. Even beyond your impeachment-worthy executions, let’s talk about the two men you sent to my home.”
A tingle of ice hit his spine. So she did know.
“I know you were watching from those surveillance drones. At first, I was going to let it go. At first, I chalked it up to another one of your erratic behaviors; that maybe you had a stress-induced momentary lapse of reason. I thought maybe you didn’t mean for those men to kill me, and it was only some sort of warning. But I’ve thought about it. I have no doubt in my mind you perceive me as a threat and you want me out of the picture.”
His hand inched toward the drawer. But, if he shot his Vice President in his office, what would that mean? Would that launch the erasure of the Board? Nothing seemed more final than that. His muddled brain couldn’t come up with a solid reason he could give to the Review Board for why he would have executed the Vice President.
“But,” Jules said, “we all know this can’t go on any longer. This can’t wait until the next election. I have proof you tried to have me killed. I’m going to present it to the Board, have you removed, and then I’m going to assume your office to save the Club. It’s something you seem incapable of doing, so we can’t let us slide down any further into the abyss.”
She waited there a moment, maybe to see if Wellner had any response. He didn’t. His arm was tense, fingers like claws underneath his desk. He wanted to shoot her. He wanted to get rid of her.
But did that solve the problem? Did it only create more and possibly establish a power vacuum to be filled by someone even worse than Jules?
“No response?” she asked.
“You’re wrong.”
Her head cocked to the side. “About which part, specifically? About your gross abuses of power, or about your murderous intentions? Please, David, enlighten me.”
“I need… space. Everyone needs to shut up for a minute so I can figure out what the best course of action is to repair the damage. Time. I need more time.”
“You don’t have any of that commodity, I’m afraid. When Kunjal returns, your days of acting with impunity are over.”
Wellner couldn’t stand the smug look on her face, because he knew she had weight behind her statements. What did he have to counter?
“Wait. You don’t have to do this.”
“I think I do,” Jules said. “I’ll let you know when the meeting is on the calendar.”
As she left, his hand crept over toward the drawer, but he stopped short. Jules left his office. The quiet returned. The intercom light still blinked. Probably Naomi wanting to apologize for letting Jules barge in here.
But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It’s not as if he had any legitimate capital to use against her. He didn’t have the will of the people behind him. He didn’t have anything but an office and title worth exactly jack squat.
Wellner relaxed his arm and went back to staring at the webcam sitting atop his computer monitor.
Chapter Eleven
EMBER
She looked down at the cellophane wrapper in her hand. This was a flimsy lead. However, Ember had no better route to learn more about the sniper who’d killed Isabel Yang.
She left her car in the convenience store parking lot and marched inside, then right up to the counter. Less than a block away from her condo building, this was the closest place to buy cigarettes.
“You sell Parliaments?”
The college kid behind the counter gave her a lazy nod. “You got ID?”
“I’m not buying. I’m looking for someone who came in here five days ago and bought a pack. Most likely, in the morning.”
The kid sniggered. “Well, let me just consult my handy Parliament cigarette-buying registry form.”
Ember leaned closer, setting her jaw. “Listen, pal. I don’t have time for this.” She took out the sketch rendered by Serena and held it up. “Were you working then? Do you recognize this guy?”
The kid grumbled an annoyed sigh, then he said, “Five days ago,” musing to himself. “Okay, yeah. I was working then. But I probably sell at least a few packs of P-Funks every day, and most people don’t stop to look me in the eye.”
She held the sketch closer to his face. “This guy. It would have been early. Please, this is important.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hey, if you’re a psych grad student running some sort of thesis experiment about racial profiling, then I don’t want to be any part of that. I’m not giving you my consent to include me in your experiment.”
“I am not a grad student, and I couldn’t care less about your race or anyone else’s. Please, just look closely at the damn picture.”
Again, that annoyed sigh. “Okay, sure. I kinda recognize him. I was on shift for about twenty minutes when people started coming in, and I may or may not have smoked a teensy bit of weed on my way into work. The first hour of my shift that day was kind of a blur, but he does look familiar.”
“Good. That’s progress. Did he buy anything besides the cigarettes?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How long do you keep your surveillance footage?”
“It all gets erased from the server every 72 hours.”
Ember gritted her teeth. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “He pay with cash or credit?”
The kid shrugged. “Credit, probably. I don’t know for sure.”
The fact that he’d had no wallet found on his dead body could mean he had stashed it somewhere on the walk over to the condo. But where? Inside some random drain pipe, or under a rock? Trying to locate the wallet would be a tall order and probably not a productive use of her time.
Ember pulled a wad of twenty-dollar bills from her pocket and slid them across the counter. “I need to see your credit card receipts.”
The kid’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the cash. He looked past her. There was only one other person in the store, a young woman at the back, comparison-shopping the multitude of brightly colored sports drinks. The kid s
natched the money and put it in his pocket, then he reached down and grabbed a small box. He turned it toward Ember and opened it. Dozens of receipts sat inside.
“You’re just in time,” he said. “Those were due to go in the safe at the end of my shift.”
Ember nodded her thanks and then took the box and shuffled over to a quiet spot next to a case of revolving hot dogs. She pulled out any that didn’t match the date, then scanned through the rest.
After five minutes, she found a receipt at 7:04 am on the day, for one pack of Parliament cigarettes and nothing else. No name listed, and she couldn’t read the looping scratch of a signature. The first letter was likely an O, but the rest of it was illegible. She closed the box and walked back to the counter to hold it up. “This look like it?”
The kid nodded. “Sure. That could be it.”
“Could be?”
“Sorry. That’s the best I can do. Five days ago might as well be six months ago. Lot of people come through here.”
She set the box back on the table and folded the receipt. There wasn’t much actionable info to go on, but it would have to do. A few weeks ago, she would have put Gabe on a task like this. He would hack into a credit card company’s secure vault thingy and come back with a name. Maybe Layne could help her out with this?
Ember shoved the receipt in her pocket and hurried out of the store. As soon as she did, she spotted a girthy man standing next to her car. Kevin, the Boulder Branch member who had helped her out last week by keeping an eye on Zach. He’d also taken on Helmut toe-to-toe and lived to tell the tale. He had a black eye and his nose looked a little puffy, but he seemed operational.
“Hello, Kevin.”
Kevin flicked his head toward the side of the convenience store, which Ember took to mean this assassin wanted to have a private conversation. Of course, she wanted no part of it, but rather than argue about sensitive things here in the public eye, she dipped her eyes and walked that way. Keeping Kevin in her peripheral vision the whole time. He continued around to the back, where the convenience store lot ended in a small fence opposite the office of an apartment complex. They weren’t completely hidden, but they were away from street traffic.