Final Target: Six Assassins Book 6

by Heskett, Jim

  Layne sheathed his knives. No sooner had he done so than headlights of multiple cars shined against the windows. He crinkled one window blind to look out, and he now saw half a dozen cars, all parked around the trailer. They had circled it, leaving him little room for escape.

  Layne checked the ceiling, and he found a roof access hatch there, so he jumped on the desk and screwed it open. Snow from the edges of the open hatch dribbled inside the trailer. Looking down on it, someone might think it had been tracked inside from unstamped shoes. Too late to worry about it now.

  Layne lifted himself through the trapdoor to the top of the trailer, covered in six inches of snow and ice. He scooted along the surface of the roof carefully until he could spy the parking lot, then he pushed himself down in the snow for a bit of cover. The dampness needled at the exposed flesh of his face, neck, and hands, but he gritted his teeth against it.

  There were six cars in the lot, and at least two-dozen men. They were all dressed similarly to the men they had fought at the airport that morning. Mostly suits, a few with dark slacks and regular winter jackets, a few in well-groomed casual clothes. Most of them were white, young. All were male.

  The backup had arrived. A retaliatory thickening of the ranks due to the slaughter of their four men at the airport early this morning.

  What would they do now that the head of the snake had been severed? Would they push on and fight, or would they retreat? Layne stayed put as one of them—a big bruiser with a smashed nose—approached the trailer and gave it a knock.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  HELMUT

  Helmut knocked on the trailer door and waited for a response. He knew Thomas was here, because his car was here. The boss had insisted Helmut bring this caravan of security team members from the airport to Fort Collins as soon as they’d arrived.

  Managing twenty-three men at once was not Helmut’s decision. All of them had been in the middle of other tasks that now had to be postponed, canceled, or rearranged. It was a logistical nightmare.

  Since the deaths of four guards this morning, everything had to be accelerated. The stakes had become grave. And that meant an all hands on deck situation, regardless of whatever other projects these men had going previously. It had taken a bit of verbal gymnastics and maneuvering, but — as always — money talked. When he’d explained that Milligan would be tripling their daily rates, they’d all jumped at the opportunity, putting their current responsibilities on hold.

  Hopefully Thomas would agree with that amount, but they hadn’t discussed rates. Helmut didn’t care — the man wanted a job done, he’d have to pay for it.

  A few seconds elapsed, and Thomas did not come to the door. In a trailer this small, there was no way he hadn’t heard the knock.

  Out for a night stroll? Not likely. Thomas would’ve sent a text if he’d deviated from the plan at all.

  So, Helmut drew his pistol and held it up, with the nose pointing at the night sky. He reached down to the doorknob and found it unlocked. He placed his finger over the trigger.

  Helmut whipped back the door and jumped inside to see Thomas sitting on the floor with his throat slit. Blood had darkened his shirt, pants, and a small area of the floor around him.

  “No,” Helmut said, his jaw setting so hard it ached within seconds. His bloated, injured tongue squiggled around inside his mouth, sore and pulsing.

  Thomas looked so undignified in death, his eyes blank and his lips slightly parted. They had known each other well, and Helmut had even grown to like and appreciate the man, his cunning business sense and his ruthless efficiency. Helmut was no softie, but he almost couldn’t cope with the level of emotion he felt at this moment, seeing the dead man on the floor. Eyes and mouth both lolling open. He felt an urge to push up on Thomas’ chin to close his mouth, but he knew he shouldn’t touch the body.

  Helmut heard something move on the roof above him, then a thud outside in the parking lot.

  He opened the door again to see a figure streaking across the blackness, already halfway to the edge of the parking lot.

  “You!” Helmut shouted at a couple of the men, standing around and talking, oblivious. When they looked his way, he thrust a finger in the direction of the fleeing shadow. “That way! Stop that person!”

  The two soldiers broke into a run, hurrying toward the edge of the parking lot. His assigned men hustled, but the target moved like lightning across the pavement.

  The two guards tried to close the distance. But the shadow had already hopped the hedges and disappeared, with nothing left behind.

  No sign of his face. And Helmut suspected there would be little useful evidence in the gruesome murder scene in the trailer.

  He held his pistol to his chest, pointed in the same direction as his eyes, as he crossed the parking lot. While his men hopped the hedges, Helmut waited.

  A few of the crew were talking, and he gave them an angry shush to quiet them. In the cold air, Helmut closed his eyes and listened. He could hear a slight breeze, the swaying of trees, the footfalls of the men he had sent after the assassin.

  Whoever had done this had been clean. Professional. Helmut must have surprised him, coming back with all these cars.

  He sucked in a hitching breath, trying to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. Could it be possible? Had Thomas actually been killed? Helmut closed his eyes and breathed, trying to focus and not let the emotion overwhelm him.

  * * *

  Four minutes later, after sending two other search teams into the night with no success, they all returned. They weren’t scratching their heads in confusion, but they might as well have been. He considered sending more men out into the night to look for this assassin, but doubted if it would be wise to split everyone up right away.

  These new arrivals hadn’t even been briefed yet. Most of them were standing around, looking at phones, paying no attention to Helmut’s anguish.

  He had to be smart. He had to keep the desire for revenge below the surface, for now.

  Helmut didn’t need to open an investigation to know what had happened here. Ember Clarke had done this. Not her specifically, but someone she had hired.

  She had now done something terrible. Something unforgivable.

  He returned to the trailer and sat atop the desk to study the lifeless husk of his boss. That same dumb look of indignity showed on his face. An awful way to go. Would this be how Helmut remembered the face of this man he had admired and collaborated with for all these years?

  “Oh, shit,” said an Asian man with long black hair pulled into a ponytail, standing in the doorway. One of the new security team. “What happened?”

  “Thomas has been murdered,” Helmut said, speaking slowly so the words wouldn’t be muffled.

  “He’s still bleeding. Did this just happen?”

  “I think so. Within the last ten minutes, it would seem. I heard something on the roof, and that guy running away from the trailer… it was likely him.”

  Helmut started thinking about the traffic light on Turnberry Road. Helmut, leading the caravan, had stopped when the light had turned yellow so he wouldn’t have to bisect the train of cars behind him. If he had rushed through that yellow, would he have made it here in time to save Thomas?

  Rage rumbled through his toes and up into his spine. His jaw and fat tongue stung from clenching his teeth.

  The security team member took a couple steps inside the trailer and turned to face Helmut. “I don’t mean to be crass, sir, but what does this mean for us? Are we going back to California?”

  “No,” Helmut said, seething. “No one is going anywhere.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  MARCUS

  DAY SIX

  Marcus Lonsdale stood in the parking lot at Chautauqua Park. The jagged Flatiron Mountains above him were drizzled with white and encircled by thin clouds this morning like clingy patches of Santa Claus’ beard. He inhaled deep air and smiled up at the peaks. If only he didn’t associate Colorado with his
ex-wife, he might still appreciate it like he used to. But now, that bitch had polluted it all for him. Now, instead of experiencing the simple joy of the mountains, Marcus had to be reminded of all the tense hikes he and his wife had taken in this park, trying to sort out one thing or another. The fights they’d had while sitting next to picturesque waterfalls. The multiple occasions in which she had stormed away from him, sometimes only moments after they’d posted smiling perfect-couple pictures to social media.

  And then there was Allison—or Ember. He couldn’t look at all of this and not think about her. Not think about one sweaty episode they’d shared in his office in DC. Admittedly the best sex he’d ever had, a single frantic event that had stoked fire in his dreams for weeks afterward. But it had happened only once, because of the consequences.

  The consequences that made Marcus promise his wife it would never happen again, and promise to attend marriage counseling, and promise to do all manner of other things. He had chosen his wife over Ember. Or, at least, had tried to.

  Maybe if the decision had been different, they wouldn’t be where they were now. Maybe if he had gone home that night and told his wife he was ditching her for the Hot New Thing at the office, everything would’ve worked out like gangbusters. He and Ember might run the DAC together. None of this mess would have happened, obviously.

  Maybe they would have made a perfect team.

  Or maybe they would have ended up in the same ugly place, no matter what. Marcus hated to travel in historical hypotheticals. The here and now provided enough intrigue, and there was no point in reliving the past. David Wellner and Isabel Yang were gone. Pretty young Naomi was gone. The Denver Assassins Club had been neutered, and would soon eat itself.

  Part of him lamented the loss of a business he had sunk so much time and energy into. Part of him knew most businesses failed, like most marriages failed, like most good ideas failed, without the right commitment and enthusiasm.

  Now, he had to pick up the pieces. Only one thread remaining. If Marcus could eliminate Ember, then all of this went away. But how to rid himself of the most capable foe he’d ever faced?

  Marcus grinned as he saw Serena Rojas cross the parking lot toward him. This early, the gravel parking lot at the base of the trailhead was only half full. He turned and stood against the wooden fence, watching her hips swaying slightly with each step. Not an exaggerated, seductive sort of sway; this was more like a natural sashay due to this woman’s above-average hotness refusing to be contained.

  He gave her a little wave, and she responded with a dip of the head. She was so stoic, so reserved. He wondered if that would reverse itself once her panties came off. Probably. The quiet ones were often wild animals once freed of the cage of their clothes.

  “Morning, Serena,” he said. “Thanks for meeting me so early.”

  “Of course. We should keep this quick, though. I don’t like how exposed this parking lot is.”

  “Sure, sure. Would you like to dip inside my car?”

  “Not necessary. This is fine.”

  Marcus looked at her for a few seconds, smiling. Obviously, he knew Serena had betrayed him and had gone over to Ember’s side. But that didn’t mean Serena had lost her usefulness. The weapon just had to be pointed in the right direction.

  “I’m leaving town tomorrow so I can go on an extended trip overseas.”

  “Copy that,” Serena said. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “I’d like this Allison Campbell mess cleaned up before I go. Do you think you can handle that, or have you reached the limits of your skill?”

  She didn’t seem fazed by his subtle passive aggressive jab. “I’m still working on it. She’s not easy to find.”

  “Right,” Marcus said, furrowing his brow as if he actually believed the words coming out of her mouth. He dug in his pocket and produced a slip of paper. After a touch of feigned hesitation, he extended it toward her. “Memorize this address and then burn that paper.”

  She read it. “What am I looking at?”

  “It’s where I’m staying. House in the mountains, not too far from here. If something goes wrong and I’m dark, that’s where you’ll find me. But only as a last resort, understand? I have a suspicion that Ember knows I’m onto her and she might have retaliation on her mind, hence the remote hideout. I have no reason to think she knows where I am, but I’m still being cautious. And I’ll only be there until tomorrow morning, then I’ll be in the wind for a while. Some… complications have arisen and I need to spend a handful of my saved vacation days.”

  Serena studied the paper for a few seconds, nodded, then shoved it in her pocket. “Understood. Just keep me in the loop.”

  “It probably won’t matter. Allison has been outed to her assassin buddies, and they’ll all be gunning to claim their piece.” He leveled a finger at Serena. “If you don’t get to her first, you forfeit the second half of your payment. Fair?”

  “Fair, sir. I have no problem with a little competition.”

  Marcus grinned. Serena had an unbreakable expression. If he didn’t already know which way her loyalties had twisted, there would be no way he’d poke through her disguise. But it didn’t matter. He had given Serena the address of the mountain mansion, so that meant everything was in motion. Even if they suspected or assumed a trap, it wouldn’t matter. They would still take the bait.

  Serena would lead Ember right to her demise up there, and think she was helping all the while.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  EMBER

  Ember sat in her car across the street from A1 Lawnmower Repair in Broomfield. She checked her watch, since she didn’t have much time to dally. Zach’s flight was in a few hours. He was still asleep back at the motel, and she had absconded from the room as quietly as possible to allow him more sleep. Finding out about Thomas’ death had been a big moment for him last night. For Zach, he had learned that the nightmare plaguing his life for the last few months had come to a sudden and final stop. He hadn’t seemed to know how to react, actually. He’d said little and had been asleep in bed by ten o’clock.

  Ember expected they would discuss it again, after he’d had a little time to process all the events. No reason to push him.

  There was still the issue of Helmut — how close had he been to his keeper? Would he go for a revenge kill? Or was he motivated by money alone, and since that well had dried up with the murder of his boss, was Zach actually in the clear?

  For now, she watched Tyson Darby and one associate arrive at the lawnmower shop and unlock the front door. Unlike the crisp and dark suits Tyson wore at Pink Door, here the bulky man with the banana-shaped scar under his eye sported khaki slacks and a voluminous sweater. Little glasses sat on the end of his nose.

  The associate next to him looked like the stereotypical gangster in a pair of sweats, and a matching gray top and pants. It wasn’t an actual track suit, but it was pretty close. No gaudy necklaces sticking out, but she could imagine heavy gold rings on every digit of his hand and a smile that caught a twinkle from the sun due to more than one platinum tooth.

  The two of them tossed clandestine looks around before disappearing inside the little building. She waited a few seconds, considering her next steps.

  Her phone buzzed, and she slipped it from her purse to find Layne’s number on the screen. “Morning, Mr. Parrish.”

  “Morning, Ember.”

  “Yes, it is. What’s up?”

  “I know where Marcus is staying. He still thinks Serena is still on his team and gave her an address up in the mountains.”

  “Is it legit?”

  “I asked her that same question,” Layne said. “Serena said she couldn’t tell for sure about his intentions, but it seemed ‘possibly genuine’ to her. I’ll do some research on the location today and see how to get a tactical advantage.”

  “Good. Let’s get together later and talk strategy. I have a room at a hotel in Lakewood. I’ll send you the address.”

  “Of course
,” Layne said.

  “One thing… Last night, when you went at Thomas Milligan, was he the only one in the trailer? Did you see a big Euro-brute there with a smashed nose?”

  “Not in the trailer. The big guy was there with a crew of fresh-meat guards who showed up as I was planning to leave. He sent a couple of them to chase after me, but I hid in a kid’s treehouse across the street until their search died down. I have no reason to think anyone saw my face.”

  Ember gritted her teeth. “How many guards?”

  “I didn’t get a good look, but it was more than a handful. Maybe two dozen.”

  So, Thomas had been handled, but Helmut was still alive. Again, she didn’t know how much of a problem that presented. It wasn’t likely they would pack up and leave just because Thomas was dead. But how hard would they come for her? Would Helmut rally these two-dozen new minions he had in tow to stalk her? She had to assume he would try, since Helmut would probably want his revenge.

  “Thank you. Not just for the update, but for solving our Thomas problem. I know it’s a weight off Zach’s mind. Mine, too.”

  “I’m happy to help. I can get… prickly when there’s harm against kids involved. Ever since I’ve had one of my own… you know, the world is different after that. When you told me about the child porn thing…”

  Layne hadn’t sounded happy, but he always kept a fairly neutral tone, except when he was cracking one of his occasional tame jokes. Ember didn’t think much of it, now that she was getting to know this stone-faced assassin. There were many shades of Layne Parrish, apparently.