Final Target: Six Assassins Book 6

by Heskett, Jim

  And this group of assassins was headed straight for her and the others.

  “Snowmobile, now!” she said.

  Layne and Jacob lumbered over to the pile of twigs and branches and began pulling them off. Layne winced with every movement of his upper torso. Due to the broken ribs, she could imagine the slicing agony he was in right now. He shouldn’t be moving at all, he should be on his back, making sure those broken bones weren’t tearing apart his insides.

  Ember bent down and searched Marcus. In one of his front pockets, she found a set of keys. Cold, unmarked keys.

  Ember trotted over to the snowmobile, keeping her wounded left arm close to her body.

  “Anyone know how to drive one of these things?” she shouted as she looked back toward the small-but-mighty mob headed their way.

  Layne nodded, but he pointed at his wounded stomach. No way he’d be able to pilot this machine in his current state. His breaths were haggard, wheezing.

  “No time,” she said as the first bullet from the incoming attackers ricocheted off one of the canyon walls.

  Ember slid onto the seat as Jacob and Layne grabbed onto the sides, standing on the skis. She seemed to remember Zach telling her about riding snowmobiles near Steamboat Springs. For his safety, Ember hadn’t wanted Zach Bennett anywhere near this mansion, but now she realized he would have made an excellent getaway driver.

  Layne pointed to the keyhole for the ignition. “Like a car,” he yelled. “Put it in and turn!”

  More bullets whizzed in their direction. A few struck the ground within feet of the snowmobile. Ember had to assume it had a gas tank somewhere, which meant one lucky shot could engulf them all in a gasoline fire.

  She looked at the keys on the keychain. There were four. One was clearly a house key, larger than the others. One was small, probably for a safe or a padlock. That left two nearly identical keys.

  Ember picked one and shoved it in the ignition. It fit.

  She cranked it once. Nothing happened. The instrument panel lights flicked on for a second, then darkened again.

  A bullet hit the ground a foot from the snowmobile, sending a puff of snow into the air. Other shots pinged off the canyon walls, their noise mixing in with the rabble of the rapidly approaching crowd.

  “We’re out of time,” Jacob said, clinging for dear life to the side of the vehicle. Layne stood on the other side, holding onto Jacob’s arms, a deep grimace on his face.

  Ember closed her eyes and took a breath, then she turned the key again. For a split second, nothing happened.

  Then the instrument panel lit up. She turned the key harder.

  The snowmobile grunted and then started up, revving and vibrating.

  Ember hit the gas and took off, hoping her two companions could hold on, and hoping the angry swarm behind them had no chance to catch up.

  Wind whipper her hair. Falling snow melted against her forehead. She bared her teeth against the blinding darkness ahead.

  Snow churned under the treads, and Ember kept her eyes on the curtain of snow up ahead, leading them beyond the canyon to freedom.

  Epilogue

  A light breeze circled the length of the farm, rippling the cherry trees. The sun was out, warm and bright, as were the mosquitos. But they didn’t care about that last fact. A few bug bites weren’t going to stand in the way of this long-held plan to pick cherries.

  They walked the grounds, each with a red bucket held loosely in one hand. Their other hands were clasped together, fingers interlaced. Holding tight. With the humidity, their hands became sweaty instantly, but they didn’t care. They were together, and these days, they could actually enjoy being together without having to worry about someone shooting at them.

  Her bicep had been sore for quite a while after the escape out of the canyon, but it had eventually healed. The tricky part that night had been the balancing act to keep the other two passengers from falling off the snowmobile, moving fast enough to stay ahead of their pursuers, and hiding from a roving band of assassins looking to kill the three of them. And, eventually, delivering their friend to the hospital to have his broken ribs examined.

  Since Layne had very obviously suffered from gunshots to his vest-clad torso, Ember had fully expected for him and possibly her to be detained at the hospital. But apparently Layne still had powerful connections — while hospitalized, she’d waited in the room next door and she hadn’t seen even one police officer enter the hallway, much less ask questions of the medical or administrative staff.

  He had been released a day later, sporting a tightly wrapped bandage from his pectorals to his bellybutton. He would be completely fine in another few weeks. Then back to spying, or being retired, or pretending to be retired while he actually went spying, or whatever.

  They came to a stop at the edge of a row of trees. Zach smiled and drew in a breath.

  “I think I can smell the lake from here,” he said.

  “No, you can’t,” she said.

  He feigned shock. “You don’t think so? How do you know I don’t have superhuman smelling ability?”

  “Because I think you would have mentioned it sooner.”

  He shrugged. “Fair point. But you could have used my superhuman snowmobile-piloting abilities in the mountains, though. I definitely have those.”

  “Yes, we could have. But we made it out alive, and I did it with one hand. You ever piloted a snowmobile with a shot-out bicep? Huh?”

  He chuckled and then leaned in to kiss her.

  They continued on and stopped at the first tree. He dove into the branches and picked a cluster of cherries. While he dropped most of them into the bucket, he held one up to feed it to her. She opened her mouth, and he dangled one between her lips. She drew it in. Sweet, plump, triggering her salivary glands. She maintained eye contact as she let the flavor envelop her tongue.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Good. Very good. This was the perfect day to come out here.”

  “Well, we’ve been talking about it long enough. I’ve been waiting on you.”

  She socked him in the shoulder, and he pulled her close for a kiss. They continued on and picked cherries until their buckets were full, all the way from one lazy end of the farm to the other. Then, with tired legs and packed hearts, they made their way back home.

  Notes for “A History of the Denver Assassins Club”

  Part 6 of 6

  By Kunjal Anand

  In 2010, a woman with the alias of November Clarke joined the Denver Assassins Club. She did so through all the normal channels. Full background check, probationary period, intensive training and membership test. She ticked all the boxes to become an exemplary member of the DAC. She excelled within Boulder Branch and quickly gained renown among all members of the Club as one of the most elite.

  Not long before her entry, a man named David Wellner had risen to power and been elected President of the Club. Initially, he was universally liked and made several changes for the better. He reduced power levels in individual Branches and centralized more functions under the governing Review Board. At that time, the Review Board held an impeachable respect among all the Branches.

  At first, this transition of power helped to ease day-to-day struggles and made Club members generally feel more included in the process. It seemed like the dawn of a new era of prosperity within the operations of the DAC.

  Then, in 2013, everything changed. That summer, a Five Points assassin with the alias Dalton (whose real name is unavailable to this researcher) sought to overthrow the DAC government. He attempted and failed. Ember Clarke played a large part in stopping him, although she broke several Club laws in the process. Because of her intent and her previously spotless record—including saving President Wellner’s life at one point, a fact not known generally until later—she received only probation and other lesser consequences for her misdeeds.

  Many were outraged that her sentence was so light, and just as many were outraged her sentence was so harsh. The d
ifferences in opinion became a schism that only widened over the ensuing months. In a short amount of time, the general morale among the members endured a sharp decline as a result of philosophical disagreements about the merits of her consequences.

  Her actions and the other members’ opinions about said actions were obviously not the only reason for unrest. It had been growing from several angles for quite a while. Slowly percolating, a millimeter below the surface.

  However, in the fall of that year, everything changed. Ember Clarke killed Niles Thisdell, a Five Points DAC member in good standing, over a dispute about a contract. Ember went before the Review Board to receive her punishment. Given that she was already on probation, many expected her to receive a death sentence. However, she did not. She received a black spot trial by combat, a process later revealed to have been outlawed by the DAC in the 1970s. This information about the change in laws was not available at the time Wellner handed down the sentence, but many in the Club still wondered how and why the President was unaware of such a change.

  Ember’s “light” punishment again angered dozens of members across several branches. A popular theory was that she and Wellner had been having an affair, and he was incapable of being impartial with her. While there was no evidence that she and Wellner were ever romantically linked, conspiracy theories flourished among the members.

  The goodwill President Wellner had created up until that point had already begun to erode, and Ember’s punishment created more problems. The infighting and Branch squabbles of the early years returned. Within a few weeks, open war came to the DAC, as well as a slew of revelations.

  Ember Clarke was revealed to be Allison Campbell, an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. While initially sent to Denver to infiltrate the DAC, she never made a formal case against it. Any evidence she collected about the Club was never used. As of this writing, there have been no indictments, and no charges brought against any members.

  President Wellner was assassinated by his secretary in November of 2013. Later, it was revealed that he had been working with a man in the FBI named Marcus Lonsdale, who had made a financial arrangement with Wellner. Marcus Lonsdale had referred contracts to the DAC and provided interference to keep the prying eyes of law enforcement focused in other directions, while Wellner had sent kickbacks to Marcus. No details of this arrangement and partnership had been known to members of the DAC until after the Branch wars had begun.

  Around this same time, the central building housing the DAC operations was destroyed. Many members of the government perished in the explosion. While surviving Board member Vice President Jules Dunard initially stepped up and claimed she would rebuild, within a few days, she disappeared. No one has heard from her since.

  After the fallout, some members attempted to rejoin and unionize. Earlier that year, the DAC had numbered over 200 verified members. By the end of 2013, that number was closer to 40 who still carried tokens.

  As of this writing, Ember Clarke/Allison Campbell has disappeared and no one in the DAC has made a concerted effort to find her, according to evidence available to this researcher. There are rumors that individuals and small groups have actually targeted her, but there is little in the way of proof for those theories.

  The DAC continues only in whispers now, as there is no official seat of power, no official hierarchy, and no longer a centralized message board. If the DAC is still out there, it is no longer alive in a format like any previous incarnation.

  The future is uncertain, but the past is less so. Less so than before, as far as I can tell.

  Kunjal Anand

  February 19th, 2020

  * * *

  THAT’S ALL, FOLKS

  Hey reader!

  Welcome. Thanks for reading all about complicated contract killer Ember Clarke and her zany adventures.

  We hope you had a good time.

  Also, the good times don’t have to stop.

  Want to get books by Jim Heskett for free and learn more about Ember’s neighbor and former spy Layne Parrish, as well as the mysterious Serena Rojas?

  Get started in the Layne Parrish series with the FREE thriller novella Museum Attack.

  It’s Die Hard in a Denver Art Museum.

  Museum Attack is not for sale anywhere, but you can get it FOR FREE at

  www.jimheskett.com/readergroup.

  * * *

  OMG THE SERIES IS OVER, WHAT DO WE DO NOW?

  If you would like to know more about Ember Clarke before Six Assassins, then you’re in luck.

  You’ll love the non-stop Harvey Bennett action thriller prequel THE LETHAL BONES

  Find out how Ember met Zach and experience the first Five Points revolt.

  * * *

  Then to learn more about Firedrake and Draconis and all their evil plans, jump into Nick Thacker’s jaw-dropping Harvey Bennett series.

  Go along for a ride with Zach’s big brother Ben!

  For the readers who were so patiently waiting. We promise we wrote them as fast as we could.

  All material copyright 2020 by Jim Heskett and Nick Thacker. No part of this work may be reproduced without permission.

  Published by Bad Tooth Books, an imprint of Turtleshell Press

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  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  JIM HESKETT

  Jim Heskett writes stories about outsiders who fight crime.

  The author was born in the wilds of Oklahoma, raised by a pack of wolves with a station wagon and a membership card to the local public swimming pool. Just like the man in the John Denver song, he moved to Colorado in the summer of his 27th year. He's never looked back. Aside from a wild year traveling the world, he hasn't let the Flatirons mountains out of his sight.

  Jim fell in love with writing at the age of fourteen inside a copy of Stephen King's Carrie. Poetry provided his first outlet for teen angst, then later a smattering of mediocre screenplays, and eventually crime thriller fiction a la Elmore Leonard. In between, he worked a few careers that never quite tickled his creative toes.

  He hasn't ever forgotten about Stephen King.

  You can find him currently huddled over a laptop in an undisclosed location in Colorado, dreaming up ways to kill beloved characters.

  Finally, and perhaps most importantly, he believes the huckle is the king of berries and he refuses to entertain any arguments to the contrary.

  He writes award-winning crime thrillers seasoned with a dash of snark. Sometimes he writes these books with co-authors like Nick Thacker.

  Details and FREE, exclusive books at www.jimheskett.com

  NICK THACKER

  Nick Thacker is a thriller author from Texas who lives in Colorado and Hawaii, because Colorado has mountains, microbreweries, and fantastic weather, and Hawaii also has mountains, microbreweries, and fantastic weather. In his free time, he enjoys reading in a hammock on the beach, skiing, drinking whiskey, and hanging out with his beautiful wife, tortoise, two dogs, and two daughters.

  In addition to his fiction work, Nick is the founder and lead of Sonata & Scribe, the only music studio focused on producing “soundtracks” for books and series. Find out more at SonataAndScribe.com.

  For more information and a list of Nick’s other work, visit Nick online:

  www.nickthacker.com