Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies)

by Laura Pauling

  Did I want his life on my conscience? He went to down it and I grabbed it from him and threw it to the ground.

  He spluttered. “Are you mad?”

  Then he smacked his lips as if tasting the liquor for the first time. He sniffed the open flask and then absently ran his hand down his pant leg. I could see the clues lining up in his mind, spelling out my guilt as if we were playing a family Scrabble game.

  I gulped and inched toward the edge of my seat, ready to run.

  He gripped the flask, his knuckles turning white and his face various shades of red. When he spoke his words came out stilted. “What’s going on here?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll go check with Mom.” And I started to walk away.

  His hand snaked out and grabbed onto my wrist. He yanked me close, his alcohol breath beaming down on me. “Don’t play games with me, girl.”

  “I’m sure I can find her. Teamwork, right?” I squeaked. “I think I hear her calling me.” I tried to pull away but his grip was like iron.

  He shook his head as if trying to clear away cobwebs. Was the drug already working?

  “I don’t hear a thing and I think it’s time you get a taste of your own medicine.” He reached up into my hair and yanked my head back. “I’m not stupid. I know what you and your mom are doing.”

  He pushed the tip of the flask to my lips and tipped it. The liquor gushed, spilling down the sides of my face. The little that made it into my mouth left a burning trail down my throat and into my chest. I struggled but I couldn’t move an inch.

  He pulled it away and let me breathe. I gasped for air and wiped my mouth. Then he yanked my head back again and forced me to drink. I coughed, spitting it back up but he wouldn’t stop. When the flask was empty, he threw it across the room and pushed me into the chair.

  “I know your Mom doesn’t love birds. I knew back at the National Gardens.” He leaned forward so his face was inches from mine. “A true bird lover would care more about the birds and their well-being than themselves. Oh yes, I’ve known for a while. Just waiting. And now I know. You were working for her all along. You’re both out to get me.”

  “No, that’s not the way it is.” Mom thought she’d had him fooled this whole time.

  He leaned back in his chair. “Then please, enlighten me, dear Savvy.”

  I blinked, the room spinning a bit.

  “I know. Terrible when someone drugs you, isn’t it?” Constance remarked.

  I gripped the chair, wanting to run but knowing I wouldn’t make it very far. How soon would Will arrive? “You want the truth?”

  Constance’s eyes brightened. “That would be nice.”

  “There’s a family of assassins trying to kill you.”

  He burst out laughing. “Right. And your mom is my guardian angel sent from heaven?”

  “Well, yeah, kinda. My family is at odds with the group of assassins and we try and protect their targets, which is why my mom went out of her way because you got those marks on your door. The three circles? That’s how she knew.” Even as I said the words I heard how ridiculous they sounded.

  “Tell me another one.”

  His face blurred and I felt the incredible need to sleep. “I’m serious. You need to pack your stuff and run far away from here.”

  He leaned closer. “And who would want to kill me?”

  I felt like I knew the answer but the words were just out of grasp. And then Robert’s face flashed through my mind. “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps your partner you pissed off?”

  A voice echoed down the hallway. “Constance!”

  His face paled and he placed his hands on either side of my face. “Dear girl, you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I managed to say even though he was squeezing my cheeks together.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall, nearing the office. The color drained from his face, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Holy blue-footed boobie,” he muttered.

  “I’m sorry. My mom’s been working to protect you, not hurt you.”

  “Yes, yes, I see that now.” He grabbed my arm, pulled me across his body and shoved me under his desk. “Stay there,” he hissed. “Don’t make a sound.”

  “Constance!”

  I shuddered in response to the familiar voice and flashed back to an earlier mission.

  Thirty-two

  The cold metal of the desk was clammy against my cheek. The words between Constance and me pricked my conscience. I’d warned him. And he didn’t believe me. Angry voices pounded against my skull, unrelenting. Their sharp staccato tones were like nails being hammered through my head.

  “You were my partner, damn it!”

  That voice again. Robert Yertsky. He was obviously tired of waiting for the hired assassins to do their job. I pushed up and leaned to the left so I wouldn’t miss anything.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I lost it or someone must’ve stolen it,” Constance said, his words slurring a bit from the drugged brandy.

  “Lost it? You’re the one who’s lost it if you think I’m going to believe some fan dangled story about losing the map! We both agreed to wait it out and then go back for scrolls.”

  Constance slammed his fist against the desk. The vibrations rippled through the metal and against my back.

  “You were the one who wanted the map. You didn’t want to return the scrolls, but my conscience couldn’t bear it anymore.” His voice dropped low as if he were a child admitting his guilt. “I still refuse to participate in this. It’s wrong.”

  “What?” Robert asked in a strangled voice.

  “You whispered words in my ear about lost treasure and riches and how easy it would be. I have enough money now and want out. You can keep everything!” Constance stood and moved away from the desk. “Greed. That’s what this is about. I never should’ve listened to you.”

  “Oh no, dear friend. You’re wrong. You have enough money because I paid you a tidy sum.”

  Constance’s voice caught. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Betrayal. It never leads to anything good.”

  “What are you talking about? Betrayal?” Constance huffed. “I’ve done nothing but keep our secret and our friendship. I just want out.”

  Anger escalated and their words became increasingly harsh and mean. I could’ve used a partner, but I’d drugged the only person who could help. It was up to me.

  “Our friendship, our partnership could’ve been so much more, dear friend.” Robert sighed. “I wished things had turned out differently. Unfortunately, someone stole the copy of the map you gave me and I want yours.”

  I cringed, shrinking into myself a little bit more.

  Constance huffed. “I told you. I lost it.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Robert stated.

  I wanted to pinch Constance or send him a text and tell him to get the hell out of here and away from Robert. His partner was a loose cannon. Constance, who once repulsed me, suddenly had my compassion. He seemed clueless to the real danger of his situation. A little like me.

  Robert continued, “I didn’t want to be the one to do this. But you know the saying. If you want something done right then do it yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” A hint of fear lay under Constance’s question.

  I huddled under the desk and wrapped my arms around my legs. Frantically, I tucked any evidence of my dress under my body. Robert would strangle me on the spot if he knew.

  “Quite simple. You aren’t needed anymore. I never should’ve brought you on board.”

  The cocking of a gun rattled through the room.

  “Robert! No!” Constance cried.

  “Tell me where you hid your copy of the map! I need to find that secret room! More scrolls! More money!” A warning bullet pinged, and a window shattered. “Traitor!”

  “How am I a traitor?” Constance shifted his stance as if ready to flee. “You had the map.”

  “Liar!” Robert yelled, his vo
ice bordering on madness.

  My whole body shook. Constance could reveal me as the thief, put my life in danger and protect his own. But he wasn’t. He was protecting me. Every evil thought I had about this man I took back. I pressed my forehead against my knees, self-deprecating thoughts beating me down.

  “I could let the professionals take care of you,” Robert threatened, “but I’m going to find this rather gratifying.”

  “Professionals?” Constance asked, not able to hide the quiver in his voice.

  “That’s right. But they’re moving a little too slow for me. You’d think assassins would take care of the job. But no, they want to make sure you’re truly guilty.”

  That would be Will’s family. At least they were assassins with morals, but somehow that didn’t make me feel any better. Just six months ago I was the target of their slow scrutiny.

  “Hand over the map, and I’ll spare your life. We’ll go our separate ways,” Robert warned, his voice rising in pitch.

  “Fine.” A drawer slammed open, papers rustled about, then it slammed shut. “Take it,” Constance spit out.

  The gunshot rang loud and clear and Constance slumped to the ground next to me. I froze, my heart thudding. The roar and ringing in my head blocked out everything else. Murder. A body. About five inches from me.

  “Thank you. But sorry, dear friend. You are no longer trustworthy.” The door slammed behind him.

  I was shaking, replaying the words in my head and seeing Constance fall to the ground. I peeked and he was still there. But wait! His chest was moving, up and down, ever so slightly. I scrambled out and grabbed his hand. He groaned.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to make it.” I didn’t care that Will and his family could hear everything through the wire in my dress. Will would probably be here any second but I had to go. I couldn’t face him.

  “Come here,” Constance groaned, the words slipping out at the same time.

  I stroked his hand. “Shh. Help is on the way.”

  “Come close. I have a secret.”

  “Wait.” I grabbed hold of the jewels on my dress and with a yank ripped them off and revealed the wire. With a tug, I pulled it out and threw it across the room, then I leaned over. “What, Constance?”

  “False map. I burned real one.”

  “Huh?”

  He gripped my hand with a surge of strength. “Someone needs to know.”

  And then in short bursts, he revealed the details of the map, the route to the secret room in the monastery where he believed I’d find more scrolls. He’d memorized the map and burned the real one. As he spoke these last words, his head rolled to the side and he passed out. I lay my hand on his chest and breathed in relief at the faint heartbeat pulsing against my fingers.

  I said good-bye. I made my apologies with tears dropping onto his chest. Then I fled from the man I’d judged wrong, from my own cowardice, and from my bad decisions.

  Thirty-three

  I rushed out of the study but stopped in the hallway and not just because my legs were still wobbly. I leaned against the wall to control my breathing. Robert would be long gone. Eventually someone would call the police and they couldn’t find me or question me as eyewitness to the scene. This all had to be kept under wraps.

  I wanted Malcolm. I wanted him to hold me and tell me that we had a happy ending. I needed to be close to someone who understood this whole mess and didn’t want to be part of it either. There was only one place I wanted to go. The docks. I needed to hear the quiet lap of the water and smell the sea air. Everything that reminded me of him.

  Sounds from the party drifted down the hall. A dark shadow approached. I pressed against the wall. Adamos stepped out of the darkness and nodded, motioning to me. Was he mad at me?

  “Adamos?” My voice came out hoarse.

  He turned with a finger on his lips and shook his head.

  “I ripped out the wire. Constance is barely alive and Mom…” The words died before I could say what I did out loud.

  Tears burned and his face softened. He closed the gap between us quickly and wrapped me in a hug.

  He whispered in my ear. “I believe in you. Do what you have to do.”

  “Mom?”

  “I found her, but she’s still out of it. I’ll take care of her.” He kissed my cheek in a big brother kind of way then rushed to take care of Constance.

  The rocky shore called to me, the gentle waves whispering with the tide without a care, the cool breeze, the salt air. I stumbled down the hall, not anything like a graceful spy maneuvering in and out from her mission. So many thoughts tumbled around in my head, needing to be heard, demanding freedom and recognition. I tried my hardest to float through the small pockets of partiers, pretending to know them, but I think I looked more like the spurned lover running from a scene. Or the guilty criminal.

  The cool air outside brushed my face and lifted my spirits. With my dress in my hand so I wouldn’t trip, I started the long walk to the docks. I stumbled and then looked back to see what I’d tripped over. A pale meaty arm lay across the path.

  A sick feeling formed in my stomach. An arm stretched out on the ground from the landscaping was not a good sign. I recognized the shirt. My heart sank. On tiptoes, I moved to the other side of the bush to find the rest of the body. A knife jutted out from his chest with dark blood streaming, soaking his shirt and pooling on the ground.

  Robert.

  I cringed, fighting the desire to just run. But what if he still had the map? With one eye closed and one eye open I patted his shirt. I almost puked when searching his pockets and when I had to lift his body to look underneath. Nothing. The map was gone. Poor guy didn’t have a chance. The question was who?

  Laughter came down the gravel path. Guests leaving. They’d discover the body for sure. I fled, and for the first time, I thanked Will for those early morning runs. Of course, running in a gown was not quite as easy.

  I reached the docks just as the moon peeked out from the clouds and cast its silvery beams across the water. Any other night this would be romantic. The spot where Malcolm’s boat would’ve been moored was a gaping hole. An ache pushed up from my chest. I dug my feet into the sand and walked down the beach to a small rocky overhang. The shadows would hopefully keep me hidden.

  “Sorry, Malcolm,” I whispered into the night.

  I huddled against the rock. If he were here he’d understand I felt sick to my stomach at the sight of the dead body, the blood, the paling face of the victim. Maybe he’d seen enough dead bodies and that was why he was willing to walk away. Maybe he’d learned the hard truth that life would go on with or without him.

  I tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. I wanted to scream. The timing was perfect. I was by myself. No one was looking for me. The darkness hid me from my own humiliation but all I could do was stare numbly out at the water. The cooler ocean breeze sent prickles along my bare arms but I didn’t care. All I could see were dead bodies lining up, falling in a pile, their vacant eyes, staring.

  Robert’s body and blood stained my mind. I held my hands up in front of me, imaginary blood coating my skin and dripping down my arm and into the sand. I took part in his death. My stomach roiled and I couldn’t stop the feeling of nausea that rushed up into my throat. I turned and lost it in the sand. After taking a few minutes to get control, I turned and wiped my mouth.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed—maybe an hour—but a cloud cut off the moon and darkened the sky. I had to make this right. I had to go home and force Mom to talk with me or at least listen as I told her my truth in all this. I wanted my family back. I pushed off the sandy ground, my legs stiff from being tucked underneath, and my head throbbing.

  I stood outside the door, wavering on what to do. I put my hand on the knob, then pulled it away, then raised it to knock, then let it drop to my side. Do I knock? Would they want me to just enter? I opened it a crack and peered in. Completely dark. They weren't back yet. I stumbled through, my legs not
wanting to support me anymore. I felt like a stranger as I walked through the kitchen. I couldn't be here, not without them. I grabbed the blanket from the couch and made my way outside. Wrapped in a blanket and sitting on a lawn chair, I stared into the shadows.

  The blank eyes of dead people stared at me everywhere I looked. The darkness draping the lawn and covering the trees became blood. Every jagged branch that pierced the air became a knife.

  Robert was dead.

  Robert was dead.

  It could've been me. Or Mom. Or Constance. I'd never know. Mom's words about Will hovered in the air, whispering their warning. “Trained assassin. He's nice at first. He can change in the blink of an eye.” Did Will have me fooled? Maybe his whole family did. I shook my head. I didn’t believe that.

  The door creaked behind me. I held my breath and clutched the blanket like it could protect me from the hard truth. Even if I didn't want to go back, I had to.

  “Savvy?” Adamos's voice was deep and rich, like chocolate cake that matched the color of his eyes.

  “Will Constance make it?” I asked.

  “He has a long recovery but he’ll make it. Your mother would like to talk to you.”

  “Is she okay?” I croaked.

  He stood in front of me, blocking my view of the knife-like branches, for which I was grateful.

  “Yes.” He was silent for a moment and I knew the reprimand was coming. “But your actions tonight put your mother in a lot of danger. She was left defenseless with her mortal enemy nearby.”

  “You mean Will?”

  “Yes, he means Will.” Mom stood by Adamos. I hadn't even heard her cross the lawn.

  Thirty-four

  Adamos nodded and left. Like somehow he wanted me to know he didn't approve so I'd apologize.

  “May I sit with you?” Mom asked.

  “It's your house.” Sarcasm. Not my best trait but it sprang up like a shield before I could stop it.

  “It's your house too.”

  “Is it really?” I asked.

  “You are welcome here. Always. No matter what.”