Rogue

by David Leadbeater

  “I’ve got something.” He said. “But the files are alphabetical.”

  “Of course they are. What did you expect?”

  “Well, let’s hope his name isn’t Zico or something then.”

  She took the B’s. “Get on with it. It won’t take long. They’re interested in ultra-wealthy customers. I’d say they’ll be lucky to get one sale a day.”

  Spencer shrugged and flicked through the A’s before moving onto the C’s. It was twenty minutes later when Spencer gave a low whistle

  “I don’t believe it, but I think I’ve got it.”

  “Let me see.” She scooted over to his side and pulled the file from his grip. Spencer gave her a pout which she ignored.

  “The Sciacca was sold three months ago to a man by the name of Rex Herron. Here, hold this whilst I take photos.”

  She recorded address and credit card details. She also took his personal email address. The single sheet of paper didn’t contain employment details.

  She looked at Spencer. “It has to be him, right?”

  “Yeah. We got him.”

  She started tidying away, leaving everything as they found it. No, she thought. You got him. I’m glad you helped us out back in Florida, Spencer Kirby.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  With just three hours of night left, Rogue had a vital decision to make. If Rex Herron was the third Old Man, then darkness would be her best ally to help secure him. Also, as dawn approached, he’d be expected at work, and no doubt have to perform a morning safety procedure.

  But she wanted to end this now. The last few weeks had been an incredible strain, and not only for her. When Spencer informed her that Herron’s address was just a twelve-minute car ride away she made an instant decision.

  “This ends tonight.”

  They flagged down a taxi and jumped into the back. Rogue had brought her go-bag and every piece of paraphernalia she thought she might need for tonight. They took the short ride in silence, getting dropped off about a mile past Herron’s house. The walk back was quiet too, with Spencer only asking her once, softly, what to do.

  “Stick with me,” she said. “You’re part of this. I may need you.”

  “I’m ready to jump into action.”

  “Stay safe, geek. Now shut up. We’re here.”

  The home in question was a three storey, stone-walled dwelling taking up the majority of a modest piece of land south of the city centre. Rogue thought that Herron, due to his clandestine actions, would long ago have adopted an attitude of arrogance and superiority but remained an MI6 official. The man wouldn’t be lax with security.

  Which played right into her hands. Rogue had been trained to bypass any security system, digital, electrical or physical. If Herron had safety measures, she could exploit them.

  She crouched in shrub and darkness, whispering to Spencer one last time.

  “I’ll go over the side wall. Wait here for me. If I’m not back in an hour, leave.”

  “How do you know he’s even there?”

  “I don’t, obviously. But Herron is like anybody. We all retire to our safe haven at night. To rest and recuperate and do whatever it is we like to do on our own. Chances are, he’s there.”

  Spencer put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re eager. It’s the danger you love isn’t it?”

  “I’m good at what I do. Danger comes as part of the job.”

  “And that’s why you can’t leave it alone.”

  She wanted to tell him this wasn’t the best time for analysis, but the geek looked so earnest she gave him an extra minute. “Maybe,” she said. “it’s been the best and worst part of my life. And I mean that in every way. It is me. The hunt. The danger. The payoff. Who was I kidding, living an unfulfilled life in Cocoa Beach? What was I trying to be?”

  “You were lying to yourself.”

  “You’re right. The real me was hidden behind that bloody belt buckle,” she laughed quietly “So trust me. I know how to do this.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she climbed an eight-foot pitted wall and rolled over the top. She landed amidst low shrubbery, staying flat on the ground. Looking up, she saw the side of a house, five windows and one surveillance camera. She saw two security lights. There were no guards, which did seem odd. Maybe they were inside.

  Rogue utilised shadows all the way to the house. She moved and crawled and rolled as far as she could, making no sudden movements. This was her tradecraft. Once there, she tried the nearest window, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  The back door provided a way inside. She broke the barrel lock with a special thief’s tool, the same way locksmiths have been breaking into PVC doors for years. She stole inside and waited five minutes. There was noise coming from the front of the house, enough noise to signify several men. Guards. She heard a television and some muted conversation. Rogue stood in the shadows of a long hallway, evaluating as best she could. Through an open door she could see flickering TV images, the occasional passing figure, and one man’s arm, tapping as it rested languidly over an armchair.

  When the TV was at its loudest, she stole by.

  She climbed the stairs a riser at a time. On the first landing she prowled until she found Herron’s room. It was the fourth she tried. With this one, when she cracked the door open, she saw a figure asleep in the four-poster bed.

  Who else could it be?

  That was when the stairs creaked. Moving fast, she slipped into Herron’s room and put her eyes to the partially cracked open door. A figure turned on to the landing and came down the hall. By the way he walked, she knew he hadn’t seen her. Was he a guard? A patrol? A curious wanderer? Either way, if he came in Herron’s room, she’d end him.

  Rogue pulled out her knife.

  Behind her, Herron shifted restlessly in his sleep. She watched the man out in the hallway until he walked by. Two minutes passed before he returned and entered another door along the hallway. He didn’t even glance at Herron’s room.

  A snooper then.

  She waited until he’d gone, which wasted eleven minutes. She crouched at the foot of the bed for a moment and then walked up to Herron. Blinds covered the windows. She flicked the bedside lamp on, clamped a hand over Herron’s mouth and tapped him on the head with the steel side of her blade.

  His eyes flew open. He struggled but she held him down.

  “Don’t move, don’t fight,” she hissed, getting closer than she wanted to. “And if you make any noise other than a whisper, I’ll stab you in the hand. Got that?”

  She waited until his eyes stopped darting left and right. Her hand still covered his mouth. “You know exactly what I could do to you, don’t you?”

  A nod. The man’s body tensed even more. Rogue let the knife slide gently from his forehead to his cheek. “If you fight, you’ll regret it. Remember who you’re up against.”

  Herron blinked and then relaxed. She saw and felt his body loosen under the sheets, but knew this man was a fighter. Probably military at some point in his career. He’d still be dangerous. She mentally adjusted her plans to include that knowledge.

  “I owe you a death,” she said. “A hard one, to be fair. Tom didn’t deserve what you did to him. He followed orders unknowingly for six years and you took him out in a heartbeat. How long did it take you take to decide he should die? Seconds? Was it an instant decision?”

  Herron’s eyes told her it was. Agents were just numbers on a worksheet to him.

  “I could kill you and escape from here in six minutes,” she said. “Cleanly. Do you want to die, Rex?”

  A brief shake of the head. She gripped his mouth harder, fingers digging into his cheeks and the jawbone beneath. She leaned forward, her wide black eyes just millimetres from his cold dead ones.

  “I want to kill you.”

  He mumbled. She backed off, hating her proximity to this soulless, murdering shark. “But I will make a deal. I’m going to kill you, that’s a given. Not including what you’ve done to a thousand inno
cent people, killing Tom assured you a hard death. But if you clear Spencer, Juliani, and me – expunge us from your records, remove us from all lists – then we’re gone. Ghosts. Do you understand?”

  Herron nodded, half his face scrunched up by her grip.

  “We’re clear and free. No matter where we choose to settle. You facilitate that for me, I’ll let you die quickly, which is far more than you deserve. Got it?”

  Again, Herron nodded. She eased up, allowing him some small movement.

  “Oh, and one thing more . . .”

  She brought the tip of the knife under his chin, holding it close enough to draw blood.

  “If you send anyone after us, I’ll know immediately. I’ll hurt you until you beg to die.”

  He blinked in acknowledgement, not daring to nod due to the placement of the knife. “I realise that,” he whispered.

  “Good. Get on with it.”

  He dragged over the laptop that had been resting on the empty side of the bed. Rogue wondered for a moment if there was a Mrs Herron but then rebuked herself. Don’t be an idiot. Herron is too controlling to keep anyone in his life.

  He opened a programme. “I can expunge you,” he said. “Are you Carrie Webber now?”

  She grimaced. “My name is Rogue.”

  “Sorry I asked.” She watched him make several keystrokes, aware that he could also be triggering an alarm. IT wasn’t her forte, but he appeared to be capitulating.

  “If you’ve double-crossed me,” she reiterated. “I’ll know, and I won’t go easy on you.”

  “Understood,” he said. “You were our best operative. I know what you can do.”

  “All right. I’m used to superior assholes like you thinking they can still beat me, even when my knife is halfway down their throat.”

  Herron winced. Rogue hadn’t stopped listening to the house. To its grounds and environs and the hallway outside. Nothing had changed. She checked the time. Forty-five minutes had passed. It was time to finish this.

  “The Hellfire Club,” she couldn’t resist another minute. “It’s not just you, is it? You’re just a lackey.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t-”

  “Give me something on them.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I just can’t.”

  She saw the truth of it in his eyes. He’d die before he spoke. Quickly, she dug out a flash-drive. “Put it all on there,” she said. “Everything on your laptop. Do it now.”

  “I can’t-”

  She rammed a hand over his mouth and slashed his right wrist. Instantly, blood started to flow. Herron’s eyes went wide, and he screamed into her palm, pushing his left hand over the wound. Rogue dragged it away.

  “Download,” she said.

  Herron still resisted so she slashed his other wrist. Moments later he was typing on the laptop as blood flowed across the black keys. He handed her the flash-drive. She pocketed it and stood up.

  “I hate it here,” she looked around. “are you ready to die?”

  She manoeuvred her way behind him with the knife, ready to slash his throat.

  “Wait,” he said softly. “I did everything you asked. You can’t kill me.”

  She didn’t react.

  “If you kill me, notes will be found. Evidence detailing this entire debacle. You might not care what happens to you. But what about your friends? The geek, Spencer. If I die his girlfriend, Wildey, will be hunted and killed. Juliani and his family will die. These are largely innocent people, and they will all die badly. But if I live, the evidence won’t be seen, and I can make sure that the people are kept safe.”

  He was manipulating her, to be sure. He was using those slippery Intelligence Service skills to play her.

  “Leave you alive?” she struggled with it. She’d already won – killing two members of the British branch of the Hellfire Club and finding its third and highest ranking member. But now she would lose too. She would have to leave Herron alive.

  The slippery fuck is playing life and death right here, right now. Playing his dangerous, deadly games right on the brink.

  Leaving him there, she exited by the window, finding hand and footholds all the way to the ground. The night was still fully dark.

  You should have killed him, a voice told her.

  She couldn’t.

  He might prove useful in the future. He might be a devil but he was a devil she knew very well. And she’d instilled enough fear and anguish in him to make sure he stayed the hell away from her. Herron would protect her now as long as he lived.

  And Spencer, and Juli.

  She melted into the night.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Rogue relaxed only when they were back inside their hotel room. She’d barely spoken to Spencer on the way back, using every surveillance technique in the book to determine if they were being followed.

  The answer had been a firm no.

  In the hotel room, she let herself believe.

  “We’re free,” she told them. “You’re free. You can go back to your old life or start a new one. But it’s your choice.”

  “You don’t think Herron will track us?” Juliani was seated at the room’s small round table, a four-thirty a.m. treble-whiskey clasped firmly in one hand.

  Rogue took a long gulp of water. “Nothing’s certain,” she said. “I guess adopting a new identity and moving would help, especially right now. Would you consider that, Juli?”

  “I have family,” he said. “I have an obligation to the Romulus syndicate.” And that was the end of it.

  “I don’t,” Spencer said. “I could try.”

  “What about the Home Depot?” Juliani teased him. “Won’t you miss your nerdy friends? What will Wildey say?”

  “Maybe I want a change. Maybe I’ve moved on.”

  Rogue sat down on the bed. “Depends what you say to and how you treat Wildey.”

  “I’m looking forward to that conversation.” Spencer grinned and sat down beside her.

  “Hey,” she said. “Don’t come too close. I’m danger, remember?”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  She noted how he was sitting upright, how proudly he held his head. Spencer wasn’t stooping anymore. Maybe she really had helped him with his self-esteem issues.

  “What are you going to do?” Juliani asked Rogue, standing up and looking for his bag.

  “Make a life,” she said. “But first there’s this,” she held up the flash drive she’d taken from Herron’s house. “And a decision to be made over my knowledge of the Jackal terrorist group.”

  “FBI,” Juliani said. “If it’s domestic. Let them handle it.”

  “There’s a very good reason why I can’t.”

  “Shit, well, don’t tell me any more. I’m outta here. Don’t worry, I’ll spread the quiet word about the three MI6 infiltrators if it hasn’t been done already. The crime families will owe me a big favour.”

  Rogue was surprised. “You sure? You don’t wanna hang around. Party? We could celebrate. Have a few drinks to Tom.”

  “I have a family to get back to. A family I’ve missed. And, honestly, if I stay away any longer, the syndicate are probably gonna kill me. Or them.”

  “Well, let me know if you need help with that.”

  She saw he meant to leave and understood that he missed his wife and kids. “I’ll see you soon,” she rose and hugged him, watched him shake hands with Spencer, and then he was gone.

  The room grew quiet. Spencer grabbed bottled water and handed her a fresh one. She wondered what he was thinking.

  “Any ideas what you might do?” she asked, probing. “With or without Wildey?”

  “I was hoping you’d help with that.”

  She turned her head slightly and let her hair down, full auburn locks falling to her shoulders. Her eyebrows were lifted, her eyes wide.

  “I guess I could do that.”

  “I don’t want to crowd you, though. I know you work alone.”

  “I’ve come to see that rely
ing on somebody you trust helps make you free.”

  “And you trust me?”

  She touched water bottles with him. “Yeah, I do. Cheers.”

  “Cheers. I want to see more of the real word. To feel what I’ve missed. Mostly, I want to know what I’m capable of.”

  She grinned, not without some mischief in her eyes. “I can help with that.”

  “You’ll help me start over?”

  “I’ll set you up, but it’ll be a long way from Miami. But the Wildey situation needs straightening out first.”

  Spencer grinned. “Not a problem.”

  She picked up on something then, almost like a sixth sense. There was no noise, but she whirled toward the door. Somebody was out there. Maybe it was the scuffing of a boot along the floor. The scrape of a belt. The almost silent rustle of clothes.

  She grabbed Spencer and threw them both backward off the far side of the bed. She hadn’t replaced the chair under the door handle after Juliani left. Now it crashed in. Men followed, at least four with automatic weapons. They held them professionally. She was eight feet from her go bag. Some of that distance was unprotected.

  Rogue indicated her plan to Spencer with quick gestures. As the four men crowded inside the room, both her and Spencer rose as one, lifted the bed and sent it crashing into them. Then, she was leaping onto its underside, using that as a springboard to jump at them. They staggered into the far wall, all but one managing to hang onto his weapon. Rogue targeted that one.

  She smashed him harder into the wall, reached down and grabbed his gun from his hand. His colleagues were trying to recover. She was shocked when Spencer hit one full tilt, shoulder barging into the man. Both Spencer and the would-be assassin slammed into the wall and went down in a heap.

  She raised the gun, turned it on the two remaining men. They were already targeting her. Their barrels were steady, but they hadn’t fired.

  “What do you want?”

  “Come with us.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Marcus Miller wants his pound of flesh. And the skinheads want their reputation back. It doesn’t reflect good on them, losing to you. They need a big win.”