Hybrid: A Shadowmark Origins Novel

by T. M. Catron

  “I didn’t know what you’d do to me,” he said as he dug around on the floor for a cable. “You could have murdered me before I made it upstairs. And I didn’t know if you were trying to help me or catch me in my lie.”

  “And a week later, you changed your mind?”

  Charan looked up from his work, fixing me with a stare not unlike Hiraani’s. “No, but Toral convinced me, and I trust her.”

  To keep up appearances, Charan would keep his job as a courier, and he frequently went back to the hotel. If anyone were to ask why he was ever in my apartment, he was running special errands for me as part of paying back his debt. Inside Emerson-Wright Financial, such a job was not unheard of.

  Toral had not taken a job. The smell I had detected was a result of a meeting at an Indian restaurant, but she kept the details secret. She would stay in the apartment as much as possible, monitoring outgoing calls. If anyone were to ask about her, I’d tell them I was keeping her close to make sure Charan stayed in line. It might make EW like me better if he were to hear this.

  I hacked my way into the corporate system. I already had clearance, but I wanted to be able to dig around without leaving a trace. I also set up Toral so she could see the security feed down in my apartment. She could dig around without me, reporting back what she’d found. I could follow up in person. And I could keep up appearances better by doing the job I was hired to do. No one would detect anything unless they physically caught me at it.

  The first night after setting up everything, I wandered into the kitchen and began fishing eggs out of the refrigerator. A midnight omelette sounded fantastic.

  “What is it with you and food?” Toral asked as I finished making the omelette. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You eat like a four-hundred-pound person.”

  “High metabolism.” I stabbed my fork into the egg, crafting the perfect bite of sausage and egg and cheese. “Need the calories.”

  “It’s not how much you eat, but how you eat it.” She sat down on a stool at the counter.

  I mumbled “How?” through my bite of eggs.

  “Like you’ve never tasted anything so wonderful in your life,” she continued. “And it doesn’t matter what it is. The takeout we had today tasted like cardboard, and you acted like it was from a five-star restaurant.”

  I swallowed my egg. “I like food, what else do you want me to say?”

  I pushed the plate toward her.

  Toral searched through the drawers until she found a fork, and then sampled a bite. She chewed carefully before nodding. “Not bad.”

  “Not bad!”

  “I like more in it than just cheese and meat.”

  “So, you’re not a vegetarian.”

  “Nope.” She ate another bite. When she finished, she put down her fork. “Morse, satisfy my curiosity on something.”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “Why do you wear your shirt while you’re swimming? Did you have open heart surgery or something?”

  “No.” I wiped my mouth with my hand and looked around for the napkins. “I told you the truth—I don’t like exposing myself in public.”

  “Huh.”

  I found the napkins in a drawer. “You think that’s weird.”

  She shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Guess not.” I finished off the last bite and set the dirty plate in the sink with the pan. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep.”

  “Guess I’ll clean up the dishes, then,” she shot back.

  “Leave them for Charan,” I said. “He looks like he could use a little manual labor.”

  The three of us settled into a routine quickly. I woke up early, sometimes getting up in the dark to get to work before my roommates woke. I worked all day, skipped lunch, and on into the evening. After that, I walked the streets of Paris. Sometimes I didn’t return to sleep until well after midnight.

  My dinners with Toral had ended. I told myself it was because I knew her motives now. In truth, the discovery that she was CIA or something like it had saved me from myself. I’d let myself get too involved, too attached. And those emotions I’d convinced myself I was experiencing faded as if they had been nothing.

  They were nothing.

  The days passed. I had little time for investigating the properties. EW was having a formal dinner in a five-star Parisian hotel. I had the guest list. Local celebrities and foreign dignitaries alike would mingle for a night of booze, dancing, and a secret meeting.

  The meeting piqued my interest, as well as Toral’s and Charan’s. Only five were invited into the room, and as an official head bodyguard and head of security for Emerson-Wright, I would be in there. Or at least, be standing at the door outside, which wasn’t any different, considering my hearing ability.

  Armelle’s other assistant Takumi—or Tank, as everyone called him—was in charge of the party. I met him one week after Toral and Charan moved in. He bypassed Micheline to sweep through and open the door to my office.

  “Call me Tank,” he said, bowing. His dark hair was perfectly groomed, his designer clothes immaculate. “You haven’t had me plan a party for you yet, Mr. Morse.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Not my style, Tank.”

  He made a soft noise through his teeth. “Eventually, it is everybody’s style.”

  “So,” I said, gesturing for him to sit down. “I’ve heard that Mr. Emerson-Wright has been to a few of your parties. How was security there? With everyone drunk and high…”

  Tank sat in the chair with perfect posture, his attitude that of disdain, and also interest. “Not everyone was drunk, Morse. Not in the least. Your security team is the best. Always has been. They keep an eye on everybody.”

  “But Finn didn’t mind participating in the festivities.”

  “Mr. Finn chose to have his parties after hours. There is nothing to reproach on this. He never endangered Mr. or Mrs. Emerson-Wright with his luxuries.”

  “Luxuries?”

  “Maybe you need a few of those to help you with the stress of this job.”

  “Tank, you’ve misunderstood me. I believe you endangered Mr. Emerson-Wright and the entire staff when you planned these parties. Your lack of judgment could have caused a serious breach within this office. Did you ever think about what could happen when you mix drugs, booze, and guns?”

  Tank straightened his jacket as if I’d rumpled it. “Like I said, the security detail had it under control. They did a very fine job.”

  “Did.”

  “The fact is, Morse, you have created quite a disruption around here. People are used to being able to blow off steam. I helped them do that. You are more likely to have a problem now that they don’t have an outlet.”

  “If you want to threaten me, just say it outright.”

  “I would never threaten Mr. Emerson-Wright’s head of security.”

  “You and Finn must have been close.”

  Tank smirked. “Are you trying to get me fired? Because Armelle will not let that happen.”

  “I don’t have to ask Armelle, not if you are a security risk.”

  “And yet you haven’t told me to plan a party for you. Not yet. And you cannot prove my parties are dangerous, so you have no real grounds.”

  “Don’t worry, guys like you always slip up somewhere. Make sure this dinner is perfect, or you’ll receive your notice.”

  He cocked his head, looking for my meaning. Then he smiled. “Understood.”

  I called in Micheline after Tank left. I knew she was a mole, but as far as I knew, she didn’t know of my new involvement with the US Government.

  “Get me the final numbers on the dinner next week.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I tapped a pen on the desk.

  She waited. “Anything else?”

  “Has there been talk about the parties?”

  “What kind of talk?”


  “People upset that we aren’t having any?”

  “No. Did Tank say something? If he did, it’s because he’s missing them himself. It’s what he loves. People get drunk, high, screw around, and then he has leverage for favors.”

  “What about Finn? Did he use the intel to get favors?”

  “Absolutely. He and Tank tag-teamed it.”

  “Did Finn owe Tank any favors?”

  Micheline smiled. “Ever so many.”

  “What about the parties that the boss attended?”

  She sat back and crossed her legs. “Those were more interesting. EW used the parties for something other than extracting favors.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know what it was.”

  “What do you think it was?”

  She shook her head. “Emerson-Wright is too tight-lipped for that. They never involved me. And even if I knew, why would I disclose it?”

  “Not even to your immediate superior who oversaw keeping the boss safe?”

  “Why would I tell Finn anything?”

  “Did you owe him any favors?”

  She scowled. I’d hit the mark. And I let her squirm. She was a mole, and I didn’t have any respect for traitors whether she hated her boss or not. She must have hated Finn, to risk smuggling secrets from Emerson-Wright Financial to the CIA.

  “I still need those numbers,” I said, dismissing her.

  Micheline stood. “You know,” she said, turning back to me. “I thought you were different.”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  “You actually ask me what I think. And I like your no BS attitude.”

  “I wasn't trying to impress you.”

  “Don’t worry, you didn’t.” And she left.

  “Two things,” I said to Toral that evening. I’d left work earlier than usual. “You can’t trust your mole in my office.”

  “Micheline? Why?”

  “She was being blackmailed for favors for Finn.”

  “I know that. That’s how I got her to cooperate.”

  “I figured that. But that leads me into my next item—EW was using after-hours company parties to do something. I don’t know what. I think Micheline knows, but she won’t say what.”

  “So? She doesn’t trust you.”

  “No, but I think she’s in on it, whatever it is.”

  Toral nodded. Her long hair was loose tonight, falling down her back in thick waves. She wore jeans and a plain t-shirt. I had to admit, I missed the blue sari.

  “And also, I may have pissed her off.”

  “Oh, Morse! Do you know how many weeks I worked to get her to talk to me?”

  “She’s not on your side.”

  “Most of the time, a mole isn’t! They just feed you information hoping you can help them. Or because they have a grudge. And Micheline has a very, very deep grudge.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry. But I have something else by way of apology.”

  She sighed with the air of someone who was about to get bad news.

  “You’ll like it, promise.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “I have an invite for you.”

  A tiny smile crossed her lips. That beautiful smile.

  “But you might not want to go—too risky.”

  “Tell me about it over dinner? I have something to share with you too.”

  “Alright, but you’re buying tonight.”

  “No, I’m not. You offended my snitch.”

  “That’s okay. It’ll just add more fuel to her fire. She might even tell you about me.”

  “You really have a big head sometimes, you know that? And then other times, I think you act like a scared dog.”

  “Now you definitely have to pay for dinner.”

  “Alright, but I choose the place.”

  Later, over a bowl of pasta, she said, “Marcia’s doing some interesting stuff up there.”

  I’d already worked my way through a salad, a bowl of fettuccine with chicken and steak, and I was starting on my third roll of bread.

  “Did you know she’s a weapons specialist?” Toral asked.

  “It’s in her file.”

  “Well, from what I’ve found so far, she’s organizing shipments of military-grade explosives, automatic weapons, RPG’s, and everything else you can imagine. And they’re all going to the thirty properties. It’s all recorded in code, of course. And all very illegal.”

  I lowered my voice. “Why is Armelle using her personal assistant to stockpile weapons? And why are they doing it at all?”

  “I have no idea. Thirty locations around the world, each fortified with steel walls, bare rock, and armed like a small country. With life support systems to self-sustain a sizable staff for years. Morse, we need to find out why.”

  “We will.” I finished my roll and ordered another coffee. When it arrived, I said, “Tell me about swimming.”

  Toral laughed quietly. “Is that the worst thing that bothers you?”

  “You had me fooled. That’s never happened before.”

  “That you know about.”

  “Touché.” I waited, expecting an answer.

  “I can swim. That’s how I knew what you were doing.” She lowered her voice. “Just not how. I watched you—how did you hold your breath for so long?”

  “I’m a merman. I turn into a fish when salt water touches my legs. You wouldn’t let me tell you when I tried.”

  “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

  “Never. Why did you stop me?”

  Toral straightened in her seat. “The less I know about you, the better for all of us.”

  “So, this operation isn’t just frowned upon, it’s outright insubordination. And I guess the local office isn’t exactly up to speed.”

  “Correct.”

  “Rebel.”

  She frowned. “It could mean my job, or worse.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  22

  Party

  I only saw Toral twice in the week leading up to the dinner. I saw Charan once when I actually made him deliver the security plans to the hotel. I knew he had no reason to peek because he knew all the details from the secure email account I had set up for my new houseguests.

  My days filled with tedious arrangements—planning entrances and exits, positioning guards, running through drills with the team. Even though many of them hated me, they didn’t complain. And they did their jobs. It helped that I’d gotten their former boss killed.

  The night of the dinner party, I arrived at EW’s apartment in a tuxedo with my gun holstered at my hip, another on my ankle, and my knife strapped to my calf. When I stepped off the elevator, Armelle spotted me. She and her husband would ride to the hotel together tonight—something they rarely did—and I figured it was to show a united front for their guests.

  Armelle wore a cream dress that hugged all her bony angles, the back drooping down almost to her butt. A large diamond necklace adorned her throat. She looked like a white praying mantis, if such a thing existed.

  “Morse,” she acknowledged. She pulled a mirror out of her tiny purse to check her makeup, which was applied as heavily as ever. “You’ve been scaring my staff.”

  “How so?”

  The butler came in with her coat. I took it from him and waved him away. Armelle stood still while I draped it over her shoulders.

  “You can’t just swoop in and fire people who’ve been here for years.”

  “Yes, I can. If they’re not doing their jobs.”

  “Tank does his job.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Armelle turned to me. “Don’t act like you have my best interest at heart.”

  “You think it’s an act? Do you remember why I got this job in the first place?”

  “I can’t forget.” She shivered, very slightly. She must have seen the message I had sent by way of Tattoo.

  “How is the tattooed man, anyway?” I asked. “He was just a local th
ug, wasn’t he? Didn’t work for us? I tried to find him in the system, to send him my regards for trying to kill me.”

  Armelle scoffed, but she didn’t back away.

  “Are you sorry you met me, Armelle?” I asked, my voice low. I glanced around to make sure EW hadn’t come in.

  “Who’s the girl you’ve got in your apartment?”

  The news did travel fast, but who had told Armelle about Toral? I hadn’t discussed her with anyone. The only person who would maybe know would be Micheline. Hmm… The mole was a double agent. So, she had talked to Armelle. That would have to be fixed.

  “Her brother owes us a debt,” I said. “The girl is keeping close until he repays us.”

  “I guess she’s more your type.” Armelle moved closer, her hand grazing mine. No shame, even with her husband in the apartment. “Or maybe you like the submissive ones? The ones that can’t say no?”

  I smiled. “Just the available ones.”

  Armelle smiled and leaned to my ear. “I won’t forget what you did to Andre and Roy.”

  I nodded. “Hope not. Is your new bodyguard any fun?”

  “You know she’s not.”

  I smirked. I heard EW walking down the hall, his shoes clicking on the wood flooring. I stepped back from Armelle and turned toward him.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said with a sigh. The butler appeared with a moist towel. EW used it to wipe his face, then nodded at me.

  We got on the elevator. Two other guards met us at the bottom, at EW’s private entrance. One was Armelle’s new personal bodyguard, Juliette, a powerful woman with bobbed hair and a permanent scowl. She wore a purple dress with a split all the way up the front. It allowed her easy access to the 9 mm strapped to the inside of her thigh.

  Juliette nodded at me, and we ushered the couple into the Rolls. She and I crawled in back, and the other man rode up front. Armelle turned to her husband and put her hand on his arm.

  “Michelle told me that you had to make a change to tonight’s presentation.”

  “Yes. Nothing major, really. I’m surprised she mentioned it.”

  I assumed they were talking about EW’s personal assistant, Michelle, not my assistant, Micheline.