There was an awful silence.
His arms firmly outstretched as he held the gun and his finger coiled around it, he was ready. At least he thought he was. The thing terrified him, really. He’d still not taken a life, but he would if he had to, especially if someone was trying to harm Rachel.
Step by step, Blake approached the living room. As soon as he came inside the doorframe, a fist rocketed at his face. It brought tears to his eyes and sent him backward. He misplaced his footing and fell to the ground. The gun went sprawling from his hand, spinning across the room. Everything was a blur. He looked up to see a man standing over him.
He knew the man. It was Sean.
“Shouldn’t have come here,” he said.
This guy had never liked Blake, and it seemed he was even less fond of him now.
Before Blake could get his words out, Jackie shot into the room like lightning, kicking out Sean’s left leg. He dropped to one knee, and she dived onto his back, straddling him with a taut arm wrapped across his neck.
Blake froze, shocked and excited that she was able to handle herself so well. Blake rolled his head to one side and spotted the gun across the room. He scrambled to his feet, desperate. His legs went weak beneath him, and he half-crawled, half-ran across the room. He was inches from the gun when he saw a foot press down on it. Blake stopped, staring at the shoe like he was trapped in the moment and all he could look at was the shiny black leather in front of him.
“Took your precious time,” a voice said from above him.
When he looked up, his arms trembled under his weight and almost collapsed beneath him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. In all the twisted things he imagined coming from this day, this was not one of them. What was going on behind him with Jackie suddenly felt like nothing as his world slipped out of control. Only one small word fell from his lips. “Greg.”
“In the flesh. Or… half of it.” He had a gun in his hand, pointed it briefly at his scarred cheek, which looked like a ruffled pink rug in the light of a falling sun.
Blake dreaded to wonder how he’d managed to get off the yacht alive. “But you’re dead.” He realized how ridiculous he sounded. Of course the man wasn’t dead, but the longer he could postpone any kind of punishment, the better.
“Why? Because I was on a boat when it sank? You and your daddy were on the same boat—you got off alive, didn’t you?”
He couldn’t find it within himself to reply. There was a hollow feeling in his gut, and he didn’t know how to fill it. Jackie dropped to the floor beside him, a foot on her back and an apologetic look in her eye. The look of known failure. He didn’t blame her, though. Sean was strong, as he had seen for himself. Though Blake had a feeling that was the least of their worries.
“Where’s Rachel?” Blake demanded.
“Your pretty little blonde thing?” Greg said.
“My pretty little blonde thing,” Sean said, standing over them with a smug grin.
As if from nowhere, Greg swung the butt of his handgun into Sean’s face. There was an awful cracking sound, like something had broken, and he slumped to the floor in a heavy heap. “Chump was getting on my nerves.” Greg smirked.
“Where is she?” Jackie said, still flat on her belly and too smart to move. Blake had never seen her frightened before; she’d always seemed so strong and in control.
“Not here,” Greg told them. “Where’s your dad, kid?”
“Not here.” Blake was still trembling.
“I can see that.” Greg stooped to pick the gun up off the floor, then traipsed slowly around them. He aimed the gun straight at Blake’s head. “How much do you value her, exactly? I mean, if you knew I was here, would you still have come?”
“Of course,” Blake said.
“Huh.” He continued to walk around them, coming full circle and standing in front of them again. “Something seems different about you. What is it, I wonder? Have you finally grown some balls?” he asked, chuckling to himself in a high-pitched, hyena-like laugh, until the smile dropped from his face, and his eyes narrowed on the door.
“Drop the gun.” Val’s voice, coming from the doorway behind them.
Blake had never been so pleased to hear it—not even when he’d found him on the yacht all those weeks ago.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the dead man himself.” Greg looked as though he’d come loose. As if whatever had been holding him together had suddenly been yanked out from under him. “This is too perfect. Three kills in one. Though Charlie wants you both alive, unfortunately. Still, I’m a reasonable man.”
“You seem it,” Jackie snapped, her voice laced with hate.
Greg’s shoe struck her face with incredible speed.
Blake could see her lip bleeding after she yelped.
“You don’t deserve to live,” Val spat.
“Don’t you dare dictate to me!” Greg yelled, his scream deafening. “You made your bed as soon as you joined the Agency. It was your call to enter this lifestyle, and you can suffer the consequences.”
“Exactly—I can suffer. Me. Not the girl, and not these two.”
Blake stirred, his knees turning numb against the hard floor.
“Stay down,” Greg instructed, planting a foot on his back and shoving him downward. He took a breath. “Well, this is tricky, ain’t it? Looks like someone’s going to get hurt here today. Maybe I’ll let you choose.” He shifted the gun to Val, and then back down to Blake and Jackie. “How about you two come quietly, and both the ladies can go?”
For a moment, Blake considered it. Nothing could have pleased him more than to see Rachel safe. On the other hand, he didn’t want to see this psychopath win. He didn’t deserve it. But his fate, he realized, lay in whatever Val would say next, and he waited with bated breath while Val was making his decision.
“How about I just kill you?”
Greg laughed. “And spend the rest of our days in this wild-goose chase? If something happened to me, something would happen to the blondie. And even then, I would only be replaced by another agent. You know that.”
“So I’ll kill them, too.” And just like that, the gun popped in his hand.
Greg stumbled back, dropped his gun, and groped at his shoulder. “You shit!” he screamed, hesitating between the gun on the floor and the window behind him. Blake knew Val only had one bullet; the other was in his own gun, which lay on the ground in front of him. His hands shaking, he reached out and grabbed it, pointing it at Greg.
But it was too late. He was halfway out the window, and by then Blake didn’t want to waste the bullet by missing his target.
Jackie shot to her feet, hauling Blake up with her, as Val swept passed them and stood at the window, looking down. The way his leg was crooked made it look like he was about to follow, but then it lowered like he thought better of it. Maybe he was just too old, his bones too brittle to take the fall that Greg’s had, despite being only a few years older.
Blake stood, blood racing through his veins. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Val turned to his son, his eyes closing as he nodded.
Rachel… “We should have made the deal,” Blake said, his heart still racing like he’d just come off a rollercoaster. He’d never wanted to lose her, and now, because of Val, he just might. “We should have let her go.”
“He never would have,” Val explained. “He would have taken us straight to the Agency, and his employer would have killed all four of us.”
Jackie seemed to agree, forcing him to either join them or leave.
Abandoning Sean on the floor, they all walked downstairs together; Jackie with a slight limp and Blake with his hand wrapped around the gun in case Greg was waiting for them in the lobby. But he was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Rachel.
“She’s gone, right?” Blake asked as he climbed into the van and closed the door behind him. “We’re not going to see her again, are we?”
“She’ll be okay, son. She’s his only leverage. If he
kills her, he’ll have no power over us.”
“So,” Jackie said, sliding the key into the ignition, “what’s our next move?”
“We can’t go back to the warehouse,” Val said. “Rachel might be forced to tell him about it.” He turned to Blake. “What do you think?”
“I…” Blake thought hard. He wanted his best friend back and would topple mountains to do it, no matter the cost. “I think we should cause the Agency some pain. I’ve had enough of running from them, running from the police. I think we should take them down. One way or another, we’ll get Rachel back.”
Val sighed but didn’t disagree. “It’s suicide.”
“So? We aren’t exactly living our lives right now.”
There was a silence that seemed to stretch for nearly a minute, and finally, Jackie spoke up to offer her opinion on the matter. “Count me in.”
Val sighed again. “Okay, then. Well, let’s get going. I know someone who may be able to help.”
Chapter Eight
It was coming up to nighttime when Val stepped onto the patio and knocked on the front door. He heard a frustrated voice yell telling him to wait a minute, and while he waited, he observed his surroundings. There was a garage to his right, which could prove useful if the man would allow it. There was enough seclusion here; the nearest busy road lay beyond the bushes and up a dirt path that stretched out for about a half mile. What surprised him the most were the security measures that were not being taken; they’d dimmed their headlights as soon as they hit the path, but surely this man had seen them coming.
The door swung open to reveal a short, dumpy guy. His double chin hid behind the black foliage of facial hair. His dim eyes still widened with surprise when he saw Val Salinger stood before him. “Oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, stepping out onto the patio and pulling the door shut behind him.
Val felt a wave of disappointment. “I take it you’ve heard?”
“What, about the chaos that’s been brewing since your supposed retirement? Yeah, I’ve heard. What the hell are you doing here? I have a family I’m trying to keep safe.” His voice was whiney, but Val knew him to be a good man. He could trust him as far as he could trust anybody else.
“I had nowhere else to go, Mikey. Not for the kind of intelligence I need.”
They’d called the man Mechanic Mikey back in the day, solely for his capabilities with creating devices. He was never really a mechanic—more like a computer whiz-kid, and a damn good one—but he was loyal as they came and looked after his friends.
Mikey leaned toward the drive and saw the van. “Who else is with you?”
“My son. And a friend.” He didn’t want to mention that his friend had been a police officer until recently. Mikey hated cops. Always had, ever since they’d busted his mom for dealing large amounts of cocaine. That was when he’d taken to the rebellion of hacking computers and accidentally stumbled upon the Agency. It was lucky for him that they’d offered him a job rather than the alternative.
But that was years ago, long before he went off the grid.
“All right. The garage should be unlocked. Get it inside quickly—I don’t want any unnecessary attention. Come through the back door when you’re done.” He stormed back inside his house, mumbling something to himself.
Val headed back to the van, instructed Jackie to park inside and then opened the gate for them. Together, they all went inside.
In the kitchen, Blake overtook Val and held his hand out to Mikey. “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he offered, but the man’s eyes were dismissive, and his hand was ignored.
“Yeah, yeah. Look, you guys are all in a lot of shit, you know that?”
“We know,” Val said. “But we were hoping you could help us.”
“Mikey?” A frightened-looking woman peered through the open doorway with a toddler by her legs. “What’s going on? Is it… you know?” She nodded in suggestion, probably referencing the Agency.
“No, Jane. It’s all right.” Mikey turned to Blake and Jackie, lifting a finger. “Fix these two a drink, will ya? I need a word with an old friend.” He led Val to the back room, leaving the other two in the kitchen with Mikey’s wife, the toddler, and a now-screaming baby.
Val entered a dark room that smelled of cheesy snacks, and Mikey closed the door. The only light in the room was the glow from a number of computer monitors, which gently hummed in the corner. Mikey took a seat at the computer chair, and Val helped himself to the arm of a dilapidated sofa, wondering if he might catch something.
“So, what’s this about? Looking to clear your name with the cops?”
“No, but… Wait, you can make that happen?” Val was always impressed by this man’s skills.
“I can wipe your crimes off the database, but I can’t erase memories. Of course, you’re a dead man as far as they’re concerned, so I guess you’re safe, even if your friends aren’t.” He spun around in his chair and started tapping frantically at a keyboard.
“So, what made you—” Val’s small-talk ended as soon as it had started when he saw a photograph appear on the screen. “Is that Jackie?” he asked, leaning in for a closer look.
“Yep, there’s a warrant for her arrest.”
“What can you do about it?” Val found himself intrigued, standing and leaning over Mikey’s shoulder. He’d never been good with computers. Anything that you could do with your hands, he was good at, but dipping in and out of servers, hacking into domains—or whatever the phrasing was—was beyond him.
“I can’t do anything now. I just erased all traces of her name in the LAPD’s files. But you know someone will notice. It’s still an open case. And then the Agency will only put it right back up.” A picture of Blake appeared on the screen and disappeared with a bloop sound. Rachel’s photograph replaced it, and then hers got the bloop treatment, too.
“What just happened?”
“You’re not in the files anymore.” Mikey turned and wore a smile that demanded appreciation. “Any of you. But it won’t last forever. Should keep you off the TV screens for a while though.”
Val was so impressed that he almost fell back. Instant cure or not, it was still a damn miracle what this man could do, and it had already been worth his time to drop by. “That’s… wow. Thank you.”
“Spare me the gratitude,” Mikey said. “Care to tell me why you brought fugitives into my home? I got a baby shitting left, right, and center, a nagging wife who thinks I’m cheating on her every time I watch a porno, and I’ve had a rash on my leg since 2009. I got enough problems without you bringing your tragedy in here.”
“Sorry.” Val looked down at the sticky carpet and made a mental note to change his shoes as soon as possible. “Look, we need information. We recently decided we’re going to make a move against the Agency. If they have a weak spot, I figured you’re the man to find it for us.”
“Oh you just decided to take them down?” Mikey sneered. “It’s that easy, huh?” He studied Val for a moment, pushing his tongue into the inside of his bottom lip, like the durr-face Blake used to pull at the kids in school. Mikey sighed, rolled his eyes, and spun back to the computer. “Okay, I know a banker,” he said, his fingers moving at lightning speed around the keys. “Charlie uses him to transfer all his money overseas.” A picture of a man appeared on the screen with details of debts and addresses, his workplace, date of birth, and a thousand other useful little bits of information.
“Is he the only banker they use?”
“Looks like he’s buried between ten or so other accountants, but they’re mostly for show. Seems the real business is with this—whoa.”
“What?” Val panicked.
“He’s paid nicely for his services. Better than we ever were.” Mikey laughed and carried on rooting around for information.
“I have to admit, that’s a hell of a weak spot. Without money—”
“Charlie is nothing. But you need to understand something.” He turned to face Val, folded his fingers
into each other, and rested them on his round belly. “You touch this man, Charlie will come down on you like a ton of bricks. When that happens, people will get hurt. Believe me.”
“He’s already come down on us like a ton of bricks.” Val thought about everything that had happened. Everything his family had been through, all after decades of loyal service, and this was how he was repaid.
“You’re not listening. People get hurt, that’s one thing, but I don’t want anyone coming here and asking questions. The first thing they’ll think of is how you managed to find out about this banker, and I don’t want it being traced back to me.”
“I’ll try.” Val placed his hands on his hips. His heart was racing, and he was excited to get started. The sooner they acted on this information, the sooner they could get Rachel back and return to their everyday lives. “How do we cover our tracks?”
Mikey rummaged through a nearby drawer and pulled out a small plastic device.
“A tracker?” he asked, merely guessing. The entire digital age was a mystery to him, save for what he’d picked up from the other agents.
“What? No. A memory stick.” Mikey plugged it into one of the terminals and started clicking at the mouse, dragging pictures and text around the screen as if he was organizing it. “You need to go to an internet cafe or a public library. I’ll give you all the information you need.”
“But if you give us the information, what do I need that… thing for?”
“Because when you plug this in from an unsecured network, the Agency will be notified straight away, detecting a threat to their own servers. The police and a number of agents will be there within minutes, so you’ll need to get out of there fast. When you’ve done that, they’ll think you found the information yourself, and then I’ll be in the clear.” He slipped the stick out of the terminal and placed it hard into Val’s palm.
The Bloodline Trilogy Page 20