The Bloodline Trilogy

by Adam Nicholls

  It sounded ridiculous now that it had been said aloud. “No… I’m sorry. I just thought that if we bump into Greg, I might want to defend myself.”

  “Greg has no idea where we are,” Jackie said from the front seat, still fiddling with pieces of paper and a handful of gadgets. “Anyway, we could only hope to see him again. If you want Rachel back. God knows how likely that is.”

  “Jackie!” Val snapped in the paternal tone Blake hadn’t heard in years.

  “Sorry. I just—”

  “It’s okay,” Blake said. “We’ll find her.” He didn’t really believe it himself, but he wasn’t planning on giving up any time soon. They would need to kidnap the Agency’s banker, let them know their position of power, then make a deal with them to get Rachel back, safe and sound where she belonged. But that was after the job at hand. After the library.

  “You ready to go?” Val handed him the USB stick, slow and carful as if it was about to blow up in his hands.

  “It’s not that sensitive,” Blake told him, snatching it. He threw it up in the air and caught it, then did it again. “Look, it’s nothing. You can get them for a couple dollars in most stores.”

  Val’s forehead creased as he got ready to leap forward and catch it, but then semi-relaxed. “If you say so. Now get a move on.” He tapped his earpiece. “Stay in touch. And remember, no irrational moves. Think it through. Remember what you’ve learned.”

  Blake nodded, hopped out of the van, and headed across the street to the library. As he approached, he found himself looking up at the impressive architecture. It’d been here for about a hundred years, though it hadn’t always been a library. Blake struggled to recall what he’d read about it exactly other than it had been renovated over the years—a brick replaced here, one replaced there. And now the building itself looked like something new, something modern, but still maintained the ghostly charm of its former self.

  Distracted, he walked right into something, a person. “Excuse m—”

  The police officer brushed Blake off, scowled, and then stopped to study him.

  “Careful. Try not to look suspicious.” Val’s voice in his ear.

  The officer looked him up and down, but his short, female partner placed a hand on his arm and tried to move him away, the way some people pull their friends away from a fight by telling them that their opponent isn’t worth it.

  Still shooting daggers at Blake, the officers walked on.

  Letting out a breath, Blake headed up the stone steps and into the building as quickly as he could, feeling his face grow a bright red.

  “He’s still watching you,” Val said.

  “Ignore it,” Jackie advised. “Just carry on.”

  Inside the building, Blake was impressed by the rows upon rows of books. He hadn’t been in here since he was a young boy, but it looked entirely different now; smaller, but still enormous. He moved forward, past the desk and toward a woman librarian whose gray hair curled in ringlets around her ears. The glasses hung by her neck on elastic cords, and she smiled as he entered. He smiled back, approached, and asked about access to the computers.

  “Do you have a card?” she asked, causing him to perspire slightly.

  “A library card?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not on me. It’s more of a spontaneous visit, to be honest. But no less urgent,” he told her, hoping she might bend the rules.

  “I understand, sir. I can set you up with a temporary card, no problem. But I’ll need photographic ID and a bill with your address.”

  Blake hesitated, waiting for Val or Jackie to offer some guidance. The training that Val had provided could only take him so far. Obviously, there was much more to learn. “What should I do?” he asked, prompting it and obtaining a questioning look from the librarian.

  A man huffed behind him in the line, announcing his impatience.

  Blake ignored him.

  “Tell her you don’t have any. Uh…” Even Val sounded lost. “Say you need it to arrange your grandmother’s birthday. Or something like that.”

  Blake sighed, embarrassed. He lowered his tone, something he usually did when trying to offer an “incredible” deal to a customer back when he was a salesman. “I’m really sorry, but I have no ID. See, it’s my grandma’s birthday, and I’ve come in from Illinois to see her. I was hoping I could get online and make a nice card for her, you know? Something I can put my name on the cover of. Isn’t there anything you can do? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  The woman paused, looking at the elongating line of impatient people behind him. “All right, you can use my card. But just this once.” She clicked on a ballpoint pen and jotted a number onto a Post-it, tore it off, and handed it to him. “Just put in these details. Come see me when you decide to print.”

  “Thank you.” Blake beamed. “Thank you so much.” He walked off to find the computers, which were right at the back and on the top floor. Only one was not in use, so he quickly took a seat and typed in the number. There was a choking sound, the computer struggling to keep up with the pressure of its modern expectations, and the icons all appeared at once with a jingle.

  “Shush,” a smarmy-looking young man said from beside him. He was probably a student, Blake thought, but that gave him no right to be an arrogant ass. All the same, he ignored him. There was no use making trouble in here.

  “Did you check your exits?” Val asked through the earpiece.

  “Uh-huh,” Blake mumbled. He hadn’t, though, and could have slapped himself for forgetting. He’d been so caught up in trying to secure a computer that he’d barely had time to think about an exit strategy. Blake knew the Agency would be close behind him as soon as he was finished in here, so it wouldn’t hurt him to find one.

  He glanced around, back to the stairs. If anyone came for him, they would probably use those. Beside the stairs was an elevator, but that was out of order. He’d jumped the gun by saying he had a way out, so all he could do was pray the agents wouldn’t come his way. Mikey had sworn they would appear, but what did he know? He’d never been in the field.

  Blake plugged in the USB stick and waited patiently while the system recognized it. Seconds later, a window appeared on the screen, containing all the information they’d run through the previous night. There were the images and the banker’s schedule. Mikey had been worried that the information would give away details of their plan, so he buried those within files about their previous operations. To anyone at the Agency, it would appear that they were looking into the past, not for something they could use in the future. By the time they realized they were wrong, it would be too late.

  “Just add it in an email,” Jackie said into his ear.

  Blake was surprised at the clarity. It was like she was in the room with him.

  He opened his own personal email account and added the files as attachments. Then, he added his work email as a recipient. That was sure to attract some attention. His finger hovered over the mouse, ready to click it and send it on. “No going back now,” he said out loud.

  Blake hit the button and read the word sent on the screen. He pulled the USB stick from its port and slid it into his pocket before heading to the stairs. He took two at a time, heading toward the ground floor.

  “Whoa.” Jackie stopped him, like a horse with taut reins. “Head back! Head back!”

  Blake froze, then ran to the back of the library, not wasting so much as a second. But this time he stayed on the ground floor—he didn’t want to be trapped upstairs if he could help it. “What is it?” he asked, people looking at him suspiciously for talking to himself.

  “That cop is back. The one from outside,” Val said.

  “Coincidence?”

  “Doubtful. Keep your head down.”

  Blake disappeared between two rows of books, removing a copy of some hardback about sociology and pretending to read it. His eyes danced between the book and the gap in the shelf he’d created. From here, he watched as the police officer spoke to the wom
an at the front desk. It looked like he was angry with her, frowning at her as he had done at Blake only minutes ago.

  “Why are they here?” Blake asked.

  “It’s hard to say exactly,” Jackie said, and then: “Oh, shit.”

  Blake’s heart pumped harder as he broke into a sweat. “What?”

  “Blake, listen carefully.” Val sounded as though he was trying to remain calm. But he was failing. “Two squad cars just pulled up outside. They’re coming in, and the agents won’t be far behind. You need to move, son.”

  He looked around for a back door. Nothing. Staying concealed behind the bookshelves, he moved along the back wall, keeping one eye on the front desk and the other searching for the exit. Finally, he spotted it, but it was in direct view of the desk. “I can’t reach the door,” he complained, hoping, praying for some help.

  “Go back upstairs,” Jackie said.

  Trying not to cause too much of a commotion, Blake darted up the stairs and lingered on the top step where he could see the desk through the banister. He wanted to run, get farther away, but at the same time, he wanted to know where they were. His legs trembled as he waited, watching.

  “Can I help you, sir?” another female librarian was saying behind him. It took a second before Blake realized she was talking to him. He turned to look at her. She had a stern look like she was on a power trip—a fat, scowling woman, like a teacher who despised children.

  “No. Thanks.”

  “The agents have arrived,” Val said.

  “Sir, can I help you?” the woman demanded.

  Blake ignored her. “Dad, I’m scared.” He felt ridiculous to admit it. Small, pathetic, weak. But it fell out of his mouth regardless.

  “What?” The fat librarian scowled harder, still addressing his loitering.

  “Get out of there, Blake!” Jackie screamed.

  “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to—”

  “Will you shut the hell up?” Blake yelled at her.

  All around the room, heads turned to investigate the drama. Everyone who’d been tapping away at their keyboards stopped and stared with curiosity. Blake cursed under his breath, knowing he may have just given away his position to the officers downstairs.

  The woman frowned at him and stormed off, but she didn’t return to her seat. Instead, she spoke to a tall man in a gray suit, whose horn-rimmed glasses sat below an eighties-style comb-over. The man strode toward him. Blake clenched his teeth. If they asked him to leave now, he would be escorted to the front door, and then it would all be over.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the man asked as if impersonating the woman.

  Blake realized he was shaking, shivering, and the way his eyes kept moving between targets probably made him look like a retired heroin addict suffering withdrawal symptoms. He lowered his voice and spoke, tucking his head down. “I’m suffering an anxiety attack.” It was the best he could come up with.

  The man opened his mouth, about to speak, but only an aha sound came out. He nodded as he took a step back. “I’ll be over there if you need anything.”

  Blake ignored him, making a mental note to admire the man’s patience later.

  “Val, don’t!” Jackie shouted desperately in Blake’s ear.

  “What’s going on?” Blake asked, but then he heard the patter of footsteps on the floor below, and then the tops of two different heads zoomed up the stairs into view.

  Blake moved out of sight, heading straight to the back of the library’s top floor and ducking between two more rows. They’re going to find you, he thought. They’re going to find you and kill you, and then they’re going to kill Rachel.

  Two officers reached the top of the stairs. Behind them, one more man in a clean black suit caught up and glanced around.

  Blake looked to the window. He could try jumping through there if he had to—and it looked like he would have to. “Guys?” he whispered into his earpiece, begging and almost pissing his pants. “What do I do?”

  Nothing but silence came from the other end.

  “Hello?” he tried again, each word threatening to give away his position. Between the gap in the shelf, he saw the fat woman point in his direction, and the police moved toward where he hid. Blake winced, moving into the next aisle, knowing he was trapped. There was no way out and nobody to help him.

  He was alone.

  “I see him!” a man shouted, pointing his finger and demanding praise, like a child who had found Waldo in a picture book.

  Blake’s breath caught in his throat.

  But the officers stopped, turned away, and hurried back down the stairs.

  The black-suited man followed.

  Blake froze, confused but too scared to step out from behind the safety of the books. “What the hell is going on?”

  The officers went down the stairs as if they’d abandoned their mission, like they had walked into a room and forgotten what they’d gone in there for. Blake came out of his crouch and followed them, carefully tiptoeing down the steps and trying to peer around the next flight to see what was happening. A number of officers were all gathered in the library’s main downstairs lobby, making a fuss over something.

  Only it wasn’t just something.

  His mouth hung open in shock. Blake watched them lift a man off the floor. They were rough with him, shoving him around like he’d caused a whole lot of trouble—like he’d caused each one of them a personal offence. They shoved him toward the door in handcuffs. Blake caught a glimpse of the man’s face as he turned his head to the side for an instant.

  Jackie returned to the earpiece, her voice broken like she’d given up.

  But by then he already knew what she was telling him.

  “Blake… They just arrested your father.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rachel was giving Greg her full attention. When he wasn’t looking, her eyes were on the door.

  If she was careful, quick, and fearless, she might be able to make it out of there. She pondered her chances for a while; she could maybe reach the stairs before he could, but would he be able to catch up to her before she got outside? What if he fired a weapon? She couldn’t outrun a bullet.

  She watched as he cleaned out his gun with a thin wire brush. It was nothing short of intimidating, a mechanism capable of taking somebody’s life at the squeeze of a trigger. A slight clench of the finger and boom, the person at the other end of it was dead. If she wasn’t careful, that person could be her.

  The phone rang, and Rachel jumped. Even let out a little yap, like a puppy whose tail had been stomped on. Greg shot a sly smile from the table, stood, walked across the room, and grabbed the phone. His scar tissue shined like a beautiful disaster under the artificial light.

  “Yes?” he said, bringing the handset to his ear. He seemed to find that uncomfortable and switched to the other side of his face. “You’re kidding? What? No, it’s made things harder. All right, keep me up to speed.” He set the phone back down and looked at Rachel in astonishment.

  She could feel her heart beating like a drum. Bad news for him also meant bad news for her. “What is it?” she asked, instantly regretting that she had.

  “It’s Salinger. He’s been arrested.” He looked hurt. As if it should have been him who got there first. Like his trophy had been taken from him.

  “Blake?”

  “Val.” He smacked his tongue against his lips. “Shit.”

  As much as Rachel hated this guy, she’d got some pretty decent small talk out of him over the past few hours. He’d even cooked for her; sure, it was only some eggs, but it was as good a meal as any. Still, with each mouthful, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d spat in them. Or worse.

  “I don’t understand,’” she said, blowing a stray hair out of her mouth. “Doesn’t that work in your favor?”

  When Greg looked at her, he seemed to stare right through her, consumed by his own thoughts. But then a spark registered in his eyes like he’d sprung back to life. “It means th
e Agency will have him. Val and that boy of his are… my contract…” He put his thumb to his mouth and gnawed on the nail.

  “Your contract? I don’t follow. I thought you were working for yourself?”

  “Myself?” He lowered his hand and grunted. “When we first met, perhaps you could have said that. But now I have a contract. Arrangements are being made.”

  There was something in the way he said it that rang alarm bells in her mind. Contract, he’d said: a job to complete, terms to fulfill, a bounty to collect. “Well,” she sighed, trying to look as if it didn’t bother her, “it’s news to me. Is Blake…?”

  “Both the Salingers will be dead by the end of the week. You have my word on that.” Greg went to the table and turned his attention back to the gun, leaving her bored, frightened, and fearing for Val Salinger.

  When she was just a little girl, he’d been like a father to her. All the time she spent with Blake—and it’d been all the time—Val had always invited her with them on their family days, cooked for her, and driven her home safely. Until one day when she arrived home and her own father told her they were moving. That had been the end of her relationship with the Salingers until years later, when she saw Blake again at college.

  Now, he was all she could think about.

  Rachel kept a keen eye on the door. She pictured herself running toward it, prying it open, and making a dash down the steps. She hadn’t yet seen the outside, but it would be a special kind of heaven when she did. She could picture it now: the bright sun stinging her eyes, people going about their business. She could ask any one of them to help, and they would take her to safety.

  The thought was irresistible.

  Remaining silent, Rachel slid her foot into place.

  “I remember my own father,” Greg said, rummaging around with his back to her.

  “You do?” But she was edging her way to the end of the couch, ready to run.

  “When I was a boy, my old man used to beat me. Every day when I got home from school—which was an hour-long walk, by the way. He used to make me walk on the main country roads where there was no sidewalk and cars sped around the bends at stupid speeds. Sometimes I swear he wanted me to get run over.