Houston shoved him in and closed the door behind him, leaving Robbie alone in the dark, dank room. Around him, the walls were lined with built-in fish tanks, their backlights providing a glow to the room that was almost soothing. In a different scenario, he might be able to relax in this room, curl up with a John Grisham book and fall asleep within a few pages. As his eyes followed the wall and then lowered on the desk in front of him, he realized he wasn’t alone at all.
A man sat in the desk chair. He looked small, youthful, but with pain behind his gaze. His face was gaunt, and his thinning hair fell over his eyes—those eyes that were merely watching him, studying his every movement with a depth of ferocity within.
“Sit,” the man said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. His voice cracked in a way that suggested he had a sore throat, but it seemed like it was more than that.
Robbie obeyed the command, dropping himself into the seat. It was then he noticed the scar across the man’s throat, and now his voice made sense. He tried not to comment on it and diverted his gaze.
“So then, Mr. Parker,” the man said, his face barely illuminated by the thin light of the aquariums, “how much do you know about us, exactly?”
Robbie had to think about it, though it wasn’t much. He sighed, went to adjust his glasses, and then remembered he’d switched to contacts only a couple of weeks ago. “Look, this is what happened: my team arrested Val Salinger, a man who—”
“I’m more than aware of Val Salinger,” the man butted in.
Robbie froze, met his eyes, and went on. “I was interviewing him when he spoke about some agency. According to him, the LAPD is infested with these ‘agents,’ and I was at risk. Next thing I know, I’m stepping in to speak to Sergeant Houston, and then I’m bagged up like an old lady’s groceries and hauled over here.”
“Yes,” the man said, looking thoughtful. “My apologies for your rough treatment. I can’t control everyone, you see.” He gave a thin smile, something sly and knowing.
Robbie wanted to grab this guy, too. Just who the hell did he think he was? “You’re aware that you’re holding a detective against his will?”
The man chuckled, waved out his palm, and stood. “You’re not being held here, Mr. Parker. You’re free to go any time you please, though I doubt it would benefit you all that much. I simply wanted to make a business proposition—nothing more.”
It wouldn’t benefit me? “You mean I can leave? Right now?” Robbie sat forward in his seat, but something told him it wouldn’t be that simple.
“Of course.” The man smiled without a touch of sincerity. To Robbie’s surprise, he wasn’t very tall. “Run home to Sonia and little Cassie.”
Robbie felt waves of dread and anger shoot through him, making him jump to his feet with his blood boiling. Without thought, he pointed a finger right in this man’s face. “Are you threatening my family? Because nobody does that and gets away with it, you pretentious little—”
“Mr. Parker—”
“No, you listen to me. Whoever you are, you can’t just—”
“Mr. Parker, please sit down.” He took a seat himself as if to demonstrate how simple it was. The most frustrating thing was that this man didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by Robbie, which made him feel completely powerless.
His blood racing, Robbie sat. His breathing was fast, like the grunting of a raging bull. “You haven’t even introduced yourself. And you want to talk business? You ridiculous man.”
“Forgive me. My name is John Doe.”
“Bullshit,” Robbie said.
“Indeed, but it’s the closest you’ll get to the truth. Everybody else just accepts it.”
“Well, I’m not everyone else.”
“Quite, Mr. Parker.” The man let out a little laugh, which held a hint of condescension. “Quite.” He leaned forward, rested his chin in the palms of his hands, and lowered his tone. “You and I both know you’re in over your head. It doesn’t have to be you versus us. The Agency is bigger than the LAPD, and we’re far, far bigger than you.”
“I’ve never heard of you,” Robbie said, his tone smug. He wasn’t entertained by this guy in the slightest. Frightened, for sure—absolutely terrified, in fact—but he wasn’t about to show it. The most nerve-racking thing of all was the mention of his family.
“All that means, Detective, is that my people are doing a good job.”
“Cut the crap, will you?” Robbie snapped, recoiling as soon as he said it. Something told him this guy meant business.
The man took a deep breath and blew it out in a sigh through his thin lips. “I’m offering you a job, and it would be wise for you to take it.”
Robbie could barely keep himself from leaning over the desk and slapping this man right across the cheek. First, the man had operated behind his back, making a mockery of him and his department. Then he’d been bound, gagged, and dragged here against his will. And now the man was suggesting that Robbie’s work was serving no purpose? That his own life wasn’t fulfilling enough? He barely had enough time to spend with his family as it was, and he wasn’t about to take on another role. Least of all with a criminal organization. “No.”
“No?” The man’s mouth hung open as if he’d never heard that word before.
“No.” Robbie shook his head and rose to his feet, almost knocking his chair to the ground. It was one of those accidental tantrums. He didn’t really mean to look like he was letting his rage out—the chair had simply fallen, and now he just had to roll with it through fear of looking stupid. “My loyalties lie with my current job. I’ve worked long and hard to get where I am, and I’m not about to have that threatened.”
The man stood to meet him, buttoning up his jacket. His lips parted as if to speak, but he only exhaled, discarding the thought. Then a new thought seemed to arrive. “It’s quite a shame. We do a lot of good here. But I understand. Thank you for your time.” He held out a hand to shake, the gesture of a businessman.
Robbie ignored it. He didn’t feel like this was the end of it. Breaking eye contact with the man at last, he took two steps back before turning and heading for the door. There was a niggling feeling that as soon as his back was turned a bullet would penetrate his spine. Robbie didn’t say anything else. He wanted to, though. He wanted to turn and scream at this man, but—if appearances meant anything—he wouldn’t get very far before Houston or some other tool dived in and brought him down.
But none of that happened.
Not the bullet. Not the takedown.
Robbie opened the door and stepped into the dim corridor.
Houston was holding a sack, which may or may not have been the same one he’d thrown over Robbie’s head earlier. “Want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
“If you touch me, you’ll be losing more than just your job. I promise you that,” Robbie said with all the blunt seriousness in the world.
Houston simply nodded acceptance, and they walked side by side through the corridor. It was an uncomfortable escort through the building, but Robbie would soon be out of here. He hoped so, anyway. This meant he would know where the headquarters were. These people had infected his workplace like a virus, turning his officers into agents one by one. It was a wonder he hadn’t been brought in sooner. He wanted to take this place down. But he wouldn’t be able to do it by himself… unless he had words with Val Salinger and asked for a favor.
But that would be suicide, wouldn’t it?
With a sharp graze of metal against metal, Houston shoved open a door that led to a parking garage. The slope slipped upward and onto the road, but the sight of the gate didn’t help him recognize his surroundings. Robbie felt a soft thump on his chest. He looked down to find that the sack had been thrown at him. It wasn’t exactly his idea of a strong exit, but he would rather take that than the alternative.
Red with humiliation, he placed the sack over his own head and put up no resistance when Houston took his arm and guided him into the car.
<
br /> Through all this, all he could think about was what would happen now that he had refused their offer. “John Doe” had mentioned his family, and Robbie couldn’t seem to shake that from his mind. His heart ran wild as he imagined what might happen to them.
Breaking into a cold sweat, he decided he would need to get them to safety and then make his first move against the Agency. But if they were as dangerous as they seemed, he would have to do it fast, with or without the help of Val Salinger.
Chapter Seventeen
Robbie was dropped on the corner with his world turned upside down.
When he’d entered the building earlier that day, he’d held the firm belief that his only problem was getting his family back together. But as soon as Val Salinger—or the man who claimed to be Val Salinger, and Robbie was coming to believe him—had turned up, everything went screwy.
Now, here he stood, with his family threatened and his life in the balance.
That was when the idea came to him.
It was one of those stupid ideas that seemed really good at the time, but he was sure he would come to regret it a few days later. All the same, right now, he was convinced it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.
He knew the street he was on, and it wasn’t far from the police station where he worked. In spite of that, he broke into a sweat, desperate to get there before… before what? Before Salinger escaped? Before the Agency got to his family? Whatever was going to happen, he had a strong feeling it would be nothing short of catastrophic.
Robbie slowed down when he burst through the front door of the station. Catching his breath, he paced through the hallway. The receptionist looked up at him and smiled, but it seemed weaker than usual—not as affectionate as it used to be when she would bring him coffee in the morning and he’d invite her to sit and make small talk. Megan was his friend, and Robbie couldn’t help but wonder if she was with the Agency too. Or was he just paranoid? Nothing was certain anymore.
The elevator doors slid to a close, and Robbie collected himself. The mechanical whirring of the belt hummed above him, sending him into a deep trance. But that didn’t stop his toes from repeatedly tapping on the floor below him. When these doors opened—which felt like they were taking a damn lifetime to do—he would be on the seventh floor, where his colleagues, who’d been stabbing him in the back all this time, would be rushing around him, swamped with work.
The elevator made a pinging sound, and the doors flew open. A number of police officers stepped in without giving him a chance to get out. Robbie felt a sweat coming on as suffocation enveloped him. He pushed an arm through the crowd, making his presence known and trying to squeeze through, but the people simply refused to acknowledge him. It was as if they’d deliberately kept him inside the elevator. One man reached for the button.
Robbie lost it and finally snapped. “Hey!” he screamed, groping the man’s arm.
The man pulled away, looking both surprised and offended, rubbing his wrist to comfort the pain. He stepped aside and let Robbie out, lending him a sense of relief at the wide-open area he was now in.
Robbie had always hated confined spaces. Usually he would deal with it, but sometimes people had such bad manners that they would make things especially difficult for him. He’d always thought half of the responsibility was on them; they should be trying not to crowd him, while he should be learning to accept that there would sometimes be a stranger who stepped right in his way. It never worked that way though. Nine times out of ten it would be someone too wrapped up in their own lives that they didn’t acknowledge those around them.
He walked through the office, feeling eyes all over him. He had no idea just how many of his staff were agents. How many of them were betraying their own morals, their own country. It was worse than that—there was no way of finding out who was on his side. It would be safer to assume that not a single one of them could be trusted. Especially Sergeant Houston, who may or may not be brave enough to return to work after what just happened.
If he ever did return, Robbie would send him straight back out.
“Everything okay, sir?” a young man asked from his desk.
Robbie had known this guy to be quite sweet, well-mannered, and humble. He was in his early twenties and had only been on the payroll for a couple of months, since proving himself through several months of work experience. He was a very reliable technician who could hack his way through any known database in a matter of minutes. Illegal as it sometimes was, it had been good to know they had such a talented person among them.
“I’m fine, Joseph. Thank you.” Robbie faked a smile, adjusted his collar to let himself breathe, and kept on walking. The eyes were definitely still on him. How many of these people knew? How many of them were looking at him and wondering what was wrong with him, and how many knew exactly what was going on?
He had a feeling that most of them were aware, were traitors, and that he was the outsider now. He’d been dragged through here with a sack over his head, and not a single person had tried to help him. Whether that was because they couldn’t see him, Robbie didn’t know. He hadn’t been able to see for himself. For all he knew, Houston had dragged him through quietly, evading everyone’s line of sight.
A thought crossed his mind. He stopped and looked back. “Joseph.”
The kid was sipping from his Chewbacca mug and looking up at him through a sleek pair of black-framed glasses. It appeared he’d returned to his duties mere seconds after Robbie had passed him. He seemed trustworthy enough. “Yes, sir?”
“Is Salinger still here?”
“Yes, sir. Right where you left him and not saying a word.”
Robbie glanced toward the door. “Thanks.” Committed to what he was about to do, he went to the interview room where Val was being held.
“Detective,” Val said as he entered the room, looking up as if he’d been dozing. His eyes were dark, tired, and bloodshot.
Robbie closed the door behind him, peeking through the blind to see who’d been watching him. “I don’t think I’ll be holding that position for too much longer.” Robbie dropped the aluminum panels of the blind and turned to him. “You really are Val Salinger, aren’t you?”
Val held out his palms, a simple there you go. “What convinced you?”
“Houston. You were right.”
Val looked at him with assessing eyes, his mouth open like he was reading something he was struggling to understand. “I see.”
Robbie appreciated that he didn’t gloat or say “I told you so.” He marched over to him and leaned on his hands. “If I get you out of here, can you help me keep my family safe?”
“I—”
“Don’t say anything. I guess I don’t have a choice. Please, just help me. But if you stab me in the back, don’t think I won’t kill you.” Though Robbie wasn’t sure that he could. He’d never killed anyone before. But what was right and what was wrong anymore? Morality seemed to be a rickety ladder, one that made you question whether you even wanted to climb it in the first place.
Val lifted his hands, hinting at the handcuffs. “Would you be so kind?”
“Not just yet. I need to get you out of here first.” Robbie clutched onto his jacket and dragged him to his feet. It was surprising just how heavy he was for such a short man; he wasn’t fat, wasn’t even particularly muscular, but he probably had some weight hidden under his clothes. “We need to go. Right now.”
They went for the door, Val being pulled along. He didn’t make a fuss over it. Was probably just glad to be on his way out of there.
Robbie took a deep breath, ripped open the door, and dragged Val Salinger through the office. As he passed Joseph and other desks with now-suspicious police officers, he tried to keep his eyes off them. There was probably an obvious guilt in his eyes, and the last thing he wanted was to be questioned. He couldn’t help but look though; every now and then he would feel people staring and had to glare at them to frighten them off.
“A
re you in some sort of trouble, son?” Val whispered through the corner of his mouth.
“Just keep walking.”
The elevator was in sight, but it felt as though it kept being pushed back the closer they got. It was unreachable, like a cartoon dream that wouldn’t let you have your deepest desire. Robbie shuddered at the concept of being stopped, interrupted. Detained.
“Sir.” A middle-aged woman approached him. There were crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, which added a mature beauty. Robbie knew her from previous cases. She held out the heel of her hand, trying to stop them. “Where are you taking Mr. Salinger?” Her face was red with desperation as she blew stray wisps of hair from her eyes.
“This doesn’t concern you, Melissa. Just return to your desk and resume your duties.”
“But sir, I can’t let you—”
“Sit down, Melissa!” Robbie was getting that claustrophobic feeling again, the one that made him feel backed into a corner. What was he supposed to have said to her? That he was just taking him out for a short walk? That he would return him shortly, like a valued library book? No, he had to be firm with this woman, despite how bad it felt to be shouting at a supposed friend. He’d never had a problem with her before, but now that it seemed she was with the Agency, his opinion had altered.
Sulking, Melissa strolled over to one of her colleagues who Robbie didn’t recognize. While he waited for the elevator to arrive, he watched as the man listened to Melissa. Wrinkles appeared at her forehead with concern.
Detective Robbie Parker tapped his heel, watching the lights flicker above the lift doors; third, fourth, fifth floor, it was slowly telling him. It was almost there when the man stormed over to them. He was a big guy, his head bald and his hands on his hips like he was someone important. He couldn’t have been, though. Robbie was the top man here. The big guy. Used to be, anyway.
The Bloodline Trilogy Page 25