He pulled his hands down under the table, or at least as far as the chain would allow. Vincente stared down at his left wrist, hand clenched tightly and bent backwards. With his right hand, he pushed against the skin of his forearm.
The door to the room opened and two men in plainclothes entered—one young, one middle-aged. The middle-aged man approached the table and set three objects on the surface. Two of them were the wrist-mounted devices that housed his blades. The third object was a forged Canadian passport.
“Okay Mr. Lee, while we are waiting for the Canadian embassy to return our calls, we thought we’d have a little chat,” said the officer. “I am Detective Cristea, this is Detective Petre. We have some questions about why you’re here today.”
“Specifically these things,” said Petre, pointing to the weapons on the table.
Vincente looked up at Cristea, staring through long strands of hair that hung over his face. But he said nothing.
“You were found unconscious on the Danube Express with these weapons on you. Witnesses claim to have seen you chasing after two others before one of them shot you with this.”
Cristea held up the dart fired from Dalton’s gun. Vincente focused his attention on the small weapon as Cristea continued speaking.
“There was also an attendant onboard the train who was killed. Her blood was found on these weapons you were carrying.” Cristea set down the tranquilizer dart and leaned over the table, placing his palms flat on the surface. “So tell me, why does a Canadian tourist see the need to terrorize a passenger train crossing into our country?”
Vincente continued pushing down on his wrist, feeling what he was searching for in there. Petre scoffed. “Nothing to say for yourself? Maybe you expect your government to set you free? Sorry, but it’s not that simple. We punish criminals here, doesn’t matter what passport they’re carrying.”
Vincente gave no response. Petre stepped forward and angrily punched the suspect. “Talk, you son of a bitch!”
Cristea stood upright and folded his arms, sighing. “I’d do what he says, Mr. Lee. You see, I’ve become a bit more patient with age. But Detective Petre, he’s an angry young man. And he absolutely abhors disrespect.”
A small piece of metal broke through Vincente’s wrist. He pulled it out of his arm and hid it in his palm as Petre delivered another punch. Vincente tasted blood in his mouth and turned to look at his interrogator, spitting the blood onto the table. Petre leaned over the chair, staring down into Vincente’s blank eyes.
“I’m not a patient man. So when people stonewall me, I get very angry. Would you like to experience more of this anger firsthand?”
Vincente just stared back and Petre scoffed, turning away. “Does he even speak English?”
Vincente inserted the small metal wire into the lock on his cuffs, working it in while trying to keep his hands under the table and out of sight. He twisted it, picking the lock as quick as he could manage, the detectives continuing to barrage him with questions and insults.
Petre spouted off something in Romanian, something that Vincente didn’t understand but could tell from the tone that it was angry. Cristea responded to his partner, maintaining his calm and presumably encouraging Petre to do the same. Petre waved dismissively at his partner and approached the suspect. Once he got close enough, Vincente kicked him in the leg and sprung up from the seat, moving behind Petre and wrapping the chain around his throat.
Cristea cursed in Romanian and fumbled for his gun. Vincente pulled back hard on the chain and used Petre as a human shield when Cristea opened fore. Vincente kicked the dead cop onto the table, causing Cristea to jump back in surprise. The assassin leapt across the table, kicking the gun from Cristea’s hand. He landed beside Cristea and threw a swift knee into the detective’s chest, then followed with a sweep that dropped him to the floor.
Vincente took his weapons and strapped them to his forearms. The blades extended as he stood over his prey. Vincente bent down and drove one of the blades into Cristea’s forehead, his screams silenced just as quickly as they came. Vincente dug through the officer’s pockets and found a cell phone. He sent a text message to his handler, quickly explaining what had happened. A response came back almost instantly: LAY LOW & WAIT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
The assassin pocketed the phone and picked up the fake Canadian passport that identified him as Daniel Lee, adding that to his pocket. He left the interrogation room, ready to take out anyone else who dared to get in his way.
***
Dalton’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He reached for the device, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and answered the call.
“Hello?”
“It’s Baxter. Can you talk?”
Dalton groaned and sat up, looking across to see Tauna sleeping soundly in her bed. He stood from the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Just to be on the safe side, Dalton turned on the shower.
“What is it?” he asked.
“What’s going on? Haven’t heard from you.”
“We were attacked, had to get off the train,” said Dante.
“Attacked? By who?”
Dalton shrugged. “Some Agency spook. Think we got him off our tail, though.”
“Yeah well, I’ve been doing some checking, buddy. And I’ve got some bad news.”
Dalton sighed. “All right, out with it.”
“You’re not gonna like it.”
“I believe you covered that with the whole ‘bad news’ part.”
He heard Baxter take a deep breath and exhale on the other end. Then finally, an explanation. “I’ve reviewed the data from the job at the Cobra Club over and over again. And I think Tauna’s a mole.”
“She saved my life tonight, Bax. She’s on the level.”
“Or maybe she just wanted you to think she is,” said Baxter. “Look, I know I said maybe Dante was setting you up, but now I’m thinking maybe Tauna’s turning on him.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Dalton.
“Remember the way she was talking with Venom at the Club? That seemed a little off to me. So I did some digging and it seems that she used to work for Venom before she joined Dante.”
Dalton blinked, his eyes darting from side to side. “Really?”
“Yup. So I’m thinking that maybe the only reason she’s with Dante in the first place is to help out Venom, get me? That’s how Venom knew to have those back-up security systems in place at the Club. Plus, why else would he let an Infernum operative out of his sight right after he’d been robbed?”
Dalton put down the toilet seat cover and sat down. “Interesting theory. Not sure I buy it. Doesn’t add up with what I know of Tauna so far.”
“What about the fact that you’ve got an Agency hitman on your tail now?” asked Baxter. “How do you think Vincente was able to find out you were on a train in the first place?”
Dalton paused, thinking about that. “That is a good point. What do you think?”
“I think you should get away from her and we go to Dante directly. Tell him what his little girlfriend’s been up to, give him Fury, and then be on our merry way.”
“Where?” asked Dalton.
“Budapest, I can meet you there,” said Baxter.
“Okay, I’ll leave now.”
“Good, call me when you get there. I’ll let you know where I am.”
Baxter disconnected the call and Dalton looked down at the phone. This game had become far more dangerous than he ever expected and he wanted nothing more than to get it over and done with immediately. He stood and turned off the shower, exiting the bathroom.
Dalton dressed quietly, keeping a careful eye on Tauna the entire time. He thought about what Baxter told him and wondered whether or not he could actually push himself to take another life again. The temptation was certainly there, but did Dalton want to live with that on his conscience?
He packed his bag silently, making sure
Fury’s case was in there, and then left the room. Dalton knew one thing was for sure—he would finish this job his way, not anyone else’s. No matter what that entailed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Breaking into the hotel room was child’s play for Vincente. He picked the lock in record time and slowly opened the door, moving inside the darkened room. Most people might feel uneasy in the darkness, but for Vincente it was a comfort. He stalked into the room, his footsteps falling silent upon the carpeted floor.
Vincente approached one of the beds, seeing Tauna’s slumbering form beneath the covers. He clenched his fists and the blades extended from the gauntlets. Vincente raised one arm, the blade pointing directly at her head. The death would be quick and clean, and then he’d move on to the next portion of the job.
Before he could strike, a silenced gun went off, hitting him in the abdomen, protected by his armor. Vincente looked down in surprise and then saw the smoking hole in the covers. He lunged forward and Tauna rolled off the bed and hit the floor, instantly springing to her feet.
“Next one goes in your face!” Tauna raised the gun and fired again, but Vincente was fast, deflecting the round with his left blade. He pressed forward, swiping across with his right arm and knocking the gun from her grip. Vincente brought his right arm back in another wave. Tauna jumped back to avoid any mortal wounds, but it did leave her with a red gash across her clavicle.
She didn’t have many options. Now she finally realized that Dalton was gone and that meant she was in this fight alone. The window was behind her, but they were on the seventh floor and she’d never survive the fall. Of course, she doubted whether she could survive Vincente if she made a break for the door.
Vincente tracked her movements carefully, sizing her up. She could tell he was trying to predict her next move—she was doing the same to him. Tauna chanced a look to the side at the table beside her. The empty bottles and her balisong. Dalton didn’t leave anything else.
Tauna jumped back on Dalton’s bed and Vincente followed. He brought his blades down, Tauna rolling away just before they struck the mattress, landing near the table. Vincente tore the blades through the mattress, shredding it to pull his weapons free. As he turned to face her, Tauna hurled the two empty bottles at him. He deflected both of them, giving Tauna just enough time to grab the knife and release the clasp.
She waved the balisong, the bite handle and the blade flipping out until the knife was complete. Tauna held the blade up, pointing the tip at Vincente. He showed no reaction to the presence of the weapon, but having the first weapon she ever learned to use in her hand seemed to give the Infernum operative renewed confidence.
Tauna lunged forward, blocking one of Vincente’s attempted swings with her free hand. She flipped the balisong in a reverse-grip and jammed it into his side, in a spot his armor didn’t cover. He cringed, stepping back and reaching for the handle. She moved from him and picked up the discarded gun, raising it up.
Vincente yanked the blade from his body, throwing it with deadly accuracy. His aim was perfect and the blade struck right in the gun barrel as she pulled the trigger. The gun backfired and she dropped it, covering her face as she was thrown back.
At least now there was nothing between her and the door and so she made a run for it. Tauna raced down the corridor of the hotel, running down the stairwell instead of taking the elevator.
After she’d descended two flights of steps, she heard a door slam open from above. Vincente was on her tail and even worse, she was now completely without a weapon. No gun, no knife, nothing. The only solace was that Vincente’s weapons required him to be close. She only hoped she could maintain that distance between them.
Tauna emerged from the stairwell, running through the lobby. There was only one person at the front desk, who shouted to her in Romanian but she ignored it and charged through the front doors.
Vincente was right behind her. For the clerk, seeing a woman run out in shorts and a tank top without shoes was strange, but a masked man with blades strapped to his arms is what caused him to pick up the phone and dial the police. Vincente ran through the doors after her into the street but he just looked down both sides of the road. He didn’t know which way she ran and he stopped for a moment to think. Tauna had been barefoot, so she couldn’t have gotten very far. He scanned the road, looking to see if he could find some footprints, but on asphalt in the middle of the night would prove difficult.
Headlines flashed on and Vincente looked up to see a car barreling towards him. He looked through the windshield and saw it was Tauna behind the wheel. She must have hot-wired it as he was busy trying to figure out which way she’d gone. Vincente readied himself and jumped right before the car would have hit him. His arm-blades scraped along the roof and he managed to catch a grip.
Tauna knew she had an unwanted passenger and she swerved from left to right, trying to shake him off. She checked the rear and side-view mirrors but saw nothing, telling her he was still on top. The confirmation came when a blade broke through the roof and she ducked in response, slamming her foot on the gas.
It wasn’t long before sirens rang out in the night and flashing lights appeared in the mirror. Tauna took a sharp turn down a road and one of the police cars tried to turn as well, but the second police car couldn’t stop in time and slammed into the back of the first. A third car managed the turn though, and was now the sole vehicle in pursuit.
Tauna slammed on the brakes and the sudden stop threw Vincente from the roof. It also caused the police car to ram into her from behind, the car sliding forward. Tauna sat there for a moment, feeling pain ringing out through her whole body. But she couldn’t risk waiting around.
She opened the door and climbed from the wreck. Tauna looked in front of the car but saw no sign of Vincente. Turning around, she looked at the police car. The driver was unconscious or maybe even dead. Tauna went to the side and opened the door carefully. She checked his pulse quickly—he would live. What she was really interested in was his sidearm. Tauna took it from him and searched his pockets. A cell phone and a wallet. She took the cash and credit cards before tossing the wallet on the asphalt.
Tauna didn’t waste any more time on the scene. She couldn’t confirm or deny Vincente’s death and her main priority right now was finding Dalton and finishing the mission before anything else went wrong. But to do that, she would need help.
After leaving the scene and making sure there wasn’t any immediate danger, Tauna used the stolen cell phone to make a call. It took a few minutes of waiting before the familiar sound of a soothing accent calmed her nerves.
“It’s me,” she said. “We have a situation.”
“Tell me everything,” said Dante on the other end.
“Moore’s gone and he’s taken Fury with him.”
Her employer paused, waiting a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Tauna. Then finally he gave a response. “He turned on us?”
Tauna shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s been lured out. Vincente found where we were staying. The only way he could have known that was if—”
“If someone tipped him off,” said Dante. “Dammit, this is bad.”
“It’s Sutton, I’m sure of it, Dante,” she said. “He must be working with Venom or the Agency.”
“Where’s Vincente now?” asked Dante.
Tauna sighed. “I have no idea. He attacked me, we fought, and I managed to get away but he chased me. There was a car accident and now…I don’t know. He’s just…gone.”
“You have to get out of there.”
“Already done. I managed to get a weapon and some money, but I don’t know where Moore could have gone. But if the Agency is responsible for luring him out…”
“Then our source may know something,” said Dante. “I’ll get in touch with him. Meanwhile, find somewhere you can lay low for the time being and wait until you hear from me.”
“Understood.”
Another brief pause and then, “How
are you?”
“Bastard made me drop my knife.”
“I’ll see to it you get another.”
Tauna’s nostrils flared. “It’s more than that.”
“I know. Sentimental value and all. But what do we do, Tauna?”
She closed her eyes and gave a nod. “Keep moving, sir.”
“That’s my girl.”
***
Johnny Venom sat in his Istanbul club, sitting out on the terrace and sipping his drink with a cigar resting in the ashtray. The cell phone sitting on his table began ringing and he answered it immediately.
“This had better be good news,” he said.
“It’s on. I’m meeting him in Budapest tomorrow night.”
“And the package?”
“He’ll have it with him. I’ll send you the address.”
Venom grinned. “Excellent. You’ve done a great service, Mr. Sutton.”
Baxter’s tone was soft as he replied, “Yeah, I’m sure I have.”
“We can’t let something this dangerous fall into the hands of a terrorist organization such as Infernum.”
“Look man, spare me the schtick. Convince yourself whatever you need to so you can sleep at night, but I want no part of it. Just make sure you pay me my thirty pieces and then I don’t wanna hear from you again, okay?”
“Of course. You’ll find the money wired to the account number you provided me with.”
“And your boy? I don’t wanna be left in the open holding my dick.”
“He’ll be there,” said Venom.
“You sure he can handle it? He was supposed to get them on the train but somehow managed to fuck that up.”
“I said he’ll be there. You provided us with the location of the hotel so if all has gone as planned, Tauna is likely dead. Just live up to your end, Mr. Sutton.”
The call ended abruptly. Venom moved the phone from his ear and looked at the display to confirm Baxter wasn’t still on the line. The phone beeped and a new message from an unknown sender appeared on the screen. Venom opened it and saw a simple address. Venom dialed another number.
Infernum Omnibus Page 27