“Of course,” said Julie.
Chandler stepped back and gestured for her to come in. Inside the conference room was a curved table, almost in the shape of a C, facing a large monitor that covered the entire wall. Two men sat at the table and they both stood. One was a black man who cut an impressive figure, with a bald head and thin beard, wearing a suit. The other was white and thin with short blond hair and glasses, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a video game controller on it and the word “PLAYER” written underneath. There was an open laptop on the table near his seat.
“I’d like to introduce you to some people,” said Chandler, first motioning to the larger man. “William Quartermain. He’s had a long and impressive career working with us. One of the best strategic minds in the business.”
“Agent Kim,” said Quartermain, offering his hand. “I’ve read about you. Seems you show a lot of promise.”
“Thanks,” said Julie.
Chandler gestured to the other man. “And this is—”
“Baxter Sutton,” said Julie, her smile fading. “Used to be partnered with Dalton Moore, a professional thief. Last seen working with Infernum.”
“Just a one-time gig, and it wasn’t my idea,” said Baxter.
“Mr. Sutton actually came to us, tried to stop his former partner,” said Chandler. “And in exchange, we’ve offered him a position here at the Agency.”
“All due respect, Director, but how do we know we can trust him?” asked Julie.
“How do we know we can trust you?” asked Baxter, sitting back at his laptop.
Julie folded her arms. “Excuse me? I’m not the one who used to work for our number one enemy.”
“No, but you did partner with one of Dante’s assassins, going against your orders in the process,” said Baxter. “You’ve also been viewing classified files on Infernum without proper authorization.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell do you know?”
Baxter’s fingers flew across the laptop’s keyboard and with one final stroke, the monitor in front of the table came to life, mirroring his screen. Windows were open, detailing Julie’s unauthorized trip into Mexico as well as keystroke logs that showed the Infernum files she had accessed. The hacker spun his chair around and smiled at her.
“Thought you covered your tracks, huh sweetie?” Baxter placed his hands behind his neck and leaned back in his chair. “Give me a computer and an Internet connection, there’s almost nothing I can’t find out.”
“Sir, this is—”
Chandler held up his hand. “It’s all right, Agent Kim.”
Julie blinked. “It…is?”
He gestured to the chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
Quartermain walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for Julie. She cautiously accepted it and Quartermain sat beside her, putting himself between her and Baxter. Chandler circled around to the front of the table, standing beside the monitor.
“The Mexico incident was…unfortunate,” said Chandler. “But as for breaking into the secure files, I understand why you did that. You want revenge on the people who were responsible for taking your partner away. And I’m going to give you that chance.”
Julie was surprised at Chandler’s behavior. This was without a doubt the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth. It made her feel slightly uneasy about the whole situation. “So…what chance is that?”
“We’re putting a team together,” said Quartermain, turning his chair slightly as he addressed Julie. “There’s a very serious mission we have to embark on, and based on your track record, we think you’d be a valuable addition.”
“You mean…?” She looked past Quartermain at Baxter and shook her head. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this.”
“Mr. Sutton may be a bit rough around the edges, but he knows how to get the job done,” said Chandler. “He’ll handle support. Quartermain is the field commander, his expertise lies in strategy. And you’ve proven to be quite a good shot and a skilled field operative.”
“Although your Mexico trip was unauthorized, you proved quite capable down there,” said Quartermain. “From what I’ve seen of the reports, you can really kick some ass in a firefight.”
“Is this it, then?” asked Julie. “Just the three of us?”
“Four, actually,” said Quartermain. “We’ve got another operative, specializing in stealth, close-quarters combat, and interrogation. He’ll meet us in-country.”
“In-country?” Julie turned her chair to Chandler. “Where are we going?”
Chandler nodded to Baxter, who went to work on the keyboard. The monitor changed and an image appeared on the screen of a man with a receding hairline, the blond color turning gray.
“I want to introduce you to Dr. Viktor Samarin,” said Chandler. “Bio-chemist, Russian national. And Infernum’s next target.”
“What do they want him for?”
“Samarin developed a powerful biological weapon, called LD-68. Nicknamed Fury,” said Quartermain. “Highly contagious, basically turns its victims into wild animals. Sends them into a frenzy, attacking anyone and anything they see.”
“And Infernum wants it,” said Chandler. “A few months ago, they tried to procure Fury from an international arms dealer named John Nguyen.”
“Johnny Venom,” said Julie. “We’ve met. But based on what I’ve read, he and Dante aren’t exactly what you’d call friends.”
“That’s why he hired my old partner,” said Baxter. “Dante needed a thief to get his hands on it.”
“We were able to prevent Moore from turning the weapon over to Infernum and it was destroyed in the process,” said Chandler. “But Dante isn’t the kind of man to walk away from a loss. He wants Fury and he’ll do whatever possible to get it back.”
“That means going after Samarin,” said Julie, staring at the image on the screen.
“Precisely right,” said Chandler. “Samarin is being held in a Russian prison, so it will be up to you to get him out and bring him back to the States where we can put him in protective custody.”
“Why break in?” asked Julie. “If he’s imprisoned, can’t we go through official channels? Make contact with the Russians?”
“Not so easy,” said Quartermain. “If Russian intelligence finds out that the United States is after a scientist who specializes in biological weapons, they’re going to wonder just what exactly we want him for. And that could cause…well, problems.”
Julie sighed. “Yeah, I see your point. It would help if we knew what we’re up against. Any clue who Dante plans to send after Samarin?”
Chandler shook his head. “Dante cycles through operatives. He has a few that he keeps on retainer, but most are freelance, brought on for specific jobs and then cut loose. We can try and see who he’s using this time, but it won’t be easy.”
“And it would waste time and resources we could be using to extract Samarin,” said Quartermain. “Our move here is getting Samarin before Dante has a chance to send anyone after us.”
“I imagine this isn’t the vengeance scenario you had in mind, Agent Kim,” said Chandler. “But this is important. If we’re successful, we can prevent Infernum from gaining access to an extremely dangerous weapon.”
Julie nodded. “Yeah, absolutely. Of course, I’m in.”
“Good to hear,” said Quartermain, flashing her a grin. “Welcome to the Fixers.”
CHAPTER 3
As Angela walked up the stone path to her front door, a feeling of dread came over her. Red and blue lights flashed in the darkness. Yellow tape with the bold, black letters POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS was drawn around the perimeter.
She ran for the door, tearing past the tape. Despite the lights and the crime scene, there were no police or paramedics to stop her from barging into her own house.
Once inside the house, she went for the living room and her foot struck a puddle. Sticky. Shallow. She looked down at her feet and saw that her boots were resting in a pool of
blood.
Her eyes followed the trail and then she saw his body lying motionless on the ground. His eyes were fixed in an open position and there was a gaping hole in the back of his head.
Jeffrey Beam. Her husband. Killed while they were both on leave from the Agency. The night before they planned to go away on a vacation.
Angela’s jaw dropped and she fell to her knees, the blood displaced by her sudden weight. She placed her hands on the ground and raised them up, staring at her husband’s blood staining her fingers.
She heard a clicking noise come from behind followed by the unmistakable scent of tobacco. Angela slowly looked over her shoulder and she saw him standing behind her, leaning against the wall.
Ring-lined fingers held a long, thin cigarette between them. He dropped the gold lighter back into the pocket of his oxblood leather jacket. Unnatural crystal eyes stared at her in a fixed position and a smile spread out between the strange, Fu Manchu-esque goatee. The black hair on his chin and brows contrasted sharply with the platinum blond color of his slicked-back hair.
“What did you expect, love?” he asked between puffs of his cigarette. “This was the only way it could end.”
Angela sprung up from the floor and charged at him, her hands reaching for his throat. But just before she could grab hold of him, he was gone. She looked around the room, trying to find some trace of him but could see nothing.
She narrowed her eyes and reached under her leather jacket, drawing her handgun. Angela moved slowly through the house, checking every room, every corner, to try and find her target.
“We’ve done this dance before, you and I.” The voice echoed around her.
“And I killed you,” she said.
“Now, we both know that’s not true.”
Angela zeroed in on the direction the voice was coming from. She inched closer and closer to the bedroom and reached her hand out, slowly and quietly turning the handle. She pushed the door open and moved inside, raising her gun and ready to fire.
The entire location changed. Now she was in an apartment overlooking DC. Angela moved carefully inside, keeping a firm grip on her weapon. She knew this place. Had seen it before. Had been here before.
Angela walked past the foyer and into the living room. Lying in front of the couch, right in the middle of the room, was another man. Bullet hole in the back of his head. Eyes fixed in an open position. Blood pooling around his body.
Christian Pierce.
After Jeff, Angela never thought there’d be anyone else. But then came Christian. An Agency operative—Jeff’s former partner no less—trying to bring Angela back into the organization. Trying to lure her away from her new boss.
“Poor guy.”
He was back, standing near the window and smoking his cigarette as he examined the spot in the glass where the bullet entered from.
“Dante,” said Angela, aiming her gun at him.
He turned and with a smile, gave a showy bow. “At your service.”
Angela kept pulling the trigger until every bullet in the magazine was fired. Each one hit Dante square in his chest. And with each shot, he laughed more and more.
The gun clicked a few times. But Dante still stood there. No holes in his body. No blood. Not a scratch on him. Not even a tear in his clothes.
“How many times have you done this?” he asked, sauntering towards her. He circled behind her, his head over her shoulder, positioned right near her ear. “How many times have you tried—and failed—to kill me?”
Angela looked down at the gun in her blood-stained hands. In a low voice, she responded, “Every night.”
“That’s what I thought.” Dante walked away from her and approached Christian’s body, kneeling down beside it. “It’s a pity, really. You know, I never wanted him dead.”
“Fuck you.”
“What did I tell you on that rooftop?” he asked. “I told you to keep your emotions in check. And then you go and fall for the first spy you come across.”
“Go to hell!” She charged at Dante and jumped. The two of them crashed through the glass window and plummeted to the street below. Angela held the gun in one hand and repeatedly cracked it across Dante’s laughing face.
“Stop! Laughing!”
“I’m sorry!” said Dante. “I just can’t help it. This is so damn funny.”
The descent continued. The buildings faded into darkness and the street vanished completely. They just kept falling into an endless, bottomless black void. Angela continually tried to beat Dante to death with her weapon, but the blows left no mark and only seemed to amuse him even more.
Dante grabbed her throat and held her out at arm’s length. They were standing on a rooftop now, the one they stood on when Dante offered her a job with Infernum. But this part never happened. Dante never had her dangling over the edge of the roof, ready to fall below.
“You’re out of control, Lockhart,” he said. “You think if you find the man who killed your husband, it will magically make everything better? Think you can really wash blood off your hands with even more blood?”
“W-worth a shot…” she muttered.
“Pathetic.”
“He’s right, Anna.”
Angela looked into the darkness behind Dante. The name Anna was the one she used when her and Christian were dating. Now he walked out from the darkness, coming up beside Dante. The bullet-hole was still present in the center of his forehead but other than that, he looked like the same Christian she found herself falling for.
“You got me killed,” he said. “Nothing’s ever going to change that.”
“I-I didn’t…”
“Of course you did,” said Christian. “Do you think I would’ve ever registered as a threat on Dante’s radar if I wasn’t involved with you?”
“Let’s not forget about the part where I so easily manipulated her into believing you were Carter Brennen,” said Dante with a sideways glance at Christian.
Christian snapped his fingers. “You’re right, I almost forgot about that.” He looked at Angela. “Man, how stupid can you get?”
“Stop…” she pleaded.
“Why should he?”
Another voice. Jeff emerged from the shadows next, standing on the other side of Dante. Like Christian, his wound was still present.
“All you’ve ever done is run away from your problems, Ange,” said Jeff. “You couldn’t handle the thought of me dead, so you hooked up with my old partner.”
“I didn’t know!”
“That makes it better?” asked Jeff.
“I think we’re done with her,” said Dante. “She won’t be much use to us anymore.”
Angela felt his grip on her throat slacken. “No!”
“Sorry, Angela. Looks like you’re in free-fall, love.”
Dante released her and Angela fell into the black void below. She screamed, but it was useless. She just continued to fall into the darkness, no end in sight. It absorbed her, drawing her deep into itself.
Her eyes opened and she sat up with a start. She was panting heavily. The sheets clung to her sweat-covered body. Angela pulled them off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She buried her face in her hands and tried to clear her head.
She looked over at the nightstand. Beside the empty bottle of vodka was a digital clock that read 10:00 AM. The room was still bathed in darkness, though. Angela stood and walked over to the heavy curtains and pulled them open.
Sunlight flooded the room, blinding her. She quickly closed them once again and blinked a few times to clear the spots in her eyes. Angela returned to the bed and sat down. She needed to eat something. Get some coffee in her.
That was when she noticed the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. Angela slowly stood and went to the bedroom door. She placed her ear against it and listened. There was someone else in her apartment.
Angela went to the bed and reached under the mattress for her handgun. She checked the ammunition and went to the door. Holding the gun in one ha
nd, she pulled the door open and stepped into the small living room, pointing the gun at the intruder who sat in a chair.
She was Asian and her skin had a soft, brown tint. Her long hair was tied into a bun and a pair of glasses rested on her nose. Resting on her crossed legs was an open book. And when she saw Angela, she gave a smile.
“Hello, Angela. It’s been a long time.”
Angela of course recognized the woman. Someone she hoped she’d never have to lay eyes on again. “Tauna."
CHAPTER 4
Angela squeezed the trigger. Tauna jumped out of the chair and reached into her trench coat. She pulled her hand free, whipping out a throwing knife that knocked the gun from Angela’s grip.
Tauna rolled on the ground and drew another knife, holding it by the tip. She stood and threw it with deadly accuracy. Angela ducked and the knife struck the wall behind her.
The gun was on the ground. Angela ran for it and Tauna threw another knife that hit the blond woman in her leg. Angela stumbled and grunted in pain, but she still pushed on.
Angela picked up her gun and took aim. But Tauna stood over her, holding her own gun pointed right at Angela’s head. Angela carefully rose to her feet and the two women stared into each other’s eyes.
“Once I found out Dante survived our encounter, I knew he’d come after me,” said Angela. “I’m a little surprised it took him this long to find me.”
“What makes you think I’m here to kill you?” asked Tauna.
Angela furrowed her brow. “Aren’t you?”
Tauna smirked. “The way I see it, we have two options. We can pull these triggers and blow each other’s heads off.”
“And the second option?”
“We put our weapons away, have some of that coffee I made, and talk.”
Angela scoffed. “You think I’m stupid? Why would I let my guard down around you for even a second? And what could you and I possibly have to talk about?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
The Fixers (Infernum Book 4) Page 2