“You’re awake. Finally,” said Quartermain. “Was starting to worry I’d hit you too hard.”
The Fixer towered over her, his arms folded over his broad chest. The revolver was beneath his arm, the light brown leather of the cross-shoulder holster contrasting against the black shirt he wore.
Julie Kim was beside him, hands on her hips. She’d changed since Angela saw her, now wearing jeans and a black turtleneck. Like Quartermain, she also wore a gun holstered beneath her arm.
But their faces told a different story. Quartermain wore a look of smug satisfaction, arrogantly believing that his mission was close to completion. Julie, on the other hand, appeared a bit more ambivalent. Almost conflicted. Angela made a note of that.
“So what now?” she asked. “You going to torture me?”
“Doesn’t have to be this way, Angela,” said Julie. “No one here wants to hurt you.”
“Not sure I’d agree with that assessment,” said Quartermain.
Julie ignored him. “Just tell us where Samarin is. Make things easy on yourself. You don’t owe Dante a damn thing. Not after everything he’s done. The Agency doesn’t care about you—they just want Dante.”
Angela scoffed. “So this is the play? Good cop/bad cop?” She rolled her eyes. “I really expected better of you, Bill.”
Quartermain stepped forward and backhanded his prisoner across the face. The blow left a red mark on Angela’s cheek. She calmly turned her head back to its previous position.
“Might as well ask her to slap me around,” said Angela. “Given that you hit like a girl.”
Quartermain gave a quick chortle. “Trying to bait me now, Lockhart?”
“You seem to be taking this whole thing awfully personal,” said Angela. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about something that happened five years ago.”
“Five years ago…?” asked Julie, turning her head in Quartermain’s direction.
“He didn’t tell you?” asked Angela. “Bill and I were partnered on a job in Colombia. After we finished, we celebrated by having a bit too much to drink. One thing led to another.”
Quartermain clenched his teeth and Angela stared him right in the eye.
“For me it was just a one-night stand. But I guess I rocked ol’ Bill’s world just a bit too hard. He’s not the kind to take rejection well.”
He lunged forward, this time punching her instead of slapping. The force was so great, Angela felt like her head would snap off her neck. It took her a minute to return her head to its previous position and she spat blood on his polished black boots.
“Jeff and I met a few months after that. A year later we were married.” Angela stared at Quartermain. “Bill wasn’t happy about that. Being upstaged by a junior agent and all.”
“Maybe I should thank him,” said Quartermain. “Given that he was murdered in your home. Then you meet Pierce and he ends up dead, too. If we used codenames, Black Widow would be pretty appropriate for you.”
“Fuck you,” said Angela. Her tone was measured, but inside she was fuming. Especially because she feared that he was right. Jeff, Christian—everyone she cared about ended up dead after they came into contact with her.
“Struck a nerve. Good.”
“How about we just focus on the job at hand?” asked Julie. She approached Angela, but not before giving Quartermain a look that Angela interpreted to mean, “We’re going to have words later.”
“Is this the part where you offer me a deal?” asked Angela.
Julie shrugged. “What’s so bad about that? The only reason you’re working with Infernum is because you haven’t had any luck tracking down Brennen. So why not work with us? Not only can you take down the man responsible for Christian’s death, but we can help you get the man who killed Jeff, too.”
Angela laughed. “Yeah, right. The same people who stonewalled me when I tried to find Jeff’s killer are suddenly going to have a change of heart?”
“You worked for the Agency once before.”
“And I didn’t know who I was working for,” said Angela.
“And Dante’s better?”
“No. But at least this time, my eyes are open.”
“You’re wasting your time, Kim,” said Quartermain. “Lockhart doesn’t care about doing what’s right. All she cares about is vengeance. Doesn’t matter how many people die in the process.”
“Don’t try to play the hero, Bill. It doesn’t suit you,” said Angela. “You’re a cold-hearted bastard. Always were. Kim may not be aware of what she’s gotten involved with, but I’m sure that the Agency wouldn’t put this job in the lap of someone who didn’t know just how valuable Samarin is to them.”
“What’s she talking about?” asked Julie.
“Nothing, she’s full of shit,” said Quartermain.
“How do you think Fury got onto the black market in the first place? Why is Johnny Venom still walking around when the Agency knows he set up that auction?” asked Angela. “Wasn’t by accident, it was by design.”
“That’s enough,” said Quartermain.
“The only place Fury exists anymore is in Samarin’s head, so why doesn’t the Agency simply kill him? Why risk that information getting out?” asked Angela. “The reason is because they want him to—”
Quartermain delivered another blow, one so strong that it almost toppled Angela’s chair. But he grabbed it before it could and set it upright again. Julie’s protests echoed in the freezer.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to get the truth,” said Quartermain.
“Obviously she’s not going to talk,” said Julie. “Not with you pummeling her.”
“You’re right. She’s not going to tell us shit.” Quartermain flashed Angela an angry stare. “But I know someone who can get her to talk.”
Angela studied Julie’s face, which had nearly gone white at Quartermain’s statement. The agent shook her head. “No, I won’t allow it.”
“My task force, my mission, what I say goes,” said Quartermain.
“You’re pulling rank on me?” asked Julie.
“Damn straight,” said Quartermain. He stood upright and walked to the door, opening it and exiting out into the kitchen. Julie stayed behind for a moment, staring at Angela.
“You know something’s not right here,” said Angela.
Julie said nothing, but followed Quartermain out. The door closed behind them, leaving Angela locked in the cold.
***
Julie closed the freezer door behind her, feeling Quartermain’s eyes burning a hole through her. She met his gaze and folded her arms.
“Are we really going to go through this again?” he asked.
“This isn’t how we do things,” said Julie, pointing at the door. “You can’t send Vincente in there. Not like what you did with Kandinsky.”
“Chandler instructed me that I was to use whatever means necessary in order to retrieve Samarin.”
“This is all business, huh? Nothing personal?”
Quartermain leaned against one of the counters in the kitchen. “What are you getting at?”
“You and Angela had a thing?” asked Julie. “Didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”
He shrugged. “Like she said, it was a one-night stand. Didn’t mean anything.”
Julie scoffed. “Sure seemed like it did back there. You’re too close to this. As soon as we discovered it was Angela, you should have recused yourself.”
“That’s not how it works. We do the job we’re assigned with the tools we’re given,” said Quartermain. “And besides, you mean to tell me you’ve got no personal stake in this? One would think you’d be even more in favor of seeing her tortured.”
“Pierce wouldn’t want this,” said Julie. “Angela was stupid, but I know she didn’t want him dead. I killed the man responsible and next, I’m going to kill the man who hired him.”
“We’re moving ahead with the interrogation.”
Quartermain
walked from the kitchen and into the main dining area. Vincente had cleared away some space on the floor and was now practicing with his arm-blades. As soon as he sensed Quartermain’s presence, he turned to face his leader. The blades snapped back into his gauntlets and he stood at attention, ready to receive orders.
“The freezer,” said Quartermain. “We’ve got to figure out what it is she knows. And that means I need your help.”
Vincente gave a simple nod. Quartermain spun on his heel to return to the kitchen, but found Julie blocking his path. He gave an exasperated sigh.
“Are you really going to make my life difficult?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
Quartermain glanced back at Vincente, whose blade had already extended from the gauntlet. Quartermain held up his hand, a gesture for Vincente to hold back. The blade retracted.
“This is the moment of truth, Agent Kim,” said Quartermain. “Either you’re with the Agency or with Infernum. I’m not going to keep arguing with you. Are you part of this team or not?”
“I’m not part of any team that is willing to do whatever it takes. If we don’t hold ourselves to a higher st—”
“Move or I’ll have Vincente go through you,” barked Quartermain. “That’s all there is to it. I’m done putting up with your insubordination. Either do as you’re told or I’ll deal with you in another way. Are we clear?”
Julie hesitated. She looked past Quartermain at Vincente. His attack dog was ready to do whatever he was told. And as for Quartermain, the man looked determined enough to make good on his threats. She stepped to the side and allowed the two men to walk past her and over to the freezer.
“You won’t get away with this,” she said.
Quartermain didn’t respond, just closed the freezer door after he and Vincente entered. Julie sighed and looked down the small corridor leading to the office where Baxter’s equipment was set up. She was going to report this back to the Agency. This kind of shit wasn’t condoned.
Julie walked down the corridor and past the open office door. Baxter sat at the array of monitors and glanced over his shoulder at her. “What’s up? Get anything yet?”
“Nothing,” she said. “But I need you to put me in to headquarters. I have to speak to Chandler.”
Baxter shook his head. “No can do. Not without the boss-man’s authorization.”
Julie blinked. “Excuse me?”
Baxter turned his chair to face Julie. “Quartermain calls the shots. All communication to base goes through him.”
“Says who?”
Baxter shrugged. “Says Chandler. That was the order. Didn’t you know that?”
“We can’t let him get away with this, Sutton. He’s having Vincente torture Angela for what she knows.”
“Not my problem,” said Baxter.
“Not your—what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m not the type to stick my neck out for anyone. Not again,” said Baxter. “I went through that shit with Dalton once and lost a lot of money. I’m not about to get involved in anyone else’s crusade. Now I just do my job and collect my paycheck.”
Julie huffed and turned, storming back down the corridor. She heard Baxter’s voice calling after her: “Think you could grab me a beer while you’re out there?”
She ignored him and returned to the restaurant’s main area. Julie took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and retrieved her cell phone from her pants pocket. There were a series of missed calls on her phone, all from the same familiar number. She furrowed her brow, wondering why he’d be calling her, then pressed the CALL button.
“Hello?” asked Jack Marco upon answering the phone.
“It’s me, what is it?”
“Julie? Are you whispering?”
“There’s a situation here,” she said.
“Why do you think I’ve been trying to call you?” asked Marco.
“What?” Julie stood and peered into the kitchen, then the corridor to the office. Confident she was free of prying ears, she moved close to the front entrance. “What’s going on?”
“You have to get out of there,” said Marco. “Something’s about to go down.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Just…” Marco sighed. “Trust me, okay?”
“What the hell is going on?” asked Julie.
“The Agency…it isn’t what we were told.”
Julie’s eyes widened. “You’re working with Infernum, aren’t you?”
Marco went silent on the other end of the phone. Then finally, he responded with, “I am. And I need you to get out of there before the team arrives.”
“What team?”
“I’ve given them your location. They’re coming to get Lockhart out so she can lead them to Samarin. The Fixers are going down and I don’t want you to be among the body count.”
“I won’t be,” said Julie. “In fact, I’m going to make things easier for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hang up the phone, Jack. You don’t want to risk your cover being blown.” Julie hung up herself and placed the phone back in her pocket.
She walked around behind the bar and opened the tiny refrigerator below the counter. Julie took out a cold beer and returned to the office. Baxter was fixated on his monitors, shaking his head. His fingers danced across the keyboard, then tossed a quick glance over his shoulder.
“Think we’ve got some interference,” he said. “Someone keeps trying to track our location. But the weird thing is it looks like it’s coming from inside Agency headquarters.”
“That so?” asked Julie, slowly moving behind him.
“Someone there wants to know where we are. Think there might be a mole on the inside?” Baxter began to turn his chair. “By the way, about that beer—?”
Julie smashed the bottle against his head, the carbonated liquid inside spilling over his hair and matting it to his head. Baxter fell out of his chair and onto the ground.
“Next time, get off your lazy ass and get it yourself,” she said.
CHAPTER 14
No screams came from her mouth.
Angela kept her teeth gritted to make sure of it. She wasn’t about to give Quartermain the satisfaction of hearing her in pain. Vincente rose from his crouched position on the ground. A series of thin, sharp needles were embedded on the back of Angela’s left hand.
“You can end this all right now, Lockhart. Just tell me what I want to know,” said Quartermain, standing with his back against the door.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.”
Quartermain looked around the freezer. “Well, the temperature’s certainly appropriate.”
Vincente extended his blade and rested the tip on Angela’s wrist. He slowly dragged it up her forearm, a very shallow cut with a thin trail of blood leaking out. Angela tried to focus on something else to drown out the pain. She breathed in deep, held it in, and exhaled slowly.
“Meditation techniques won’t help you,” said Quartermain. “Vincente is the Agency’s most accomplished enhanced interrogator. You know, he’s the one who got Kandinsky to tell us what we needed to know about Brezhnev. From there, it was a real simple matter to get you to come to us. Just dangle a small piece of bait for you.”
Vincente made another cut alongside the first, the two lines perfectly parallel. As soon as she felt the blade against her skin, Angela drew in another breath, slowly letting it out as he sliced into her arm.
“Don’t worry about any of your appendages yet,” said Quartermain. “Vincente likes to start out small. Build up to the big stuff. Cutting off any fingers or toes at this point would be a bit premature in his mind.”
“And how does he feel about you speaking for him?” asked Angela.
“Oh, he’s not a big talker. More of a doer.” Quartermain reached into his pants pocket and produced a silver cylindrical case. He took a cigar from inside and dropped the case on the floor. Quartermain kept his eyes locked with Angela�
�s as he lit the end of the tobacco.
“You know what the really funny thing about this is?” asked Quartermain.
“That you couldn’t get the information out of me yourself, so you had to delegate it?” asked Angela.
“No, it’s that you wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t come to Russia seeking out Brennen.”
“And what’s so funny about that?” Angela cringed as Vincente made another cut, still concentrating on the forearm. She glanced at him and saw his eyes fixated on her wounds. The way he stared at them, one would think he found them hypnotic.
Quartermain knelt down in front of her, blowing the cigar smoke into Angela’s face. She closed her eyes to shield them.
“It’s that Brennen isn’t responsible for your husband’s death.”
Angela opened her eyes, staring hard at Quartermain. “What did you say?”
“I think you heard me.”
“You’re lying. He was investigating Brennen and his cover was blown. The Agency pulled him out.”
“You now know what the Agency is. So tell me, who do you think Brennen was working with?”
Angela felt a chill run through her body. She shook her head in disbelief. “No. That can’t be true.”
“Brennen was working with the Agency, but they were getting tired of dealing with him. Your boy was sent to kill him, but he didn’t. Instead he helped him escape.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” asked Quartermain. “Think back to the night he died.”
***
The laptop lid slammed shut, nearly taking Jeffrey Beam’s fingers with it. He looked up in a mixture of shock and anger at the culprit. Angela stood over him, hands on her hips and a glare in her eyes.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Do you even know what the concept of leave is?” asked Angela. “It means unplug and relax. This is the first time in months we’ve both been home at the same time, do you really want to waste it doing work?”
The Fixers (Infernum Book 4) Page 8