Mad, Mad World

by J. D. Sloane

  “In the future I’ll remember to trust my gut instincts and kill every witness on the scene.”

  “You leaving him and the manager alive is only reason I’m not here with a fleet of police cars behind me,” Jessica said, her voice coming out in a low, passionate rush. “And the only reason you’re not in cuffs right now.”

  “That sounds a little less grateful. How quickly they all forget.”

  Michael leaned towards her, his sensuous mouth curved up in a snide smile.

  “And what make you think I’d let you keep me in chains, Miss Nolan? Because believe me, I’m not the kind of man whose inclined to go easily.”

  “And dinner is served,” Byron said walking to the head of the table with two large, covered serving dishes on a long porcelain tray. He set the tray in the middle of the table above his plate and then took the lid off the farthest platter, turning the handle of the serving ladle slightly to the left.

  “Miss Nolan? Would you like to hand me your plate or do you prefer to serve yourself?”

  Jessica glanced at him swiftly and then snapped her eyes back to Michael as he rolled his jaw at her, her pale face twitching with emotion.

  “I need your help to find him,” she said as Michael dropped his napkin onto his plate and shoved his chair back as he stood up.

  “You have an entire army looking for White as we speak,” he said, reaching for his coat. “You certainly don’t need my help.”

  “He’s been two steps ahead of us the whole time. You were the only one who was able to stop him.”

  “And I’ll stop him again. See if I don’t.”

  “I want him brought in alive,” Jessica said, trying to keep the soft edge of panic out of her voice as he slid his long black jacket on carelessly and glanced towards the door. “He has to pay for what he’s done. This city needs to see that. They need to see that justice still exists here. They need to see that some maniac can’t just walk in and erase it with a handful of mercenaries and some sick vendetta against those who try to keep order.”

  Michael laughed shortly and shook his head, his expression a sharp blend of amused disbelief and barely concealed outrage.

  “And who do you think you’re asking, hmm? Who do you think men like White come to when they want to even the score against someone like you? Justice doesn’t exist anywhere, Miss Nolan. You should remember that. Before you waste your entire life holding the line for reinforcements that will never come.”

  Jessica started to get up as Michael turned and strode down the hallway without looking back and Byron placed a calming hand on her shoulder as he shook his head, sighing under his breath as the front door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the plaster.

  “No,” Byron said, inclining his hand back towards her chair as he sat down at the head of the table. “Let him go. When he’s like that, it’s better to give him a measure of space.”

  “I need his help,” Jessica said, turning her head.

  Byron shrugged and then picked up her plate, filling it with a mound of spaghetti before ladling it with sauce.

  “Yes, I know,” he said handing it back to her.

  Jessica looked towards the window as she heard the screech of tires in the parking garage below and tried not to wring her hands as she saw a sudden flurry of snowflakes outside the door wall, the wind whipping them around in a shudder of silver and white. She watched Byron fill his own plate with the air of a discriminating chef and then pulled up his chair, nodding towards her politely as he picked up his fork.

  “Will he help me?” She asked, and Byron looked at her and then held up his hand, swirling the pasta around with his fork as he reached for a spoon.

  “I can tell that he wants to help you, which is a good start.”

  Jessica bit her tongue and twirled her fork on the plate, taking a bite as she glanced in Byron’s direction.

  “That comment about mercenaries.”

  “Yes?”

  “He seems to know a lot about them.”

  Byron gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “More than he’d like to, I’m sure.”

  “Is that what he is? An assassin? Is that how he knows White?”

  “White and he have a- difficult history. You know about that girl of his? Brooke Avery?”

  “I know that up until last night everyone but White assumed she was dead.”

  “Michael was the one who took her,” Byron said taking a bite.

  Jessica dropped her hand and looked at him sharply, her eyes going wide as he reached for his wine glass.

  “He was the one who kidnapped her? And tried to kill her?”

  “No, no,” Byron said waving his fork. “He never intended to kill the girl. The target was always White. She was just his way to draw him out.”

  “And then what?”

  “Something went wrong. It happens sometimes in this business. The men Michael was working with panicked and killed her. Or almost killed her. And then your father intervened and the rest you know.”

  Jessica looked down at her plate without registering it and then looked back up as Byron tilted his head at her, reaching for the wine bottle.

  “Do you not like the sauce?” He asked his voice almost anxious.

  Jessica opened her mouth to say something and then shook her head as Byron refilled his glass.

  “No? You don’t like it?”

  “This was a mistake, coming here.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because he’s right. There is a line out there. And I can’t hold other people accountable for laws I can’t even keep myself on the right side of.”

  Jessica started to stand and Byron gave her a small smile, reaching over her gently as he refilled her glass.

  “And what of your father? Do you think pretending that girl was dead was the lawful thing to do? To lie to the courts? To send a man to prison under suspicion of a crime that he knew had never taken place?”

  Jessica’s brows flew together, and she shook her head, her face becoming a soft approximation of her father’s stubborn, world-weary stare.

  “That was totally different. White was convicted for crimes he actually committed. Whatever my father did to cover up her escape he did it to save her from a madman.”

  “And why do you think Michael did it?”

  “I don’t know why he did it. If he is who he says he is I’m going to guess it’s because someone paid him to do it.”

  Byron shrugged and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his lips thoughtfully for a moment as he tipped his glass in her direction without picking it up.

  “I sure that’s what he would tell you if you asked him. He may even believe it, most of the time.”

  Jessica tilted her head at him, trying not to let her annoyance show in her face and then sighed as Byron leaned forward, resting his elbow on the arm rest.

  “Do you know how he came to be in this business?”

  “You mean the soldier of fortune business?”

  Byron smirked and then inclined his head slightly as if suffering from a social barb he more than deserved.

  “That’s what I mean, yes. For myself I began as many do, as a young man fighting for his country across borders that seemed more and more arbitrary the longer I fought. Have you ever killed a man in the line of duty, Miss Nolan?”

  Jessica blanched and shook her head as Byron glanced at the ceiling briefly and then shrugged.

  “Well I can tell you that after one death your reasons for killing may seem very clear to you. But after the twentieth, a man is just a man. And If I was going to be a murderer for my country, I saw no reason not to be one for my own benefit. At least then I would get to choose. I wouldn’t wonder if the man I shot had simply been a man like me, fighting for a country that did not value him. I would know who I was killing. And I would make sure that they deserved it.”

  Byron took a drink of wine, his face lookin
g bitter for a moment and then held up his hands before rubbing them together.

  “But that’s not how it was with Michael.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he was born into this. His father was a man like me, someone I worked with, someone I trusted. His mother too, which is how they met. When Michael was ten, his mother was kidnapped by a small faction of terrorists that his father had turned down for a very lucrative contract on one of their local rivals. They did this to force him to take the contract. And when he refused, they killed her.”

  Byron cleared his throat, and then took a drink of his wine as Jessica looked at him quickly, her face softening with surprise.

  “I’m sorry. That’s awful. He was only ten?”

  “He was. But he knew what had happened. There were rumors, stories. She was killed in a very similar way to this girl, Brooke. Killed in some filthy warehouse that no one had ever heard of. Michael’s father never forgave himself. And Michael never forgave any of us.”

  Jessica let out a sigh, her face filling with a rush of guilty conscience as she reached for her glass, and then dropped her hand without picking it up.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to understand. After Michael’s father died Margot and I took him in. We tried to make up for what he had lost, but it was too late. The dye had been cast. He stayed with us for less than three years before he went off to fight a war that began that night and will never really end, not for him. It’s too easy, you see, to think of men in this business as monsters. As men who kill for money and nothing else. But believe me, Miss Nolan, there is nothing more personal than picking up a gun and deciding for yourself who will live and who will die.”

  Jessica heard her fingers dancing on the edge of her plate and stopped them instantly as Byron gave her a look of empathy.

  “You think he did it to- to what? To get her away from him? Why? To what end?”

  “I don’t know. I do know that it was the last contract he ever took. No warning or explanation. He simply walked away.”

  Byron sighed deeply and then stood up, picking up his plate.

  “We are all slaves to the ghosts of our past, Miss Nolan. When you’re young you think that’s simply the kind of thing people say. Once you get older, you know that it’s not.”

  Michael glanced at the readout of his security monitor as it gave off a low beep and flashed yellow twice, a grainy image of the area outside of his private garage filling the screen. He drummed his fingers across his computer desk as he saw a small domestic car pull into the lot and then leaned forward without thinking as Jessica Nolan looked around from the front seat and then turned her rearview mirror down slightly, watching the light evening traffic pass behind her.

  You’ve got to be kidding me, he thought, tapping at his screen to the make the image bigger. What is this? Byron’s idea of a joke?

  He shook his head in disbelief as Jessica got out of the car and then looked up at the unmarked metal building in front of her, her eyes following the high domed roof curiously for a moment before she headed for the side door.

  “No,” Michael said under his breath as he tapped at his keyboard rapidly and then paused as he heard the quick drum of a fist on steel, the sound of it echoing up to him in the darkness. He hovered his fingers over the security command, knowing that the door would lock down immediately and then turned in his seat as he heard her knock again, this time more forcefully.

  “This isn’t happening,” he said, letting out a quick sigh as he hit the open command and then rolled his eyes as he tapped his thumbs together restlessly, trying to control the irritation in his face. He glanced up as he heard the utility elevator descend behind him and then tapped at his keyboard, the long collection of monitors scrolling through a spectrum of screens before going into rest mode, a soft dissolve into a wide panorama of stars.

  He stood near the edge of the platform as he heard the elevator door sigh open and turned towards it without moving, his face set and stoic in the shadow of the lights above them.

  “It’s two AM, Miss Nolan,” Michael said dryly as Jessica took in the huge space around her, her fingers drumming the edge of a plastic plate as she stepped out of the elevator carriage and onto the platform. “I take it no one ever told you how impolite it is to visit unannounced.”

  Jessica whistled lightly as she walked across the wide steel beams of the platform and looked out over the railing with a small smile as she noticed his row of cars, each shinier and more expensive than the last.

  “Most of the men I visit unannounced don’t complain much,” she said, her blue-green eyes narrowing with humor as she handed him the plastic container.

  I’ll bet, he thought, taking the dish from her as she walked past him.

  “What is this?”

  “Leftovers from Byron,” she said, resting her hands on the railing as she looked out over the side. “He didn’t want you to be hungry.”

  “I wasn’t. And Byron didn’t tell you about this place either. I know him too well for that.”

  Jessica glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, the sheer audacity of her tracking him down the second time that evening exciting him on some strange half-buried level. He folded his arms across his chest as she shrugged causally and then turned around to face him.

  “Nice set up,” she said, nodding to the monitors. “You could land a small plane in here. I guess crime really is the only industry that’s completely recession proof.”

  “Actually, we tend to get a bit of a boost with any extended recession,” he said, setting the box down on the computer desk as she followed him with her eyes. “Crime and poverty tend to work in tandem with my line of work. And you haven’t answered my question.”

  “You didn’t ask a question.”

  “Don’t be coy. How did you find me here?”

  Jessica pressed her lips together and then sighed and crooked one finger at him as she started down the stairs. Michael watched her from above and then stepped to the top of the metal staircase as she walked over to his black Maserati and circled it slowly before holding up her hands like a magician. He bit back a smirk as Jessica reached behind his back left wheel well and pulling out a small metal box, tossing it up to him lightly as he began to descend. She gave him a quick, breathtaking smile as he caught it in one hand and then turned it over in his palm slowly before pocketing it with a shake of his head.

  “You really aren’t used to being followed by someone like me, are you?”

  “I’m not used to being followed by anyone. Getting followed in this business doesn’t exactly bode well for career longevity.”

  “Is that really what you want? To be a career killer your whole life?”

  Michael walked up to her, his pale eyes moving over her slowly and then shifted his shoulders as she turned and walked around to the back of his car, running her fingertips over the edge of the front panel. He felt that strange pang of unease again as he noticed her bandages and had a sudden flash of the way she had looked on the balcony, the terror of her situation unravelling her tough girl façade so completely that until tonight he had barely known it existed.

  But was that really true? he wondered. Hadn’t she been trying to save herself even then? Cut up and beaten within an inch of her life and still clinging to the grim hope that if she just held out long enough, fought every moment as much as she could that somehow things would be made right. Something would happen to shift the scales in her favor and if they didn’t…

  And if they didn’t then at least she would go down fighting, he thought. That’s what I saw, beneath the terror and pain that night. That’s the girl who’s looking back at me now. The girl who wouldn’t abandon her one last, desperate hope even when it was obvious that no one was coming to save her.

  “Why didn’t you stay at Byron’s?”

  “I was. I did. But I couldn’t sleep.”

  She paused,
looking over him so curiously that he felt his shoulders go stiff.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” she said, her hazel eyes dancing away lightly as they darted across the upper platform of the garage.

  “That’s because you won’t like the answer.”

  “Byron says that you’re thinking it over.”

  “Yes, well, believe it or not, Byron doesn’t know everything there is to know about me.”

  Michael opened the passenger door and then waved his hand towards the passenger seat with an impatient snap.

  “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

  Jessica looked up sharply, her face registering a moment of surprised disappointment and he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as she buried it instantly.

  “I can drive myself home, thanks.”

  “Not in this weather,” he said, tapping his finger against the glass.

  “So why not just stay here then? I’m sure you’ve stayed here overnight before.”

  “I stay here all the time,” he said, stepping away from the door as he jerked it open. “But never to sleep.”

  Jessica sighed and then walked over to the passenger side of the car, sliding in quickly as he slammed the door shut. He walked around to the driver’s side and slid in next to her as she turned her head in his direction, her profile outlined in a soft halo of blond hair. He started the engine without looking at her and then touched the console of his car as the GPS leapt to life, scrolling through two different screens as she ducked her head down and looked up at the platform above them.

  Damn she’s pretty. Why does she have to be so pretty?

  “Is that- a screensaver of the Pleiades?”

  Michael glanced at her in surprise and looked up at his computer set-up, the long, curved collection of screens looking like a blanket of stars above them.

  “It is,” he said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as his dark brow furrowed. “You know that constellation?”

  “I know a few of them. The Pleiades are part of that larger one. Taurus. See? And that’s Orion. Chasing them across the sky.”

  Jessica paused as she noticed Michael staring and shrugged as she blushed.