Watchers

by S. T. Boston

  * * *

  Finch checked the zip tie restraints that bound Adam's hands and feet one final time before throwing his red baseball cap in beside him and closing the boot. The blood from the wound on his head was smeared down the side of his face, but the gash had already started to clot, stemming a little of the bleeding. It was a nasty wound, but in no way life threatening. He didn't intend to kill him just yet, until he had safely secured the girl and gotten away he couldn't risk it. Should things go wrong he might need him – Finch had no idea what Oriyanna had told the man. He strongly suspected it would be far easier to break Fisher than it would be to break her. Rounding the car, he joined Roddick by the driver's door. “They're in room thirty-three,” he said quietly. “We'll leave the car here and walk over; sleeping beauty back there should be out for a good few hours, so we have plenty of time.”

  Roddick nodded his agreement, “I'll follow your lead,” he said. “And what if she isn't with them?”

  “I'm not even thinking about that right now,” growled Finch as he walked away from the Impala and approached the ground floor wall of the hotel. “She's in there, trust me!”

  “Are you going to knock?” asked Roddick, staying a few paces behind him as they slipped into the same shadows that Finch had exploited not five minutes ago.

  “No, of course not!” he hissed. “They'll be expecting him back any time soon and we have a key, why the fuck would I knock? When we get there, just let me take charge. Oh, and keep your voice down.” Quickly and silently Finch crossed the span of the hotel's outer wall, before arriving at the concrete stairway. The small enclosed space still smelt of fresh masonry paint from a recent rebuild. Taking two steps at a time, Finch climbed to the third floor in under a minute, and pausing at the top he waited for Roddick who had dropped back a good few feet tackling the stairs. Finch stepped away from the wall and counted the doors. “It should be the fourth one down,” he whispered, “when we get there, pass the window as fast as you can, unfortunately there's no way we can get to the room without walking by it.” Small wall lamps hung sat above each door, illuminating the brass room numbers; the lights filled the outer corridor with an artificial orange glow. Reaching into his jacket, Finch removed the Glock from its holster and expertly unclipped the safety, all in one swift movement. Glancing back at Roddick who was a little red-faced from the three story climb, he saw he already had his gun in hand. Finch raised the weapon and beckoned him forward. As quickly as possible he paced along the line of doors. Passing the darkened window of room thirty-three he readied the key; Roddick was with him every step of the way.

  Reaching the door, he slipped the key into the lock with ease, and the moment he did, two rounds slammed through the door. Finch felt a sticky wetness spray the left hand side of his face as the taste of blood filled his mouth. Turning the handle, he glanced left and watched Roddick's legs buckle and collapse, the right hand side of his face a bloodied mess from the one round that had found its target. As his companion hit the glazed tile floor, Finch barged the door open and stormed into the darkened room. Instinctively, he weaved left as the soft silenced sound of two more shots filled the air; one of the rounds hammered past his ear, far too close for comfort. Blindly, Finch fired off two rounds hoping one would find the gunman; brief flashes of light from the silenced muzzle engulfed the room like crazed lightning, closely followed by the shrill sound of breaking glass. Finch saw the gunman, who he guessed would be Sam Becker, running at him and hunched low. It was too late to avoid contact; strong arms grabbed his legs and began to lift. As his body rose off the ground his centre of gravity altered, the room turned upside down and he wheeled over the gunman's back before hitting the deck hard.

  * * *

  Sam was still on his feet as the assailant hit the floor. Spinning around, he planted his sturdy Caterpillar boot into the side of his head, and even through the thick rubber sole he felt a satisfying crunch as the guy's cheekbone shattered from the impact. Sam stepped back and aimed his gun at the stranger's head.

  “Stop!” cried Oriyanna, as she shot to her feet from behind the bed. “I need him alive!” It was all Sam could do to ease the pressure from the gun's trigger; it was almost at its critical load point, just one slight flex of his finger and the next hollow point would be sent charging from the barrel and straight into the unconscious guy's head, ruining the new carpet. “Don't do it, Samuel,” she continued calmly. “It's over. Please, I need him alive!” Oriyanna approached him, closed her hand around the barrel and gently forced Sam to lower his weapon. “Once I find out what I want to know, it will be my duty to kill this man, not yours.” There was a new, purposeful tone to her voice that Sam hadn't heard before, and it snapped him from his adrenaline-fuelled state and brought him back to the real world with a bump. “You need to get that body out of the walkway,” she added, “we can't have anyone seeing it.”

  Sam glanced down at the stranger. His face was badly bruised and cut, and blood flowed from a gash in his cheek. Sam was sure he could even see some mashed up bone somewhere in there – his boot had really done a job on the guy's face. He made his way quickly to the door, which had swung closed in the melee. Raising his gun, he swung it open, and saw that the assailant's companion was slumped in a crumpled mess on the floor. Stepping over his tangled legs, Sam saw where one of his bullets had hit its target. The right hand side of the man's slightly chubby face was missing; the other side was peppered with splinters of wood from where the slug had exited the door. His head, from the upper cheekbone to the eye socket was gone, a mixture of red and white gunk was slowly leaking out onto the glazed red tiles. Sam didn't need to check for a pulse or fire another shot; he was deader than a doornail. Tucking the pistol into the back of his trousers, he grabbed the stranger by the legs and dragged his heavy carcass into the room, laying it out under the window.

  “Can you get any information from him?” he asked, gesturing to the unconscious one, his voice croaky and dry. “You know— if he is one of you?”

  “If he's only unconscious, then yes,” she said, kneeling down and looking intently at the face Sam had just crushed with his boot. “I don't think he is an Elder though, not many of them were left after the Great War. I certainly don't recognise him.” She looked up at Sam for a second. He picked up no hint of fear from her, throughout the last few minutes she'd remained deadly calm. Oriyanna slid a hand into her back pocket and removed the Key Tablet. “I need you to take this while I work on him, if he is like me, I can't risk him picking up on its energy.” Sam nodded and took it from her, quickly tucking it into his jeans. Oriyanna watched as he concealed it before she turned her attention back to the unconscious male. Lifting his thick set, heavy arm, she took hold of his hand and closed her eyes. Without the benefit of a lucid subject, she would need to concentrate much harder.

  * * *

  Through the depths of unconsciousness Finch felt her presence, and desperately tried to bring himself around. It felt as if he was stuck at the bottom of a deep pool of liquid, as thick as molasses, and unable to reach the surface. Her mind enveloped his, and like a thin spidery hand she wrapped herself around his deepest thoughts, probing and exploring his memories. Finch knew what she was after, but the harder he tried not to think of it, the more prevalent the memory became. The instant the thought of his conversation with Buer and his time at JFK popped into his head she had it, extracting everything he knew like a hacker, downloading information in droves. Even through his unconsciousness, he felt his body weakening. Summoning all his mental strength, he tried to swim to the top of the dark pool holding him, desperate to wake. It was too late to stop her learning his secrets, but he wasn't out of the game just yet. The deep, throbbing pain in his cheek told him he was close to breaking the surface, close to waking. She continued to hold his hand, her grip as tight as a vice; then in a flash the sensation was gone – she'd released him. Full consciousness flooded back and his eyes snapped open.

  * * *

  Sam sat on th
e end of the bed and the adrenaline started to fade from his body. He watched Oriyanna kneeling beside the smartly-dressed assassin who had just tried to kill them. Despite all that he'd learned over the past few hours, part of his brain still refused to believe it all. The arrival of the two armed men had made it all seem far more real though. He watched Oriyanna grip the guy's hand and close her eyes. Sam removed his gun and checked the safety was still off. From Oriyanna's position, he couldn't get a clean line of sight to the man's head, but he wanted to be ready if things took a turn for the worse. She was leaning so close into him it almost looked as if she was offering first aid or comfort. The seconds ticked by like hours, until finally, she let the man's hand fall and turned to face Sam, her face was as pale as the finest of porcelain. Sam knew instantly that she'd learned all she needed to know. Before he had time to speak, he watched in horror as Oriyanna's head snapped violently sideways, and even in the darkness he saw blood spray from her mouth and nose. Sam shot to his feet and raised the gun, trying to get a clean shot, but the guy moved too fast. He looked on helplessly, as in one swift movement the stranger got to his feet, his arm secured tightly around Oriyanna's neck. Despite the poor light, Sam could see the Ruger in his hand, the barrel pushed tightly into her temple. Sam raised his own gun and aimed it squarely at the stranger's head. Now standing, the man was a good six inches taller than Oriyanna, the side of his face fully healed, and there was no sign of the impact from Sam's boot. Gaining clear line of sight, Sam took up the trigger pressure and prepared to fire.

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Becker,” the stranger growled. “Not if you want to see your friend Adam again.” His eyes were wide and fierce. In all the commotion of the past few minutes, Sam had completely forgotten about Adam. Hearing the stranger say his name was like a slap to his face. Instantly, Sam relaxed his trigger finger, but kept the gun trained squarely at the man's head.

  “Okay – I'm listening,” he said calmly. Sam glanced at Oriyanna, who was starting to come around; the cut on her face already healing over.

  “Finch,” she croaked, “he's Robert Finch!” The sound of her voice prompted the stranger to increase the pressure on her neck, and her legs started to jolt violently. It took a few moments for Sam to register what she'd said; the man standing in front of him bore no resemblance to the picture he'd looked at earlier on Adam's phone.

  “I'll do the talking, if it's alright with you!” snapped Finch, turning his attention to Sam. “It seems we have a situation here, Mr. Becker.” Finch took two steps back toward the door, and Oriyanna's legs scooted backwards as her feet struggled for purchase on the carpet. Sam's mind was reeling, looking for any possible way to tip the scales back in his favour.

  “It would appear so,” he replied. “What is it you want?” Sam watched as a sly, deadly grin spread across Finch's face.

  “I'm here for two things,” he began. “The girl and an artefact I suspect she has with her.” Finch cocked his head to one side, trying to read Sam's facial expression. “I have no interest in you or your friend, you didn't ask to be part of this. Just let me take what I need and you're both free to go.”

  “How do I know you haven't killed him?”

  “You don't; you have to trust me. Let me have the girl and the Key Tablet and I'll let you have Adam back; his head might need a Band Aid, but apart from that he's unharmed. You have my word.”

  Sam glanced down at Oriyanna; both her hands were gripped around Finch's arm, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her neck.

  “Samuel, don't!” she croaked.

  “I thought I said I'd do the talking,” Finch growled, raising his arm up just enough to lift her feet off the floor. Sam was sure he was going to snap her neck at any moment. “So, Mr. Becker, I have the girl, all I'm missing is the Key Tablet. I hope for all your sakes that you know something about it.”

  Sam swallowed hard, trying to ease the dry feeling at the back of his throat. “And if I do know something?” he asked.

  “Then, just like I said, you both go free.”

  Oriyanna's eyes were pleading with him to do something. “And if I just shoot you now?” hissed Sam, weighing the options.

  “Then your friend dies, one of my men has him downstairs,” said Finch. “If I don't come back, he'll be executed; I expect they'll be kind enough to leave his body in the parking lot for you.” Finch took another step backwards; his gun was pressed so tightly against Oriyanna's temple that her whole head was being pushed to one side. “This isn't your fight, Mr. Becker, just let it go.”

  “If just half of the shit I've learned tonight is true, then this is very much my fight,” retaliated Sam, taking a step forward and matching Finch's movement.

  “Enough chitchat!” shouted Finch, raising his voice. “Either give me the Key Tablet or your friend dies, it's that simple.”

  Sam looked to Oriyanna; she was still trying to prise Finch's arm away from her neck but her strength was no match for his, and she looked desperately into Sam's eyes and silently mouthed, “No.”

  “I can't give you the Key Tablet,” said Sam, as calmly as possible.

  “Why not?”

  “It's not here,” he lied, praying Finch wouldn't make some attempt to search him. “I can get it for you, but it's going to take me some time.”

  “I don't believe you,” spat Finch, his voice full of venom.

  “Fine, just kill us all then.” Sam lowered his pistol and threw it onto the bed. Oriyanna was watching him in disbelief, her anguished face full of confusion. “Take her if you want, you can even keep hold of Adam.” Sam took a step back and raised his hands in surrender; his plan was a longshot, but if it worked it would keep them all alive for now, and buy him some time to think. “You see, Finch, I knew someone was after us, that call you made earlier tonight to Adam's phone gave you away. I wanted you to find us. Sure – I didn't plan on it ending quite like this, but sometimes shit happens.” Sam was growing more confident by the minute, he just hoped that Oriyanna could grasp what he was trying to do. “Way before we got to Colorado Springs, I hid the Key Tablet. Oriyanna knew you would be desperate to get your hands on it. I know your background, Mr. Finch, we've both worked in similar circles. I'm sure you would have done the same; tactically, it's the only option. Do you really think it would be here, if we knew you were coming for us?”

  “So what are you proposing?” growled Finch, his voice brimming with frustration. He wanted badly to phone Buer and tell him he'd fulfilled both of his objectives.

  “You keep both Oriyanna and Adam – you can contact me on Adam's number in five hours. When you do, I want proof of life and you'll let me speak to him. Once I'm satisfied he's alive, we'll arrange an exchange. It's no use trying to extract the information from her, only I know where it is. Think of it as an insurance policy.” Sam even managed to treat Finch to a confident grin.

  Finch nodded his head reluctantly; he couldn't risk killing them both now, if what Sam had told him was true he might never find the Key Tablet. Even if Oriyanna did know, she was unlikely to break. “Alright, Mr. Becker, I can live with that”, he conceded. “Just know that if you try and fuck me on this, not only will I kill your friend, but I'll make it my personal responsibility to ensure he dies as slowly and as painfully as possible. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal,” replied Sam confidently. Inside, he was raging like an angry bull, and the temptation to grab the gun and shoot Finch through the head was overwhelming. He could almost envisage watching the hollow point slam through the man's skull.

  “I'm going to leave now, Mr. Becker. Don't follow me or your friend dies. You'll hear from us in five hours sharp, and if by then you don't have the Key Tablet, he dies.”

  Oriyanna put up another desperate struggle, and Finch slammed the butt of the Ruger into her head, knocking her unconscious. Sam winced at the sound and saw fresh blood trickle down Oriyanna's cheek. Finch tucked the pistol into his holster and threw her limp body over his shoulder, then turned a
way and left the room. Sam watched helplessly as his shadow swept past the window and vanished.

  Chapter 13

  The soft sand felt as fine as Demerara sugar beneath Adam's bare feet. Oriyanna took hold of his hand, her soft skin brushing against his as they entwined fingers. Just her touch caused his heart to skip a few beats. White sand stretched as far as the eye could see, small lazy waves gently broke around their ankles as the crystal clear blue waters of the ocean found the shore. Further out to sea, hundreds of tiny islands sparkled in the evening sun, like jewels. To the east, a large blood red moon filled the sky, it's smaller twin looming on the horizon, rising proudly behind the most breathtaking mountain range Adam had seen in his life. Its deep red glow juxtaposed against the snow covered peaks, setting them like an oil painting against the dusky sky.

  “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” Adam gasped. He stopped and turned to Oriyanna. In an instant he realised he had lied, no vista on Earth or anywhere in the universe could have the same effect on him as the sight of her face.

  She smiled warmly and took hold of his other hand. “You need to wake up now Adam,” she said, in her usual soft musical tone. “You need to help me. You need to help us!”