by Shawn Oetzel
To her surprise, Agent Ambrosius seemed to be picking up on the feeling as well. The British agent seemed to be sniffing the air. She was still watching this curious behavior when Reggie’s voice caught her off guard.
“The door is open,” he said.
She took a look for herself, and sure enough, the door to Jackson’s apartment was slightly ajar, as if someone had left in a hurry, and had not bothered to make sure it latched behind them. This immediately put her on alert, and after sharing a knowing look with Reggie, a look only veteran law enforcement officers understood, she reached under her jacket and removed her gun.
“Do you think there has been some sort of foul play?” Agent Ambrosius asked quietly.
“I’m not sure,” Blackburn responded. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
“Are you armed?” Amy asked Ambrosius.
“No, I’m not carrying a firearm.”
“Then you might want to stay behind us.” She looked at Reggie, who also had his gun drawn and ready. She nodded.
Blackburn knocked on the door, and when there was no immediate response, he pushed it open all the way.
“Mr. Jackson?” Blackburn called loudly from the hallway. “It’s Agent Blackburn and Agent Sommers. Are you at home?”
Again there was no response. Sommers had been at countless crime scenes in her time as a LAPD homicide detective, and the apartment she now found herself standing in had the same feel. Something bad had happened here, she was sure of it.
“You check the kitchen, I’m going to take a look in the back,” Blackburn said, his voice barely over a whisper. “Ambrosius, stick close to Sommers.”
The British agent nodded, and moved to stand right next to her. She could smell the man’s cologne, which must have been something expensive as she did not recognize the scent. She was impressed by how calm he seemed. The guy was used to seeing action. This immediately increased her opinion of him. At least she would not be working with a wet behind the ears paper pusher.
“Come on,” she said. Agent Ambrosius followed.
The kitchen was empty. She heard Blackburn calling from the other end of the apartment.
“Dammit! Sommers, back here, quick!”
She and Ambrosius found Blackburn squatting by a pair of legs sticking out from behind a desk.
There, lying facedown on the floor, was Steven Jackson. He was dead, and by the looks of it, had been that way for at least several hours. His body was bruised and battered, appearing as though he had been trampled, his chest sunken, giving the body an eerie appearance.
She lowered her gun, and dropped her head to her chest, feeling like she had been punched in the gut.
She re-holstered her weapon as Blackburn stood back up and did the same. They looked at each other, not really knowing what to say. It was Agent Ambrosius who finally broke the silence.
“Is this the man you hired to look at the document, Agent Blackburn?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” Blackburn sighed. “But I have no idea who would do this.”
“What is that up by his head?” Ambrosius asked.
“I think it’s blood,” Blackburn said.
Sommers took a careful step around the crime scene to get a better look. The man’s pinky finger had been severed. There was blood on the desk and floor. At first she thought the dark red lines by Jackson’s head were simply more splatter. As she took another step, she realized she was looking at a message.
“Hey Reggie,” she said. “I think he tried to write something.”
“What’s it say?” asked Blackburn and Ambrosius at the same time as they also moved in for a closer look.
“I’m not sure I can make it out,” she said before leaning in. “I think it says sword, Boston…and ghost.”
She looked at Blackburn to see if he knew what the cryptic message might mean, and was startled when she saw the look on his face. All the color had drained out of it, leaving him looking as pale as the corpse lying at their feet.
“What is it Reggie?” Do you know what he was trying to tell us?” she asked.
It took Blackburn several deep breaths before he could answer. She found it a strange and extremely unpleasant feeling seeing the usually rock steady agent so unnerved.
Blackburn cleared his throat. “I think the first part means the item we’re looking for must be in Boston. The Ghost is a warning, and our killer.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Ambrosius said. “Yeah, Reggie,” she said. “What does all this mean?”
He tossed her the car keys. “It means you and Ambrosius get back to the Agency. I’ll call the authorities and handle this scene.”
“Look Reggie, if you know something…” Sommers began, but was cut off.
“Sommers I will tell you everything as soon as I can. I promise. But for right now, you are just going to have to trust me. Get back to the Agency. Ask for Director Smith. Tell them it’s a Priority Red, and explain to the Director what happened. I will get in touch with you soon.”
“All right.” She turned to Ambrosius, who appeared just as confused as she was. “Let’s go.”
As she walked out of the room, she took one last look at Blackburn. The stricken look on his face left her chilled.
Whatever was going on, it was not good. Her first case had all of a sudden taken a bad turn, and it left her with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
—Chapter 11
As she pulled into the darkened garage, Amy was unsure where to park or what proper Agency protocol was. She did not want to waste valuable time dwelling on such a minor dilemma, and so she pulled into an empty space close to the elevator. Agent Ambrosius sat silent as a statue in the passenger’s seat. He had not uttered a word since they left the crime scene at the translator’s apartment.
She had sped through the busy downtown streets of Washington D.C., so many questions running through her head that her mind raced as fast as the sedan’s engine. Here she thought her first case might be a simple lost and found, but with the murder of Jackson, it was getting more complicated than she would have imagined. Nothing like having an unexpected homicide thrown into the mix to really make things difficult. Her time in Los Angeles had taught her that.
Beside her, the British agent seemed lost in his own thoughts. He had flashed some sort of identification at the guard as they were going through the security checkpoint, but other than that, had barely moved.
She could not help dwelling on Reggie’s reaction to Jackson’s bloody message. The look on his face left her cold inside. Blackburn had been her anchor over the last few months. To see him shaken was downright frightening. Reggie scared, that was something she never thought she would see.
Now she was supposed to go talk to Director Smith, when she had no idea who Director Smith was. She’d never met the man.
What she did know was that she did not want to look like a rank amateur in front of Ambrosius. She did her best to put on a confidant demeanor. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
They crossed to the elevator. Ambrosius still didn’t say anything, which she found strange. He didn’t strike her as someone to be at a loss for words. If anything, she’d gotten the impression he was the type who liked the sound of his own voice.
As she slid her ID card, she pushed her hair back from her face. She’d let it grow out to shoulder length, a far cry from the tomboy cut she’d worn in California.
She noticed Ambrosius staring at her as if he was studying her.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked bluntly. Politeness could be damned. A man was dead, Reggie was on edge, and she had to meet with the mysterious Director Smith. The time for manners was long past.
“I was wondering if you had picked up on how frightened Agent Blackburn had been back there,” Ambrosius said.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“I take it that is rather out of character for him.”
“You got that right,” she said, not about to stand here and listen to the sn
ob of an Agent put Reggie down. “Agent Blackburn is probably the bravest and best Agent you will ever meet.”
She’d been set to debate the virtues of Reggie’s ballsiness to the death if necessary, but Ambrosius nodded, conceding the point.
“If Agent Blackburn is as brave as you say, and I have no doubt he is, what could be so potentially hazardous as to have him so worried?”
“I don’t know.” She exhaled a deep breath wondering the very same thing. “Honestly, I have never seen him like that before.”
She punched in her code and they stepped into the elevator. She turned to the camera lens, and without really knowing what to say, repeated the instructions Reggie had given her.
“Special Agent Amy Sommers, I have a Priority Red situation, and need to see Director Smith immediately.”
Once the words were out of her mouth, she felt weak in the knees. They had sounded so official, bringing home how serious her case had become.
“You might want to hang on,” she said when she noticed Ambrosius standing casually. “This thing picks up speed pretty fast.” Following her own advice, she grasped the handrail. As if on cue, the elevator really picked up speed. She laughed at Ambrosius’ expression. His eyes looked like they might pop right out of their sockets.
“Told ya,” she said after she stopped chuckling.
Her laughter faded as the elevator showed no signs of stopping for almost a full minute. They had to be incredibly deep underground. She had a momentary image of the doors opening onto downtown Hong Kong. She could not decide if the thought was funny or terrifying.
Finally, the elevator slowed. When the doors opened, instead of seeing China, she was looking at reception area identical to the one she saw when she came in for her training, except for the receptionist sitting behind the desk.
What if it was one big hoax? Maybe the Agency was actually only a couple of floors and they used the elevator to throw people off, like some kind of elaborate hi-tech carnival ride. It seemed like a lot of trouble to go through, but with the Agency anything was possible.
This receptionist was in her mid to late fifties, with gray hair pulled back in to a tight bun. It gave her a stern look, reminding Amy of the Hollywood version of an old schoolmarm.
Before she could even introduce herself, the receptionist spoke up.
“Agent Sommers, Director Smith is expecting you. He asked if you and Agent Ambrosius would wait for him in the conference room. “Despite the woman’s stern visage, her voice held a gentle grandmotherly quality. Since the floor had the same layout, she already knew which door belonged to the conference room, and probably could have found it with her eyes closed. It gave her a weird kind of déjà vu. The last twenty-four hours had brought her full circle. She had started the previous day in training within a conference room, and now here she was again a day later heading to a similar room, except this time she would be briefing Director Smith on a dangerous problem.
“I bet you didn’t think you would be caught in the middle of a homicide investigation when your bosses handed you this case,” she said as she and Ambrosius took seats on the far side of the table from the door. “I know I sure didn’t.”
“I have learned over the years to expect every case to take a wild turn at some point,” Ambrosius answered. “Then again, it is the unexpected which gives you and I our jobs.”
“Good point,” she said. She was getting ready to ask him about his previous experiences working for his own country’s version of the Agency when the sound of the door opening stalled her.
A man in a charcoal gray suit entered. Presumably, the Director. He had a salt and pepper crew cut and sideburns, neatly trimmed. He stood approximately 6’0 and was a lean 185 pounds, in exceptional shape for his age, which she guessed was in his sixties, though to the untrained eye he would appear much younger.
Everything about him screamed ex-military. He had a dominant presence which demanded your attention, a man used to giving orders and having them followed. Just seeing him gave her the overwhelming urge to stand and salute.
When he closed the door and focused his full attention on her and Agent Ambrosius, she did stand. Ambrosius also rose to his feet, either imitating her behavior or as if he too felt the need to show the respect Director Smith’s presence seemed to command.
She looked into the Director’s eyes to try and get a read on him, and was shocked by their intensity. They were the deepest blue she had ever seen, as piercing as if he had the ability to look into the deepest recesses of a person’s soul and judge their character by what he found there. His gaze fell upon her and she had to momentarily look at the glossy surface of the table to gather her thoughts again before she could look back up.
“You must be the Agent Sommers I have been hearing about,” the Director said, after pausing to look her over. “Agent Blackburn speaks very highly of you.”
He had a deep, almost baritone, voice. It was a voice used to commanding. Even a whisper coming from the Director would be like a drill sergeant barking out orders. Everything about him, from the way he moved, dressed, and spoke, oozed control. Here was a man used to being in charge.
She did not know what to say to the unexpected compliment. The Director’s presence had sucked some of her own self confidence away like a black hole. This was the first time in her adult and professional life she truly felt intimidated by the mere presence of another person. It left her more than a little flabbergasted.
“Uh…thank you sir,” she said, finally remembering she could speak. “This is Agent Ambrosius from the British Agency.”
“Yes, Agent Ambrosius, I spoke with your Director yesterday. It is a pleasure to have you aboard. I have the feeling we are going to need all the help we can get on this particular case.”
“Thank you sir,” Ambrosius said. “I hope I can be of service.”
He sounded comfortable, completely at ease, as if he was simply talking to a comrade instead of someone so intimidating. This only reinforced her belief there was more to Agent Ambrosius than met the eye.
She felt the Director’s powerful gaze fall on her again once he was seated. “Agent Sommers, I understand you called a Priority Red.”
“Yes sir, I did,” she said, feeling like a school girl addressing a principal. “I was following Agent Blackburn’s instructions. He asked me to come and speak to you and to say we had a Priority Red situation. To be completely honest, sir, I’m not sure what Priority Red means.”
“Needless to say, it’s a serious situation which requires urgent and immediate attention,” the Director said. “If Agent Blackburn deemed it necessary, then I am sure he had good reason. Why don’t you tell me everything that happened, so I can see how best to respond.”
“Excuse me sir, but does this mean there has been no contact from Agent Blackburn?” she asked.
“Not as of yet.”
She nodded. She hadn’t expected Reggie to have called in just yet, but she was hoping he might have been able to clear things up quicker than expected. Some friendly support would have been nice.
She proceeded to tell the Director everything she knew, starting from the point where Reggie first told her she had the case. When she got to the events leading up to this meeting, Agent Ambrosius also spoke up, providing additional information, and giving his own point of view. Together, she felt the two of them did a respectable job of giving the Director the whole story.
If she’d expected some sort of an emotional display in his reaction, she would have been disappointed. The Director remained calm, cool, and collected as he leaned back in his chair and steepled the fingers of both hands in front of his face.
After a few seconds of mulling over all they had told him, he spoke. “Are you absolutely certain that what you saw was the word ‘ghost’?”
“Yes sir, I am one hundred percent positive,” she said. Why was this so disconcerting to everyone?
At this point, Ambrosius surprised her by asking, “Exactly who or what is this �
�Ghost,’ Director Smith?”
“That is the million dollar question,” the Director said. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. A frown furrowed his brow. “For starters, the Ghost is perhaps the most dangerous individual in the world. He is the top international assassin money can buy.” He paused, and Sommers knew he was about to divulge some information that would be the most troubling of all. “And, he is a former agent.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as if she was saying “ah” at a doctor’s office. Ambrosius looked startled as well.
A former agent? No wonder Reggie was so upset! she thought
The Director waited for the importance of his revealing words to sink in before continuing. “His real name, though you will not find this information anywhere, is Thomas Granderson. He joined the Agency around the same time as Agent Blackburn. The two were rather close, as I recall.”
She began to understand Reggie’s reaction back at the crime scene. This Ghost was obviously a part of his past, and sometimes having to unexpectedly face your past could throw anyone off their game. She continued to listen intently as Director Smith continued his explanation.
“Agent Blackburn and Granderson completed their training together, and early on even worked a couple of cases together. As you know, Agent Sommers, agents generally handle cases alone, but there are always exceptions.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “My exception is sitting right next to me.”
She meant her statement as a joke and was glad to see Ambrosius smile. So, the man had a sense of humor after all. She had been worried he was going to be a stick in the mud, but at least now she knew he could take a joke. The Director, on the other hand, seemed a little perturbed.
“Sorry sir,” she said.
“Yes, well, a little levity never hurts, I guess,” the Director said. “I do believe, however, there is a time and place for everything, and we have more important business to discuss here. Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Sommers?”
“Yes sir,” she said, mentally kicking herself for letting her mouth get her in trouble. Here she was with a Director of the Agency, and she was making wise cracks.