Purpose

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “I need you two to go. This still feels wrong.” He continued his search for the source of his discomfort

  “Will, I can help.”

  “Ryan! Stop trying to prove something and just listen to me!” Harsher than he wanted, but if he was right, something bad was about to go down. He noticed several heads, including Jake’s, looking their way. Lowering his voice, he hoped he didn’t need to “force” Ryan to leave again. That went so well last time. “I need you get Jake out of here. Hide your faces, if you’re not doing it already.”

  “What’s going on?” The defiance was gone, replaced by concern.

  “It’s a trap. Griffin’s being watched or tailed or something.” This had Barrington’s hands all over it. “They’re trying to catch me.”

  Ryan turned toward Jake, who was still standing on the corner. “Please, go now. I’ll catch up when I get clear. Remember to hide yourselves, or at least your faces.”

  Ryan hesitated again.

  “Go!” Will added as strong a suggestion as he could to his word. Griffin’s car pulled up to the agreed-upon location at almost the same time as Ryan began walking away.

  Another check revealed no new information, so he kept himself hidden as he walked toward the car. Even if they were tailing Griffin, if they couldn’t see him, it didn’t matter what they’d planned.

  A few steps away from the Crown Victoria, he stopped. Telltale red laser dots covered the car and the detective. They were brief, an instant to gain a target lock, but he saw them, all of them. His enhanced sight allowed him to catch glimpses of the snipers ringing the vacant building they were in front of.

  Periodically, the flash of red would confirm the target. Focusing harder than he could remember, he felt three different tags of light hit him. Son of a bitch. Even though they couldn’t see him, he’d been targeted. Once he made contact with Griffin, they’d know for sure they had the right target.

  Closing the gap, he took control of Griffin’s mind, telling him to stay calm and not move. “You need to get back in the car and leave. Barrington knew we were meeting here, and he’s ringed the building with snipers.”

  “What?” If Will hadn’t kept the man from moving, Griffin would have surveyed their surroundings, exactly what the agent wanted. It would announce Will’s presence.

  “Evidently, you’re expendable.” Will released the hold he had on the detective enough for him to move his eyes. “See the flashes of red. Laser locks. The car, you, me. We’ve all been targeted.”

  Had he anticipated this, it would have been easy enough to reconfigure his scrambler to trick the targeting light to lock on the object behind him. The key being had he anticipated it. Now he needed to get the detective out of the way.

  “You’re a spirit. No one can see you. How can they lock on you?” Griffin struggled to move, but Will kept his hold.

  Invisible wasn’t immaterial, but there wasn’t time to explain. “Suffice that they are using my proximity to you to get a general idea of where I am. I suspect once they’re sure I’m here, they’ll blanket the area with shots.”

  “That’s crazy. There are dozens of people in the area. Innocent people will get hurt.”

  “Like I said, you, they, everyone’s expendable.” Time to get the man away. “Just go. I’ll find a way to contact you tomorrow.”

  Bullets tore into the empty car, piercing two tires and shattering the back window.

  “Holy shit!” Griffin screamed, moving away because Will told his mind to run. Several more red dots started to sweep the area. They were trying to triangulate the locks to “find” him. Rather than run, he did the unexpected.

  Behind him, the building at the corner of North Capitol and D Street NW had been gutted, the outer walls all removed. The concrete floor of the second level was a twelve-foot leap up and to his left. Checking the overhead clearance, the corner of his eye caught the two red dots against the back panel of the detective’s car just as he sprang upward. He was too late.

  The second shot ignited the gas tank an instant after Will jumped. Off his feet, he couldn’t brace himself for the blast, and it sent him flying into the building. He slammed against a concrete support and had the wind knocked out of him for a moment.

  After landing face-first on the dusty cement floor, he snapped into a crouch, scanning for his adversaries. This close to the Capitol, alarms went off in all directions. Confusion could be his ally as he waited quietly for a chance to leave.

  Above the sirens and sound of the car burning, he could hear voices, but not what they were saying. Most of them were civilians trying to figure out what had happened. He was interested in what the FBI agents were saying, but it was impossible to hear with everything else happening.

  He grazed the remains of the black box on his belt. Hopefully, it was damaged when he struck the column and not from the blast. If they’d seen him flung into the building, they’d be converging on his position rather than searching the street for a body.

  Worse, once the flames died down, infrared sensors would now pick up his body heat. He hadn’t given off a heat signature before the explosion, so would they even be looking for one? Either way, he’d be better served among people, where he could blend in, rather than alone in the vacant building.

  More sirens and a call for an ambulance forced his hand. No matter what else they expected, they couldn’t anticipate he wasn’t hurt by the blast. Using that advantage, he found an opening and leapt up to the second story.

  From higher up, he could see heavily armed men in tactical gear advancing on the ground floor of the building. Their M-16 rifles—with infrared scopes—were trained on the ground floor, where he’d been moments before. He cursed himself for being too reliant on his technology. Next upgrade was going to include making it sturdier.

  Much as he’d told Ryan he was indestructible, he didn’t know for sure if the more sensitive areas of his body could deflect a high-powered bullet. For all he knew, a well-placed shot to his eye, or maybe his nose or ear, could easily make its way into his brain. Maybe his gray matter could survive, but he didn’t want to find out with a live demonstration.

  Using whatever cover he could find, he slowly climbed to the eighth floor. Each time he moved into the opening, he kept low, moved as fast as his enhanced abilities would take him, and quickly found cover the moment he reached the next level. The absence of shots or laser marks almost lulled him into thinking they hadn’t found him.

  “Agent Barrington.” The voice echoed through the building, or it seemed that way to his hearing. “There’s marking in the dust on the first floor. Something hit a pole hard. There’s a body print in the dust.”

  “Any direction?”

  “None that we can see.”

  Thankfully, he was able to jump up without having to walk to an opening. If they searched the other floors, and he knew they would now, they’d figure out what he was up to. By then, he’d be halfway home.

  “Let’s get the dogs here.” Barrington’s voice held a hint of anticipation and glee. “We got him. This will get us a scent, and we can track him.”

  Might be worth sticking around to see his face when no one was caught.

  He crouched behind a cement barrier at the edge of the floor and peered down. Capitol police officers, assisted by dozens of units from the Metropolitan Police, were setting up a perimeter four blocks in all directions. This time he’d be more cautious.

  He leaped across a small gap and landed on the roof of the Phoenix Park Hotel. Barrington was behind this attack; he was certain. How many lives had Barrington put at risk? Most importantly, he’d put Ryan in harm’s way. For that alone Will needed to put an end to Barrington’s operation.

  The urge to hunt him down had to wait. After he’d yelled at Ryan to leave, his walking back into the danger zone instead of escaping would be impossible to justify. Somehow, Barrington had figured out he wasn’t an incorporeal spirit. The carefully planned ambush made clear they knew he was invisible, not insubst
antial. That changed things dramatically.

  A five-foot-high, rectangular metal structure covered most of the half-block-long rooftop. Will kept low, hugging the side of the building to minimize his exposure. On the north end, he found the door leading into the hotel, locked from the inside. If the hotel had any kind of security, and he felt certain it did, he’d set off an alarm if he yanked it open. With Barrington and his men on alert, he needed to find another way down.

  Eight stories was higher than he’d ever attempted to jump. It would probably hurt, but he was reasonably sure he’d survive… reasonably. Bad time, however, to test his limits. Even if he survived, if he was hurt too badly, he’d be unable to keep hidden. An injured or unconscious man suddenly appearing out of thin air was sure to land him in an FBI detention facility. No, he needed a third option. If not, he’d rip open the door and run like mad to get away before he was discovered.

  Slinking along the edge of the building, he peered over the edge, searching for a way down. North Capital was not an option. Not only was it swimming in police and fire personnel, he was reasonably sure the sniper posts were trained on that side of the building. Massachusetts Avenue had fewer officers and wider sidewalks, but there was nothing for him to use to scale down. That left the back alley.

  The hotel had little for him to shimmy down, but the building across from it might be his ticket. Several pipes ran the length of the brick wall. They each appeared sturdy enough to hold his weight, but even if they weren’t, he’d be able to get low enough to survive the drop.

  Jumping over, he knew there was nothing he could do about the sound, so he distracted the officers below by amplifying the sound of sirens in their mind. The pipe groaned, and he could see the screws pulling out of the mortar near his hands.

  Will let his feet dangle away from the wall to minimize the pull on the pipe. Before the first screw could pop, he began his descent. His superior strength and coordination allowed him to repel down the building without pulling the pipe away from the brick surface.

  Although not free yet, being among bodies, even hostile ones, brought him a moment’s respite. Barrington wouldn’t risk shooting randomly into a crowd of officers, assuming he even noticed Will. No way would his men agree to do it, anyway.

  Skirting the officers searching the alley, he exited onto Massachusetts Avenue and turned right. Despite the press of police in the area, Will needed to see if Griffin had been hurt. He’d made the man walk away well before the blast, but that didn’t mean he’d escaped unscathed.

  It took him a few minutes to sort through the EMTs and other rescue people, but he found the detective talking to a high-ranking police official. Unless Will was mistaken, he was the deputy chief of police.

  “Griffin,” he said, preventing the detective from turning to look for him. “I’m glad you’re okay. Agent Barrington arranged this to catch me. Don’t call me again. I’ll find a way to contact you in the next day or so. In the meantime, don’t let on you suspect it was him. It might be hazardous to your health.”

  He knew Griffin could hear him, so he released his hold on the man. “Nod once if you understand.”

  Without turning, the detective nodded once, but kept his focus on his superior.

  “Good. Stay safe.”

  Again, he resisted the temptation to find Barrington and make him pay. Instead, he searched for the man’s mind. One time inside a person’s head was all Will needed to reestablish a link.

  “Gotcha.”

  Using Barrington’s eyes, he located his position. The coward was well back, in case things didn’t work out.

  “You failed, Agent Barrington.” He made sure his words were “heard” by the agent. “All you’ve done is make me angry. Have you ever seen a spirit of vengeance angry? I’d finish this now, but there are too many innocent people in the area. Unlike you, I don’t find collateral damage acceptable. But sleep with an eye open and a gun under your pillow, not that it will do you any good. I’ll find you soon enough.”

  Still connected, he saw through the man’s eyes as he searched frantically for Will. The attempt was futile. He didn’t know what Will looked like. Three times, Will locked eyes with the agent, but Barrington couldn’t see.

  Releasing the link, Will navigated his way through the maze of officers and squad cars. Once clear, he started to run, then stopped. Arm raised, he had to wait a minute before a taxi stopped.

  “Columbia and 18th, Northwest.” Handing a twenty over the seat, he waited for the confused man to look back. “Get me there with a minimum of talking, and you can keep the change.”

  If Barrington’s men managed to track down this cab driver, they were in for a shock. Smirking, he knew they’d never speak to the man, but if they did, they’d have to wonder why Special Agent Barrington took a cab right to Adams Morgan.

  28

  “ARE you sure?” Ryan chewed his bottom lip, staring at the floor.

  “Sure? No.” He’d thought his boyfriend would be happy. Showed how wrong he could be. “But, given what happened tonight, I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I can’t believe they almost killed you.” The way his jaw clicked, Ryan was clearly mad. “You should have put the fear of… of… well, you, in Barrington.”

  He tried not to snort, but it came out anyway. “Are you serious? Did you just tell me you wished I’d gone back into the middle of their ambush? I mean, I wanted to, but I knew you’d be furious. Well, at least I thought that’s how you’d feel if I hadn’t left when I did.”

  He retrieved the water pitcher from the refrigerator and held it up. When Ryan nodded, he grabbed two glasses.

  “You know I’m glad you didn’t go back, but still.” He took the glass Will offered. “It’s just, well, I hate that guy. Why can’t he leave us alone?”

  Nearly spitting water everywhere, Will started to laugh. “Think of it from his perspective. He’s the FBI, and he’s hunting what he thinks is a serial killer.”

  That stifled his smile. It wasn’t just what Barrington thought. Will actually was a serial killer. “I know you don’t see me like that, but I suppose technically….”

  “Will….”

  Will shook his head and paused to take a drink. “It’s okay. I know what I’ve become. It’s why I retreated behind Gar. I tried to rationalize it, told myself I only kill the guilty or that if I hadn’t done it, the Purpose would subjugate someone else, but that’s all it is, a rationalization. If killing is bad, I’m the worst person in this country.”

  “You’re not a bad person, Will.” There was conviction in Ryan’s voice, but Will knew his view was tainted. He felt Ryan’s hand on his. “I know the real Will, and you’re not the person Barrington sees when he looks at the numbers.”

  He put his hand over Ryan’s. “Whatever I am, we need to move. If we’re going to find a way to feed Them without killing, I don’t think it’s smart to stay here.”

  “Not that I have any great attachment to here, but why?”

  “In the short term, he’s going to be scouring DC, looking for… me.” He almost said, “us,” but it was unlikely Barrington knew about Ryan, and even if he did, Ryan hadn’t done anything. “I don’t think he knows exactly what I am yet, but after tonight, I think he knows if he can find me, he might be able to get me.”

  From the slight increase in pressure on his hand, he knew Ryan was worried again.

  “Really?”

  Ignoring his instinct to minimize the danger, he took a deep breath. “For whatever reason, luck, a hunch, trial and error, whatever, Barrington found a way to get a lock on me. I wasn’t anticipating a trap. Hell, I wasn’t thinking we’d have any trouble, or I could have prevented it. Not that they should feel too confident. I mean, I got away without leaving even a drop of blood, but they knew something was there.”

  “Yeah,” Ryan snorted. “Something they didn’t come close to catching.”

  “True, and it’s possible they didn’t know what to make of their success.
Was it a true lock? Did I let them find me so I could spoil their trap? How did I escape unscathed? The questions raised by this operation probably outnumber the ones it answered. That said, it was at the least a minor success, and that will embolden them to try again.”

  Twirling the half-empty glass, Ryan stared at the spinning water. After several seconds, he nodded. “Like I said, there’s nothing keeping me here. I almost took your money that first day and left for Seattle. Would you consider going there?”

  Ryan raised his eyes and smiled. Returning the look, Will stood up, pulling his boyfriend with him. “Seattle it is, but that’s enough talk for tonight. If I remember correctly”—he arched an eyebrow—“and I’m sure I do, you promised to get naked for me.”

  The smirk he got in return sent blood rushing to his groin. “I lied.”

  “Oh?” Will stood up, heart racing. “Did you?”

  “Yeah,” Ryan whispered once they got to the bedroom, his lips almost against Will’s ear. “You need to undress me if you want me.”

  “WHY do we always have this argument?” He stopped checking the weapons stored in the inner pockets of his coat. “I’m just going to talk to Griffin.”

  Ryan wore just his boxers, and his hair was still a mess. “We have this discussion so much, because you forget I’m not helpless.”

  “I know you’re not, but it is so much safer for you inside.” What was so difficult about that idea?

  “My Purpose isn’t trying to kill me anymore.” Ryan started to shiver, prompting Will to toss him a sweatshirt.

  “If you insist on rehashing this, at least stay warm.” Once, just once, he wished Ryan would listen to him. Will knew the dangers of being a host. Ryan didn’t.

  “Don’t think you’re going to change the subject.” Ryan quickly put on the fleece jacket and zipped it up. “I’m not in danger, and I’m not going out looking to avenge anyone. But I’m not staying inside until you get home. It’s not like you need to protect me every minute of the day.”