Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1

by Magnolia Smith

  “I can imagine. But it was probably after a night of hard sex, the man was asleep and you simply sliced their jugular in half. You couldn’t take me if you tried with one hand tied behind my back. So please, my little cherry blossom, don’t try.”

  She stepped backwards and smoothed down her hair.

  “You need to calm down, Zelie.”

  She took a deep breath. “I am calm.” She took another breath. “I cared about you. You were more than just an assignment.” Her bottom lip trembled and she appeared to be on the verge of tears. Only now, I wondered if her display of emotion was genuine or was she just acting.

  “The Group has no rules about agents being together. You and I could’ve been a couple. We could’ve made it work.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I wouldn’t want it to work between us, Zelie. Sorry.”

  Without a second look, I pushed through the glass doors.

  Zelie was right about one thing. Operation Serpentine was still a go and the president of Taiwan’s life was in danger.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  He could only hope the hotel manager had given the president his message from the custodian. His life was in danger. But, hell he already knew that. It was almost as if he was purposely taunting the US into killing him.

  The president was staying at the Ritz-Carlton Atlanta and he was known to have a nightcap alone at the bar every night before bed.

  I stepped into the bar and scanned the room. He was sitting at the bar in a red high-backed chair. Two chairs were empty on either side of him.

  His detail was easily spotted strategically standing and sitting, pretending to enjoy their bottled water. I approached him slowly, so as not to spook his detail.

  A man stood and another stepped toward the president when I neared the bar. The president looked up from his drink, waved his men down and gestured for me to join him.

  “Come, Custodian, have a drink with me.”

  I settled into a seat beside the president who still wore a suit and a resigned expression on his face.

  “Have a glass of Kaoliang?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  He snapped his fingers at the bartender then turned to me. “They always stock the unofficial spirit of Taiwan when I am here. It is most courteous of them.”

  I smiled. “Most likely, one of your staff requests it for you.”

  His brow furrowed. “How would my staff know what I prefer?”

  “Same as I knew what gum you chewed. The devil is in the details.”

  His cheeks lifted slightly. “Of course.” The bartender approached, handing me my drink and topping off the president’s glass.

  “They know you well here.”

  “Yes. It is a routine of mine. Always before bed a few drinks to remind me of home.”

  “You love Taiwan.”

  “With all my heart.” He pressed his fist to his chest and allowed it to stay there a moment.

  “Which is why you refuse to comply with the US’ directives.”

  “Correct.”

  I lifted my glass to him. “Gān bēi.” Gahn-bay. Cheers.

  He returned the gesture. “Gān bēi.”

  “You know you’ve signed your death warrant.”

  “Yes.” He set down his empty glass. “And you have come, a handsome debonair grim reaper to mete out my death.”

  “I am supposed to, yes. But I will not.”

  “Oh. I thought you already tried.” He shrugged. “There have been several attempts on my life.”

  I looked around the room. The Group had sent in backup, a routine practice of sending in a secondary agent to complete a job should the primary agent fail.

  “Wasn’t me. Still same people.”

  He chuckled. “I thought to employ a food taster but I will not fight fate. There was a disturbing electric shortage in my suite last night and a gas leak in the limo the day before.”

  “I’m sorry about that, sir. I had nothing to do with those attempts on your life, but I think I know a way to save you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too late. I know how these things work. But I don’t regret.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t regret any of my actions. I am a leader of my people, not a puppet for a superpower.”

  He cleared his throat again and coughed. I flagged down a passing waitress wearing black pants, a crisp white button-down shirt and black apron.

  Her platinum hair was styled in a bun and thick, coke-bottle glasses covered her face.

  “Excuse me, a glass of water please.”

  She bowed slightly. “Of course, sir.”

  I looked at the president’s security team who seemed unconcerned. I turned back to the president who had stopped coughing, though his cheeks were flushed.

  “Someone has to stand up to the enemy.”

  “We’re not all bad, sir. I want to help. I think I’ve come up with a way that we can—”

  “Your water?” The waitress interrupted us and set it on the bar in front of the president.

  “Thank you.” I smiled at the waitress, did a second take and recognized Zelie underneath the glasses and blonde wig.

  I reached for the glass. “Sir, don’t drink that water.”

  Her full pink lips twisted into a sneer. “Oh, the water is fine. His three glasses of Kaoliang, however, were not.” She patted me on my arm. “Hemlock.”

  “You’re my secondary?” My stomach roiled with nausea. “For how long?”

  “You’re pathetic. Can’t kill a head of state when you’re told.” Her thin nostrils flared. “You deserve to die and your girlfriend too.”

  She tossed her glasses and apron on the floor, stomped the spectacles until they shattered and walked out of the lounge.

  The president was choking, grasping at his throat. I reached for a knife on the bar and prepared to create a hole in his windpipe so he could breathe, when his security team surrounded him and took over.

  “We got it, mate.” A tall Asian with an Australian accent reached for my hand and shook it. “Thanks.”

  Obviously the lead agent, he led me to the side. “Been expecting this for a while. You should probably leave. We know who you are, Agent Brady.”

  I looked back at the president. He was lying on his back still gasping for air while his security detail casually talked and waited for him to die.

  A few of the bar patrons were filming the scene with their cell phones. Hell, I killed people for a living and even I wasn’t that heartless. Not that it mattered, the security team would be confiscating their phones shortly and forcing them to sign confidentiality waivers.

  “We’ll snag the video footage, no worries.” The lead agent was still at my side, watching me with an amused expression on his face.

  Right. Now I had to call Mark and explain the unexplainable. That should be fun.

  I straightened my tie and left the bar.

  When I returned to my suite at the St. Regis I was greeted by Mark in a golf shirt, khaki pants and flip-flops kneeling on the thick-carpeted floor, pawing through my mini-bar.

  He looked up and held up a bottle of tequila. “Have a shot.”

  “No thanks.”

  I ripped my tie off and tossed it on the floor. “It’s been a helluva night.”

  “So I heard.” He twisted the cap off the small bottle, poured the drink into a shot glass and threw it back. He closed his eyes, exhaled then poured another.

  He sat down on the couch beside my bed. “You should really have a drink.”

  I sat on the bed, keeping my wingtips on.

  He shot me a hard look. “What happened?”

  “Look, I had a plan to get the president back on track. I’m sure given time, I could’ve encouraged him to fall in line.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re not paid to be a
diplomat. And when the powers that be expect someone to die,” he squinted at me, “they expect them to die.”

  “Sorry, boss.” I shrugged. “I made a judgment call. You do pay me to make judgments. Sometimes. Don’t you?”

  Mark’s face remained inscrutable.

  I leaned forward. “So Zelie was my fucking secondary. Really? She’s that good?”

  He nodded “She gets the job done.”

  “So do I.”

  He stood and began pacing the room. “True but you’re not as precise as before. You’re doing too much thinking, too much strategizing when all I need for you to do…” He pulled out a gun from behind his back, in the waistband of his shorts, then aimed it inches from my head. His voice filled the room “Is kill a motherfucker when I tell you to.”

  I didn’t flinch. Guns don’t faze me, no matter where they are pointed. But the fact that Mark raised his voice was alarming. I’d never heard him yell. Ever.

  I slowly rose from the bed and stared directly into my handler’s eyes. “I’m making you look bad, right? You’ve put your neck on the line for me and I’m making you look stupid, yeah?”

  He nodded slightly and smiled. “I’m tasked with fixing the ‘Kael Brady’ problem.”

  “You gonna kill me, boss?” I kept my breathing nice and slow. Feet planted wide, arms loose and ready at my sides in case I needed to grab something, like Mark’s neck, or maybe a weapon, the heavy brass lamp beside me looked good for it. There could be a couple of goons waiting for me in the hall. I glanced toward the door. “Is that what they want?”

  He followed my gaze. “I’m alone, Kael. I wouldn’t do you like that.” He fixed me with a disappointed look. “They just want you to follow orders.”

  “Yeah, I get it. And my options…your options?”

  “Send you back to The Farm for some experimental shit DARPA has come up with to indoctrinate agents that can’t or won’t follow orders.”

  “Or?”

  “Kill you.”

  I took a deep breath. Hopeful. “There’s gotta be a third choice.”

  He nodded slowly. “Find Il Morte. Bag the big dog and you’re back in everyone’s good graces.” He lowered the gun a millimeter. “I’d prefer not to kill you.” Then he smiled. “Some new-fangled electroshock therapy might do you some good.” He lowered the gun, but left it still clearly in view. “But taking Il Morte down would be the best option.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do, boss.”

  He exhaled and sat down heavily on the couch. “Oh, there is one more thing.”

  A chill went up my spine and I locked eyes with him. “What’s that, boss?”

  There was still a smile on his face, but his eyes went flinty. “I’m going to need you to agree to take a little test.”

  My stomach dropped. “Whose test?”

  “The Group’s.” His lips angled downward. “There are doubts about your loyalty.”

  I could feel my heartbeat slow down and my skin went icy. “And if I don’t?”

  “Someone you love will die.” He shrugged. “There’s your mother, your father… and the girl. Your choice.”

  I almost choked on my rage. “You’re good with this?”

  “Not my call. However, I did warn you.”

  I glared at him, afraid to speak or move. The ice-cold anger running through my body was of the kind that allowed me to break bones and smash skulls with my bare hands. I didn’t trust myself to act in this moment.

  “I warned you about that girl, the one in Jamaica. The one you lied about?”

  My vision tunneled and I almost lost sight of Mark in a haze of red, but I could hear him just fine. Hear him talking about Rain, how they’d been keeping an eye on her. How they knew I’d contacted her. About how they thought she was the root of my problems.

  I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking.

  “So, choose,” he said.

  I blinked several times and looked at him, my vision beginning to clear, though my heart was still pounding in my ears.

  “Who do we kill should you fail your test?”

  I took a deep breath. “I need to choose now?”

  He nodded and watched me calmly while I willed my breathing and pulse to slow. “I’m not going to fail.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Even so. A name?”

  “I stayed away from her. You must know that. You seem to know everything else.”

  “Two years is not the same as forever. You know the rules, Agent Brady.”

  I lost two years with Rain for these psychos. Why wasn’t that enough for them?

  “Why, Mark?” My throat was dry and my voice sounded hoarse. “I’ve given everything for my country. Why must I give this one thing up too? Why her?”

  “Because you care. Because she’s obviously different from all of the other girls you’ve been with since you were recruited.” He sighed. “Past experience has taught us that the best agents, the most effective operators have no relationships, no strong ties to normal society. We need you to be on your A-game.” He laughed roughly. “Love fucks that all up.”

  I could tell by the set of his jaw and the way his hand clenched his gun that he could not be persuaded. It was an impossible choice. My mother? My father? Rain? I knew what they wanted. I knew that they wanted to hear me verbally agree that the woman I loved was expendable. And I had to say it. I had to let them know that there was nothing or no one that I loved more than my parents, because then they’d use that against me.

  The fuckers.

  “Rain.”

  Mark’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good. That would, of course, be the correct answer.”

  “And the test?”

  “Oh, that?” A lopsided grin appeared on his pale face. “It’ll be a cakewalk for you.” He shoved his gun into his waistband and gestured for me to sit down.

  I sat on the bed and glared at him. “I’m listening.”

  He reached for his black leather briefcase, laying on the desk in the room and pulled out a folder. He took his time shuffling through papers and then handed me a black and white photograph.

  I glanced at the full color five-by-seven. A man who appeared to be in his thirties sat on a park bench leaning toward a pretty woman with his arm around her. They both wore jeans, t-shirts and athletic shoes. The woman, a brunette with her hair pulled into a ponytail gazed at him, caught in mid-laugh, her eyes bright with happiness. Behind him stood a little boy, about seven or eight years old, probably his son based on the shared coloring of blond hair and blue eyes. A little girl with curly hair pulled into pigtails sat on the mother’s lap and stuck out her tongue at the photographer.

  I handed the photograph back to Mark. No problem. I could kill him. He probably deserved it. They always did. “What’s his story?”

  He shook his head. “Not your concern. You’re just going to kill him tonight.” He stared at me. His unsaid words hanging in the air.

  Or else.

  I glanced at the photograph again. “He’s not a bad guy? Not one of our typical targets?”

  Mark looked at me noncommittally then stood. “You ready? He’ll be jogging in the Chastain Park Trail in about an hour.”

  “How long has this been planned? How did you know I might not kill the President of Taiwan tonight?”

  Mark moved toward the door, gun hanging at his side. “So, kill him and The Group will know you’re still loyal to them.” His lips pressed into a thin, cold smile. “And your sweetheart doesn’t have to die.”

  I stood by the door. “Gee, is that all it takes, just me shooting some innocent guy in the woods?”

  He gave me a sideways glance. “You’re not using a gun. They want to make sure you still have that level of brutality our agents are known for.” He smiled. “It’s kind of like our calling card among the other assass
in squads, domestic and abroad, don’t you know?”

  The taste of metal filled my mouth as I followed Mark out of the room.

  * * * * *

  Twenty-four hours later and four hundred miles between me and the scene of the crime, I still felt like shit. Even after standing in the comfort of my own shower for thirty minutes waiting for my sins to be washed away, I felt like dirt.

  I was a monster.

  I was a fucking animal.

  I killed in cold blood.

  I was appropriately brutal.

  I passed the test, so Mark and presumably The Group were pleased. And Rain didn’t have to die. That was the good news. The bad news? I’d broken some poor sap’s neck just to prove something to a bunch of professional sickos. And now? Now I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. Some wife, some mother and her two kids were wondering where their husband and father was. She was probably thinking he was cheating on her. The kids would just be confused, upset. Because of me.

  Still naked and dripping wet from the shower, I stood in the steamy bathroom, bent over the sink throwing up for the third time in one night. I hadn’t responded to a kill like this in years. I’d gotten sick after my very first assassination and never again, until now. On one hand, it was embarrassing but on the other hand I was disgusted with myself. Just another brute taking orders, snapping necks and ending lives per directives.

  I wiped fog from the mirror and glared at my reflection. I looked horrible. My skin was a sickly pale olive color, there were dark smudges under my eyes and when I leaned in close to the mirror and really looked at my eyes, beyond the swirls of sky blue and misty gray, I saw nothing. There were empty. Souless. Dead. I was a fucking zombie. A killing machine. I’d become like my buddy Luke.

  I stumbled backward and pressed my back against the cold wall. That guy, the one in the woods, he’d been fit, strong, but no match for me. He struggled with me when I grabbed him from behind. He was able to turn around and look me in my eyes and ask me why. And I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t tell him it was just punishment because of his crimes. I couldn’t tell him it was because he deserved it.

  I was just the Grim Reaper paying him a visit.