by Daniel Gage
She almost missed it, it was so faint and far. The shooter was likely a trained sniper, and she didn’t expect to match his range with a pistol. But that wasn’t her goal.
Each shot was patient and calculated, and after the third, the sniper took notice. He reacted, picking up his rifle and scrambling for new cover.
“Now, Cam!” she yelled.
He didn’t hesitate. Cam dashed from behind his cover toward Dealer X, snatching the fallen knife from the ground, his momentum carrying him into the dealer.
The two collapsed onto the tarmac, and Cam repeatedly stabbed his victim in the chest and stomach. Dealer X attempted to counter, but Cam snatched his knife hand with blinding quickness and twisted, snapping bone and sinew as the blade fell from his grasp.
Dealer X grunted in pain, the first reaction Emma had seen from the man in response to injury.
The dealer struggled against Cam, but it wasn’t enough.
Cam drove his blade home into Dealer X’s throat, gave it an extra shove with his body weight behind it, and then left the weapon inside the dealer’s neck. Blood flowed freely as Dealer X grasped at the knife, attempting in vain to pull it free.
“Recover from that, asshole,” Cam said as he pushed himself to his feet.
Almost as if on cue, Dealer X lashed out with his foot, striking the inside of Cam’s knee. Cam grunted in pain as he fell, but the dealer followed up with a kick square to Cam’s chest. He toppled backwards as Dealer X slowly rose to his feet.
With a great effort, the dealer ripped the knife from his throat, sending a spray of red drops across the ground. Once it was free, the wound healed rapidly, but the man looked beyond fatigued. All color had drained from his face, and his posture was now slumped.
He and Cam exchanged exhausted glares, and Dealer X reached up with the knife, looking to drive it into the prone Cam.
Emma fired until the slide locked on her gun.
Each shot connected, but instead of them being an annoyance to the dealer, he recoiled, gasping as his skin was pierced. He turned back, his eyes wide with panic.
For a moment, Emma thought he was going to charge again, but he dropped his knife and almost fell. He pushed forward, the rest of his strength driving him to the stairs of the plane. It was an act of survival, desperation.
Emma ejected her spent magazine and slowly stood, taking aim at the fleeing dealer.
She had him. He wasn’t escaping again.
“Don’t,” a voice commanded before she could fire.
Emma spun and saw a man approaching them, holding a large, scoped rifle. She instantly realized it was the sniper, and he held the gun at his hip, aimed at her. Blood trickled down his arm, apparently from one of her bullets grazing him.
“You’ve got one shot, at best,” Emma growled.
“Right, but it will end you,” he said. “Best case, we’d both die. Is it worth it?”
The sniper moved slowly, not daring to get close to Cam or Emma. He backed his way to the plane, where Dealer X had managed to pull himself up the stairs.
“Smart choice,” the sniper said as he disappeared inside the plane.
The stairs pulled up, and the plane instantly turned down the runway.
Emma fired at the Gulfstream, emptying her last magazine, screaming in rage.
“Goddammit!” she yelled. “So close! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”
She didn’t know when the tears started, but now they flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto her clothing.
CHAPTER 22
In the past week, Alexandre’s health had taken a massive downturn. He couldn’t keep food down, and water had to be given intravenously. Walking was difficult, and most of his hair had fallen out.
But rage kept him going.
It got him out of his medical bed in the morning, a stubbornness that refused to defecate in a bed pan. Each step was painful, but he was persistent to remain his own man, even if he had to use support as he feet shuffled along the tile floor.
“Alexandre, sir,” his doctor pleaded on his latest endeavor, “you must lie down. We can tend to you, help you save your strength. I need to change your IV bag.”
“In a moment,” Alexandre said as he fought the urge to shiver.
He knew his staff was eager to help earn their pay, and he was sure, on some level, they did care about him. But their pity hurt more than his twisted stomach. It was something he had never wanted to experience again, as he had his fill from his illness years ago.
The cold outside air chilled Alexandre to the bone, but it made him feel alive. The wind bit him through his thin hospital gown, but he needed moments like these. He had given too much, risked everything he had for what he finally earned.
In his hand, he clutched his phone. He had missed several calls from friends and acquaintances he no longer cared for, since they only wanted things from him. They didn’t care about his health, or the split from his fiancée. They only desired to compare yachts, vacation homes, and their financial portfolios.
He would give it all right now for his fucking dealer to answer his damn phone.
Even though it was years ago, Alexandre remembered the illness that led him this far. At the time, he gave everything he was capable of to get better, to start over. Now, to lose it all when it wasn’t even his actions that made him unable to function as a normal human, it was driving him to madness.
“Sir, please,” the doctor pleaded. “It’s freezing outside. You’ll die of exposure. Or at least get frostbite.”
“In a moment,” Alexandre said again through a clenched jaw.
He knew the doctor wasn’t wrong. But this icy air was the only way he could clear his mind, to think. It was a miracle he made it this long without becoming afflicted; he was aware of others who had to intervene sooner. The only thing he didn’t know was what happened if it went too far.
No one had been unable to influence their Unborn into submission, or to end their lives. Even worse, Alexandre knew of no one who had gone this far into the affliction; once they started coughing up blood, they would use their extensive resources to fix the problem.
Alexandre had no such luxury. He hadn’t even known the man was alive, after being told he died at birth. For him to live this long, without being detected by either himself or the vast network the dealers maintained was truly impressive.
“Sir,” the doctor said. “Come inside. Please. I can’t help you if you freeze to death.”
He took in one last breath of chilling air and turned to go inside.
Then his phone rang.
His heart skipped as his bloodshot eyes widened. Alexandre was almost scared to see who was calling, thinking it was another “friend” who needed his resources.
But the caller ID showed the name as X.
He pressed answer, and lifted the phone to his ear, searching for words.
“I’m in Paris,” the voice on the other end said. “We need to meet.”
“Yes, we do,” Alexandre said. “I see he continues to live. Why is that?”
“Not now,” the man said. “In person. I need your help to secure a zone.”
“No,” Alexandre said. He attempted to snarl, but a gust of wind picked up and caused his teeth to clack instead. He shuffled indoors, but despite the relief from the outside air, he still felt cold.
“No?” the man asked. “You realize the deal is still in effect, correct?”
“Oh, I do,” Alexandre said. “I also know I’m dying. Bed-ridden. You were supposed to fix that, but now you’re asking for my help. Why isn’t it done?”
The pause from the other end sent Alexandre’s mind for a loop. Did the man disconnect? Was Alexandre’s defiance his final undoing? But the sound of breathing on the other end gave Alexandre new insight.
The man was hesitating. He didn’t have an answer ready for Alexandre’s insistent question, at least not yet.
“He’s proven more difficult to kill than we thought,” the man finally said. “But I’m certain he�
��ll be coming for us. And that’s where I need your help. To secure the zone, and set a trap.”
“Okay,” Alexandre said.
He felt strangely calm, hearing this weakness come from the man who always seemed relaxed and in control. Nothing had fazed the dealer before, but now something had. More importantly, this knowledge gave Alexandre something he’d never had over this man.
Leverage.
“Where do you want to meet?” the man asked.
“Why is this one so difficult?” Alexandre asked. “I’ve heard stories, from others like me.”
“His ability manifested,” the man said. “It was unexpected. Now, where do we—”
“Did you step in?” Alexandre asked. “Did you do the needful, and make an attempt?”
“That’s not important,” the man said. It was faint, but Alexandre detected a taste of impatience in the man’s voice. “I’ll explain more when we meet. We need to stop having this conversation over the phone!”
“Fine,” Alexandre said. “Meet me at the estate. I’m in no condition to go out. Perhaps we should try bargaining with him? Can this one be bought?”
“Maybe,” the man said. “I was considering it. He could be useful. And you can keep your benefits package as a result. I’ll be there within the hour.”
The line went dead.
Alexandre lowered the phone from his ear only to see the shocked expression on his doctor’s face. Alexandre regarded him coldly, not caring what the man heard.
“You’re paid generously for more than your skill,” Alexandre said after a cough. “Discretion is part of the job. I know you were advised about this.”
“Yes, sir,” the doctor mumbled.
“Help me back into bed,” Alexandre said. “Then alert the staff that I’m expecting company, and I’m not to be disturbed.”
Even though he was still frozen to his core, Alexandre felt more like his old self. There was something about having a plan, a goal, that was able to reinvigorate him.
A voice came from outside his room, and Alexandre was filled with dread. The doctor moved to help him lie down, but he pushed the older man away.
Alexandre refused to face his father prone and weak.
The door was pushed open with authority, and his father, a man thirty years his senior yet who acted like someone the same age as Alexandre, strode in. His expression was stern, and once he entered, his eyes locked onto the doctor.
“You,” Alexandre’s father hissed. “What is this? What’s wrong with my son?”
“Sir, Gautier, please,” the doctor pleaded. “We are caring for your son. We’re doing the best we can.”
“Then what is wrong with him!” Gautier shouted, his cheeks burning red.
“Father, enough,” Alexandre said. “I’m sick; it will pass.”
“Stay out of this,” Gautier said, holding up his finger toward his son, but still, he did not look at him.
And there it was. His father never perceived him as anything more than a possession, something to be shown as a point of pride. Gautier saw all of Alexandre’s successes as an extension of himself, and he only wanted Alexandre around when he could brag about him, or use him to boost his own self-worth.
Even his mother acted that way, but Alexandre hadn’t seen her in years. She and her father never divorced, but last he heard, she was on some exotic island with her latest lover, who was half her age.
He was always amazed at just what doors wealth opened. Every desire had a price, as did every person.
“I’m arranging to have him shipped to a team of doctors,” Gautier continued. “They will do a much better job at restoring his health.”
“Father,” Alexandre said, “I need to stay, for at least a few more days. I’m finalizing a massive business deal, one that will be very beneficial to the family.”
Gautier turned toward his son ever so slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye.
“Are you?” Gautier said, his tone radically changed from before. “And you can handle this in your condition?”
“If you want to stay around as a status symbol, sure,” Alexandre said. “It’s all but wrapped up, but your presence will surely bolster its value.”
“Only if you’re sure,” Gautier said. “But once this is over, you’re getting treatment. There’s the partner meeting in Russia next month, and you need to be there.”
Without waiting for another answer, Alexandre’s father turned and strode out of the room, on to whatever conquest was next on his agenda.
Alexandre knew everyone had a desire, something they wanted for themselves more than anything else. He knew how to control his family, and even the dealers needed his assistance.
Now all he had to do was find out what his Unborn wanted, to turn him back to the man he was before he started down the path to ruin Alexandre’s life.
CHAPTER 23
Emma had been used to working without a chain of command, with her division of the AFC answering only to her and Michael.
Now, Michael had been unavailable for half a week, and the closest thing she had to a supervisor was fuming across his desk. Director Barker was an older man, but never lost the intensity from his youth. And he had no trouble channeling that during his interrogation of Emma Jennings.
“Run this by me again,” he said through a clenched jaw. “What happened at the airport?”
“I called in a strike team after we were able to track the suspect,” Emma said, after taking a long breath. “We had taken them by surprise, had them cornered and outgunned. However…”
Her voice trailed off. She knew how insane it sounded the first time she explained it, and writing up the report was difficult. Emma had to pick her words carefully.
“Yes, Agent Jennings?” the director said. “You were saying?”
“We couldn’t take them down,” Emma closed her eyes. “And they killed the strike team.”
“They?” he asked. “Your report says one man did it. So, which is it?”
“One man,” Emma replied.
“And this one man, he was shot? Repeatedly?”
“Correct,” Emma whispered.
“In your report,” Director Barker said, slamming a folder onto the desk, “you say he is shot repeatedly, but recovers and proceeds to annihilate the strike team. But you conveniently survive?”
Emma hung her head, unable to find the words to make sense of what she had seen. She didn’t hold back in her report; forensics of the scene would have exposed any lies. And to do anything but tell the truth would have made the sacrifices by the strike team feel cheapened, somehow.
However, she knew she could have fudged the truth and the scene once the dealers had escaped. And the what-if still lingered in her mind, but it was trumped by the idea of exposing these dealers for the monsters they were. Especially Dealer X.
It had been a gamble, and it seemed to be one she was going to lose.
“And this Cameron Briggs,” he said. “Who the hell is he? Your power to hire someone is after standard background checks. This man is a felon, Emma! What the hell was he doing with you?”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short of making a sound. Cam was marked as an Unborn, and after the display of his ability in combat, she was afraid if she said more he would be locked up in a lab somewhere and examined for the rest of his life. She purposely left out observations of Cam, and instead only discussed that he stood up to the dealers and saved Emma’s life.
“He was another part of the investigation, and ended up saving my life,” she said. “He knew the area and potential people involved. I hired him as a temporary contractor.”
“And what is this about his mother being put in a home on our dime?” the director asked. “If he’s only a contractor, you’re not authorized for that. This Cam will be forwarded the bill, and she’ll be evicted immediately.”
“No!” Emma cried out involuntarily before she could form a rational response. “I mean, don’t evict her yet
. Forward the bill to me if you have to. I’ll figure that out.”
Her boss looked at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed. “I’d reconsider that if I were you, Emma. Because you’re suspended.”
“Suspended!” Emma exclaimed as her jaw fell. “What about the case? All the work I’ve done?”
“The case is over. I’m closing it,” the director said. “Or should we add more to the death toll?”
“But we were so close,” she said. “We found the suspected Benefactor, found the dealers; they were in our sights!”
“Yet they conveniently slipped away,” Director Barker said. “This case reeks of corruption and lies. How can I trust you back in the field? The entire division is going to be audited top to bottom, and all operations will cease.”
“At least give it to Michael! Don’t let it all go to waste!”
“He’s on leave,” the director said.
“Let me call him, tell him—”
“Absolutely not!” Director Barker yelled as he slammed his fist on the desk. “And that piece of trash you hired, whatever his name is, he’s sure as hell fired. Security will be by to show you out.”
Even though she had expected that, or at least anticipated the suspension, hearing it still caused shock to set in. The color drained from her face, and her mind went completely blank. She couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone speak. Not that arguing would do any good. Her record, or lack thereof, spoke for itself.
She wasn’t sure when she started shuffling her way to her office, the soles of her feet scraping against the blue economy carpet. The eyes of her former subordinates stared, but she was only vaguely aware of their prying eyes.
There was little she could call her own, so it took only moments to put her personal belongings into a box that was already waiting for her. It wasn’t until this moment that she noticed she didn’t have any photos of family or pets in her office, like many people did on their desks.
That was the moment it started to hit home, how much she had given to this job, how much of her life she sacrificed. And now she had nothing to show for it.