Sins of the Assassin

by Robert Ferrigno

  Loud cries from the other side of the door, Michael shrieking. She jumped up before she realized they were cries of joy. She reached for the door, curious now. The door opened before she could get to it…

  Rakkim stood in the doorway, holding Michael in his arms. He shifted the boy, made room for Sarah as she threw herself on him.

  She winced as he embraced her, the welts on her back from the Black Robe’s beating fading but still tender.

  “What is it?” said Rakkim.

  Sarah held him tighter. “Nothing,” she breathed into his neck. “Nothing, now.”

  Hours later, the call to late-night prayer echoed through the streets, and Sarah turned her head. She had no idea that so much time had passed.

  Rakkim smiled down at her. “Yes, it’s late. Good thing you’re already in bed.”

  She clamped herself around his cock, made him laugh, and the vibration ran through both of them. He eased himself deeper inside her, and she locked her legs around his waist. “Now I’ve got you,” she whispered. “You’re trapped.”

  “Just where I want to be too.” He kissed her, and she held the kiss as he rocked deeper and deeper, the two of them working back and forth against each other, grinding away the time lost and the miles between them, the differences and the doubts, until their cries echoed louder than the call to prayer.

  Sarah buried her face in his chest for a moment, then lay back on the sheets, the two of them still holding hands. He had cooled the bruises on her back with kisses, the Black Robe’s fury a fading memory. For her, anyway. She had heard the change in his voice when he saw the marks, gently asking her for details about the man’s appearance. There was a time when she would have demurred, said the Black Robe had paid enough, that there was already too much violence in the world and no need to add to the tally. Not now. She remembered every detail of the man’s face, his crooked teeth, the shape of his beard, the red dots on his earlobes, signifying his high rank…the scar on his right wrist wielding the flail. Rakkim would see to the rest of it.

  Rakkim kissed the sides of her mouth.

  She inhaled him, eyes half-closed. “Your sweat smells different. Steamy…ripe. You smell like the Belt. It’s not bad…just different.” She slid a hand along his thigh. “Not bad at all.”

  A light knock on the door. “Am I interrupting?”

  Sarah pulled the sheet over them. “Come on in, Mother.”

  Katherine opened the door, walked in with a tray of sliced fruits and cheese, a pot of tea. “I thought you might need some nourishment after your…exertions.”

  “Thanks for interrupting,” said Rakkim. “I think your daughter’s trying to kill me.”

  Katherine allowed herself a small smile. “Runs in the family.” She set the tray down at the foot of their bed.

  “How’s Michael?” said Rakkim.

  “Sleeping peacefully. He has bad dreams when you’re away.” Katherine pushed back her long, reddish brown hair. More gray in it every day now, the lines deepening around her mouth.

  “Are you all right, Mom?” asked Sarah.

  Katherine waved away the question. “It was easier when I lived in the nunnery. I liked it better when I was insulated from the constant barrage of news, the endless threats and counterthreats.”

  Rakkim sat up. “Did something happen?”

  “Something is always happening, that’s why it’s a burden. Go on, enjoy your picnic, I’m going to sleep.”

  Rakkim waited until the door closed behind Katherine. Reached down and poured them tea. “Katherine looks tired.”

  “She’s worried about President Kingsley.” Sarah added a spoonful of honey to her tea. “We all are. His trip tomorrow is billed as a goodwill visit, but El Presidente Arbusto is interpreting it as a sign of weakness, a prelude to surrendering the Southwest.”

  “It is a prelude to surrender.”

  “When you’re in a weak position, getting the best deal possible is a victory.” She sipped her tea, enjoying the sweetness. “Kingsley has been playing the game for almost forty years. We have to trust his judgment.”

  “I wish I could have brought the weapon back. It might have made a difference—”

  “It’s done. The president still has faith in you. He recognizes how difficult the mission was. At least after what Leo did, no one can use the isotope.” Sarah tapped the edge of her teacup with a fingernail. “Perhaps after the president returns from Aztlán we could make some back-channel overtures to the Chinese—”

  “You’re good at that sort of thing, aren’t you?” said Rakkim.

  “Are you referring to Getty Andalou?”

  “I don’t like him. And I like it even less that you had dealings with him without telling me…or the president.”

  “Getty doesn’t like you either, but he’s willing to work with you again. That’s why it’s called diplomacy.” Sarah’s mouth formed a thin line. “And I’ll tell the president when I think the time is right.”

  “When you think it’s right?”

  Sarah set her teacup into the saucer so hard it almost broke. “For a man who gets indignant about my failure to disclose information, you’re keeping a secret of your own.”

  “What’s that supposed to—?”

  “Your doctor called while you were gone. Why did you want him to test your DNA?”

  Rakkim reached for an apple slice. “What did he say?”

  “He said you were fine…better than fine. He said your reaction time is faster—”

  “What about my DNA?”

  She shook her head. “Perfectly normal. No change. Were you worried about your genetic boosters? Have you had some kind of…problem?”

  “No problems.”

  “Talk to me, damnit. You’re worried about something or you wouldn’t have gone to the doctor. I’m your wife, Rikki. What’s going on?”

  Rakkim stared at the ceiling. Started to speak. Stopped. When he finally spoke, his words were a whisper and his eyes stayed on the ceiling. “Ever since I killed Darwin, I’ve had some…strange thoughts. I know things I shouldn’t know. Assassin craft. I am faster, Sarah, faster than I’ve ever been—”

  “You think Darwin…” She bent over him, cupped his face. “Even if his blood infected you or something, DNA isn’t transferable like that. Even if there was cross-contamination, you wouldn’t suddenly develop his skills or his—”

  “I saw him.”

  “Darwin’s dead.”

  “Tell him that.” Rakkim felt his face flush. “He’s…in my head. I think he gets lost sometimes, or pushed to the edges, but he said he can—”

  “Is he here now?” She looked around the room. “Can you see him?”

  Rakkim shook his head.

  She lay down beside him, drew him to her. She felt his heart beating.

  “There are times…Sarah, there’re times that I’m not sure who I really am.”

  “I know who you are.” She stroked his hair. “I’ve loved you since you were nine years old. You’re the same person now that you were then. Strong and brave and kind…scared too, sometimes, but it didn’t stop you. No matter what the cost, you never backed away.” She laughed. “It used to drive Redbeard crazy. He said you always picked the hardest path, the most difficult route.”

  “I love you. I want you to always remember that.”

  “I won’t have to remember it.” She kissed him. “You should have told me.”

  “I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

  She kissed him again. “No more secrets. Deal?”

  Rakkim kissed her back. “What kind of marriage would that be?” He stroked her belly, serious now. “We should move.”

  “Shhh.”

  “You said you’d been spotted at the street fair.”

  “I said I might have been spotted, but here we are, safe and sound.” She kissed him. “Besides, I like it here.”

  “So do I. That’s why we should move. We’re too comfortable. Sooner or later, we’re going to make a mistak
e. I’ll ask Spider tomorrow if he knows of a place. He’s already got Leo stashed away—”

  “I think that’s an overreaction.”

  “Spider didn’t think so.”

  “What did Leo think?” said Sarah.

  “He thinks Spider and I are treating him like a two-year-old, which we’re not. We’re treating him like someone with information in his head that a lot of people would kill for.”

  “What about you?” Sarah tapped his forehead. “What have you got in there?”

  Rakkim grinned. “Not a thing.”

  Sarah kissed his ears, his cheeks, his nose, kept on kissing him, afraid to stop and not knowing why. “That’s…the way…I like my men. Strong and stupid.” She kissed his eyes shut. “Go to sleep. You’re home. You’re with your family. No one can hurt you now.”

  She hummed softly as they lay tangled up in each other. Michael’s favorite lullaby, the mockingbird song. Rikki’s favorite too—their housekeeper, Angelina, used to sing it to them at bedtime. Sarah sang it now until Rakkim drifted off to sleep. A strange lullaby from the old days, about a baby getting one gift after another, each one needing to be replaced. A mockingbird that didn’t sing, a diamond that turned to glass, a dog that wouldn’t bark, a looking glass that broke…Rakkim said that it showed that love wasn’t perfect. All Sarah could think of was that the little baby sure had bad luck.

  Chapter 47

  Bartholomew stepped into the security dock, stood quietly while the machine completed scanning him. The machine beeped and a guard waved him through. His electronic gear took much longer to be cleared, each tool and gauge minutely examined by a Secret Service agent. His heart rate and skin-conductivity index were probably also being monitored, so he concentrated on images of Paradise and the blessings that awaited him.

  Give good news to those who believe and work righteousness that they will have gardens with flowing streams, and pure spouses therein. They abide therein forever.

  “Master Inspector,” said the Secret Service agent, beckoning him over.

  “Yes, Officer?” said Bartholomew, stomach churning.

  The agent was a small man with a cleft chin and a spotless blue uniform with the presidential seal over his heart. He held up one of Bartholomew’s handheld resonance meters. “This is not on the approved list.”

  “It’s the latest model,” sputtered Bartholomew. “Just came in last week from Lagos. That’s why it’s not on your list.”

  The agent slipped the resonance meter into a plastic bag. Pursed his lips. “You can pick it up on the way out.”

  Bartholomew bowed, seething, his cheeks flushed. He had practiced his reaction for weeks now, clenching his jaw muscles to bring color to his cheeks. Give the agent something easy to reject, something to justify his authority—that way they won’t look too closely at the rest of your things, that’s what al-Faisal had said. As always, the Black Robe was correct.

  Peterson clapped him on the shoulder as they started up the corridor to the presidential jet. “Don’t worry, Bartholomew, last week they made me remove a decal of the Kaaba from the inside lid of my toolkit, an innocent souvenir from my hajj.”

  Bartholomew shook his head. Peterson was the other aeronautical inspector on the flight, a redundancy like everything else on the presidential jet, human and mechanical, designed to ensure maximum security.

  “You been to Mexico City before?” said Peterson, a slender modern with a thin strip of beard running along his jaw, a beard in name only. “Oh, you’ve got a treat in store for you. Stick with me, I’ll show you some places you won’t want to tell the imam about.”

  Bartholomew smiled. This time he didn’t have to fake the color in his cheeks.

  “Does having a baby…does it, you know, change things?” said Leo.

  “Things?” said Sarah.

  Leo glanced at Michael, the toddler playing with wooden blocks, then back at Sarah. “Things. Sex.”

  “Well, you don’t have as much time for sex, but the—you tend to appreciate it more. Don’t look so glum, you and Leanne have plenty of time before you think about having kids.”

  “Tell that to Leanne.”

  Sarah looked up. “Is she pregnant? Oh, Leo, that’s wonderful.”

  “No, no, I was just asking, because…with my brainpower and everything, I probably pack a real punch down there too.” Leo’s face reddened. “You know…sperm-wise.”

  “How romantic.”

  Sarah and Leo sat on the floor of Michael’s bedroom, watching as he built tall towers of blocks. Leo had been visiting for the last hour, working up to asking questions about marriage. Sarah was glad for the company, eager to take a break from trying to figure out what Eagleton was hiding on the holographic display card. Tired of watching him star in his own pornographic movie. Even a shower didn’t make her feel clean afterward.

  Being with Michael allowed her to breathe again. She watched as he balanced a red block on top of a yellow column, then looked up at her and giggled. He reached for another block. Always pushing the limits, angry when the pile collapsed. Just like his daddy.

  “What if Leanne loves the baby more than me?” said Leo.

  “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” Sarah patted Leo’s arm. “Is this why you dropped in? I heard Spider had you locked away for safekeeping.”

  “Spider doesn’t think I can take care of myself. Neither does Rikki.”

  Sarah knew what Leo meant. Rakkim said they needed to move, so that’s what they were going to do. She hated the idea. This apartment was their nest. Familiar and spacious. She would argue with him, but eventually Rakkim would get his way. He deferred to her judgment on most issues, but when it came to security, his was the only voice heard.

  “You want me to help you with the holographic card?” said Leo.

  “No, thanks.”

  “You sure?”

  Sarah watched Michael banging two blocks together, laughing at the sound. It would have taken more than money to tempt Eagleton to climb in bed with the Black Robes. He must have known the risks, the risks if he failed, the even greater risks if he succeeded. Colarusso’s forensic accountants had traced over $30 million deposited into Eagleton’s overseas account in the last five months. Plenty for him to buy his way out of the republic and retire to that South African surf beach. It couldn’t have been just money that drew him in. The challenge…that would have been the ultimate attraction. To do something…enormous, and get away with it. His little secret. The best of all worlds.

  The tower of blocks suddenly collapsed, and Michael bellowed. Threw one of the red blocks across the room. Bounced it off a shelf of other toys. He looked up at her.

  “You threw it, you go get it,” said Sarah.

  Michael heaved himself up, walked over to the shelf, and picked up the block.

  Sarah stared at the shelf loaded with toys. Mechanical toys, computerized dragons, plastic soldiers, knights and warriors, paint sets and coloring books. Like the shelves of toys in Eagleton’s back room. She got up, kicked aside some blocks in her haste.

  Michael watched her approach, mouth open.

  “What is it?” said Leo.

  Sarah picked up the Digi-Sketch off the shelf. A gift from her mother. Supposed to encourage artistic expression in babies, but Michael had ignored it after five minutes and never played with it again. It was a small, flat holographic unit, light enough for an infant to hold, with knobs and buttons to draw numbers and colored images on the monitor. Twelve screen options were available with a touch. Eagleton had three of them in his shop, plus a few antique Etch A Sketches. She carefully removed the control chip from the side of the Digi-Sketch. “Leo, would you play with Michael for a little while?”

  “You figured it out, didn’t you?” said Leo.

  Michael raised his hands toward the control chip. “Mine.”

  Typical male, thought Sarah, closing the door to her office behind her.

  “I hardly recognize Leo,” chastised Spider, bundle
d up in spite of the sun on his face.

  Rakkim and Spider sat in sagging lawn chairs atop the flat roof of a house in the Catholic sector. Spider’s latest home, run-down from the outside, but wireless surveillance technology was deployed throughout the structure. Anthony Colarusso sat at the kitchen table downstairs, eating roast chicken and arguing football with Spider’s twelve-year-old daughter, who had evidently memorized every game in the history of the sport. Dogs chased each other, ran through wash hung out to dry. Kids played ball in the crumbling streets, rode bikes through the alleys, whooping and hollering. After years living underground, Spider said he was happier here than anyplace else he could imagine.

  “He’s different,” said Spider. “You were supposed to look after him—”

  “All that stuff he downloaded into his brain, no wonder—”

  “I’m—I’m not talking about that,” sputtered Spider. “Leo’s more than capable of massive data transfers, it’s the rest of him that’s different. You saw what he was like when you two left. Naïve, full of fear and bluster—”

  “He was a pain in the ass,” said Rakkim, squinting. “I spent the first week pissed off at you and Sarah for saddling me with him, but the Belt…it changes people. When we left he was a burden…but, he grew up on me. He saw things there, good things, beautiful things, and terrible things too…he did things, Spider, things neither you nor I would have believed him capable of. I’ve seen it happen fast before. I’ve seen it happen overnight. In a single moment—”