by Terry Persun
Revenge
Book 1 of the T.E.N. series
by Terry Persun
copyright 2014 by Terry Persun
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Chapter 1
Tempest thought that the worst day of his life was over. Although he was the top engineer at work, assigned to special projects because of his security level, funding had been pulled and the project died with it, totally shut down. He was no longer needed. There was no room for rebuttal. His desk had been cleaned out while he was at lunch, and he was escorted out of the building by two security cops he had never met.
Had that not been enough, he drove to the gym, something his wife Amy had suggested years before, and overexerted himself on the stair master, had a not-too-nutritious snack, and pined privately over his misfortune, then hit the stair master again until his early evening tae kwon do class. He would have cried, but that didn’t suit him. Exhaustion and thought were much more important. He knew he’d come up with an idea; he just needed to let go of the initial shock of what happened, and over-exercising would help him do that. By the time his tae kwon do class started, though, he felt so tired he didn’t perform well at all.
He didn’t want to tell Amy any sooner than he had to, but when he returned to his locker, he saw that she had texted him several times because he wasn’t at work. “I heard,” one text said simply. “Where are you? Are you all right?” He wasn’t. After all, they had just bought a new house once they found that she was pregnant—about which they were both hugely excited—and unemployment wasn’t what they needed at the moment.
But he didn’t want her to worry, so he called. “I’m sorry, Amy. I just had to be alone for a little while.”
“You don’t have to apologize about being alone, Ten. I know you. I was just worried.” There was a short silence. “I have an idea.”
“Will it get my job back?”
“Russell called.” Her voice purred in his ear. “It’s his birthday and he wants to meet at Goldie’s. He sounded desperate. Like you were his only friend. I told him I’d let you know once I heard from you. Why don’t you have a drink, whine about your day to get it off your chest, and come home later, in a better mood.”
“I love you.”
“I’ll let him know you said yes. I’ll see you later.”
He heard her hang up. What a woman. He had never met anyone who understood him better. He showered and left the gym, got into his Camry, and pulled out of the lot. Another car almost sideswiped him even though the driver was looking straight at him. Thank goodness for his reflexes. On the way to Goldie’s the streets felt more dangerous after his close call. He even had to speed up to stop from getting t-boned at an intersection, which put him on high alert. Goldie’s wasn’t far from his house, maybe he should leave the car parked in their lot overnight. After all, he’d read that most accidents happen within a few miles of home.
Tempest locked the Camry and wandered into the bar. The place was louder and busier than he’d ever seen it. A television in the corner displayed news, but the sound was off. He saw Russell hunched over the bar with an empty seat next to him. He didn’t look like he was in a birthday mood. Tempest walked over and reached for Russell’s shoulder, but his friend swung around and slapped his hand away, then stared at him.
“You okay?”
“Sorry.” Russell glanced around the room. He got off his stool and hugged Ten. “I don’t like this place being so busy.”
“I thought it was your birthday. I didn’t even know—”
“It’s not my birthday.” He scanned the room again.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s not much time to explain everything. But it’s about your work, your project.”
Tempest lowered his eyes. “I was laid off today.”
“No, Ten, you finished the project. That’s why they let you go. That’s all that was supposed to happen, too. But that decision changed a few hours later.” He turned his head away, looked around nervously, and brought his attention back to Ten. “I’m part of a team, a group called ISTI: International Security for Technological Innovations.” He shook his head as though it didn’t matter. I’ve been with them for nearly twenty years, been assigned to you for the last seven.”
“Assigned to me?”
“A bodyguard, so to speak. Protection. But I have to tell you, I didn’t buy into this. Not killing our own.” He shook his head.
Ten scrunched up his face. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s one thing to pull a project, another thing to kill everyone involved. Trust me. I’m not alone on this. Other bodyguard feel the same about their assignments.”
“Bodyguard? Project? What’s happening? You still haven’t told me.”
Russell placed a hand on Ten’s shoulder. “Divide and conquer. Six scientists, six pieces of one puzzle. I don’t know what the project is, none of us do. We can only guess. But I know it’s over. They want me to take you out. So, I’m telling you, disappear. You don’t have much time.”
Ten’s head floated full of information, pieces of information. He didn’t know what to do, what to ask. “How much time do I have?” It was the only thing he could think of saying.
“Don’t know. Look, they don’t know I’m refusing. They think I’m still looking for you, after you disappeared from work.”
“I was escorted out. I went to the gym.”
Russell smiled. “I didn’t think of that.” A lie he must have told his superiors. “Look, I’ve got to check in soon. I’ll be in touch when I can. I’ll do everything to steer them clear of you and Amy.”
“Amy?”
“Get home and get out.” He patted Ten’s shoulder. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. If they knew I was talking with you like this…” He glanced around the room again. From his pocket, he pulled a folded sheet of paper. “They’re after everyone on the project. I know they are. And anyone else who might know something.” His mouth pulled into a tight grimace. I’m sure I’ll be on the kill list eventually.”
“You’re scaring me, Russell.”
Russell shoved the folded paper into Ten’s shirt pocket. “The names of the people responsible for making this decision. Plus, the other scientists involved. Hide this. Memorize it. Warn the others.” He shoved away from Ten. “We can’t be seen together for now. We’ll have to meet somewhere. Pack up. Bring Amy and the dog.” He looked at his watch and shook his head. “Two hours. Can you do that? Meet me at Casey’s Restaurant, in the parking lot. I’ll come up with a plan. Now go.” Russell turned and rushed out the rear door of the bar.
Ten paused. Why was Russell in such a hurry to get out of there? He tried to pull everything together in some kind of coherent whole. Russell sounded scared. He rushed away as though Ten, or he, were being watched, as though they were in danger or something. He patted the paper in his pocket, but instead of looking at his he made his way toward the rear door only a few minutes after Russell. He wanted more information from his friend.
As Ten opened the door a blast of light and heat slammed him back against the closing door. He instinctively bent down and covered his head. Flames rolled from Russell’s car. The blast caused Ten’s ears to ring, the intense heat burned the hair on his arm. The explosion resonated in the air. At the moment, he couldn’t think straight. It must have been a car bomb. Russell was dead. He lost his job. Amy! Russell said to pack up.
He had to get home.
He ran back into the bar as other patrons forced their way toward the back door where the noise had come from. Ten pushed through the mob and headed into the front lot. Barely out the door, he noticed someone stand up next to his car, as though he had just been looking under the frame. All Ten could think was that there was another bomb being planted, and he turned away as though that wasn’t his car.
He lowered his eyes and walked around the corner of the bar. He ran into another man, who swung at him. Ten stepped back and the man missed. He was big, with broad shoulders and dark hair. Dressed in a suit. Ten had stepped into a fighting stance, his hands in knife-hand position. When the man swung again, Ten blocked using his elbow, then stepped back again rather than advancing. The other man made a shallow laugh at Ten. “Fancy,” he said. Then he stepped forward and swung a third time.
Ten blocked again with his elbow, turned into the man’s body, thrust his elbow into the big man’s abdomen, then brought a fist to his nose. He stepped aside and hit the back of the man’s head with his elbow and the man went down. He had never done anything like that before—full contact. He knew the moves and the theory of how to knock a man out—or even kill him—but that was not part of his practice in class.
The man lay on the ground. Ten glanced up and no one appeared to have noticed. His heart beat fast. He stepped aside took a deep breath and jogged away from the bar, jumped a short chain-link fence, and ran toward a strip mall. He continued past the mall lot and into a small grove of trees that eventually opened into the housing development where he and Amy lived. It was the fastest route at that time of evening. The sun had already dropped from view, but an auburn haze held to the air. It would be dark soon. The woods were already darker than the mall parking lot. He stopped long enough to notice that he wasn’t being followed. Whoever they were, they probably figured he’d just get in his car and be blown to bits, even after what happened to Russell.
Tempest caught his breath and ran the rest of the way to the edge of the development. From there, he heard another explosion—ahead of him. A ball of light burst into the air right near where his house should have been, and he knew that’s what it was. “Oh, my God.” He took off toward the explosion. Sweat dripped from his head and down his cheeks. He heard the sound of his own footfalls and wished he were more silent so he could hear if anyone followed him. He touched his shirt pocket with the folded paper inside. Now more than ever, he wanted to look at that list. But he couldn’t stop running; he couldn’t look until he knew if it was his house that had burst into flames.
And when he turned around a bend, there it was. The house blazed into the early evening sky. His dog, Groucho, barked at something in the back yard. Ten couldn’t search for him, though. Not now. He ran up and unlocked the front door, traveled through a living room on fire, and ran up the stairs, screaming “Amy! Amy!” He held his arms up against the flames running up the hall wall, one of the main supports for the house, which would eventually collapse around him. Amy lay on the bed in the bedroom, a pillow over her head. He ripped it away and kneeled beside her and took her into his arms and kissed her mouth, her cheek. Another explosion happened somewhere downstairs. Groucho’s barking continued out back. Ten felt for Amy’s pulse. She had been smothered. Tears joined the salty sweat of his cheeks. The heat became worse as one of the bedroom walls split open with flames.
Ten kneeled next to Amy in tears. He held her hand against his cheek and kissed her fingers. The heat intensified. His hands shook. His eyes blurred with sweat and tears. But somehow his mind cleared and his actions became more methodical, like he knew automatically what to do next.
Out the window, he saw a man approach Groucho. Groucho lunged at the man to bite him, ever the protective animal, but the man lept back, removed a pistol from under his arm, and shot the dog. Ten fell to the floor. His chest wanted to explode. His eyes blew out more tears. He shook his head. What was happening? What was he supposed to do? Why were they after him? He finished dressing, took the time to tie his tennis shoes, and grabbed a backpack from under the bed. He heard a window break downstairs. When he looked outside he noticed that the man must have thrown Groucho’s body through a window into the house.
Before he left—flames had engulfed the inside wall of the bedroom—he retrieved his wallet, cell phone, and the list Russell had given him. Ten ran into the blazing hall, through flames, and leaped over the banister into the living room, which was equally in flames. He landed so hard that, at first, he thought he’d broken his ankle, but it was merely pain, not a break. He saw Groucho lying on the floor and kneeled next to him, reached out and petted his fur. Then he ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the wrack. He pulled fruit from a bowl on the counter and stuffed it into his backpack, then went out the back door. The grill had blown to bits. That must have been the second explosion. He ran as hard as he could toward the woods on the opposite side of the development. When he stopped, he heard other footsteps and knew he was being followed.
Chapter 2