Lights Out

by Amy Cross

  She's fine.

  She has to be.

  Sure, Essien has been sneaking around, and he even managed to place that severed head in the doorway. But there's no way he could actually grab Cassie without making a noise.

  Then again, he can't understand where she might have gone. In all his years working with her, Cassie has never once wandered off, she's never strayed at all. Even if she'd come up with some fresh idea, he knows that she'd have at least let him know beforehand. She'd have tapped his shoulder and whispered in his ear. Which brings him back to his first thought.

  In his mind's eye, he imagines Essien grabbing Cassie from behind and somehow – unbelievably – subduing her before taking her away.

  But she'd fight.

  He knows she would.

  Cassie would always try to defend herself, and she'd make a good job of it too. Anders simply can't conceive of a way in which Essien could have done this.

  Yet as he stands alone in the corridor, he has to concede that something is wrong.

  He pauses, before adjusting his grip on the gun and then starting to make his way back along toward the front room. If Cassie has been taken, she needs help fast. By the time he reaches the end of the corridor and looks through toward the large window on the far side of the room, he's struggling to ignore all the terrible thoughts that are rushing through his mind. He keeps seeing images of Cassie being silently tortured, or worse. Raising the gun, he prepares to fire at any sign of movement, although then he realizes that he can't risk hitting Cassie.

  And then his own words come back to him.

  “Remember,” he told Cassie just a shot while ago, “Essien is the only objective here. If something happens and you have to make a choice, you go for the kill. Don't try to save me. Kill Essien. Because I promise you, Cassie, that's my plan. We have to kill this bastard. No matter what happens to either of us.”

  If he meant those words, then he knows he has to shoot no matter what. Even if there's a chance of hitting Cassie.

  As the swirling red storm continues to flicker across the dark city, Anders steps over toward the middle of the room. He's constantly turning, constantly looking, constantly aiming his gun at different shadows. He knows he has to shoot as soon as he sees movement, and he knows Essien might use Cassie to trick him. He also knows she might already be dead. But as he stands alone in the apartment's main room, with the red lights still swirling beyond the window, Anders can't hear another sound anywhere in the building.

  He looks over toward the decapitated body.

  Suddenly someone grabs him from behind and forces him onto his knees, while twisting the gun from his hand. And before he can cry out, Anders feels a thick wire being wrapped tight around his neck as a sock is forced into his mouth.

  Chapter ThirtyFive

  12:55am

  Taking care not to make any noise, Cassie reaches up and grabs the ledge above her in the elevator shaft. She adjusts her grip slightly, and then she hauls herself up and clambers back into the apartment's hallway.

  Waiting on the floor for a moment, she stays completely still and listens for any kind of sound. All she hears, however, is her own breath, so she slowly gets to her feet while keeping her gun held firmly in her right hand.

  It's more than ten minutes now since she last saw Anders. She'd been covering him in the corridor when she'd heard a noise. When she'd turned to look, she'd spotted something moving out in the front room. Unable to get Anders' attention, and desperate to not lose the possibility of catching Essien, she'd hurried along the corridor and almost fired a shot, only for Essien to then slip away into the shadows.

  It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Worried that this might be her only chance, she'd then opted to pursue Essien along another corridor, while refraining from calling out to Anders out of fear that she might give her own location away. She'd been so certain that she was about to catch Essien, and then...

  Then she'd found herself standing alone in yet another corridor, with no idea which way to go next and, well...

  Again, it really had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Now, as she slowly gets to her feet, she's starting to worry that she might have made a huge mistake. The lure of finishing Essien off was too great, but now she's not even sure how to find her way back to Anders. If she calls out to him, she could well be signing her own death warrant. She tells herself, however, that now Essien has to worry about two separate threats in different parts of the apartment, and that he can't possibly cover himself.

  Plus, there's the little surprise she just arranged in the elevator shaft.

  Stopping as she reaches the front room, she looks through and sees the decapitated body and the pile of clothes, but nothing else. She keeps her gun raised, however, as she makes her way over toward the window, and then she stops and looks around in case there's any sign of danger. Then, figuring that Essien must be back in hiding, she heads toward the corridor and tries to spot Anders.

  All the doors are shut, and Anders is nowhere to be seen.

  She wants to call out for him, at least quietly, but she holds back. Instead, she makes her way to the first door and pushes it open. Finding the first room empty, she then checks the others, although in some of them she can barely see a thing due to the darkness. She finally finishes the last of the rooms and then, realizing that Anders seems to have disappeared, she turns and makes her way back the way she just came. When she reaches the front room, she pauses to once again listen, and then she takes a step forward.

  Suddenly her right foot bumps against something loose that catches on the side of her boot.

  Reaching down, she finds that there's a length of thin, sharp wire on the floor. She picks the wire up to take a closer look, and then she holds it out so that she can see it against the dark red sky.

  It takes a moment, but finally she realizes that there seems to be a bead of blood running down the wire.

  She opens her mouth to call out to Anders, but she manages to stop herself just in time. She's certain that the wire is new, and that the blood is fresh, and that can only mean one thing.

  Looking around, she realizes that there aren't many rooms left that she hasn't already checked. There's the kitchen, though, so she starts making her way cautiously over toward the decapitated body and then she slowly eases the door open.

  Almost immediately, she spots a figure slumped on the floor.

  Forcing herself to stay calm, Cassie steps into the room and aims the gun all around. She doesn't see anyone, so she hurries to the figure and drops to her knees. Even in the darkness, she can just about make out the shape of Anders' head, but when she nudges his shoulder she gets no reply. Trying not to panic, she fumbles in his pockets and finally manages to pull out the box of matches, and then she lights one and holds it up so that she can see all four corners of the room. Once she's certain that Essien isn't around, she looks down at Anders, and she flinches as soon as she sees his face.

  He's been badly beaten, with blood smeared all along one cheek.

  Reaching down, Cassie checks the side of his neck for a pulse. It takes a moment, but eventually she determines that he's still alive.

  Realizing that she's out in the open, she reaches over and quietly pushes the kitchen door shut. She knows this means she might not hear Essien approaching, but she figures that at least he'll have to open the door if he wants to get to them. She drops the match and then lights another, and then she rolls Anders onto his back and tries to get a better look at his wounds.

  The left side of his face has been savagely pummeled, although the right side has been left mostly untouched. Most of the damage, however, is around his throat, where a bloodied line has been cut straight across his larynx.

  “Anders!” Cassie hisses, as she nudges his shoulder again. “Anders, can you hear me? You have to wake up!”

  She waits, but he's still unconscious.

  “I'm so sorry,” she continues, “this is all my faul
t. I thought I had him. I saw him, Anders! I should have waited for you, but I didn't want to let the chance slip! I thought I'd get a clear shot!”

  She checks his pulse again, and then she tilts his head a little in an attempt to check just how much blood he's lost. Immediately, she sees that he's been badly hurt.

  The match burns down to her fingers and she drops it to the floor, and then she lights another.

  “You're going to be okay,” she continues, as she tries to figure out what to do next. “I'm going to finish this,” she adds. “I'm going to do what we came here to do, and then I'm going to get us out of here, and then -”

  Suddenly she hears a bumping sound from the other side of the door. Turning, she looks at the handle, and then a moment later she spots a hint of movement.

  Raising her gun, she fires several shots straight at the door, blasting several holes. Then, staying completely still, she watches the handle as it slowly turns back to its default position.

  She waits.

  Silence.

  And then, as a shudder passes through her chest, she hears a set of calm footsteps out in the apartment's main room.

  After lighting another match, she starts hurriedly reloading her gun. She expects Essien to burst through at any moment, but finally she gets the gun ready again and then she stands up and aims at the door. She can still hear the footsteps, although they're getting further away again and she feels a flicker of panic at the thought that she might lose another shot at Essien.

  This time, however, she manages to hold back.

  She listens to the footsteps for a moment longer, until they suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

  He's out there.

  Her first instinct is to try whatever it takes in order to make Anders wake up. When she looks down at him, however, she can see that he's in no fit state to help. Even if he can somehow be roused, he looks too badly hurt to even stand. She pauses, trying to think of some other approach, and then slowly she gets to her feet.

  She swallows hard.

  This is what everything has been leading to, it's what she's been hoping to do since the day Tom Dansing died.

  And the man she's after is on the other side of that door.

  She makes her way over and steps to one side, and then – figuring that there's no point delaying any longer – she reaches out and turns the handle. The door creaks as it opens, but no shots are fired. Cassie waits, and then she starts slowly peering through into the main room.

  She spots him almost immediately.

  A figure is standing over on the far side, silhouetted against the reddish-black clouds that flicker in the night sky. It's as if he's staring out across the dark city, as if the magnificent sight of the solar storm has captured his full attention.

  Cassie hesitates for a moment, and then she steps through and aims her gun at the back of his head. Her hand is steady now and she knows that, even from here, she won't miss.

  Her finger begins to press on the trigger, but she hesitates to pull all the way.

  “Aren't you even going to say something first?”

  She recognizes Essien's voice instantly. The gun is still aimed at his head, but so far he hasn't even turned to look at her.

  “I know who you are now,” he continues. “I realized as soon as I recognized your friend. It's been, what, ten years since our little encounter in the desert? Your friend's name is Anders, your name is Cassandra, and you had another friend back then, didn't you? Forgive me, but his name slips my -”

  “Tom,” she says, before she can stop herself. “Tom Dansing.”

  “Dansing, yes.” He pauses, still silhouetted against the storm, still staring out across London. “So you've come to kill me, I assume, for my past indiscretions. You've shown admirable capabilities, my dear. I shouldn't really say this, but I'm actually very impressed.”

  “I didn't come here to listen to you talk,” she says, stepping a little closer with the gun still aimed at the back of his head. “I just wanted you to know why you're dying tonight.”

  “Revenge?”

  “It's for Tom.”

  “Is that all?”

  “You murdered him in cold blood.”

  “You must have really cared about him, if you're willing to go to these lengths all these years later.”

  “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “You wouldn't understand,” she says, taking another step closer, until she's in the middle of the room. At that point, she decides to go no further. “How could a man like you ever understand? All you care about is money, and power, and being feared. I don't know how many lives you've ruined, Essien, and how many communities you've destroyed, but I'm not here tonight to avenge any of that. I'm here for one reason and one reason only, and that's what you did to my friend Tom Dansing. Do you have any final words before I finish this?”

  She waits.

  Silence.

  “Fine, then,” she mutters. “Go to Hell.”

  With that, she fires a single shot, hitting Essien square in the back of the shoulders. He flinches but doesn't fall, so she fires again, hitting him in the same place, and then she fires a third time, causing the top of his head to blast open.

  She adjusts her grip on the gun, while preparing to fire yet again.

  And then, suddenly, Essien's body tilts slightly and his head topples clear off his shoulders, landing with a thud on the floor.

  Cassie looks down at the head, and in a split second she realizes that it's not Essien at all.

  Turning, she realizes with a burst of horror that the decapitated corpse is no longer near the kitchen door. Then she looks back at the figure at the window, and she sees in the gloom that it's actually leaning against the glass.

  Suddenly Michael Essien slams into her from behind and sends her stumbling forward. She slams against the window and tries to turn, only for Essien to smash her arm against his knee and force her to drop the gun. Then, before she can lunge at him, he grabs her by the throat and pulls her closer. She grabs a knife from her belt and tries to drive it into Essien's chest, but he grabs her wrist and pushes it up high, pinning her hand against the window, and then he shoves her hard against the glass and steps closer, his face lit by red hues of the solar storm.

  Nearby, Randall's headless body finally slides over and hits the floor.

  “You must learn to not make so many assumptions, my dear,” Essien sneers. “Assumptions are the downfall of many a man, or woman. Assumptions are little traps we set for our future selves. Feel free to quote me on that.”

  Struggling to get her left hand free so that she can use the knife, Cassie twists first one way and then the other, but Essien has her perfectly pinned in place.

  “I always wondered whether you'd try to come for me,” he continues. “There was something about you, something that made me remember you long after my days in the desert were over. Something in your eyes, perhaps. Still, I must admit that I had no idea you'd prove to be quite so resourceful. Tell me, have you been in London all these years, hoping for a chance? Or is this little reunion nothing more than a happy coincidence?”

  She tries desperately to kick him, but she can't quite manage to strike a blow that's hard enough to knock him back.

  “Your death will not be in vain,” Essien says, quickly moving one hand to her throat and starting to squeeze, still pinning her against the window and still holding her left hand up high to keep her from using the knife. “I'll remember you, always. And that's the best you can hope for. To be remembered by someone remarkable.”

  Unable to breathe, she tries one final time to free her left hand, but already her grip on the knife is starting to weaken.

  “I'll make this as quick as I can for you,” he continues, “so that your pain is minimized.”

  Suddenly she turns the knife so that the blade is pointing toward the ceiling.

  Then she lets go.

  The knife falls between them, betwee
n their faces.

  Cassie lifts her legs and brings them together, timing the move perfectly so that her knees catch the falling knife by its handle.

  She instantly pushes her knees up, using them to drive the knife's blade straight into Essien's belly.

  “Fuck you!” she gasps.

  His grip remains firm for a moment on her throat, but in the glow of the solar storm his eyes open wide with shock. He continues to stare at Cassie, and finally she manages to twist her knees slightly, turning the blade in Essien's belly and watching as a flicker of pain crosses his face. When he still doesn't let go of her throat, she turns her knees the other way, but now she's starting to think that somehow this won't be enough, that somehow Essien is more than just a man and that a knife to the gut won't stop him.

  And then, finally, he lets go of her throat and takes a step back.

  Cassie falls to the floor. The knife clatters from between her knees and lands next to her.

  Essien stares out at the storm for a moment, before slowly starting to look down at the blood that's running from the slit on his bare belly. He touches the wound with trembling fingers, as if he can't quite believe what has happened, and then he turns and looks at Cassie as she reaches out and once again grabs the knife.

  “Oh, that's good,” he stammers. “Did you practice that, or was it improvised? It's not in the training manual, is it? It's not something they teach all their little puppies in British Intelligence.”

  Tightening her grip on the knife, Cassie slowly slides up against the window until she's back on her feet.

  Blood is running more freely from Essien's belly now and splattering against the floor.

  “I'm going to go with it being a trick you picked up along the way,” he continues, before taking a step back.

  Cassie takes a step toward him.

  “I told you before,” he says, “that you're like a dog. Anders and your handlers taught you plenty of tricks, didn't they? How to jump, how to bark. That's really all you are, isn't it? A trained dog. A performer. A bitch.”