Unstable Target: Six Assassins Book 3

by Heskett, Jim

  “Or,” Ember said, “the switchboard logs were interfered with.”

  "I don't think that's possible. I quizzed them about it, and their security seems airtight. Plus, it seems like ordering two contracts would be easy to expose from several different angles, so I don't think it's possible. It seems much more likely that Niles himself is the bad actor here."

  “Sure, Niles always reminded me of nails on a chalkboard, but we weren’t enemies, per se. And why would he do it like that? Why not get there hours before me, kill the rapist, and then bail if he wanted to steal it out from underneath my nose? He was there at the exact same time as me…” Ember’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. He wanted to fight with me over the contract. He never cared about killing Rodney Palmer at all.”

  Fagan tented her fingers. “I agree. It was all on purpose. A setup.”

  “But… I never had any direct beef with Niles Thisdell. I didn’t even mean to kill him. I pulled the wrong dart out of my back pocket. Besides, he was actually not nearly as bad as the rest of those anarchists at Five Points. He never had any reason to come after me.”

  “I have a theory about that.”

  “Do tell, boss lady.”

  "The story gets deeper," Fagan said. "I talked to my network of contacts… it turns out, Niles had been diagnosed with colon cancer a week before. He had six to nine months to live."

  “Yuck. What a way to go. Is there proof of this?”

  Fagan nodded. "Niles had the same doctor as someone from Westminster Branch I'm friendly with. I had my contact ply the doctor with a couple of drinks, and he told the whole story."

  Ember frowned and crossed her arms. “That doc’s not dead now, is he?”

  “Come on, Ember. I’m not a monster.”

  “Fair enough. I still don’t get why cancer would make Niles want to kill me.”

  “Because it wasn’t about you. My theory is, Niles was trying to start a war. Five Points wants a war with Boulder, probably as a power grab. Chaos among the Branches would cause a vacuum. You know they’ve had designs of dismantling the Club and rebuilding it in their image. Forcing Branches to take sides in a civil war would be a great way to kick off their coup.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  Ember tugged on her lower lip for a few seconds, letting all the information ferment in her mind. “You have any non-circumstantial proof of all this, other than the word of the doctor? Medical records, notes from his last visit, phone call transcriptions. Anything like that?”

  “Nothing concrete yet. Just my theory, but it’s a good one. It feels right.”

  “Yeah, it makes sense. But it’s not enough for me to go to Wellner with a story about cancer and a theoretical coup.”

  “Just something to keep in mind. I’ll keep on it. In the meantime, you should get to sleep early tonight. You look like shit.”

  Ember grinned. “Thanks. You’re always looking out for me.”

  “I’ll call Parker about you visiting the archives. Give me a day or two. Aside from that, leave this old lady alone. I’m not done with my workout.”

  Ember extended a hand and shook with Fagan, then Ember turned and headed back through the gym, her head buzzing with new information.

  Chapter Eleven

  ISABEL

  Day Three

  Isabel Yang ascended the steps to the condominium complex. Gray skies above promised snow soon. When she reached the top of the landing, she spied an attractive white man sitting on a stool in front of one of the condos, whittling a block of wood. He was enormous, muscular, with short blond hair and a square jaw—a handsome guy with a hint of tattoo sleeves poking out from the edges of his long-sleeved shirt.

  The guy frowned at the wood shavings collected on the walkway in front of him. “Pardon my mess. It’s a lot cleaner than doing it inside the apartment.”

  “What are you making?” Isabel asked, nodding at the little hunk of wood in his non-knife hand. She hadn’t wanted to stop and engage him in conversation, but his smile was too inviting.

  He held it up. "I don't know yet. Maybe a whistle? I'm new to whittling, and I just wanted to let the muse take me where it needs to."

  “Sounds very spiritual.”

  He shrugged without making eye contact. “Yeah, we’ll see whether this muse is a fan of my whittling habit or not.”

  “Looks like you have a ways to go before it’s a whistle.”

  "Yeah. I guess it could be a recorder. My daughter is almost at that age when she'll be tweeting through a tube and annoying the crap out of everyone within earshot. If I can avoid having to actually pay money for that sort of domestic terrorism, it seems like worthwhile time spent." He paused a second, then with one of the sexiest half-grins she'd ever seen, the man said, "Just kidding. I can't wait to hear her play."

  She laughed. “Aren’t you cold in that thin shirt?”

  He looked up at the sky, squinting at the clouds. “Naw, not really. I don’t mind it.”

  “Well, have a nice day.”

  “She’s here.”

  Isabel paused, frowning down at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Ember.” He pointed his half-whittled stick toward Ember’s front door, on the second floor of the south end of the L-shaped building. “If that’s who you’re looking for. She poked her head outside a few minutes ago to say hi.”

  “Oh. Okay, thank you.”

  Isabel shoved her hands in her pockets and gave him a polite smile, then she pushed past the man, around the bend, and over to Ember’s apartment, still in view of the whittling man. A quick look back only showed her the top of the man’s head as he focused on his knife and block of wood.

  Isabel lifted her hand to knock. But, before she could make contact with the wood, the door pulled back, and there stood Ember. Dressed in sweats and a hoodie, standing with one leg forward, tapping her foot on the carpet. A big frown on her face.

  For two whole seconds they stood there, locked in a stalemate. Isabel wasn’t sure if this rogue agent in front of her would invite her in, give her a shove and shut the door, or pull a pistol from behind her back.

  “Morning, Ember.”

  Ember leaned forward and gave a cheery wave to the hot guy, then she pulled Isabel inside the apartment. Once the door was shut, Ember tilted her head toward where the guy had been sitting. “He’s a nice piece of eye candy, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “That whittling neighbor is Layne. He’s got tattoo sleeves, too, which somehow triggers my bad-boy reflex. I hate that it does that, but I can’t seem to stop it from happening. Oh, well. Such is life.”

  “He’s not bad at all. And he lives five doors down from you.”

  “Yeah, but I’m seeing some—” Ember caught herself and didn’t finish the sentence.

  Isabel didn’t want to engage Ember in a discussion about who she was or wasn’t dating. It didn’t matter. Isabel strolled into the living room and took off her coat, which she folded and set on the edge of the couch.

  “You’re racking up those frequent flyer miles,” Ember said. “You got husband and kids back in DC?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  Ember shrugged. “We haven’t talked in a while. You haven’t been my case agent for very long before that. So, no, I don’t really know. Why are you here, Agent Yang?”

  “You still haven’t checked in.”

  Ember hovered by the door. “Yeah. I don’t intend to, either. So, if that’s the only piece of information you need to convey, you can see yourself out. I have a ton of stuff to do today. Telling you what you want to hear is not on my checklist.”

  “You’re not making my job very easy.”

  "It's nothing personal. I mean, I say that, but I don't appreciate you showing up at home. This is twice now. If any of the people I work with see you anywhere near me, you know that probably means a bullet in my head, right? Don't you have protocols for this sort of thing? Actu
ally, you do. We used to follow them."

  “You broke the protocol, not me. What am I supposed to do when you cut off all contact?”

  Ember crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re supposed to leave me alone to do my job. Showing up here with no warning and no cover is not making things easy for me.”

  “We’re past that now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Isabel took a breath and told herself to stay calm and keep her tone civil. This was too important. Too much riding on the outcome. She kept thinking of Marcus, hovering over her shoulder, telling her to take charge and steer the conversation. What had he said a few days ago? To eat shit and poop results.

  “You’re going to wrap up your investigation and come back to Washington. Immediately. That is not a request, it’s an order from the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation. Your employer.”

  “I don’t think so. Is this what Marcus is telling you to do?”

  “I am your handler, and this is what I’m telling you to do. Also, Marcus Lonsdale is your boss, too, Agent Campbell.”

  “Ember. My name is Ember Clarke. Call me Allison Campbell again and see what happens.”

  Isabel threw up her hands. “Can you hear yourself speaking? You’re one of them now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And, whatever you and Marcus have cooked up as your bullshit reason to pull me from my assignment, I’m not interested. There’s more to do here, and if you pull me, then it all goes to shit. Do you want to waste three years of deep undercover work? Marcus is okay with that?”

  Isabel chewed on her lower lip for a second. Only a few days ago, she had found a redacted file in Marcus’ desk drawer. That document was a disciplinary report listing both Marcus Lonsdale and Allison Campbell as participants in a serious infraction. What that infraction entailed, Isabel had no idea.

  She wanted to ask what had happened. But now wasn't the right time. She needed better intel to use as leverage, so Ember wouldn't clam up and give her nothing.

  An idea popped up. Isabel knew who she could ask. But, doing so could cause problems for her, if it got out. Was she at that point of desperation already?

  It didn’t matter in the here and now. Isabel shook the idea from her mind and focused on the woman scowling at her across the living room.

  “Here’s what I think,” Isabel said, trying to look confident. “I think you want me to believe you’re carrying on your undercover investigation of the Denver Assassins Club, but it’s a smokescreen. I think you’ve made friends with these people. You’re stuck between two worlds, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. And I think you don’t want the investigation to unravel because you now have a personal stake in whatever it is these people are doing out here. As a result, you’ll stall me for as long as possible.”

  “I’m brainwashed, huh?”

  Isabel held her tongue and kept her eyes on Ember. She said nothing.

  After a few seconds, Ember tilted her head toward the door. “Stop looking at me and start looking at Marcus.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s all I’m going to say about it, so you can see yourself out now. I have to meet some people, and you’re not invited.”

  “Ember—”

  “We’re done here. Have a lovely day, Isabel.”

  Ember pulled the door open and waved out into the walkway.

  Isabel stood. “I’ll be in town for another day or two. You have my number.”

  Ember pressed her lips together but said nothing as she waved toward the open door, out into the cold and gray morning.

  Chapter Twelve

  EMBER

  The assassin led a convoy into the twisting neighborhood streets of Lafayette, a few miles north of the Night Owl bar. Outside of the central city of Denver, the surrounding suburbs bled into one another. Without the line of mountains to the west, the sprawl might extend forever.

  She checked the text message from Gabe one more time to verify the address. He’d finally made a breakthrough this morning and narrowed down the address where Quinn had called from. His algorithm made an analysis of environmental cues to pinpoint a location within five meters. Ember had no idea how any of that worked, but Gabe did, and that was good enough for her.

  She spotted the house at the edge of a cul de sac. Two stories, blue siding, brick near the bottom. There were shutters over all the windows and the house didn't look occupied. The neighbors on either side had small yards.

  The proximity of the other houses made approaching an issue, but it couldn't be helped. Quinn was trying to hide in plain sight. It was an unusual choice, but a smart one. Not many would suspect a homicidal maniac with potentially multiple hostages was living next door. That circle of ignorance helped provide a certain kind of armor and would create good fodder for the local news reports later. He was quiet and kept to himself, the flustered neighbors would say to the camera. We had no idea he was a monster!

  She drove past and held up a hand to signal the two cars behind her. Ten houses down, she parked, and the others pulled in close behind. Everyone killed their engines and kept their heads down, sunglasses on, still and attentive.

  Ember waited for a full minute with the house in her rearview. The shutters didn't move, and she didn't see anyone fleeing out the back or the side door. If Quinn had surveillance cameras monitoring the street, the caravan of unmarked cars should have alerted him. Ember had anticipated this and made a direct approach anyway. Part of her wanted to see what he would do when cornered.

  But there was a good chance he wasn’t home now. Ember would have preferred to smash in his back door, find him eating his breakfast, and put a bullet in him. But, she would settle for clues leading to his present whereabouts, if that was the best she could get.

  When she exited the car, the two cars behind her opened. Six members of the Boulder Branch of the DAC would act as her strike team today. Three men and three women, all of them stone-cold killers and complete professionals. Her handpicked team was as good as she’d ever seen.

  She waved them forward. They came in pairs, checking every angle of the street before giving their attention to Ember. She waved them in for the final briefing.

  “Here’s how this goes,” she said once they had huddled around her. “I will lead two of you to the back door. Two take up position by the side then two more to the front, but only after we’re all in position.”

  Heads around the group nodded. None of them asked any questions, which didn’t surprise her. These assassins were clever enough to think on their feet.

  “Not much we can do about being seen on our approach. Can’t worry about that. It’s possible he has one or more hostages in there, so when we breach, we need to push through the house fast. Everyone remember your assignments, and watch your crossfire.”

  A chorus of muted confirmations went around the group, then Bryan Eppstein, a lanky Boulder member since long before Ember's time, took off his sunglasses. "What do we do if we see Quinn? What're our rules of engagement?"

  Ember shrugged. “If he has a weapon anywhere on him or within reach, kill him. You good with that?”

  “Absolutely. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted the privilege.”

  “Oh, I do,” she said, “but I’m not going to be picky. I’m not sure if the Club laws would frown on someone other than me taking him out. But, since he killed a civilian already this week, I’m not convinced it matters. I would go to President Wellner with that information if I thought he could act in time, but I’m pretty sure Quinn wouldn’t care about a summons to the Review Board.”

  “It’s on us,” Bryan said. “Works for me.”

  “Be safe, be smart, and ready for anything. Take him alive, if you can.”

  Ember picked two to accompany her to the back of the house. With as much stealth as such a large party could manage, they began their march toward the house. All seven of the assassins jogged along the sidewalk until they split up.

  Emb
er and her team of two crossed through the side yard of the house next door, and they all pulled masks down over their faces.

  Seven people strolling along the sidewalk in such a defined, purposeful way was strange, but seven people approaching a specific house, all wearing masks, was noticeable, if not downright terrifying. If there were a crime scene that would later be discovered inside this house, the neighbors would all talk to the police and recall a loitering group. It couldn't be helped, however. The best plan of action was to make it quick and clean, leave no mess behind, and rely on the unreliability of witness accounts.

  Ember hopped the fence and skulked through the back yard, pistols up. The ample yard boasted a six-foot privacy fence, but there wasn’t anything interesting hidden back here. Browning grass with white spots in the shade leftover from the most recent snowfall. No shed, no bomb shelter entrance, nothing else to catch Ember’s eye.

  A brick oven on the back porch seemed large enough to shield her frame, so she hid behind it. Her two teammates took shelter behind patio chairs on the brick back porch. Hiding probably didn't matter because Ember could see into the kitchen window, which was devoid of lights and revealed no hint of motion.

  She tapped her headset to talk. “In position. Requesting status update, please.”

  The front team and side team responded they were in position as well, so Ember waved to the back yard team to move up. “There’s a kitchen leading from the back entrance, but it looks quiet. Breaching in five seconds. Eyes open, everyone.”

  She drew a short ball-peen hammer from her back pocket and stood in front of the sliding glass door. Just to be sure, she checked to make sure it was locked before going to the trouble of breaking the glass. It didn't budge.

  “Here we go,” she said.

  Three. Two. One.

  She smashed the glass, using her other arm to cover her face. Shards bounced off her forearms and her chest, crashing to the floor.

  “Go!” she shouted as she dropped the hammer and raised her Enforcers. She raced into the kitchen, finding grimy tiles underfoot and nothing but sunlight filtering in through the windows. The refrigerator hummed, but there was no sound and no activity in this room or the adjoining laundry room to the left.