by Dwayne Gill
“We already have two bodies lying in a hotel,” said Amos. “If this man is who you think he is, he’d kill whoever we sent at him, we’d have more bodies to explain, and he’d surely know we were after him.”
“I just don’t like—”
“Mick, relax,” said Amos. “There’ll be a constant tail on him. I’ll alternate guys every few blocks if I need to so he doesn’t get suspicious. Maybe he’ll lead us to our guy… perhaps he’ll lead us to Marcene. And if he doesn’t, we’ll find a clean way of getting rid of him.”
Mick sighed, but Amos knew he was fine now. “We need to find the guy that gave us this intel,” said Amos. “I’d like to have a chat with him.”
“Okay,” said Mick. “I’ll see what I can find. In the meantime, we should call Vinson and tell him what’s going on.”
Amos knew Vinson was busy with more important things, but he’d still want to know what happened. He relaxed into his seat and closed his eyes, still trying to calm his nerves. He’d disconnected the call with Mick without knowing, so he set his phone down for a few minutes before he called Vinson.
Now was not the time for complications; they had too much on the line for the assassin to become a problem.
Shadows
Saturday, 9/9/2028, 12:25 a.m.
Brookline, Massachusetts
The location was only twenty minutes from the hotel, at an abandoned and suspicious-looking warehouse.
“I don’t like this,” said Lynks. The place screamed ambush.
“Drop me off in front, and you two keep a safe distance,” said Cane. He grimaced as he lifted himself off the seat. The burn on his back hurt like hell. Lynks noticed the wound; his shirt had a large hole exposing it.
Cane armed himself with a flashlight and a working Egun and approached the front door as Lynks drove away. He approached cautiously, and upon reaching the door, listened for any movement inside. Satisfied, he turned the door handle, and it opened easily. He cringed as the hinges squeaked, but the inside was pitch black.
The room wouldn’t have been ideal for ambushing anyone. It was one open, mostly empty room. There was no safe place to hide, not even a loft above. The perimeter of the room was bare; however, a small wooden table sat in the center. It had a device lying on top, and as he approached, noticed it was another cassette player, similar to the one he’d found taped to his car. He grabbed it, made his way back to the front door, and exited the warehouse.
Lynks wasn’t expecting him back so soon, so it took a minute to reach him. He drove up beside him, but instead of getting in, Cane said, “Wait here.”
◆◆◆
A man named Darryl sat in his vehicle a few blocks from the van he’d been tailing. Amos had advised him to follow until told otherwise, so that’s what he was doing. He knew Cane was dangerous and a coveted target of Amos’s, so he didn’t want to mess up. It was difficult tailing him through this remote area, for he feared Cane would notice him. He hung back as far as he could on the way and parked several blocks away to avoid detection.
He watched Cane enter and exit the building, texting Amos each time to keep him updated. When the van pulled back up to get Cane, it looked like he waved it off and instead disappeared behind the warehouse. He again updated Amos, but his instructions didn’t change. He was to wait patiently.
Darryl looked down at his right forearm, at the cluster of Xs that gave him purpose. He had few memories of the life he had lived before meeting Amos, and he seemed to remember less every day. He once lived in Austin, Texas with a wife and three kids, but he couldn’t remember their names anymore, or what he did for a living. It was a common profession, but today he couldn’t place it. It was a strange thing, having memories that seemed just out of reach, like the fleeting memory of a dream. Sometimes he wished he could remember, not because he missed his past life or wanted it back, but so he could appreciate who he was now in comparison.
Darryl had a purpose. He felt fresh and rejuvenated; it was like he woke up from a long coma and was just now realizing what he missed. Although he’d only met Amos a few months ago, he felt like he’d been this version of himself much longer; it was a hard concept to grasp.
Darryl’s driver’s-side window shattered, interrupting his thoughts, and he felt a stabbing pain in his neck. He glanced to his left and saw the man he was supposed to be tailing, Cane. He reached up to touch his neck and felt the tranquilizer dart sticking out. Cane was smirking at him. Darryl tried to talk, but his words slurred and sputtered, and he drifted away.
◆◆◆
Lynks and Natalie were waiting in the van when they saw Cane dragging a man by his hair across the street and back to the warehouse. “What the hell…” Lynks said.
“Who is that?” asked Natalie.
“Someone who’s in a lot of trouble,” said Lynks.
After disappearing inside for a few minutes, Cane emerged, and Lynks pulled the van up to the entrance to meet him.
“I’m waiting for the tranquilizer to wear off,” said Cane.
“Where’d you get him?” asked Lynks.
“He’s been following us since we left the hotel,” said Cane.
“I see,” said Lynks. “We’ll wait in the van for you, I guess.”
◆◆◆
Cane grabbed a few things from the van before going back inside. He set up a lantern in the middle of the warehouse next to the table so he’d have plenty of light. Then he dragged the man to the center, seated him on the floor in front of the table, and secured his arms to the legs. He was one of the marked men; Cane checked for the tattoo before dragging him to the warehouse.
Twenty minutes later, Cane grew tired of waiting and woke him with smelling salts. The man was groggy and took a moment to come to. He squinted at Cane and smiled.
“Cane,” he said. “I guess I didn’t do a great job tailing you.”
Cane said nothing, just watched as the man continued to gather his wits. He’d interrogated many others in his past, but something already seemed different about this guy. He seemed calmer than most; maybe it was the drugs, but he sensed something more profound.
“Who are you?” asked Cane.
The man smiled, still blinking and trying to focus. “I’ll bet you have a lot of questions. You won’t get any answers.”
Cane grabbed a drill from his bag, like the one he used at the hotel, except this one was equipped with a carbide-tip drill bit. The man was laughing confidently, almost as if a toy was being aimed at him. Cane bent down and drilled into his kneecap. The drill threw bits of blood and bone, the bit wobbled and protested, and the man gritted his teeth and grunted until Cane stopped.
Cane let him be, hoping the man would understand the seriousness of the situation. Instead, he laughed again.
“I already know what you’re capable of,” he said. “You don’t have to intimidate me. I know I’m a dead man. It’s only a question of how much pain I want to endure on the way out.” He was out of breath, dripping with sweat, but his eyes were steady and determined. “I could be wrong about myself. Maybe enough pain would convince me to talk. But that would take a while to accomplish, and we both know you don’t have the time to torture me all night.”
He was right, and Cane knew it. It was also clear that unlike other men Cane had interrogated, this one knew a lot about the process and wouldn’t succumb easily. If not for the situation, the man’s fortitude would’ve impressed him.
“My name’s Darryl, though. Only fair you know what to call me.” He laughed again, but it was forced.
“What do you want with the girl?” asked Cane.
“You don’t know, do you?” said Darryl. Cane didn’t know what he meant.
“Where’d you get that mark?” asked Cane.
“Where’d you get yours?” asked Darryl.
Cane looked down at his right forearm, but he was wearing sleeves. He had a marking, but it wasn’t similar to Darryl’s. His was three half-moons. Darryl shouldn’t have that information.
“I told you I know who you are,” said Darryl. He grimaced as he struggled to sit up straighter. “We aren’t as different as you may think.” He lowered his head and smiled. “The difference between us is that I know my purpose. You’re still trying to find yours.”
Cane didn’t know what he was talking about, but it was odd that he spoke of purpose. It was something Cane had thought a lot about over the years since the end of Red Delta.
“You’ve been flailing around your whole life, just doing whatever people told you to do. I’ve found my true calling,” said Darryl.
Cane drilled the other knee, tired of hearing him rattle on. Darryl laughed again, but there was pain mixed in with it. I could break him if I had more time, thought Cane.
“Purpose,” said Cane. “Didn’t you have a family? You walked out on them. You abandoned your life.” Cane assumed this one was like the others. He looked for a reaction but saw nothing in Darryl’s eyes.
“That life is a distant memory,” said Darryl. “It wasn’t living, anyway. It was following orders, not given by a person, but marching orders given by society, telling me how things should be. Go to work. Pay the bills. Take care of my wife and family. I was a robot. Now I’m free. I’m a different person.”
In Lynks’s research on the marked men, this was their standard response. It sounded like they adopted scripted philosophical nonsense and lived by it, but Cane didn’t buy it. It sounded… rehearsed.
“So what’s your purpose now?” asked Cane.
Darryl laughed again, and Cane had the urge to drill him.
“Everyone will know my purpose soon enough,” said Darryl.
“Who do you answer to?” asked Cane. He knew he was pushing his luck, but since the guy was so talkative, It was worth a shot.
Darryl didn’t take the bait. “It wouldn’t help if you knew his name,” he said.
Cane grabbed Darryl’s cell phone off the table and switched it to handheld mode. “What if I redial the last number you called?”
Darryl’s face changed before he gathered himself. He didn’t want Cane to use the phone.
Cane hit redial. The phone dialed, and after a few rings, someone picked up and sat silently on the line. Cane pulled out his pistol and shot Darryl in the head, killing him.
There were a few moments of silence.
“I’m guessing this isn’t Darryl,” said a voice on the phone.
“Afraid not,” said Cane.
“You must be Cane. Did you shoot Darryl?”
Cane didn’t answer.
“Well, now, there’s no need for the display of machismo. I already know what you’re capable of.”
Cane noticed the similar terminology this man and Darryl used.
“Is this Amos?” asked Cane. It was the only authoritative name he knew related to the situation. There was silence, which led him to think he’d hit a nerve.
“You’ve talked to Marcene, haven’t you?” said the voice. Cane didn’t know the name. He considered playing along but couldn’t see how it would benefit.
The voice laughed. “Poor Cane. You still know nothing, do you? Well, we know plenty about you. You almost got too close once. Years ago. It’s too bad we couldn’t have met back then. But let me assure you…you don’t understand what you’re up against. Just walk away. You’re not in too deep yet.”
Now Cane laughed. “You must not know me as well as you think.”
“Look,” said Amos. “You may know my name, but it’s clear you know little else. Know this: my purpose, my calling, I’ve had my entire life to prepare for. You’re showing up late to the party, Cane. Whatever you think you know, or what you want to know, you’re too late, anyway.”
“You and Darryl talk in riddles,” said Cane. “I’m more of a literalist. So I’ll tell you my purpose. I’m coming for you.”
Amos gave another forced laugh. “My dear friend, not if I find you first.”
The line disconnected. Cane gathered his stuff, including Darryl’s phone, and exited the warehouse. He wondered for a moment if he should stick around; Amos might want to send a cleanup crew.
Lynks had a better idea. “Let’s call it in. At least someone will see the body inside with the marks on it.”
“What marks?” asked Natalie.
Lynks looked at Cane, but he revealed nothing. They were both unsure of what to tell Natalie, but they’d all be hearing the next tape soon and she’d be full of questions.
“You heard about the men with the markings on their arms, right?” said Lynks. Natalie took a second and nodded. “Well, the two men at the hotel had those marks on their arm.”
Natalie looked frightened at this revelation. “What would they want with me?” she asked.
“That’s what we want to know, too,” said Lynks. He looked at Cane again, like he was waiting for approval, so Cane gave him a nod, and Lynks continued. “We told you someone sent us to help you at the hotel. Actually, we received a recording from someone.” Lynks held up the second cassette player. “And we found another one.”
“So who are you then?” asked Natalie, looking more confused than ever. “You get a random message that tells you I’m about to be killed and you come rescue me? Who does that?”
Natalie had every right to ask, Cane knew, and he appreciated how confusing this must be for her. “The less you know about us, the better,” said Cane.
Natalie didn’t seem to like his response, but she didn’t respond.
“I know you’ve had a rough night, and I’m sorry,” said Lynks. “I’m also sorry that we don’t have more answers for you at the moment. But I think this tape may tell us something.”
“Well, play it,” she said.
“I didn’t want it to alarm you. I don’t know what it will say,” said Lynks.
Natalie smiled. She looked exhausted. Lynks picked up the cassette player, placed it on the armrest between the front seats of the van, and clicked “play.” The same woman’s voice as before played.
Hello, Cane, Lynks, and Natalie. If you’re hearing this, that means you rescued Natalie and made it to the warehouse. This was a huge step.
I will now leave you a series of instructions that are even more important. First, I trust that you were able to gather some DNA from the assassin at the hotel, Cane. Now we will put it to use.
Natalie is a biology major, and she was in Boston to attend a lecture by MIT professor James Duncan. He specializes in the study of genetic engineering. Take the sample to Dr. Duncan and let him run tests; you can trust him, and he knows you’re coming. You need to see for yourself that these men are who I say they are, and Dr. Duncan will confirm this.
Second, there’s a man that can help you. In fact, you need his help in a big way. His name is Daniel Verriday. While you can’t go see Daniel, I’m putting you in contact with a good friend of his named Calvin Wilson. He’s staying at a house right outside Chicago. I know how resourceful Lynks is, but Calvin’s location is hidden well enough that even he wouldn’t be able to find it. I’ve enclosed it, underneath this cassette tape. Destroy the address once you’ve recorded it to memory.
I hope by now you trust me. I was right about the assassination attempt. I promise you I’m right about this too. These marked men are genetically enhanced and are being used by more powerful men. The ones with markings you’ve seen are just the tip of the iceberg. There are seven powerful men out there. The first ones to have the marks, and they’ve been working with the Russians for years. They’re up to something sinister, I don’t know what. I’m hoping you can find out.
You can’t do this alone, Cane. Trust me, you’ll want Daniel’s help. In fact, he knows more about these marked men than I do.
Last, I want you to protect Natalie. She’s in danger. Some people will continue looking for her, and we need her safe. Tell her not to worry about her parents; I’ve sent word to them, and they’re fine. The men after her don’t care about her family.
I know you have many questions. I promise
you that all the answers lie ahead of you.
I’ll be in touch soon.
Lynks was already using his cell to research while Cane checked inside the cassette player for the address. It was on a small cube of paper in small writing. He handed it to Lynks. “I think her name is Marcene,” said Cane.
“The lady on the tape?” asked Lynks. Cane nodded. “That’s not enough information for me to do anything with.”
“Do you recognize the voice?” Cane asked Natalie.
She frowned and shook her head. “Never heard it in my life.”
“I found information,” said Lynks. Cane and Natalie looked over at him. “I mapped Calvin Wilson’s location. It’s outside Chicago.” Lynks continued typing. “Okay, then we have the professor James Duncan. Natalie, have you met him?”
“Nope,” she said. “I was hoping to meet him at the lecture.”
“We need to meet him before the lecture,” said Cane.
“I agree,” said Lynks. “We need to meet him so we can move on to Chicago.” He reached behind the driver’s seat, grabbed his laptop, and unfolded it on his lap. He’d apparently needed the additional computing ability for something. “And then there’s Daniel Verriday. Does that name ring any bells?” he asked Cane.
“No,” said Cane.
“Well, he’s the guy that killed the other marked men years back,” said Lynks.
Cane remembered now. Daniel had killed two in a bar fight, if he recalled correctly. It was all over the news.
“Here’s the good news: I know where to find him,” said Lynks.
“What’s the bad news?” asked Natalie.
“He’s in a super-max prison,” said Lynks.
“Well, there goes that,” said Natalie, although she had no idea what Cane was capable of.
“Daniel won’t be hard to spot,” said Lynks. He projected an image onto his laptop screen of a huge man, over seven feet tall, easily weighing over three hundred pounds.
Natalie leaned over and looked. “Who’s that?” she asked.
“That,” said Lynks, “is Daniel Verriday.”
