Deadly Paths

by Jack Parker

  It was a good try. Thank you. Truly. Now don't worry about it anymore. You'll still be in the game after this. I promise. Have fun.

  The vote to execute Mako failed—twelve to two. Jake braced himself to be charged with treason and tried to think of his defense speech, but the return charge did not come from Mako. When the Avatar asked if there were any further charges, there was an uncomfortable silence, followed by a few mummers of astonishment and some obvious texting. What the hell? Jake thought. Why doesn't he finish me off?

  "If there are no further charges," began the Avatar. "Then we will move on to—"

  Tora made the charge, seconded without hesitation by Rain.

  Tora and Rain each proceeded to accuse Jake of lying about Mako to cover the fact that he was a MANTA agent. The Avatar agreed they had a case and approved a trial. Meanwhile, Jake knew that Mako was getting exactly what he wanted without having to make a single accusation himself. He felt his jaw drop in a sudden wave of awe and respect for the Russian. The man had them all dancing for him like a bunch of god damn marionettes. What a dangerous guy. A text from Victoria snapped his jaw shut.

  Don't say a damn thing in defense, love. You won't be gone this time, but you need to let the blame fall on me now like they plan or you'll just be gone next mission, and it won't even be cheating.

  Jake didn't want to give up the fight. But what he could he do except trust her? If he wasn't going to be executed, then her strategy was absolutely correct. But that didn't mean he had to give up on his quest to keep her on the show as well. He still might be able to pull off an upset in the burn notice round if he talked to the right people. The Avatar's sweet sing song voice made his head snap up.

  "Am I to assume you're silence means you have nothing to say in your defense, Agent Jake?"

  Jake nodded. "That's . . .That's correct Avatar. I have no words in defense."

  "Then, Agents please enter your judgments."

  Jake watched with white knuckles on his console as the votes to have him killed off started to ring in his ears in a video game noise not unlike Mario collecting a coin. Four, five, six people calling for his head. Two then three wanted him alive, but the death notes climbed to seven and then eight. He held his breath. Four, five, and six voted to keep him alive. He was safe—barely. It would have taken ten votes to get the two thirds majority with fourteen people in the game. He exhaled slowly.

  There were no more calls for execution. Either everyone was sick of trials, or nobody felt that had anything convincing enough to warrant a trial of any of the members of the third round. It burned Jake up to think that some lucky MANTA agent was getting off scot-free. Diamond was allowed to vote from her spotlight and receive texts, but she could not receive them, speak, or make any accusations to the Avatar. The debriefing was almost done. It would all come down to one more vote.

  "If there are no further charges," said the Avatar. "Then we will move on to the burn notice voting round. Since an Agent was killed in action, and no traitors were convicted, the Agency has determined we need only remove one more agent. If you are selected the Agency thanks you in advance for your meritorious service and you will be out briefed accordingly on how to adjust to your new life in retirement. You will now have ten minutes to text and strategize."

  Jake mimicked the speech word for word, having heard it for what seemed like hundreds of times. How could the audience not get tired of such a bland, if not sexy, host of a show? Jake thought it might be better if they brought in a celebrity guest host each week, but sometimes shows just did not evolve like they needed to. He considered who to plead his case to. The MANTA agents were no good. Rain and Tora were out, their alliance and their grudge were obvious to everyone now. Rowdy and Robin were on the chopping block and would never back Victoria. That did not leave many options for last minute allies. Even if Jake could recruit all four of the neutral voters, Ming, Blade, Butch, and Diamond, he doubted they would make much of a difference. Nevertheless he began by texting all four of them and Victoria the same message.

  If you believe I am MANTA, believe this. So is Robin. Vote him off. If you will listen to Nova about why I am not MANTA, and trust her, vote for the guy who played the worst game. Vote for Rowdy.

  This immediately prompted a response from Victoria and Victoria alone.

  What are you doing? What do you expect me to tell them?

  Make something up, Super-Nova. You didn't get a word in at the trials. Tell them you want to set the record straight. Make them feel so unsure about everyone they just want to get rid of a guy the normal way.

  It's over Jake. Accept it. Stop this nonsense.

  Jake rubbed his eyes. Damn it was he crying? He couldn't do this without her. Why was she so dead set on letting them win? They couldn't win. Why wouldn't she fight to the end?

  Fuck that, Nova. If you're going to go down, go down swinging! If we can get even one MANTA agent to betray the others and rally to vote Rowdy, we both get through this.

  You don't know what you're dealing with, Jake. End of Discussion.

  She wouldn't answer him anymore after that. Jake wondered what the future audience would make of Victoria's final pessimistic comment, but it would probably be nowhere near the truth. He must have wasted at least six frustrated texts on her before he went after Robin, trying to turn the man by reasoning that the other MANTA agents were sure to turn on him first the instant they established power. But Victoria was right. For all his texting, not one person answered him. He wanted to break something, cause rock star quality property damage, but all he could do was clench his fists as the ten minute clock wound down to zero.

  "Discussion time is up," announced the Avatar. "All agents will now vote to give one agent with unsatisfactory performance scores a burn notice. Once your vote is in it cannot be changed. After that, the debriefing will be complete and those agents still employed will report to quarters until the next mission briefing. Thank you and have a nice day!"

  The votes started to ring in. One for Nova. Two for Jake. One for Rowdy. Four for Nova. Four for Jake. Why was he getting so many votes? Victoria's attitude did not suggest much of a race, but Jake had to presume the CIA did not want anything to look out of place. After all, there had to be a few people still mad that he wasn't executed.

  Three votes for Rowdy. Jake dared to hope. Hope erased by five votes for Nova. A fifth Vote for Jake. The ringing stopped. The Avatar did not come on and make her famous dismissal of anyone. Why isn't she dismissing anyone?

  Jake looked at his hands. They were trembling. I haven't voted. I need to vote. I have to vote Victoria off. I'm the last one. No. I don't want to. I can vote for Rowdy. It won't matter. A tie means they boot the agent with the lower score. I'm above her. Either way I'm voting for her. Why me? I Don't want to vote for her . . .

  Jake closed his eyes, took a deep, steady breath, and then opened them. With a quavering finger he made his decision, and voted for himself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "He can't do that!" Steve exclaimed. "Can he do that?"

  Grace wasn't sure, because she had never seen it before, but Steve appeared to be whining.

  "I'm afraid he can," Grace said, folding her arms across her chest as she looked down into the set known as "the blue room".

  "But - but why?" Steve stammered. "Has anyone ever done this before?"

  Grace turned away from the one way glass she was looking through and raised an eyebrow at Steve.

  "What's wrong, Steve?" she teased. "Were you betting on the guy or something?"

  This drew a chuckle from the four technicians in the room. It only took a small crew to run the show from a closed set like the blue room, and the fewer people that actually knew the order in which contestants were voted off the better. The producer had to be on hand to make sure the voting was fair and did not remove too many players, but to Grace this was always the easiest part of the show. I'll just have to accept that this particular season is never going to be easy.

 
"No Grace, this isn't funny. Don't you see what this means?"

  "Steve," Grace warned. "You're supposed to be the calm one."

  "Sorry," Steve said as he found a rolling chair and made a show of relaxing into it. He was not very convincing, however, as his right leg was bouncing like it had its own motor.

  Her executive producer glanced sidelong at the technicians, who were pretending not to be interested in the conversation by going about their duties shutting down all the equipment. Grace shooed them away.

  "Ok boys, wrap it up. You're done. We'll shut down the rest."

  Only one of the technicians, the Avatar controller, even hesitated. He turned to look back when he reached the door, and it took a small nod and flippant wave to get him to leave.

  "Alright, why does my executive producer have his panties in a bunch?" she asked as the door clicked closed. "Did it finally sink in thar we were just recently visited by two detectives investigating a homicide suddenly sink in?"

  "You're not far off, actually." Steve replied. "Jake, or whatever his name is—"

  "I think it's—"

  "He'll be sent straight home, right?"

  Grace yawned and nodded, poorly covering her mouth with the edge of a fist.

  "Sorry. Yes. First flight in the morning. Why?"

  Steve stood and smoothed a trembling hand through his hair.

  "Because if he really did have something to do with that dead bride then he'll be skipping town, and we could be brought up on charges for obstruction!"

  Grace blinked. She had to cough out the marble sized ball of angry air lodged in her throat before she could growl at the man.

  "Oh now you're worried about that? What happened to pretending we didn't know anything until after we knew more about what Jake and Nova were up to last night?"

  "How was I supposed to know they'd both go from the top of the rankings to one of them being voted off!"

  With her throat clear again Grace began to yell, jabbing a finger at the center of the ignorant man's lavender tie.

  "Have you even seen this show, dumbass? That happens all the time!"

  Steve stepped up closer to her. He was doing that puffy chest macho thing that guys sometimes did when they wanted to assert themselves. He was about to get kneed in the groin if he didn't watch it.

  "Oh, so now it's my fault you, the one with the experience just took my advice and didn't weigh the risks?"

  Grace met his stupid macho gaze with a fierce one of her own.

  "No," Grace snapped. "It's your fault you think you can waltz onto this production team and act all fucking charming and everybody will just do whatever the fuck you want!"

  She had a hold of his tie now. She was sure she was going to strangle him with it if he said one more dumbass thing. Her blood felt like it was boiling. Somewhere in her left temple a blood vessel thrummed. How could she be so stupid? The prick was obviously after her job.

  "Charming?" Steve scoffed the word. "Why don't you yell a little louder, Grace? Who knows what rumors you'll start through these paper thin cheap ass set walls?"

  "That's Director Goodson to you dumbass!"

  "Oh! Well, excuuse me, your highness! Let's all bow down and worship her big fat a-mmmmph!"

  She tugged sharply on his tie and tilted forward on her toes, causing a collision of lips more than a kiss. He tasted of coffee and sugar glaze. Ugh, he tastes like cop.

  Grace never wanted to be reminded of the time age dated a cop. The guy thought he owned her. Fortunately, Steve was a good kisser, and one kiss became a duel. She found herself with each hand pinned beside her head against the tinted one way window.

  At a brief pause in the duel she saw that his gaze had gone from hard and calculating to soft and hungry. He went for another kiss. She turned her head to the side and pushed against his grip with her wrists. He muzzled his lips under her jawline with a small growl. A shudder down her spine made her giggle as she fought for control over herself. Somehow, she managed a sentence that sounded irritated.

  "My big fat what?"

  He stopped, looked at her for a brief moment with something resembling panic. Then he grinned.

  "Haven't you heard Director Goodson? Fat asses are super hot."

  "And I have a fat ass?"

  Steve cleared his throat and took a small step back, looking around.

  "We're sure these cameras are off? You're not trying to get me on sexual harassment charges are you?"

  She advanced on him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she licked her lips.

  "Are you trying to get me arrested on charges of obstruction?"

  Steve shook his head.

  She gave him a wicked smile.

  "Then you're about to be sexually harassed, Mister."

  She felt Steve move to the side and glance at her backside. A hand slid under her skirt and groped her left cheek. She let out a high pitched whooo, in delighted surprise.

  "Have I ever told you ya got a nice fat sexy ass?" he said.

  She laughed. "Lock the door loverboy. I still have some things to teach you."

  "Really? Here?" This he asked as he was already on his way over to the door.

  "What, you'd rather go back over to that rented out dump we call a headquarters?"

  Steve twisted the door lock.

  "We could just head into the Grande Chapel. Better than essentially the parking lot."

  She slid off her suit coat, lay it over a chair, and started to unbutton her blouse from the top down as he walked back to her.

  "That's for later. Aren't you forgetting we still need to meet with Jake and Nova?"

  "Oh yeah," Steve said as he reached for her, hands sliding up the back of her blouse to search for the hook to her bra. "Drat."

  The kissing duel started again, this time at a slower pace. She leaned back as his lips worked their way across her collar bone and pulled a few of the pins holding her hair up so she could shake out her auburn mane. Steve was still trying to talk. Silly boy.

  "But. . . Mmmmm . . . Director. . . Oh you're a biter! But we should. . . unnn. . . we should interview them separately. You know? Oh damn easy woman! Ahhh...that way we make sure their stories match."

  Grace left his nipples alone for a moment and mused as she undid his belt.

  "How bout we each take one?" she asked, tugging at his zipper.

  "Good idea, Director," Steve said. "But I'm not leaving you alone with Jake. He's awful charming. Nova shouldn't be too stressful."

  "Mmmmm hmmm."

  Grace heard something about charming and something about stress, but a certain part of Steve had most of her attention. She shoved him back so thar he sat on one of the computer desks.

  "Call me Grace," she said as she rode his body to her knees like he was her own personal playground slide. Looking up at him with mouth parted she whispered. "And this is the best kind of stress relief."

  * * *

  Carlo Benedetto dropped two more ice cubes into his high ball drink and scowled as he swirled the amber liquid. He waited for the door to his Casino office to fully close, barring his two unwelcome guests from his sight before draining his glass.

  "What a mess," he muttered, setting his glass down on the desk. With a trembling hand he reached for the crystal brandy bottle and poured himself more of the amber liquid. He gave a short stilted laugh as crystal and glass clinked together and some of the precious alcohol spilled.

  "What a god-damned clusterfuck."

  Carlo wasn't usually one to drink at ten in the morning, but things just seemed to be getting worse and worse and he needed something to take the edge off. It was bad enough that Mila Jovonivich was dead, worse that Jessica somehow blamed him for it, but the fact that the Vegas gumshoe had figured out Mila was one of his casino's opening day weddings was just maddening. He had been able to appease the detectives with some basic information on Mila, her fiancé, and the plans for their wedding. Carlo had to say he had no idea who might want Mila dead because listing himself as a prime
motivation suspect would have been bad for business. The detectives were sure to be back and Carlo was going to have to start remembering what Mila's real last name was supposed to be, not to mention keep the cops away from an already pissed off Jessica. Unless. . .

  Carlo took a small sip of his drink this time and set it down before mashing the spacebar of his computer rapidly to get rid of the screen saver. Typing in his password, he opened his email account—an encrypted account reserved for his less scrupulous dealings.

  Several new emails in his inbox referred to his contingency plans currently in motion against Jessica and her so called sisters. Carlo did not have faith in anyone in his organization, not even some of the highly trained mercenaries in his employ, to simply eliminate the sisters. It would be stupid to try. Even if he were successful, the Black Fire Dragon would not take kindly to such a wasteful misuse of their resources.

  Carlo snorted at the thought and took another sip of brandy as he opened a new mail and in the subject line typed, "Change in divorce decree."

  It was obvious now that Carlo had been right to have this contingency plan against the Blackfire agents. He should have realized it the moment the bosses in China had offered their services. The women were much more than mere tools to gather information on how to get by some of the most high tech security systems in the world. They were there to make sure Carlo succeeded. Carlo somehow doubted they would hesitate to break their precious cover to eliminate him if he failed.

  He wasn't going to fail. He just wasn't going to do things their way anymore. The original plan of the deal was to transport the high-tech weaponry as props for the stupid Spy Games show. Since the props were part of the Spy Games story, that meant delivery of the weapons had to happen according to the schedule of the show. This was the plan the Black Fire Dragon wanted and subscribed to.

  Carlo laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles before starting to type. He was going to get the weapons to the China early. Ever since that cunt of a producer had refused to work with him on the schedule he had been sure of it. It was a much easier solution than killing a CIA spy who just refused to go away - and more profitable to his overall business in the long run. The Dragon would be annoyed with the risky change in plan, but happy enough to pay for their very powerful product. Carlo smiled.