by Jesse Jordan
I hear a soft whimpering coming from my right and I slow, my hand resting on the doorknob. It’s a woman’s voice, I’m not here for a woman. But I’m also not here to kill innocent people, and if Kershaw isn’t home, I’ve got enough plastic explosives in here to turn this penthouse into an outhouse. I open the door.
What I see steels my resolve to kill this man as I see the girl, she can’t be older than ten, bound and tied to the bed inside, wearing light pajamas at least but that’s it. He tied a gag around her mouth, and the whimpering sound is her attempts at trying to get the attention of someone. Hurrying over, I pull the knife on my hip and hold up my fingers, shushing her when she starts to yell louder. “Shh… my name’s Stephen. I’m here to help you.”
She quiets a little while I tug the gag free and start sawing at the nylon strap that’s around her right wrist. When she speaks, she’s got a Hispanic accent, although her English is clear enough. “Are you… are you from the police?”
“No sweetie, I’m not,” I whisper. “The man who did this to you, where is he?”
“He said he was going to take a siesta,” she whispers. “He said after that he’d…”
“I understand sweetie,” I whisper. “Do you have other clothes? It’s cold outside.”
The girl nods, pointing with her free hand to a closet in the corner. I cut the straps around her other wrist and then her ankles, and point. “Go get dressed warmly. I’ll take care of the man, then get you out of here.”
I leave the room, moving faster now. I find Samuel Kershaw in his bedroom, stirring sleepily as he wakes up from an afternoon nap, a squeak of fear coming from his throat when he sees me standing at the foot of his bed, murder in my eyes. Still, I gotta give it to him, he doesn’t freak out, but instead just acts like death at the foot of your bed is an everyday occurrence. “Well, took you long enough. After you hit Dover and then shot Harlow, I wondered if I was just being paranoid when you didn’t come after me for a few weeks.”
“Took time to get over here,” I whisper, trying to decide if I should shoot him or carve him up with my knife. A fast death is too kind for this monster, but at the same time the longer I’m here, the greater the chance I have of being discovered and stopped. “Who’s Runway?”
Kershaw raises an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, folding his hands over his generous potgut under the sheet. “Won’t you be surprised when you find out. I won’t ruin the excitement for you though.”
“I could make it painful for you,” I threaten, raising my knife. Kershaw shrugs, chuckling with the ice that he’s got for blood in his veins.
“I’m going to die either way, I can see that in your eyes. At least now I know that I’ll have that one thing to take to my grave that will comfort me when I’m in hell. And there’s no way you’ll take the risk of not getting Consuela out of here to take enough time to break me. So do what you came to do,” he says, leering. “Shoot an unarmed old man in his bed.”
He thinks that I’ll pause, that I’ll try and do things the right way, to arrest him or at least give him a chance. That may have been the man I was when I started this mission… “Okay.”
It’s not who I am now. I raise my pistol and fire, the subsonic rounds barely louder than champagne corks popping as I put seven rounds in his chest before putting the last three in his head, the final one coming around to press the tip of my barrel against his eyeball and making sure the small round is a killer. His head bounces off his pillow slightly from the force, and then it’s over. I turn and leave, stopping at the door to take one item out of my pocket, a thirty two gigabyte memory stick filled with information taken from the Dover hard drives. It’s barely a drop in the bucket, but maybe it’ll send the messages I want sent to the right people.
Back in Consuela’s room, I see her dressed, her skinny legs in dirty jeans, a patched jacket around her shoulders. “Ready?”
“Vamanos,” she says, and I lead her out, down the stairwell three flights before getting back on the service elevator and walking out. On the street, I pull my cell phone and send Larissa the clear code before I call Rodrigo, who picks up.
“Yeah?”
“It’s done. With a complication,” I say, leading Consuela towards the subway. She’s obedient, trusting me, and I hope it sticks for a while longer. “A little girl.”
“Bring her to the safe house, I’ll be there to take care of it. You okay?” he asks, and when I don’t answer, he reads my silence perfectly. “Gotcha. See you at the safe house.”
“So…” Larissa says sadly, looking at the bag over my shoulder. “Here we are again. Are you sure?”
I nod, reaching out and taking her hand. Rodrigo took Consuela away with a promise to see her taken care of right an hour ago, leaving just the two of us. Part of me wants what I can see in Larissa’s eyes, I want to stay and hold her, to take her to bed and comfort her. To give her what we know can’t happen.
“It’ll be easier if I take off quickly,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “If I stay tonight, it’ll be that much harder in the morning, and then that much harder tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.”
“Is that such a bad thing though?” Larissa asks, her voice unsure for the first time I’ve ever known her. “I mean, to want to stay with someone?”
“It isn’t,” I rasp, my throat closing with emotion. “But this group, they could threaten us still. Your parents, at least your father’s MI5, he can get some protection and he’s got training. But my sister Victoria, she’s a fashion consultant. She goes to Europe all the time, she goes all over the world. I have to make sure she understands at least, that she can try and keep herself safe.”
“And I have to go back to The Network,” Larissa whispers sadly. “If I’ve to have any chance to keep hurting these bastards, I have to go back to Kalamata. I can’t have Dover and The Network going after me. So will I…?”
I see the question in her eyes and it tears at my heart. I cup her cheek, looking into those beautiful violet eyes, smiling. “I hope so. You have shown me so much, I’d hate to think I’ll never have the chance to learn more.”
“Of course… sir,” Larissa whispers, choking out the last word. “Well then, not goodbye but see you later?”
She steps closer and I give her a hug and a quick kiss, not trusting myself to do more or else I’ll never leave. Instead I turn and walk, each step feeling like I’m walking through molasses as I get into the old Ford Taurus that Rodrigo is letting me use, only risking to look back after I’ve already got the engine running and I’m pulling away from the safe house to see Larissa wiping at her cheeks.
I try to do everything I can to think of anything but Larissa as I head down the Interstate towards Virginia, my eyes watering from the headlights of the semis going the other way in my face. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. When I stop for gas in Pennsylvania I chug two energy drinks before moving on, forcing myself into looking forward to seeing Victoria again. Since the hit, I’ve only been able to call her once, keeping it short in order to stay safe. Still, I’ve worried about her constantly, and I hope she’s doing well.
Her house is quiet, but the car’s out in front when I get home. Then again, it is only about six thirty in the morning, maybe she had a fashion event last night. I unlock the door using the spare key that we hid in the garden gnome and go inside, staying quiet. “Vic? Hey sis, you home?”
The gunshot shatters the morning quiet to hit me in my right arm, grooving my bicep and making me groan in pain, my left hand clamping on the wound as I see Victoria step out of the kitchen, a huge Sig-Sauer in her hands. “You. You ruined everything.”
“What?” I ask, the exhaustion of the past day, the driving, getting shot, and everything else making the world swim, my mind not focused. “Vic, it’s me.”
“No shit!” she says, squeezing the trigger on her gun again. I dodge just in time, she’s got too much gun for her body and she’s struggling to aim it, the big round slamming into the
wall just over my shoulder as I dive into the living room, looking for something to protect myself with. “It was supposed to be you the whole time!”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to keep her talking. I get behind the couch, looking for something but only finding a dropped paperback. Great. “Victoria, you’re in danger, what are you on?”
“Danger? I am the danger!” Victoria says with a maniacal laugh. “You were supposed to be my man, not hers!”
“I’m your brother, not your lover!” I yell, popping up and throwing the paperback, but my arm screams as I try and my throw isn’t good for much more than distracting her as I dart through the door into the kitchen. An insane thought goes through my head, I’m playing hide and seek with Victoria just like we did when we were kids, only this time the stakes are a lot higher. “I was on a mission!”
“No shit, Kershaw called me the night before you killed him, we talked about it! He wanted to know if you were going to come after him!” Victoria yells, firing blindly through the wall into the kitchen. I quickly grab a frying pan and the big chef’s knife, it ain’t much but it’s better than nothing. And what she just said…
“You’re in The Circle?” I ask, and suddenly it makes sense. Runway. It wasn’t a nickname for a transporter because of liking airplanes but… “You’re the recruiter, aren’t you… Runway?”
“Good name for a former fashion model,” Victoria says, and I dart out of the kitchen, looking for her. “And the job put me in touch with just the right people. The Hendricks cunt, she was so easy to convince to come with me, to go meet some high fashion types… and you had to ruin it all. All of it!”
“How could you… we’re siblings!” I scream, anger and rage and horror flooding me. “You led her to her death?”
“We’re not siblings!” Victoria yells, firing again as I back up the hallway. There’s only the bedrooms back here, no way out. “You’re the only fucking miracle baby!”
“What?” I ask, stunned. “But Vic, you… you’re my sister.”
“Adopted,” Victoria says, laughing madly. I flatten myself against the wall in the bedroom, knowing I’m running out of options. “They couldn’t get it done, so they went baby shopping, found me. Took a few years, but it wasn’t until after the papers were signed that Mom found out she had a bun in her oven. They didn’t even tell me, but somehow I knew. When I found out for sure, I vowed that I’d get them back. I’d seduce you, you’d be my man and I’d have the good side to my life. You’d be my little plaything, a loser the CIA sends to say they did something, finding nothing but keeping everyone safe and happy. I was so close… until that Greek cunt!”
Victoria’s no trained gunman, and her hands are a good second behind her going through the door, enough time for me to bring the frying pan down into her gun with my left hand, the gun going off but not dropped as Victoria yells. I still grab her, pinning her against the wall in the hallway, dropping my knife as I do. “Why? WHY? WHY?”
“Because I loved you,” Victoria says, then she squeezes the trigger on her gun again and the round tears into my right thigh, making me groan in pain. “I loved you, and you tore my heart out. So now you have to die.”
She pushes me, trying to bring the gun up, but my training takes over and I pivot, grabbing her gun hand and twisting her wrist even as I fall, the barrel jammed between us as she falls on top of me, the impact driving the breath out of me as Victoria’s gun goes off one last time and she stiffens, the bullet tearing into her. I roll her, pulling the gun away as I look at the damage, horrified at what I’ve done. “Victoria, oh God Vic...”
“You… should have been mine…” Victoria says before she shudders and her head sags to the side, the death convulsions starting. I stay next to her before I get to my feet, turning and leaving the house. Maybe my finger wasn’t on the trigger, but I just killed my own sister, adoptive or not it doesn’t really matter. I loved her too. Maybe differently from the way she loved me… but that doesn’t matter any more.
I get behind the wheel of my car and start up the engine, driving away. It doesn’t really matter, but I need to get these wounds treated. Then… one word comes to my mind, a little mantra that gives me strength, and I find the motivation to get moving.
Larissa
“Mistress, are you sure there’s nothing I can do to ease your pain?” little Lihua says, handing me a cup of coffee on a saucer. “Since coming back...”
“It’s okay Lihua,” I reply, forcing myself to give her a smile. “If you’d like later, maybe I’ll take you downstairs to the club and work off a little tension.”
Lihua gives me a sad smile, shaking her head. “No offense Mistress, I know you’re not really into girls. And… this might not be my place to say it, but I am sure that you would prefer to be with someone else right now.”
I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Perhaps. Still, I’m supposed to be good to you, and I know I’ve ignored you for weeks.”
“Service to you is more than just sexual,” Lihua says quietly, bowing her head. “I can get my physical needs satisfied with my normal hours this evening. Please, try to relax, I’ll go take care of downstairs.”
Lihua turns and leaves, and I shake my head at her loyalty and dedication. She still doesn’t know the details behind my return to Kalamata, she just knows that Stephen didn’t come with me, and that he may never come again.
The fallout from our actions won’t be settled for a very long time, but at least it looks like I’m safe. MI6, after a few choice items on Lord Harlow were leaked to them from the Dover hard drives, is more than willing to pin it all on Stephen, and the Crown just wants it all to go away. Honestly, I’m not too sure if they care at all about if I keep working Deep Cover or not, they just want to put the whole thing behind them.
I don’t really care either. I’ve spent my entire life being the seducer, the one who walks away without being hurt, but now I understand what it’s like to be on the other side. Reading the newspaper story about Victoria Knightsbridge’s death, I could read between the lines, and I realized what happened. Stephen and I were both wrong as to who Runway was, and Kershaw was right, it was a surprise.
But for a month, I’ve been sinking deeper and deeper into a funk as the silence from Stephen stretches out. The newspapers don’t say anything about him, and MI6 won’t tell me shit, they’re just happy to have a little more to use to blame him for. The fucking bastards. Even when I’ve talked to Rodrigo, he says he’s heard nothing, just that the car he lent Stephen was found burned out on the side of the Interstate two weeks ago, a total torch job with no body inside. If anything, it screams CIA hit job, and this time they may have succeeded.
And so I’m lost. I sigh again and sip my coffee, at least a little grateful that I’ve got someone like Lihua in my life who will try and cushion the blow. My throat works, and I realize that I’m once again getting ready to cry, something that’s happened far too much over the past month, and I can’t even lie to myself and say I’ve got the winter blues.
Suddenly there’s a knock at my door and I quickly wipe my cheeks, sitting up behind my desk. “Yes?”
The door opens and Lihua comes in, grinning. “Mistress?”
“Lihua, I was thinking, perhaps right now you shouldn’t...” I start, stopping when I see the happy smile and tears that are rolling down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to come with me, Mistress,” Lihua says. “Downstairs.”
I get up, following her curiously as she beams, reaching back and taking my hand to lead me to the main club room. It’s still early, just Lihua and the bartender doing cleanup and making sure we’ve got everything we need for tonight, but there’s a third man standing in the middle of the room, his back to me, a black trenchcoat over his shoulders and a hat on. Lihua stops, beaming at me, before turning to the man. “Master?”
Time slows to a stop as he turns, and I see the eyes, the jawline… and I’m crossing the club, running without c
aring to jump into his arms, knocking him to a floor and making him groan in pain. “Stephen! Stephen!”
“Shhh… she shot me, it took me a while to get healed up,” he gasps. “Left leg scar, please?”
I look and realize that I’m pressing into his left thigh and I quickly get up, helping him to his feet when he stumbles slightly. “Sorry.”
Stephen chuckles and cups my face in that way he has, my heart thumping in my chest as he looks into my eyes. “I love you.”
There’s a crash as the bartender drops the glass that he’s washing, but I don’t even look as I take his hands in mine and swallow, my heart pounding as I feel the tears start again. “I… I love you, too. When I thought you’d been killed...”
“I know,” Stephen whispers, and then he’s kissing me, his lips healing all the fear and making me wake up out of the sleepwalk I’ve been in for the past month. “I would have come faster, but I had to make sure it was safe, and I couldn’t contact you until I knew for sure. But I came, and… I want to stay.”
His words give me a chance to catch my breath and I smile, looking in his eyes. “You want to stay?”
He nods, grinning. “Yeah. Fuck it, you’re right. If the whole world is corrupt, then I want to be with the one person I know who’s honest about her corruption. You’re pure, Larissa. I love you, and I want to stay with you.”
He kisses me again, and another heat joins the warmth of our reunion, and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him tighter. Our kiss deepens, his tongue swirling against mine and his hand coming down to pause at my waist, a clear desire in his eyes when he pulls back. “So… think I can get a job?”
I laugh, nodding. “I’m sure there’s a few positions you’re qualified for. Maybe we should have a tryout first?”
Stephen chuckles and pulls me closer, whispering in my ear. “And I know a few positions I would enjoy putting you in. But shouldn’t we go home first?”
