"Get up, you motherfucker!" Billy grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him up. Asp lifted to his feet. He was shoved into a windowless room. Once again, he went down from the force of Billy's propulsion, but managed to spin and land on his shoulder. Three pairs of boots surrounded him. Hands grabbed him, and he was unceremoniously dumped into a chair. Within seconds his legs were zip tied to the chair. His hands, still tied behind him, were shoved through the opening in the back of the wooden chair. A rope cinched his chest and tightened until he couldn't breathe normally. Shallow pants kept him from passing out.
Billy circled behind him and cuffed his head. He yelled, "What is your name, motherfucker?" Asp felt the ropes at his chest loosen. He groaned when Billy slapped him with an open hand. His lip started bleeding again. The two men who helped Billy tie him into the chair laughed. The bastards. He felt something pressed into his hand. He cupped the instrument, shielding it from view. Billy cuffed his head again. Asp ground his teeth. He was so going to enjoy thanking Billy for all his wonderful hospitality. Motherfucker! Another backhand, this time across the swollen bruise from the first punch this morning. "Talk, asshole, and this will be easy. We can put you out of your misery and be done with it."
Asp kept his gaze pointed toward the floor. He'd been through enough training and a fuck-ton of real-life experiences. He knew no matter what he did, the people beating him wouldn't suddenly turn into sugar plum fairies and cut his ropes. No, first they'd try to break him and then after they got the answers they wanted, they'd either dehumanize and humiliate him or execute him. Hell, probably all three. He knew from experience. The scars on his arms were a testament to how insane people worked. At least this time he knew a rescue party would be coming and coming soon.
Pearson left, but that didn't stop the men who remained from taking shots at him. He lost a molar with one particularly vicious punch. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth and pooled on his lap. He watched the thread of blood and drool stretch. He had no idea how long Billy had been gone. Boots dudes had tired of using him as a punching bag, at least for now. Asp made sure he could see both men before he slid the razor blade between his fingers and started sawing on the ropes that bound his wrists.
Boots dudes must have thought he'd passed out because they ignored him. They sat at a small table by the door covered with paperwork of some sort. Their conversation about what the locals thought of the camp leadership droned on, but at least he had a vector on both of them. The blade sliced the nylon with ease, and his wrists tingled as a thousand needles stabbed him when blood flowed to his appendages again. The rope was still wrapped around his wrists. He didn't have to fake keeping his arms suspended behind him, yet he could move when the time arrived for action.
The door opened, and the dynamic duo complaining about the stupid Americans who had no fucking clue that the workers were stealing from them, ceased talking. Asp lifted his head and looked through lids so swollen they restricted his vision to slits. Flowers. The man nodded toward the door, and the two locals fled like their assess were on fire and Flowers had gasoline.
"Well, well, well…who do we have here?” The man’s voice was so far from what Asp thought it would be it was shocking. High pitched, breathless and almost musical. Flowers stopped by the door and continued, “From what Pearson tells me, you were the shooter that took out one of our best men." Asp's head dropped again. His chest caught on the rope that bound him to the chair. He could remove them with a shrug. Billy hadn’t actually tied the knot, and if he leaned forward anymore, the ropes would fall down. The sticking point of getting out of the chair would be the zip ties around his ankles. Breaking the rickety ass folding chair would alleviate that problem but having the time to manage that feat was questionable. He could lunge and attack with his arms free. The chair was only a limitation.
Shoes came into his view. Asp blinked, surprised at the sight of the light tan handmade leather loafers. Expensive shoes. He'd been around the elite, and he knew a tailor or two on Savile Row. Obviously, this man did too.
"So the questions I have for you are, why did you kill him and who sent you?" The man's quiet voice sent gooseflesh down Asp's spine. He tried to calculate how much time had elapsed since he'd been shoved into this room. The team was supposed to hit exactly ninety minutes after they saw Pearson and Asp enter. Ninety minutes. How long had he been here? A quick calculation put him at an hour, maybe a few minutes more or less. He needed Flowers to talk to him. He needed anything Guardian could use to unravel the riddle that Halo’s death had spun. Personally, he didn't give a fuck if Flowers lived or died during the raid on the camp, but there were considerations. The man was a small part of a bigger problem. It wasn’t Asp’s job to figure out the larger picture, but if he could find an edge piece, he’d bet the puzzle masters at Guardian would figure it out.
He lifted his head and tried to smile. His smashed lips hindered the process. "I killed him because he fucked me over."
Flowers lifted an eyebrow and then cocked his head. "How did he do that?"
Asp sneered at the bastard. No, it wasn't going to be that easy. "Why would you want a fucker like that in charge of your business down here?"
"Ah, well, sorry, I don't believe I will be answering any of your questions. You see, this is an inquisition. That means I ask the questions and you answer them." Flowers moved a smaller chair from the side of the room. He sat down, stared at Asp and then moved it to the right, so he was not sitting directly in front of him. "Yes, this is perfect."
"Manuel?" Flowers sang, calling to someone outside the room.
"You have a very interesting voice." Asp imagined the man rather liked that idea. He seemed to preen at the Asp's observation as if it were a compliment.
"Thank you. You know it really is too bad we didn't meet under better circumstances. Unfortunately, I can't spare much time today, so I'm going to ask you one more time. Who sent you and why did you shoot our employee?"
"I told you why I killed him." Asp lifted his head to speak. He hadn't realized he'd lowered it. Over the course of his life, he'd had worse beatings, but between Billy and the clowns that had worked him over, he was hurting.
“When did my employee, as you say, fuck you?”
“When we both worked for the CIA.”
"So, you killed him because he made waves for you at the CIA? I'm sorry, that is thin. Too thin." Flowers turned toward the door and yelled, "Manuel!"
There was no movement. Asp had a damn good idea why. He spoke to Flowers, "It’s the truth. He sent me out to kill an innocent man. A professor. He told me the man was a traitor to the country. He wasn't."
Flowers crossed his leg and regarded Asp for a moment. "Ahh…that makes sense. Well, first the professor wasn't a traitor, but he did have useful attributes that would have furthered our goals. Economics is such an interesting field of study. The saying money is power is true, you know.” Flowers waved his hand dismissively, “We approached him, and he refused to help us. He threatened to expose us unless we stopped our...work, I guess is a good word for what we are doing. He gave us two weeks to prove we'd complied. Instead, Cavanaugh sent in one of his assassins to kill the man. Then all hell broke loose." Flowers uncrossed his leg and leaned forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. "Was that you?" He smiled and then laughed. "It was, wasn't it! You cost us. Time, money, effort, but we were able to right the ship. We’ve learned and grown in the past few short years." Flowers stood and went to the door and looked out. "Manuel!" The man huffed and crossed his arms in frustration. "Where is he? I don’t have time for this."
"Where did you get your shoes? Was it the little shop on Savile Row? The one at the end next to the haberdashery?" The man's head whipped around. "Yes! Farrows! How do you know it?"
"They make most of my dress shoes." Asp had to keep the man talking. He was a self-important ass. The best way to keep him talking was to let him talk about himself.
"Oh, Farrows does fine work. Fine work! Now, see, killing you
is going to be such a pity. I think I would like you. Who did you say sent you to kill Halo?"
Asp chuckled. "I didn't."
"Ah, but you see, I need to know. I need to know what entity sent you because that would let us know if we need to worry. I've been recalled. I'm assuming it is a knee-jerk reaction, but he's always paranoid."
"Who's paranoid?" Information from this man was hard to come by, but Asp already had a few nuggets, and he could dig deeper, maybe reveal the mother lode. Hard to do being zip-tied to a chair and on the wrong side of the inquisition table, but what the fuck, he'd do the best he could.
"Who?" Flowers blinked at him as if he'd just seen Asp. The fucker was a bubble off center. He brain wasn't level with the rest of the world.
"Who is paranoid about someone finding out?" Asp tried to judge the time. He unwound the rope from his wrists, gathering the excess in this cupped palm. The one that didn't have the razor blade.
"Oh, well I guess we all are. You can imagine what happens when six men as smart as us get together. Conspiracy theories will abound." Flowers giggled and then laughed. He laughed so hard he had to sit down. He wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, that was golden. Conspiracy theories. Oh, that is rich. Don't you think?"
“Why? Because there actually is a conspiracy?” Asp shifted his weight, and the dime store folding chair groaned. He glanced over at Flowers who’d gone silent.
“You are very perceptive for a paid hitman.”
“I’m not a hitman.” Asp considered the time it would take to cut the zip ties with the razor blade. Everything depended on the moves his prey would make, and Flowers had become his prey the moment he walked into the room.
“You can call it what you want. You are a drone that kills on command.” Flowers once again gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
“You’ve made a mistake. Perhaps I was that when your employee knew me, but I’m not that man any longer.”
“Really? And tell me, tiger, how do you become a leopard?”
Asp cocked his head to the side. “Second mistake. I’m not a tiger. I’m a viper.”
“Wouldn’t that be a shade of the same mistake?” Flowers quipped before he asked, “A viper? Oh, like a rattlesnake?” The man laughed again. “Should I consider this your tail rattling?”
“No, not a rattlesnake.” Asp stood, shrugging the ropes off as he rose. Flowers jumped to his feet and sprinted toward the open doorway. Asp lunged forward and tackled the man around his knees. They both hit the floor. Flowers brought his knee up, catching Asp under the chin sending his head backward. Asp grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled the motherfucker down to him. Flowers kicked, his hands punched Asp around the head and shoulders, but Asp barely felt the abuse. He was face to face with the man, and the terror in his prey’s eyes was almost euphoric. Asp lifted the hand with the razor blade. Flowers saw it and arched his back bringing his arm up to stop Asp from what Flowers must have assumed was his goal. Asp pushed his chest over Flowers as he struggled. He snarled at his soon to be prisoner. "I'd kill you, but you have too many answers."
Asp heard a sharp metallic sound. Somehow Flowers had palmed a knife. Asp rolled his shoulder a split second before he felt the blade slice at his back with a downward strike. Asp pushed harder against the smaller man. Flowers’ arm moved again, and again. The knife ripped at his back and shoulder, the last slice went deep.
Asp roared in pain and anger. He was physically spent, but his rage crested his exhaustion. He managed to grab the arm with the knife and pin it to the ground. Flowers other arm came up. A flash of metal caught Asp's eye.
Asp blocked the other arm by turning and that released the pressure on Flowers’ knife. He realized the time had come to end the situation. Asp reached up and drew the razor blade across Flowers' throat. Flowers’ eyes widened, and he grunted as he thrust the knife against Asp's shoulder again. Asp let a sinister smile spread across his face. The man’s struggles turned into convulsive jerks. Asp pushed off the smaller man, arched his back and used the blood-soaked razor blade to slice the zip ties that held his legs to the metal chair. He stood with blood trickling down his arm and shoulder and looked down at the dying man. He’d sliced the artery. Flowers would bleed out as evidenced by the blood spurting out around Flowers’ hand. “Do something good with your life. Tell me who the others are.” Asp heard the sound of gunfire. His people were storming the camp.
Flowers gasped and jerked. Asp watched as the man’s last breath hissed out of him. Flowers’ scared gaze froze into a death stare. Asp needed the fucker’s DNA and fingerprints. He solved both issues with one action. He grabbed a piece of paper off the table where boots dudes had lazed. Then he grasped Flower’s wrist. Asp pressed and swiped the lifeless hand against the floor removing most of the blood. He then set Flower’s entire hand to the paper and lifted it away carefully. The handprint was damn near perfect, and the blood on the paper could be used for DNA. Asp held the paper by the edge, so he wouldn’t smudge the damn thing.
The battle outside the room where he stood suddenly quieted. A few random shots were fired. A floorboard creaked outside the room. The siege was damn quick. Obviously, the trained warfighters in the camp had listened to Billy and not taken up arms. Asp glanced at his back. He'd need stitches, a couple of the wounds were pretty damn deep, but he'd survived worse. He grabbed a wad of paper towels and shoved them under his shirt, then pressed back against the wall and waited. Thanatos walked into the room. “Well, it took you long enough. You missed all the fun.” Asp drawled even though he was relieved to see the man.
“You have a really disturbed definition of fun,” Lycos said as he walked in behind Thanatos. He glanced at Flowers before he turned his attention to Asp. “You are one ugly bastard on a good day. Today isn’t a good day for you.”
Asp chuffed out a laugh. “Fuck you. Blood red, black and blue are my colors.”
“Nah, dude, they really aren’t.” Thanatos righted one of the chairs and sat down. “Who was this?”
“Flowers, or the man who was pretending to be Flowers. I’m not up on the circle jerk that is going on with the name game.” He leaned against the wall. “The CIA men?”
“They’re safe. I made sure of it.” Lycos stepped over Flowers and glanced at the paperwork that covered the desk. He did a double take and started shuffling through the stacks. “Did you look at this?” Lycos glanced over his shoulder when he spoke.
“No, I was kind of tied up. I used a piece of paper to identify this fucker.”
“If that doesn’t work, we can find out from his tailor.” Thanatos snapped a picture of the man’s face. “His clothes are bespoke.”
“Yeah, we established that during our little meet and greet. If all else fails, his shoes come from Farrows in London.” Asp would have chuckled, but he didn’t have the damn energy and his face hurt too badly.
“Guardian is going to want to see this. Invoices, companies, rosters. There are a couple of emails here…shit.” Lycos picked up a sheet of paper. “WTF over?” The tone of his question sent a specter of apprehension up Asp’s spine.
“What is it?” Asp pushed himself up and away from the wall. His knees still felt like jelly, but his curiosity got the better of him. Lycos handed Asp the document. Asp scanned the top and stopped. He glanced at Lycos and re-read the words. His gut dropped. That meant… “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Thanatos stood and grabbed the paper. His smirk dropped from his face. Asp shook as he pushed his hair back from his eyes. The shaking wasn’t only because he’d been through hell, but if the information was correct…
“But they’re a myth?” Thanatos jerked his head up. “Right? Stratus is a myth?”
Asp shook his head. “I don’t know, and that’s above my pay grade. Lycos, you take that and get it back to Guardian. Thanatos, help me get Pearson and his people situated. I need to find out if they have any information on the bastard that took out Lyric’s family.
Ly
cos stopped what he was doing. “Who is Lyric?”
“Nobody, you damn horn-dog.” Thanatos cuffed Lycos on the shoulder. “You go through women like fire goes through flash paper.”
Lycos shrugged. “I have urges.”
“Yeah, well keep your urges to yourself. Lyric is mine and fucking off-limits.” Even amongst friends, there was no way Asp could keep the feral growl out of his voice.
Lycos chuckled and resumed stacking the information he’d take back to Guardian. “Another one bites the dust.”
“I’d say so.” Thanatos clapped Asp on the shoulder, sending him forward two steps.
“Dammit. Can’t you see I’m injured?”
“Stop whining, princess.” Billy’s voice turned all three of them toward the door. He stopped short and winced, pulling a whistle through his teeth. “Fuuuck, man.”
“Yeah, your friends liked beating up a defenseless man.” Thanatos nodded toward Flowers. “I made sure they ended up like this one.”
Asp glanced at Thanatos and gave him a slight inclination of his head, acknowledging the professional courtesy, for lack of better words. His friend dipped his in return.
Billy lifted his hands to his hips and stared down at Flowers. “Did you find out who he was working with?”
“Nope,” Asp spoke quickly. He knew Thanatos and Lycos would never discuss Guardian business in front of others, but it never hurt to make sure they knew Billy wasn’t to be trusted. Yet. “He asked his questions and then died when the shooting started.
“Strange. He liked to boast. I was sure you’d get something out of him.” Billy rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at the corpse on the floor,
“He came in, said he didn’t have time to chat and asked me who sent me and why I killed one of his best employees. The teams entered on the heels of that question. He bolted, and I couldn’t let him escape.” Asp let go of the bloody paper he was holding when Lycos tugged on it. “Your men okay?”
Asp Page 17
