“I have to admit, I’m surprised, Jack. And I’m not even including the location. I was under the impression this would be handled downtown. Aren’t we outside of protocol?”
“Yes and no. All the paperwork is covered on my end. On the prison end. At the assistant director’s end. But hey, it’s the list. We have to keep it low.” He scratched his head. “And I have to admit, I didn’t even know there was a list until a month ago. Huh. Gum?”
“No thanks.” She folded her arms over her chest. “So, where do we stand? I’m not really familiar with running things without explicit directives.”
“I know that.” He nodded to one of the other agents. The man handed another file over. “The directives are in here. Everything we have on the mark as well, including his last known location.” He approached and brushed his shoulder against hers. Tapped the file. “Never seen anything like this in twenty years, plucking a low-life out of the prisons to do our job.” He sneered at Smoke. “You have two weeks, pal, and then it’s back in the hole.” He winked at Sidney. “If he gives you any crap, just call and we’ll cut this silly mission short.” He walked over to Smoke and kicked the man’s foot with his boot. “Mind yourself.”
The door opened, and another man in a trench coat entered, holding a newspaper over his head with one hand and a briefcase in the other. The man was slender and stoop shouldered, and he wore glasses that looked too heavy for his nose. His frosty eyes met hers.
“Agent Shaw, what a displeasure.”
“Agree, Agent Tweel. I couldn’t be less happy to see you.”
Agent Cyrus Tweel didn’t look like much, but he was proven. Sidney had graduated from the academy with him.
Agent Tweel dropped to a knee and popped his briefcase open. “Let’s get on with this, shall we? I have more important things to do than waste time on experiments.”
Smoke’s head tilted up. His gaze fell on Cyrus.
“Jack,” Sidney said, “What’s going on here?”
“Tracking,” Jack said. “We can’t lose sight of him. Not for a second. Surely you know that.”
Cyrus held up a two-inch needled syringe filled with clear liquid. He flicked it with his fingers.
Smoke rose to his feet. “No one is going to Snake Plissken me!”
“You’ll do what you agreed to,” Jack said. He nodded to the other agents, who seized Smoke by the arms. “Now be still.” Jack pulled out a stun gun. “Or it’ll be my pleasure to use this on you.”
“No!” Smoke said, struggling against the agents. “No!”
CHAPTER 7
“That needle better not get within a foot of me!” Smoke said.
“What’s going on here, Jack?” Sidney said. “What the hell is in there?”
“Something new,” Jack said. He pointed to Smoke. “You agreed to this. You better settle yourself.”
“I didn’t agree to any injections! Screw this! Put me back in prison.”
“Jack!” Sidney said, stepping in front of him. “What is it?”
“A vaccination.”
“No one is giving me any shots!” Standing taller than the rest, hands cuffed behind his back, Smoke squatted down and drove his shoulder into the agent on his left. The man teetered over but held on, dragging the three of them down in a heap.
“You’re going to regret that,” Jack said. He stepped around Sidney and pointed the stun gun at Smoke. “I don’t have time for this.”
Sidney shoved his hand aside.
Jack misfired. The taser prods buried themselves in one of the agents. He jerked, spasmed, and writhed on the floor.
“Dammit, Sid! What did you do that for?”
“This isn’t protocol!”
“It is. Read the file. I tell you it is.” He shoved by Sidney and drove his toe into Smoke’s gut.
“Oof!”
“Settle down, hot dog! Take your medicine!” Jack said. He put his knee on Smoke’s neck. “Cyrus!”
Smoke bucked and squirmed.
Zap!
Smoke jerked and writhed.
Behind Sidney, Cyrus had tased him.
“Give him more juice,” Jack said. “He’s still squirming.”
“Gladly,” Cyrus said, squeezing the trigger.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Smoke screamed out, “Aaargh!” A second later he collapsed on the floor, disheveled and coated in sweat.
“Whew!” Jack said, getting up. He ran his forearm across his brow. “What is that man made of?” He helped up the agent who’d caught some juice from his taser. “Sorry about that.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Agent Shaw, I’m letting this incident go. But if you ever act insubordinate again, I’ll black mark your file.”
“But Jack—”
He stepped up to her.
“But Sir!”
He reached into his pocket and grabbed a handkerchief. “Get in line, or I’ll withdraw my consideration.”
Sidney started to say, Yes, Sir, but held her tongue.
“You go right ahead, Sir. This entire incident is way out of bounds.”
“No, you’re out of bounds, Sid.”
“I’m not the one who lost control of this situation. That’s on you, not me. That’s no way to treat a person. He’s a decorated veteran.”
“He was a decorated veteran. Now he is some ex-con vigilante hot dog idiot.”
She glanced at Smoke. Cyrus was driving the needle into him. “Hey!”
“Back off, Sid,” Jack said. “Tohms! Yo, Tommy!”
The man she’d met outside came in.
“What the hell are you doing out there? Didn’t you hear the racket?”
“Er …”
“Never mind,” Jack said. “Just help Muldoon to the car. He’s shaken up.”
“Right,” Tommie said. He glanced at Sid. There was a bit of sympathy in his eyes. He mumbled as he passed. “Cyrus is an a-hole.”
“I heard that,” Cyrus said.
“Good,” Tommy replied. He helped Muldoon back outside, closing the door behind him.
Jack raised his palms up. “Let’s start over. The vaccination. I had to do it. Orders. And that’s all I know. It’s a vaccination.”
“Is there something wrong with him?” Sid said.
“Well, I’m just assuming it’s for your protection … and his.”
Smoke groaned on the floor.
Cyrus locked an ankle tracker on him.
“Who’s keeping tabs on him,” Sid said, “me or you?”
“Check your phone?” Cyrus said. “There’s an app you need to download. Twenty four seven location. Just don’t let your phone go dead. Don’t lose it like the last time, either.”
“Shut up, Cyrus.”
“Listen, Sid,” Jack intervened. “This is a strange case. I have my orders. You have yours. Execute them, and I’m sure it will all make sense after everything hashes out. Got it?”
“Sure, I got it.”
“Good.”
“So,” Sid said, “is this headquarters?”
He pointed to a peg on the wall.
“Those are the keys. You can work out of here, or you can work out of his place.”
“I’m sure she’d like to take him back to her place.” Cyrus snapped his briefcase shut. “Probably why she took the assignment. She always had a thing for damaged guys.”
“Cyrus, get going,” Jack said.
Agent Tweel departed with a frown, slamming the door behind him. That left only Jack, Smoke, the other agent, and herself in the room.
“Get the car warmed up, Danny,” Jack said.
That left only three.
“Sid, I’m sorry for how this went down. You’re my best. You know that. But I can’t have you questioning me in front of others. Not like that. Respect the chain.”
“I know, but—”
“No, the only butt I’m going to have is yours if you cross that line again. Capisce?”
She nodded.
“Good.” His eyes slid over to Smoke and back. “I d
on’t know what to make of this. He’s all yours though. Read the file. Stay away from the office. Don’t hesitate to call. In two weeks this will all be over. Things will be back to normal.”
“You say that as if you don’t think we can bring this guy in.”
“Well, the odds are against you. I’m told no one has ever brought one in. And by the look of things, I don’t see that changing.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Good luck, Sid.”
She could feel his heavy gaze on her back as he headed for the door. It sent a chill through her. She didn’t turn.
“Goodbye, Sir.”
CHAPTER 8
Sid peeked out the curtain in the bay window and watched the black SUV back out of the driveway and roll out. The chill between her shoulders didn’t ease. It seemed everyone knew something they weren’t telling. First her old boss, Ted, and now her current boss, Jack.
Behind her, metal clanked on the floor.
In a single motion, she spun around and ripped her pistol out. Smoke sat on the hearth, undoing the cuffs on his ankles.
“Freeze!”
He didn’t move a muscle.
“Key. Toss it over to me.”
He flicked it at her feet. “You don’t think I can work shackled and with this prison garb on, do you?”
“No.” She holstered her weapon. “But I won’t have you playing pickpocket either. Just be still.” She gave him a once-over. A moment ago, he’d been completely disheveled, and now he seemed perfectly fine. He should have been laid out still. “Are you all right?”
Smoke nodded. “Maybe a little achy, but that’s more from the vaccination than the taser.”
“I don’t know what that’s about.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She cocked her head. “You seemed pretty upset about it, and now you’re not worried.”
“Nope.”
“So that was a show?”
“Yep.” He held his arms out. “Can you please unlock these?”
“So, you know what the shot was?”
“Yep.”
“And they don’t?”
“That’s right.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Are you going to take these cuffs off?”
“Answer my question first.”
“No, I’m not going to tell you what the shot was for. But I will tell you I have a condition. Nothing contagious, but I’ve had that shot before.”
“Who makes those shots?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He extended his wrists. “It’s just a thing. A private thing. I have my right to privacy, you know.”
She tossed him the key.
What in the world is going on?
Smoke had been injected with something, and he was the only one who knew what. He had a fit and had taken a walloping for it. Someone beyond pay grades was overseeing this. Watching Smoke. And so far, everything that was going on made absolutely no sense to her.
Smoked unlocked the last set of cuffs and tossed them on the floor. He unzipped his jumpsuit and slipped out of it.
“What are you doing?” she said, averting her eyes. Her glance revealed his lean body was packed with hard muscle.
“Changing,” he said, walking over and grabbing a duffle bag in the corner. He emptied the contents of his bag and slipped on a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and work boots. “So, you and Cyrus have a past.” He repacked the bag and threw in the jumpsuit. “He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Smoke tossed his duffle bag on the counter. “Aw, come on. It’s obvious you two dated. But I can’t imagine why you broke it off. He seemed so … charming. Beady eyes and all.”
“You have wonderful powers of perception.” She opened the file and set it on the kitchen table. “But if it’s not related to this case, keep it to yourself.”
“Sure.” He walked over and stood by her side. “But tell me, why did you go out with him? Let me guess: you thought his drive and intelligence outweighed his meager frame and uber-bland personality.”
“No.” She kept her eyes on the papers in the file.
“You have a thing for short guys?”
“Mister Smoke—”
“Smoke.” He smiled. “Just call me Smoke.”
“Grab a chair.”
Smoke took a seat and hitched one booted foot on the table. It had the ankle tracker on it. “They might as well have left the handcuffs on. Ridiculous.”
Sid downloaded the application Cyrus had sent her. A minute later, Smoke’s location was on the screen. She showed it to him. “Works great. Things are looking up. Now, let’s discuss our current situation... First, whatever you have in mind, you run by me first. Second, you don’t go anywhere without me.”
“I need to hit the head.”
“Third.” She looked at his boot on the table. “Keep it professional.”
He dropped his foot on the floor.
“All right, but I really do.”
“Make it quick.”
He got up. “I missed prison chow this morning too.” He patted his stomach. “I’d really like to have some pancakes.”
She looked at him. “I don’t care.”
He picked up his duffle bag.
“Where are you going with that?”
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to shave.” He rubbed his chin. “This scruff makes me feel dirty. Now that I’m out of prison, I want to feel clean again.”
“That really doesn’t matter to me.”
Smoke walked away and flipped a hallway switch.
“No bulbs.”
Sid heard him checking switches until he finally stopped and a door near the back of the house closed. She checked the monitor on her phone. Good. Inside the file were more pictures of Adam Vaughn. He wore plain clothes and kept a personal network of goons close by. Most of the footage wasn’t the best, as it came from security cameras and the locations were erratic. Different banks. Restaurants—some expensive, others dives. AV seemed to have friends in high and low places. She became engrossed. There were pictures of weapons caches. Unidentified men slaughtered. There were pages of documentation with the letters blacked out.
What good is this?
There was an envelope inside she’d overlooked. She opened it. A brief letter was typed out on bureau letterhead.
Agent Shaw,
Due to the unorthodox arrangement of this assignment, you will need to keep the following items under consideration.
John Smoke is a convicted criminal with special skills. Don’t underestimate him.
You have eyes on him and we have eyes on him. Allow him free range. We’ll let you know if he needs to be reeled in.
If any alien objects or circumstances or individuals are encountered, notify your superiors immediately.
Trust your instincts and good hunting,
The Bureau
“Who on earth wrote this?” She glanced at her phone. Smoke’s beacon hadn’t moved. “It can’t be from the bureau.”
It was a first: a cryptic, unprofessional, unsigned letter. It made her wonder if Cyrus or Jack were playing a joke on her. But the bureau stamp. The make of the paper. She’d seen it before. It was nothing short of top brass bonding. She shook her head.
I guess there’s a first time for everything.
She put the letter back inside the envelope and slipped it into her bag. ‘Allow him free range’, it says. She smirked. He doesn’t need to know that.
There was a squeak from down the hall. The turn of a faucet. The faint sound of water echoing.
Are you kidding me? A shower? Really? I thought he was hungry.
She glanced at the tracker on her phone. Nothing had changed.
One by one, she entered the location coordinates into her phone. Ten minutes later she was done.
Sidney brushed her hair aside. “I need a map.” Her belly groaned. “Someone needs another shake.” She gathered all the items up and stuck them back in the file
folder. Calling out, “Let’s get this show on the road,” she made her way down the hall and listened at the door. The shower was still running. She rapped her knuckles on it. “Hey.”
No reply.
She checked her tracker, and it showed no changes. She knocked again.
Her fingertips started to tingle. She drew her gun and tested the door handle. Locked.
“John? John Smoke?”
No reply.
She stepped back and delivered a heavy kick. The hollow door burst open. The mirror was steamed up, and the ankle tracker lay resting on the back of the toilet. She picked it up.
Damn. How’d he do that?
CHAPTER 9
Angry, Sidney ripped the shower curtain back.
Smoke was in there.
“Hey! Do you mind?”
“What! Do I mind?” She looked away and slung the ankle tracker at him. “Put that back on!”
“I didn’t want to get it wet¸” he said, chuckling.
“It’s waterproof, imbecile!” Sidney left the room. Her face was flushed red. How in the world did he do that? “Get dressed and get out here!”
“I’m coming,” he said from inside the bathroom. “What’s the matter, Agent Shaw? Did you think all of your plans had gone up in Smoke?”
How did he do that? She stormed down the hall. Paced back and forth. Smoke rattled her. Nothing ever rattled her—until this assignment. Get it together, Sid. Get it together.
A few minutes later, Smoke came out. He was drying his dark hair off with his towel.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I kicked the door in. You didn’t hear that?”
“I was singing,” he said, screwing up his face, “I think. Sometimes I get really into it.”
“I didn’t hear any singing.” She glanced down at his ankle. The ankle tracker was back. “Care to explain?”
“I have my secrets.”
“Do you want pancakes, little boy?”
“Okay, I made some calls.”
Her head tilted over. “How did you do that?”
Smoke Rising Page 3
