Thicker Than Blood

by James P. Sumner

  He doesn’t say anything. My words hang ominously in the tense silence. I watch him as he starts pacing back and forth again. The guy’s worse than me! Finally, he sits back down on the edge of his desk. “Fine. What’s the threat?”

  I take a deep breath. “Me.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been hired to kill you. And if I don’t do it, I’m going to have my head blown off.”

  I watch him run a hand through his hair. He sighs. “I suppose you’d better start from the beginning.”

  “I don’t have that kind of time, Josh. Details will have to wait.”

  “Okay, then at least bullet-point it for me. Give me something, Adrian, for Christ’s sake. You can’t just say something like that and expect me to jump to your aid without any explanation.”

  I close my eyes and mutter, “This is going to sound crazy…” before opening them again. “…but you’ve heard of The Order of Sabbah, right?”

  “What, that stupid myth you people tell each other?” I see him shrug. “Yeah, of course. What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “Well, they’re not a myth. It turns out they’re real. They recruited me after I killed Cunningham, helped fake my death, and gave me a new life on the condition I make no attempts to contact anybody from my old one. They stuck something in my neck that not only tells them where I am at all times, but also contains a small explosive that can be detonated remotely from anywhere in the world. Basically, if I don’t kill who they tell me to, I’m a dead man. It’s not been too much of an issue up until now, but my latest contract is you.”

  He starts pacing again. “Well, that’s… awful.”

  “Yeah. I bet you’re glad I called first, eh?”

  “But, The Order of Sabbah? Seriously? They’re a thing?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Bloody hell.” There’s some silence, and then he sighs heavily. “Okay, fine. Being pissed with you can wait, along with all the questions I have. The first thing we need to do is take that device out of your neck.”

  “No can do, man. It has some kind of sensory trigger on it, apparently, which means if it comes into contact with the air…”

  “…it detonates. Yeah, I know what a sensory trigger is, believe it or not. Although I’m surprised you do.”

  I ignore the justifiable edge to his tone. “I had it explained to me in very simple language by the prick holding the detonator.”

  “Okay, let me…” I watch him walk over to his desk and then stop. “Shit. Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I smile. “I bet you’re wishing you hadn’t thrown your computer across your room just now, aren’t you?”

  “How did you…? Wait a second! Are you Jason Bourne-ing me right now?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, sorry.”

  I can see him looking out both windows. “Unbelievable. Where are you?”

  “About a mile-and-a-half away, on top of the mountain facing you.”

  He turns, and unbeknownst to him, he’s now staring right at me.

  “A mile and a… Christ! What gun are you using?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Really? I just find out you’re not dead, and you’re working for a secret society of assassins no one believes really exist, but it’s the gun you have that I’ll find hard to believe?”

  “Well, when you put it like that… Fine, I have one of the Holy Trinity. Number three.”

  He pauses. “Holy shit. Are you serious? Where did you find that?”

  “No idea. The Order got it for me.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Beautiful, man.”

  “Wow. I mean, that’s…” He shakes his head. “D’you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m too angry and confused to get excited about the gun I have pointing at me right now. I guess I should be grateful—at least you’re not using one of ours.”

  I smile. “Yeah, that would just be in poor taste.”

  “So, you’ve been watching me this whole time through your scope?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t believe it…”

  “Hey, remember what you said—being pissed with me can wait.”

  He sighs. “I know, I know. Okay, sit tight. I need twenty minutes.”

  I frown. “For what?”

  “To save your ass.”

  3

  11:28 PDT

  I squint in the glare of the midday sun as I watch the chopper approaching. I saw it rise from the GlobaTech compound in the distance, and I heard the rapid thudding of the blades a few moments later, faint at first, but growing louder as it neared the mountaintop.

  I’m nervous, which isn’t a sensation I’m too familiar with.

  It hovers overhead for a moment. It looks like an air ambulance. The back is long, with double doors on either side. There’s plenty of room for it to land, and it touches down gently about thirty feet away. The door facing me slides open, and Josh steps out before the blades begin to slow, stooping as he hurries toward me. He’s wearing a fitted shirt, with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, dark-blue jeans, and brown shoes. There’s another guy behind him wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, and two armed soldiers, dressed in full GlobaTech attire—black outfit with a red trim, thigh holster, and an automatic rifle slung over their shoulder, held casually.

  The noise fades as the blades slow to a stop. He stops a few feet in front of me, eyeing me up and down. “You look like shit.”

  I shrug. “Yeah. Feel like it, too.”

  He gestures to the guy with the briefcase. “My friend here is a surgeon, of sorts. He’s going to help us get that bomb out of your neck.”

  “Awesome.” I nod toward the soldiers. “And the Rambo twins?”

  He smiles humorlessly. “They’re here in case I feel you need shooting.”

  “Oh.”

  “Show me where it was inserted.”

  “Okay, but you should know, they know I’m here, and probably have eyes on us all right now. This thing could go off any second.”

  He shrugs. “So, quit whining and show me where it is already.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Alright, man. Jeez…” I turn around and point to the small scab on my neck. “That’s where they injected me with it. I tried masking the signal it sends, so they couldn’t track it, but—”

  “Yeah, that wouldn’t work.”

  An image of Yaz falling lifelessly to the floor in front of me flashes through my mind.

  “No shit.”

  Josh takes a deep breath. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ve been developing a small, localized EMP device, similar in design to those you used a few years ago, back in Pittsburgh.”

  “On Trent’s men? Yeah, I remember those.”

  “Well, we’ve been refining the tech to give it a more surgical application.”

  I frown. “How would they ever be useful during surgery?”

  “You need them now, don’t you?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  “So, shut up.”

  Wow. He’s really pissed with me. Can’t say I blame him.

  I feel something cold on the back of my neck. “What’s that?”

  The doctor steps in front of me. He’s short, with a thick, gray mustache and bushy eyebrows. His mottled skin betrays his advancing years. “I just placed one of the devices over the point of injection. It will emit a very low frequency electromagnetic pulse, which should short-circuit the device you have implanted there.”

  I look at him, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Should?”

  He nods. “There’s a… small chance it could detonate the device instead of disabling it. Without examining the tech beforehand, there’s no way of being completely sure.”

  I shake my head. “Wonderful. Won’t the EMP knock out the chopper, too?”

  “No, the blast radius of the device is approximately six inches. It’s designed for surgical precision, not
maximum carnage.” He holds up a button. “You ready?”

  “Not really, no!” I turn around to face Josh. “Are you okay with this?”

  He shrugs. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. There are risks, but we’re confident it’ll work, yeah. If we’re wrong, you’ll die. But, if we don’t try it, based on what little you’ve told me, it’ll likely be detonated anyway by whichever asshole has the trigger. So, really, you don’t have anything to lose, do you?”

  “Huh. Fair point, I guess. Callously made, though.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings, Adrian?”

  The doctor steps between us. “Gentlemen, please. I believe time isn’t a luxury here. Shall I proceed?”

  Josh nods. “Yes.”

  He looks at me. “Adrian?”

  I point to the device he’s holding. “You just press that button?”

  “That’s right.”

  I hold my hand out. “Alright, give it here. If anyone’s gonna accidentally blow my brains out, it’s gonna be me.”

  I look at the small device and then at Josh. “If this doesn’t work, I just… I want to apologize. I want to tell you everything that’s happened, everything I’ve been through, in the hope you’ll understand why I did what I did, but if I don’t get the chance, I need you to know I’m sorry. I love you, brother.”

  His expression softens and his jaw relaxes. He glances down at the ground, then turns, and heads back over to the chopper. The other men move to join him.

  I frown. “Is that it? You’re just going to walk away?”

  He looks back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t want to get blood on my shirt if this goes wrong.”

  I shake my head and smile. “Asshole.”

  I close my eyes and press the button. I feel a sharp pinch in my neck, and—

  …

  …

  …

  I drop the button and place my hand on my head. It feels as if it’s in one piece. I move it down, feeling for my neck. Yep, still attached, too. I take a deep breath and open one eye, followed a moment later by the other. Josh is walking toward me. The doctor and the soldiers are still by the chopper.

  “Did it work?” I ask him. “Is the device disabled?”

  He nods.

  I roll my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, man. You have no idea how good it is to know that. I feel as if I’ve just been released from prison or something. I—”

  I land heavily on my back, my cheekbone and jaw stinging from the punch Josh just hit me with. I put my hand to my face as I look up at him. He’s not smiling anymore. He’s looming over me, his expression locked in a hard frown, his nostrils flaring repeatedly. I imagine it’s how he looked when he was throwing his computer around his office.

  With him always being behind a laptop, or on the other end of the phone, it’s easy to forget how tough he is. He was British Special Forces, back when I met him. Those SAS boys are crazy, and some of the shit they do… man, it’s insane. Yet Josh always made it look easy. He may have made the transition from aging rocker to clean-cut corporate director, but he will always be the guy who left the SAS, and eventually the CIA, by choice. Not because he couldn’t cut it—he was among the best either organization has ever had—but because he decided to work a computer and help me.

  I nod. “Do you feel better?”

  His expression stays the same. He shrugs. “A little.”

  “Wanna throw me over the edge?”

  “Thinking about it…”

  “Good. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t, after what I’ve done to you.”

  He hasn’t blinked in a while. Always a sign the adrenaline is pumping. After a few moments, he relaxes, and extends his hand. I take it, and he hauls me to my feet. I dust myself down, and we stand in front of one another.

  “I know you’re hurting, Josh, and I’m sorry. But, so we’re clear, you hit me again, I’m gonna put you down. Understand?”

  Josh looks around and takes in a deep breath before looking back at me. We lock stares, and the tension is immediate and palpable. After a moment, he nods once, and turns away. He looks over at one of the soldiers, and gestures with his thumb to the sniper rifle, still set up near the edge of the mountaintop. “Grab that rifle, would you? I want it catalogued and then locked away in our secure vault.” He turns to the doctor. “Good work, thank you. We’ll take the device out later. Hopefully, it will help us to improve our own tech.”

  He moves around the front of the chopper and looks back over his shoulder at me. “Come on. We’re walking.”

  I follow him, frowning, confused. “But there’s a perfectly good ride back right here…”

  “Yes, and there’s a perfectly nice path leading down to the bottom, which should give you plenty of time to explain yourself.”

  He strides over to the far edge and begins the steady descent. I look back at the doctor. “Thanks for, y’know, zapping me and everything. Appreciate it.”

  He nods, looking slightly bewildered. I turn and follow Josh to the path that leads back down the mountain. How am I supposed to even start explaining all this to him?

  Ah, I’ll figure it out as I go along—that always works… sometimes.

  4

  12:25 PDT

  I’ve told him almost everything. He didn’t say much. Presumably, he’s saving all his questions for when I’m finished. I told him how The Order saved me and how they forcibly recruited me. How they threw me out of a plane in Vietnam, how they gave me a new life, made me kill for them, et cetera. I told him about Lily and how she died. I told him about Kaitlyn and how she helped me. I told him what happened to Yaz. I told him how I sustained my injuries. I told him how I struggled with suicidal thoughts. I told him the thing that ruined it all for me, aside from my inability to blindly follow orders, was my inability to let go of my past. I was honest with him. I didn’t mask any part of how I’m feeling with humor. I didn’t dismiss anything as irrelevant. For probably the first time in my life, I talked to him openly, just like Kaitlyn taught me to do.

  We’re maybe ten minutes from the base of the mountain. The sun is high, and it’s a struggle to bear the heat. The walk back down has been gentle, but I’m aching everywhere. I’m thirsty. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I just want to—

  Josh slows his pace and eventually stops. I turn to look back at him. “You okay?”

  “I hate you.”

  I shrug. “Fair enough.”

  “No, I hate you because I’m trying to be mad at you, and then you go and tell me all that, which makes me feel sorry for you. I don’t want to feel sorry for you. I want to hate you.”

  “Then hate me. I wasn’t looking for your sympathy, Josh, I just wanted you to understand what I’ve been through, and why I did what I did. I didn’t expect you to like it. You’re entitled to feel angry.”

  He gazes around for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I’m… ah… I’m sorry about the people you lost, man.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  “I have a lot of questions.”

  “Figured you might,” I say, with a small smile.

  We continue walking in silence for a few minutes, until we see a bench at the side of the path. He points to it, and we both sit down wearily. I stretch my legs out and crack my neck. It feels good not to move. I lean back, and stare ahead, taking in the breathtaking view of the river, and the tree line beyond. I look right, at more greenery, and the faint outline of San Fernando in the mid-distance.

  This place is amazing. I mean, the temperature’s a bit high for me. I know it’s nowhere near as hot as Abu Dhabi was, but I hated the climate there, and I’m not much happier here. I like things mild—not too warm, not freezing. T-shirt weather, but with a breeze. Mid-seventies is perfect. I know Texas was hot, but I had a new life there, and Tori, which made it worthwhile tolerating. However, the temperature in California during the summer is definitely not in the mid-seventies. It’s like Satan’s sauna out here today! />
  Josh sighs. “So, The Order of Sabbah… they actually exist?”

  I nod. “They do.”

  “That’s messed up. I mean, they’re, like, a ghost story to people like us, aren’t they? If a bunch of hitmen sat around a campfire, that’s what they would talk about to scare each other.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But, it turns out, they’re very real, and very powerful.”

  “What do you actually know about them?”

  “Not as much as I’d like, but if Horizon is to be believed, they have… I dunno, chapters all over the world, headed up by people like him, all answering to a committee, who ultimately call the shots, and decide who lives, who dies, and why.”

  “And this Horizon guy… you said that was his title, not his name?”

  I nod. “That’s right. He’s a big deal, and if the other people who do his job are anything like him, they’ll all be ruthless, intelligent, and able to play the long game better than anybody.”

  “And he wants me dead?”

  “He does.”

  “But we don’t know why?”

  “Nope. He told me The Order has existed for centuries, influencing key moments in human history by killing the people they believe are taking us in the wrong direction, or something.”

  Josh leans back and runs his hands through his hair. “That’s some real Illuminati shit, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve not really thought about the consequences of disabling that device, but I’m pretty sure it’s gonna piss them off not having control over me anymore. They value discretion and secrecy as if they’re commandments from God.”

  He turns to me, frowning. “And they hired you?”

  I chuckle. “Screw you. My point is, I have as much knowledge about them as anyone else in their organization, except they no longer have the option of silencing me, which means I’m the biggest kind of threat they can imagine. I think after today, we’re both at the top of their shit list.”

  He sighs. “Well, misery loves company, right?”

  “I’m being serious, Josh. This is bad. Think about everything we’ve been through together. We’ve had every acronym in the U.S. Government trying to kill us at some point.”