“I'm just worried that being with me will end up getting you hurt,” she said.
Christian took her hand in his. “I like strong women and all, but I've been hurt before. I can take it.”
She shook her head. “Not like this.”
He scoffed. “What are you, an international assassin or something?”
“No, of course not.” Yes. “I've just got a lot of baggage.” That I use to carry around guns and knives. “I don't want to hurt you.” Being with me will get you killed.
“I'm touched that you're so worried, but just think about it, okay? I'm willing to take the risk if you are.”
She faintly smiled. “Okay, I'll think about it.”
He patted her on the knee. “Well enough of this serious crap. Let me make you some breakfast.”
“Actually, I'm going to pass on breakfast,” she said.
“Why?”
Angela slid out from the sheets and began to get dressed. “I've got some things I have to take care of today. Have a lot of work to do. Plus, I'm sure you have to get to work, too.”
“No, it's my day off, actually,” said Christian. “Weekends, remember?”
“No such thing in my line of work.”
“Sure you can't stay for a little bit?”
She walked over to the bed and knelt down to where he sat, gently kissing him. “Sorry.” She pulled her leather jacket again, drawing her hair out from the back and let it spill over her shoulders. “I'll call you, okay?”
“All right.”
Angela offered another smile before she left the apartment. Christian followed her, standing in the hallway in his robe and watching her walk to the elevator. He heard the sound of a throat clearing and moved further into the hallway, but he saw no one from the direction Angela walked in. Looking in the other direction, he saw Julie standing near the entrance to the stairwell.
“Have a fun night?” she asked.
“What do you want?”
“I was about to knock on your door when it started to open. Ducked back into the stairwell just as 'Anna' left,” said Julie. She gave Christian a once-over. “Nice robe.”
“Come on in,” said Christian, stepping back inside. Julie followed as he went into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“You have any tea?”
“Nope.”
“Just water, then.”
Christian emerged from the kitchen, his coffee cup in one hand and a glass of ice water for Julie in the other. He sat across from her and sipped the coffee.
“Do me a favor and don't put your legs up this time,” said Julie. “There are some sides of you I don't want to see.”
“You missed your calling, Kim—should've been on a sitcom as the sassy wife,” said Christian.
“How was dinner?”
“Short.”
“Yes it was, and do you know why?” asked Julie.
Christian paused and set his coffee down, now very interested in what his partner had to say. “No. What happened?”
“Sho Murakami, the owner of the restaurant you took Angela to?” asked Julie. “He's dead. Someone took out him and a few of his bodyguards last night shortly after the time you planned to meet Lockhart.”
“You think Angela did it?” he asked. “Why? What would she have to gain?”
“Murakami had connections to the Yakuza. Dante has done business with the Yakuza in the past.”
“Shit...that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Right after we got to the restaurant, Angela said she wasn't feeling so well, excused herself. She was gone a while,” said Christian. “When she came back, she said we had to leave, she wasn't feeling good at all. And outside is when she—”
“So she used you as her escape,” said Julie.
“No, she could have just as easily slipped out the back.”
“If she was with someone, it takes the suspicion off her,” said Julie. “Pierce—she played you.”
“I'm telling you, there's more to her than what you think. She's not the type to slum for Dante, not without her reasons.”
“You've known her for less than a week. Just because you slept with her doesn't mean you know what kind of person she really is.” Julie sighed and took a drink of water. “Look, let's look at the facts, okay? She's ex-Agency, which makes her very dangerous. She specialized in assassinations until her husband died and then she faked her own death. Now she's doing contract killing for Infernum. She had a psychotic breakdown, there's no two ways about it. We've seen this kind of thing before.”
“Not Angela, she's too strong for something like that.”
“Christ, how could you know that?”
“Because Jeff talked about her all the time,” said Christian.
Julie paused for a moment then shook her head. “Bullshit. First rule of field work—don't talk about your personal life.”
Christian fixated on her. “How are things between you and your mom?”
Her gaze diverted down to the water, realizing she had violated that rule herself. Christian finished off his coffee and set the cup on the table. “Rules and guidelines don't mean dick in the field. You spend enough time with someone, you're bound to tell them things about your personal life. It keeps you sane. Especially in our line of work.
“And I do know this much about Angela—she's conflicted. She's still thinking about Jeff. Maybe that's something I can use to my advantage, turn her back over to our side. Remind her of who she once was, what he meant to her. What it would mean to him if he found out she was working for the enemy.”
“And you're sure that would work?” asked Julie.
“It's all I got,” said Christian. “I'll call her, set up a meeting and tell her who I really am.”
“Telling her you're Agency could be potentially very dangerous. You should wait until you have some more evidence on her.”
“No, that'd be even worse,” said Christian. “I don't want to blackmail her.” He looked down at his robe. “Hold on, I'm going to put some pants on.”
“Thanks,” said Julie. He walked back to his bedroom and Julie remembered the other reason why she came. “Christian, there's something else.”
“What?” came his voice from inside the bedroom.
“I checked the mission logs. You and Beam worked together on his last assignment, didn't you?”
Christian emerged from the bedroom, now wearing a pair of jeans. He pulled a white t-shirt over his chest. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
“The detailed reports were classified,” said Julie. “I was hoping you could tell me what happened.”
“What's that got to do with anything?”
“The Agency rarely investigates the death of an operative in any sort of depth, especially if it happens while the operative is on leave.”
“Right, which I say is a bullshit policy, but their stance is we need to focus our resources on the big picture.”
“I wonder if something happened on that last job. Maybe there are leads to who killed Beam. If we offer Angela that information, we may be able to get her to our side. Assuming Dante didn't already give it to her.”
“No, he wouldn't do that. He'd hold it over her head at first until he was sure he had her sucked in,” said Christian.
“So what do you think?”
“Might be worth a shot,” said Christian. He sat across from her. “Jeff and I were in Moscow, posing as arms dealers. Middlemen, really. We were trying to infiltrate a gun-running ring headed up by a guy named Carter Brennen.”
“Carter Brennen?”
“Heard of him?”
Julie shook her head.
“Not surprising, he's good at covering his tracks. But he's a big name in the business,” said Christian. “North Korea, Myanmar, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Sudan, Somalia—he's in all the hot vacation spots. Used to be a CIA operative until he defected to the KGB and started working as a double-agent. After the fall of the iron curtain, he discovered the merits of
capitalism and used his connections in the Russian military to sell weapons.”
“And you and Beam were sent to infiltrate the organization?”
“We were both fluent in Russian and we both had assets in the country who could vouch for our authenticity. See, there's no Better Business Bureau for arms dealers, so when you're looking for someone to work with and you have a choice between a guy your buddy vouches for and a guy you know fuck-all about, you're more likely to go with the friend of a friend.”
“And what happened after that?” asked Julie.
Christian sighed. It had been the first he thought about that job in a long time. The memories weren't pleasant. “Our cover was blown. Brennen knew this and at our final meeting, he had us surrounded. We barely got out alive.”
“And Brennen?”
“Dropped off the radar.”
“But did he survive?”
“Yeah, I think so,” said Christian.
“So then maybe he killed Beam?”
“It's a possibility, and I ended up with my apartment blown up while on a last-minute assignment, but how did he find out where we lived?”
“You said you both had contacts in Russia. Maybe one of them knew more than he should—”
“—and then sold him out to Brennen.”
“Beginning to sound like a lot more than a possibility, isn't it?”
“You're right,” said Christian, rubbing his chin as he thought about it. “In fact, it sounds like a very likely scenario.”
“It's something we can probably use,” said Julie.
“I want you to see what you can pull on Brennen.”
“I will,” she said, standing. “And don't forget, we've got a meeting with Chandler first thing tomorrow morning.”
He grumbled. “Can't wait.”
CHAPTER 13
The pen tapped mindlessly on the edge of the notebook. Christian found it difficult to stay focused during Chandler's briefing. The crescent-shaped table housed twelve agents—Julie seated to his right—with Chandler standing in front of them by a digital screen holding a small remote in his hand. He had gone bald a few years back, the only trace of hair on his face the mustache he sported beneath thick, owl-like glasses.
On the screen, there was the Chinese character for fire. “This is apparently the symbol Infernum agents carry, usually imprinted on gold rings,” said Chandler. “However, we have yet to find any concrete evidence of this connection, isn't that true, Agent Pierce?”
Christian found himself in his own little world, Chandler's voice completely incapable of getting through his self-imposed barrier.
“Agent Pierce...?”
Julie lightly kicked him in the shin beneath the table. Christian straightened himself, coming to attention. He looked at Chandler with a questioning glance and the director sighed.
“Agent Pierce, try to pay attention during these briefings,” he said. “Perhaps if you did, you wouldn't have lost two informants so far.”
“With all due respect, sir—”
“There will be plenty of time to discuss your report, Agent,” said Chandler. “Meanwhile, is it okay if I get this task force back on task?”
Christian offered a solemn nod and sunk back in his chair. Chandler allowed a moment of silence to ensure he had the floor once again before he continued.
“Now, Infernum is composed of a massive network of assassins, spies, and numerous other felons involved with organized crime syndicates. We're not sure of their exact goals, but they have proven to be quite a thorn in our side over many years. They've interfered with operations from every branch of law enforcement—CIA, NSA, FBI, DEA, ATF—you name it. And that's just in the States, not even taking into account where they've fouled up agencies in other nations. They've toppled governments with their actions, people. And as far as we can tell, they're headed up by one man.”
Chandler hit a button on the remote. The image on the screen shifted to a giant question mark. “He's known only as Dante, which we're confident is an alias. No known last name, no other known aliases. Some in our field consider him a myth.”
One of the agents raised his hand and Chandler motioned to him. “Yes?”
The agent got to his feet. “One man controlling such a massive network? If you forgive me for saying, sir, that seems a bit—”
“Ludicrous?” asked Chandler. The agent nodded and Chandler offered a slight grin. “I'm well aware of how crazy it sounds, Agent. But we have yet to uncover any intelligence to indicate otherwise. As much as I hate to admit it, it seems very likely that Dante is not a myth, but very, very real.
“So now the question becomes, what do we know about him? Again, as Dante is considered something of a legend, it's very difficult to separate fact from fiction. We have no known photographs or renditions of him and even if we did, they would seem pretty fruitless—he apparently undergoes extensive plastic surgery every year to keep his identity concealed. This man goes through faces like I go through suits.”
The agents allowed themselves a slight chuckle at Chandler's little joke and he seemed pleased by the show of support. “We have no idea where he originated from. Again, and this could be more legend, but he's apparently a well-educated individual, having studied everything from history, language, literature and combat styles from many countries all over the world. Speaks something like twelve different languages. And he's exceedingly wealthy.”
Another agent offered a hand. “Sir, do we have any indication of a centralized location for Infernum?”
“We've heard everything short of a hollowed-out volcano, so no, nothing definitive. It seems our best shot of getting a way inside Infernum is to turn one of their members over to our cause. As Dante liaises with various organized criminal types, this seems to be our best shot. But I'll let Pierce continue from here.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Christian, standing. “As the Director said, organized crime has provided us with most of the intelligence we have on Infernum. Unfortunately, as anyone who's been with the FBI will tell you, finding enough dirt on one of those guys is no easy task. But we have gotten a few. Sir?”
Chandler pressed the remote and three images appeared on the screen. Christian continued. “The three men you see are all local players in the underworld, and all very big. First is Jack Travis. Found shot to death, along with his bodyguards, in a strip club. The second is known as Anton, his windpipe was crushed. Both of these were informants, both of them were about to meet with me to discuss their involvement with Infernum in exchange for immunity.” Christian motioned to the third image, this one of a Japanese man. “Now the man on the far right was not an informant, but he was killed in the kitchen of the restaurant he owned. Sho Murakami, who controlled the Yakuza's operations in the area. As Dante has been known to work with the Yakuza, we also believe he may have been an Infernum operative.”
“What proof do you have of that?” asked Chandler.
“Instinct, sir,” said Christian.
“Thank you for your report, Agent,” said Chandler. “But we can't run on simple instinct. As of now, we have no known link between Murakami and Infernum, so let's try and focus on what we do have, okay?”
Christian nodded and sat back down. Chandler crossed his arms over his chest and approached him. “Now I want to know how you're going to make up for the lost of two high-level informants. Tell me you have something else to report.”
Christian twirled the pen in his hand, trying to work out the situation in his head. It was too soon to offer up what he knew about Angela and now he could feel not only Chandler's but also Julie's eyes burrowing into his skull. But more than that, did he really want to tell them about Angela right now? It was still too soon, he still had to uncover more information, convince her to come back over to the Agency's side.
“No, no sir,” he said, his gaze fixed on his legal pad. “I have nothing else to report.”
“Brilliant,” said Chandler, trying to contain his anger. “From now on, I want
any informant we have brought into protective custody immediately. Dante seems to be intensely monitoring his people, so if they meet in public, if they speak over their own phones, it's very likely Infernum knows about it.”
“Sir, if I may?”
Chandler sighed. “Agent Pierce, you had your chance to speak.”
“I believe it's relevant.”
“Very well, make it quick.”
“Well sir, if we try to bring these informants immediately into protective custody, there's a very good chance they'll get spooked,” said Christian. “We could lose them before we've successfully turned them.”
“Interesting theory, Agent,” said Chandler. “And I'm trying very hard to give a shit about their feelings on the matter.”
“Sir, with all due respect—”
“That is the new policy, Agent Pierce,” snapped Chandler. “You'll either follow it to the letter, or I'll accept your resignation. Are we clear on this matter?”
Christian nodded. “As crystal, sir.”
“Good. Now I want to know, right here and right now, do you have any informants you're currently leaning on?”
Christian paused as he considered those words. Once again, he found himself torn between his job and his desire to help Angela. But was it simply wanting to help her? Could it be he actually found himself compromised by the current situation?
“No sir, Travis and Anton were my only informants.”
“I don't think it's necessary for me to remind you what sort of thin ice you're on, Agent.”
Christian shook his head. “I understand that already, sir.”
“Good,” said Chandler. “Because one more fuck-up, and you'll find yourself spending the rest of your career transcribing video tape.”
***
The photograph of Angela nestled in the soft glow of Christian's computer screen. He sat and stared at it for a few moments, growing lost in the image. What did he expect to do here? What would he accomplish with all this? Was it really about getting Dante anymore?
He found himself pulled from his bubble by the scent of coffee. Julie came over to him with two cups and set one down in front of him. “How are you doing after that tongue-lashing?”
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