Christian leapt to the side as she fired and landed on his back. Once he hit the ground, he squeezed off a few shots, causing Angela to step out of the doorway again.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” he asked.
“Does the name Jeffrey Beam mean anything to you, asshole?” She stepped into the kitchen again and fired but Christian had already left through the other doorway. Angela followed him out, leading to a corridor. She knew from her last visit here that going left led to the bedroom, right went to the foyer and the living room. She ejected the spent shell and loaded a fresh one, moving towards the living room.
“Did you think you were going to get away with it?” she asked. “Did you really think I wouldn't find out? Did you really think you could use me like that?”
Christian stood right against the wall. Around the corner, Angela inched closer towards him. They both turned at the same instance, Angela pointing the shotgun at his chest and Christian with his gun trained on her forehead. Slowly, they backed away from each other. Each of them waited for the other to make the first move.
Christian weaved to the side and Angela fired. He returned fire and she moved back behind the corner. Christian ran towards the window, leaping over the couch and landing on the other side, his back pressed against it. He checked his belt, two extra clips, after that he was out. And he was pretty sure that if she came here to kill him, then she had spare weapons on her. Which meant he had to find a way out of this situation, and fast.
“Look, Angela I'm sorry! I should have told you who I was right from the start! But I—I panicked, okay? My informant was dead and you were the triggerman and I thought I could get you to come over to our side as well. And then I found out you were Jeff's wife.”
“Don't you say his name...” she muttered under her breath and spun around, firing a shell into the couch. “DON'T SAY HIS NAME!”
“Shit, calm down! Just listen to me, okay? This isn't who you are! You're not a contract killer! You were a good agent, one of the best! Draconi's records said you were his brightest student! And Je—your husband—he talked about you all the time. Said if he ever became half the agent you were, he deserved a medal.”
Angela put her head against the wall and bit her lip, images of her husband flashing through her memory at lightning speed. She found the grip on the shotgun beginning to relax.
“Look, I know I screwed this up, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I was only trying to help you. When Chandler asked if I had any leads on Anton's killer, I told him no. I told him I didn't have any other informants and that's the truth!”
“Did you also tell him about Brennen?” asked Angela.
Christian paused when he heard that name. “Brennen? Who told you about him?”
“Carter fucking Brennen, the man who killed my husband!”
“I don't know who killed him, but yeah, Brennen seems to be the likely suspect!”
She moved around the corner and fired again. After two more spent shells, the clicking sound indicated she was out. Christian sprung up and aimed the gun at her.
“Go ahead,” said Angela, dropping the shotgun.
“Hands where I can see them,” he warned.
“You killed Jeff, might as well kill me.”
“Jeff? What are you talking about, I was on assignment when Jeff was killed.”
“You didn't pull the trigger but you might as well have—you're the one that gave him up to Brennen.”
“What?” asked Christian. “Where the hell are you getting your information from? Jeff was like a brother to me, I'd never betray him!”
“There were only two of you on that Moscow op. Your cover was blown,” said Angela. “One of you survived, the other didn't. Coincidence?”
“More like dumb luck,” said Christian. “Like I said, I was on assignment when Jeff was killed. When I got back, I found out that someone blew up my apartment. Did Dante include that bit of information in his briefing?”
Angela froze.
Christian continued. “That's right, I had a meeting with Dante earlier. He came to a diner I was eating at on my way home. Told me I should stay away from you. Warned me it might be dangerous to be with someone like you. And now I get home and look who I find pointing a shotgun at me? How's that for coincidence?”
Angela's hands fell limp at her side.
“I didn't want to do it this way. I was going to tell you who I really was, how I knew Jeff, everything,” said Christian. “But first I needed to be sure that I could trust you. Dante's the one you can't trust and you should know that already. What made you think he would give up his prized assassin so soon? Maybe he's right, maybe Brennen was responsible for Jeff's death and maybe it was a double-agent who tipped him off. But it wasn't me. He's using you as a weapon against me, trying to get you to kill me. Because you and I were getting too close and Dante was worried that I might be able to turn you.”
Christian ejected the clip from his gun, letting it hit the floor and followed by dropping the Beretta on the couch. “It's not me, Angela. You and I, we're both victims here and now we've got a choice. Either we can continue this dance and probably wind up killing each other. Or we can both go to Chandler, tell him the story, and get rid of Dante for good. The choice is yours.”
Angela slowly nodded. “Okay. Let's do it, let's go see Chandler.”
“Good, because I—” Christian froze, his body stiffening. He fell face forward on the ground and Angela instantly went to his side. She placed her hand under his back to lower him down. When she pulled it away, she found it stained with his blood.
“No—no, Chris!”
She turned him onto his stomach, putting pressure on the entry wound. “Come on, you can't die on me, not now! You can't do this, you've got to come with me! We have to do this together! I need your help here, I need you to—”
Christian opened his mouth, struggling to speak. Only labored air came out at first and Angela moved her head closer to his mouth.
“I'm here,” she said. “You're not dying, okay? I'm going to call an ambulance and we're going to see Chandler and then we'll get Dante! All of us!”
“J—J—”
“What? What is it?”
“Ju—Ju—lie...Kimmmm...” he said in a labored tone. “Tell her...she...help...”
With those final words, his breathing stopped.
CHAPTER 16
The custom-made Harley tore through the night streets. Angela's helmet had a tinted visor, granting her a completely smooth, dark, emotionless face. The sound of the wind beating against her body and the roar of the engine as she pushed the bike towards its limit were only surpassed in her mind by the earth-quaking boom that signaled each rapid heartbeat.
Christian was dead. Killed by a sniper. Dante's contingency plan in case he was able to convince her to go back to the Agency. Never let it be said that Dante was a stupid man, he saw all the angles. In fact, he probably saw what was coming for him at this very moment down the expressway.
But Angela didn't care. He was expecting her and far be it for her to prove him wrong about his predictions. She was actually a bit amazed at how simple deducing his location proved to be. Suppose when you got down to it, Dante was a pretty predictable sort of guy.
She saw her exit coming and turned towards the offramp, but stopped short of it and looked into the distance. There was the bay and right near it, an extravagant condominium. Perhaps the ritziest area of town right here. Kicking the bike into gear, she blazed down the ramp, maintaining her speed as she merged onto the main street and blowing right through the light. A car came towards her and started to try screeching to a halt. Angela swerved to the side, spinning around in a circle as she passed the car, narrowly missing it and coming to a stop facing the direction she just came from. Revving again, she turned around, heading towards the condo.
She pulled to the side of the street and turned off the bike. Leaving her helmet on, she adjusted her jacket to ensure everything was still i
n place and then made her way to the front entrance. Once she walked in, she saw a few security guards in the lobby.
“You need to sign in,” one of them said. She ignored him, walking towards the elevators. He didn't like that and he grabbed her shoulder. “Hey, you deaf or something? I told you to sign i—”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her, at which point she head butted him, the helmet strong enough to knock him down. The second guard came at her and him she kicked in the knee first to cut him down to size, then drove her foot into his forehead. The one behind the desk reached for his gun, but Angela was a fraction quicker, taking aim with the Desert Eagle.
“You have two choices,” she said. “Either you raise your hands and pretend this never happened or I shoot you and your rent-a-cop friends. Understand?”
The guard watched her for a moment before he carefully lifted his arms into the air.
“Smart man, looks like you'll live to tell this story to your grandkids.” Angela backed down the hall, keeping the gun trained on him as she pressed the elevator call button. Seemingly unbeknownst to her, another security guard approached from behind.
Seemingly.
Angela's foot shot back, nailing him in the groin and dropping him to his knees. While keeping the gun trained on the desk guard, she gripped the hair of the new guy and slammed his head against the wall as the elevator arrived.
“Call Mr. Dante, tell him he's got a visitor.”
“Who?” asked the guard.
“You know who I mean.” She stepped inside and hit the button labeled PH, quickly hitting the DOOR CLOSE button.
She holstered the gun and removed the helmet as the elevator rose to its destination. Once the doors opened with the sound of an artificial bell, two guards in suits were waiting.
“Good evening, Ms. Lockhart,” said one of them. “Mr. Dante instructed us to show you to his room.”
“Lead the way,” she said. They motioned for her to go first and she did. As they walked down the corridor, the two men remained silent. Angela decided to try and get something out of them.
“When's the ambush?”
“No ambush, ma'am. Mr. Dante gave us specific instructions that you are not to be harmed.”
“And why would he do a thing like that?”
“We don't ask Mr. Dante any questions. He's not a fan of questions.”
Two large, double doors waited at the end. The guards both stopped. “He's waiting for you inside, Ms. Lockhart.”
“Thank you,” said Angela. She opened the door and stepped inside. When she took one last glance over her shoulder, she saw the guards already heading towards the elevator. Dante wanted her alone and that could either be a very good thing or a very bad thing.
Once inside, the Desert Eagle found itself in her hands once more as she explored the large penthouse. Outside, she could see the large, wraparound balcony he mentioned earlier. She moved towards it, noticing the billowing curtains, but then stopped when she caught sight of the steam out of the corner of her eye.
Angela moved towards it, seeing a glass door waiting at the end of the tiled floor. The door was just slightly ajar and she pulled it open, pointing the gun inside.
“Well, well, well,” said Dante, sitting on the bench of the steam room with a smile on his face. “I think I had a dream like this once. Only you were naked.” His face briefly shifted to show a bit of confusion. “...and for some reason, half-dolphin.”
“Think this is funny?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Yes, just a bit.” The chuckle faded and his face went to stone. “But somehow, I sense you don't see the humor.”
He walked towards the exit and Angela backed up, keeping the Eagle trained on him as he grabbed a towel and began wrapping it around his waist. “Would you mind if I put some pants on first? I'm not too fond of dying with only a towel on.”
Angela stood her ground, offering not a sound in either confirmation nor denial of his request. Dante sighed, his hand still on the towel. “Fine, be that way.”
With one hand, he pulled the towel from his waist and whipped it at her. Its slight dampness was enough to wrap around the gun and he pulled it from her grip. She rushed towards him, but Dante prepared himself for that. He kicked her in the chest with enough force to knock her back against the wall.
Angela slid to the ground, trying to catch her breath. She watched Dante as he walked further into the penthouse, still talking as he searched through a pile of neatly folded clothes on the couch.
“I take it that since you've come here trying to kill me, one of two things have happened.” He found his red leather pants and unfolded them, holding them up to the light to examine them, checking to see if they were indeed what he wanted. He nodded and began pulling them over his legs. “Either you've completely flipped out or the dearly departed Christian has spun quite a tale.”
“What do you think?” She slowly climbed back to her feet, her hand quickly and subtly drawing the gun strapped to her ankle and slipping it into her jacket's outside pocket.
Dante finished the last on the row of buttons to fasten the pants and he slowly moved closer to her. An umbrella case stood right near him and his hand went among the few umbrellas resting there.
“I think he did tell you what happened,” said Dante.
“You lied to me, you had him killed,” she hissed.
“And you're what, shocked and amazed?” He grinned slightly. “I didn't get to where I am by being stupid. I knew it was Brennen who killed your husband, what I haven't worked out is how Brennen got that information in the first place. But I couldn't risk Pierce turning you. That would have been very bad for business.”
“I don't give a shit about your business.”
“Well you should, because what I do affects you and every person on this planet,” said Dante. “You don't see what a difference I'm making in this world.”
“Difference? How does taking on contract killings make a difference?”
“Because behind every killing, there is a reason. And after every killing, there is a reaction. And those reactions challenge the power structure, shake up the status quo.” He started to laugh. “But that's immaterial to you now. You don't care whatsoever. And I think it's time we brought this little game to an end, don't you?”
He drew his hand from the umbrella case, and in his grip he held a katana sword in a black sheath. Dante slid the blade out and dropped the scabbard to the side, holding the sword up so it glinted in the artificial light of the apartment.
“What do you say, hero?” he asked. “Shall we dance?”
Angela took the gun from her pocket and squeezed off two shots. Dante moved like lightning, easily sidestepping them both and moving back behind the wall. She could have sworn she saw him laughing as he did.
She moved closer, trying to find an angle where she could spot him, but with no such luck. Her intuition told her it felt like there was someone behind her. Angela spun on her heel and jumped back just as Dante slashed downward. He had doubled back after moving into the next room and tried to ambush her from behind.
She hit the ground and rolled back, springing to her feet and firing four more shots. Two Dante found he could deflect with the sword, one missed and one caught him in his shoulder. He gripped the hilt with one hand, his other checking the shoulder wound. Blood leaked a little from the wound and it looked like the bullet was still in there.
“One shot, love. Think you're fast enough?”
“I already clipped your wing, the next one goes through your head.”
He chuckled. “Feisty. I like that in a woman.”
“Then today's your lucky day,” she said.
He began to laugh again. “Mexican stand-off, eh? You really going to shoot me in cold blood when I don't have a gun of my own?”
“You didn't give Christian that luxury, so why should you get it?”
“Point taken,” he said. “Okay, let's settle up, love.”
Dante rushed f
orward and brought the sword up in an arc, the blade coming at Angela. She could barely register his speed and just managed to move from getting sliced in half. She brought the gun around and fired, the bullet going right over his shoulder.
“That's it, then—game over.” Dante kicked her in the head and she hit the ground. When she got up, he had the tip of the blade pointed at her neck. “Easy now, wouldn't want you to lose your head.”
“I'm getting a little tired of your quips,” she said.
“Now I know you're crazy. Everyone loves quips.”
Dante hadn't noticed Angela's hand creeping towards her ankle. “Face it, Dante—” she said as she slowly drew the knife from its sheath. “—you're just not that funny.”
She threw the knife at him and Dante twisted to the side, grabbing it from midair. “That the best you can do?” he asked, holding it up for her to see.
“No, that was just the distraction!”
She fell back on her hands and pushed herself up, legs first and the soles of her feet struck Dante in the chest. He went back against the wall, the katana clattering on the tile. As he came back at her, Angela delivered a roundhouse kick strong enough to turn his body around so his back was to her. She grabbed the katana and hesitated for just a moment, wondering if this truly was what she actually wanted.
She thought of Christian and Jeff. She thought of all the things she did for Dante. She thought of what she had been turned into by not only him but the Agency as well. This was the end of the road for her.
Angela thrust the sword into his back and Dante opened his mouth, but didn't scream. Blood slowly began to come out of his mouth and he collapsed on the ground.
She fell to her knees, staring at his body for a few moments, wondering whether or not this was all over. Wondering what she would do with her life now.
She got to her feet and rummaged around the penthouse for some things before leaving through the front door.
CHAPTER 17
The pathologist opened the morgue drawer and pulled the cold body out. Julie Kim watched with no emotion as she looked into the face of her former partner.
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