Agent M: Project Mabus (The Agent M Series Book 1)

by L. M. Vila

  The gun fired and its sheer force slammed Michael’s back into the cabinets behind him. Seika kept her grip tight as she watched Michael vanish behind the island. This charade was over. She had won the game so long as she carried his pistol. A weapon of this magnitude would normally have a kick that would numb the untrained hands. Seika didn’t even feel it.

  She peered around the side of the table, taunting the air with her weapon. A newly formed pool of blood had soaked the floor and coated the wall. Leaning against it, with his legs slightly spread was the wounded FBI agent she had hoped to kill for far too long. Her shot had caught him in the right shoulder and he didn’t even bother lifting his other good hand to close the wound. Michael Madison just sat against that wall, defeated.

  His jacket betrayed him. This one hundred pound burden had not lived up to its potential. The bullet penetrated the greave, between the sleeve and chest. Armor was always the weakest in those areas. Seika just happened to be lucky. Or it was Michael’s luck that she missed his head.

  The bullet size for this gun could take a man’s arm clean off if hit in the right spot. Michael never meant to be on the receiving end of his own pistol. The pain was indescribable. Like a grenade went off inside his body and continued detonating with every passing second. The exit wound felt excruciatingly worse. His entire arm went numb. Blood spewed profusely. He could have grinded his teeth into enamel dust at this moment but he just sat there, breathing heavily with Seika pointing a gun right at his solemn head.

  This was the moment she waited for. Her mind ordered her to pull the trigger but her heart wanted to relish in it a bit longer.

  “I can’t believe someone like you defeated Seimon,” she spat. Her emotions were trying to take control. Seika didn’t allow it. “You are my nightmare. Every day that you lived was like poison seeping through my body. It didn’t kill me, but made me wish for death. Seeing you here now, like this, is everything that I deserve and more than I could have asked for.”

  Seika pressed the gun forward and tapped the trigger. “For my brother, vengeance at long last.”

  Michael’s body shook. A small sound passed through his breath. Then another. Seika marveled at the oddity of these actions. Was he coughing? Maybe she cracked a rib with that kick. No, it wasn’t coughing. His cynicism became thick. After pouring out her heart, this beaten man actually started to laugh.

  The odds are pressed against him but unless he was dead then he had to keep fighting. Seika was tough, one of the toughest opponents he’s ever faced. Her weaknesses were hard to spot. Sometimes he had the tools to exploit them, other times he didn’t. In this case Michael was trapped in a corner in which any movement could cost him his life. There was one lesson his surrogate parents had always instilled in him and all of their students. When there are no longer any weapons in sight, create one of your own.

  “Your brother... Was a coward.”

  Sheer terror swept through Seika’s consciousness. Not the fear that this man had spoken but the chutzpas it took to talk this way to her. Especially when his life was in her hands. The gun rattled slightly but what Michael was saying intrigued her. She never knew what happened in their battle. This was her chance at closure. No matter how difficult it may be to swallow.

  “He fought like an animal. No class. No finesse. It was like watching a child swing a wooden sword. I could only imagine he was taught by one.” Michael wasn’t pulling any punches. The way Seika reacted to his initial words meant this was working. “Our fight was short. His reign as an assassin must have been a joke. No one that foolish or idiotic could possibly pull off the crimes he was famous for.”

  A line had been stepped. He was going too far. Seika knew what he was trying to do but allowed it anyways. The story played out in her mind. Now to the climax.

  “After I slapped him around for a while, I went to finish him off. Tears flowed down his eyes. He placed his lips on my shoes and begged me to spare his life. It was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever experienced.”

  “Damare!” She shouted. Seika did not want to hear this but the story was not over. He looked like there was one last thing to tie it all together.

  “When I pressed the gun under his chin, he made his final request.” Michael lifted his eyes and stared straight into the tormented soul of his adversary. “He asked me to find you. And when I did, I should take your life. He said that this bloodline was tainted. You brought him great shame. If a skilled warrior such as he had been defeated so easily, there was no way he could be avenged by a little whore.”

  “Urusai Kono Bakayaro!”

  Gunpowder exploded and dissipated into the tension-filled air. Seika flinched as she dropped the weapon from her hand. Her stomach burned. She clenched it, trying to suppress the pit of fire from growing. Blood gushed into her hands. Pain immediately swelled every fragment of her conscious . She stepped back several times, repeating the same words over and over again.

  “Uso...”

  Michael picked himself up, slowly at first, clutching his second Desert Eagle pistol. The tip was still smoking. She didn’t even see him reach for it. Her eyes were lost in his words. Just as planned.

  He moved forward as Seika fell back. Her mind still trying to process the events. She trained herself never to give into the demands of her emotions. It’s a warrior’s worst enemy. Today it cost her everything. Seika stumbled over a piece of debris and landed straight on her back. The broken bits of glass caught her fall. She didn’t even register the feeling.

  Moving through the sullen room, Michael stalked Seika’s fallen body. She was rambling in Japanese. Possibly a prayer or possible delusional from having a .50 caliber bullet tear through your abdomen, leaving a fist sized hole in its wake. Michael dragged his right arm. Its weight wasn’t overbearing. The fact that it felt dead was more annoying than anything else.

  He stood over her body, the barrel of his gun pointed right between her eyes. Finally, Seika stopped her Japanese gibberish. She was saying only one thing, constantly. Like the mantra of a woman at the gates of death.

  “Kamisama... Tasukete.”

  This woman had some nerve. After her history of bloodshed and killing she had the gall to ask, nay, plead for God’s intervention. Michael couldn’t begin to empathize with her pain. Nor did he care to. Someone asking for mercy who doesn’t even know the meaning of it was the definition of cowardly. All Seika desired was for a little divine intervention. In his last act of good will or the ultimate insult to faith itself, Michael would allow her and God the opportunity to try.

  “If your God exists... Let him save you now.”

  Her eyes widened. Air quickly entered her gasping throat. The gun erupted. Its blast would be forever etched into the now silent halls of the laboratory.

  The U.C.L.A. Medical Center was swarmed with countless squad cars, ambulances, and even a pair of fire trucks. Wilshire Boulevard had been lit up with a parade of destruction in the passing hour. Isabella was finally apprehended and being dragged to a squad car. Following closely behind her, Meryl tried to explain all of the events that transpired to the lead officer.

  “She attempted to escape disguised as a cadaver when I stepped in to make the arrest.”

  After hearing Meryl’s testimony, the Lieutenant seemed less than pleased. “I don’t know how many laws you broke in the last hour but if you think this is just going to be swept under the rug you’ve got another thing coming. FBI agents are all the same. You don’t care about the mess you make because lackeys like us are here to clean up after you. Isn’t that right?”

  Meryl felt insulted. She knew what it was like to work the beat as much as any other officer at the scene. Just because she wears a suit and tie doesn’t negate the fact that she empathizes with these men. Biting her tongue would be best at this point. There was no reason to argue with this man right now. Although, she definitely started to see why the L.A.P.D. left such a bitter taste in Michael’s mouth.

  Doors opened to the squad car that wo
uld carry Isabella straight to jail. Still holding on to her reservations, Meryl believed they were being lax with her. Broken arm aside, if this woman had the ability to penetrate FBI headquarters and pull of an assassination then she is definitely more dangerous than anyone could give her credit for. She had to say something.

  “Look, regardless of what you think of me, that woman you’re carrying is extremely dangerous. She needs to be handled with caution.”

  Apparently that was the spark to set off the already annoyed Lieutenant. “Listen here suit; you’ve done your job. Don’t tell us how to do ours. We’ll take it from here.”

  The beaten look on Isabella’s face should have been convincing enough. Meryl still remained skeptical. She didn’t go down quietly the first time, why would she bother now? There may be a few other tricks up her sleeve. Even with Meryl’s threatening gaze, Isabella didn’t even bother to make eye contact with anyone. Her spirit couldn’t have been broken that easily.

  Isabella’s head entered the squad car. Maybe she valued her life more than Meryl gave her credit for. The officer pushed her inside forcefully and prepared to slam the door. He didn’t hesitate but it didn’t matter. Routine rusted his senses. Isabella kicked the door, slamming it into his breadbasket and popped out of the backseat. She stole the pistol of a seemingly stunned officer and kicked him down.

  Drawing her weapon in response, Meryl shouted a warning high into the air. It was more than enough to get everyone’s attention. They quickly pulled out their pistols and aimed it at Isabella. The spy swung the weapon wildly. It severely lacked finesse. That’s when Meryl realized. She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. Her motives were much more selfish. None of the officers on site saw it that way. Meryl threw a plea at them in desperation.

  “Wait! STOP!”

  Volleys of bullets were unleashed. Isabella must have absorbed over a dozen in seconds. Her body plopped to the ground, blood still flowing from the freshly punctured orifices. The life that filled it had been released instantaneously. Hearing that continuous gunfire was detrimental to her ears but even more so to her heart.

  Meryl didn’t want it to end this way. Sure Isabella deserved to die. She even wanted to pull the trigger herself. But she didn’t. That’s what made her different. Isabella knew her fate. Suicide by cop was the only way to spare herself of thousands of hours in court and potentially being murdered in prison by her employer. Justice was not served on this night. No matter how much anyone would try to convince her.

  Cutting through her resentment, Meryl’s phone rang. She wavered slightly when deciding to answer it. Watching Isabella being cut down in a hail of bullets still had a stranglehold on her thoughts. She put the call through anyways. The distraction may help calm her down.

  “This is Meryl.”

  “Agent Lewis, this is S.A.C. Wells.” Her voice sounded like it was being drummed out by a loud noise.

  Obscenities flashed in Meryl’s mind. She completely forgot to check in. “Ms. Wells, I’m glad to hear you’re alright. How is everything?” Maybe not the best thing to ask but it was the first on her mind. She was genuinely concerned.

  “They’re still doing containment but luckily no one else was seriously injured. What is your location?”

  That was good news. The second half might take a bit of explaining. “I’m on the corner of Wilshire and 16th street. I followed Isabella during her escape and it ended here.”

  Nicole paused slightly. “And the status of the target?”

  Not knowing a good way to respond, Meryl opted for a simple explanation. Details could be gathered later.

  “Dead.”

  Meryl believed their thoughts were in sync. Nicole remained silent on the other end. She was probably thinking the same thing. Changing the subject was definitely in order and welcomed for both parties.

  “Stay put, I’m on my way to your location.”

  “Really? Be careful. It’s really jammed up down here. It’ll take a while.”

  “That won’t be a problem. Stand by for pick up.”

  The calm air above Los Angeles soon turned violent. Meryl’s hearing had been drowned out by sirens and gunshots that she couldn’t even sense what was happening. Descending from above, an FBI helicopter attempted to touch down a couple hundred feet away.

  Meryl ran towards it, disregarding everyone else’s work in her path. The Lieutenant was right. Her job was done here. There was something even greater at stake. Once she was within range, the helicopter doors opened. Nicole was sitting inside, safely strapped into her seat. The helicopter’s blades winded down. Conversation would be a bit easier from this point on.

  As she neared the door, Nicole spoke out. The first thing Meryl noticed was her arm in a makeshift sling. She must have been one of the injuries mentioned earlier.

  “Hop in. We’re on our way to rendezvous Michael.”

  Shocked was the first thing on her mind as she entered the helicopter. “Michael?! Where is he?”

  “Hesperia. Attempting to apprehend the suspects on his own.”

  “By himself? That’s crazy,” Meryl replied while strapping on her safety restraints.

  “It’s also his M.O.” Nicole gave the pilot the signal to take off. “We’ve got to get moving. I’ve already got the warrant. This Tactical Aviation Unit is going to meet up with our S.W.A.T. team already en route.”

  Nicole covered her bases. There was still one last detail to consider as the helicopter was beginning its ascent. “And their headquarters in New York?”

  Meryl was really thinking like an FBI agent. This pleased the S.A.C. very much.

  “We’ve got another team ready to swoop in. They won’t be able take a step off that property without running into our guys.”

  “That’s great!” Meryl had one last question to ask. “How long until we reach Hesperia?”

  Her boss couldn’t help but crack a little smile. “Hopefully, before the sunrise. Which isn’t too long from now.”

  Exhaustion reared its hideous head. Knowing how long she’d been up was a knife straight in Meryl’s consciousness. Her eyes burned. Today’s events would have been a hard pill to swallow had she been warned but being carried on adrenaline and instincts worked out better than anyone could have predicted.

  The helicopter flew through the star filled night. Meryl left the thoughts of the ground behind her. There were plenty of other things running laps in her mind. All of them started with Michael.

  Most people would feel a sense of bitterness, or even regret in this situation. Taking the life of another was arguably a challenging task. For the experienced, it was business as usual. Michael draped his coat over the fallen body of his opponent and didn’t give her a second glance. His right arm, now soaked in blood, continued to drain fluid out of the gaping wound.

  Michael walked towards the closet. The person that caused so much noise which ultimately led to his distraction and taking a bullet from his own weapon sat completely silent. Reaching for the door, Michael noticed the keypad hindering him from opening the doors. Annoyance aside, the code would not be required. Sure it made things difficult but nothing was impossible for this FBI agent. He gripped the handle firmly in his left hand and in one mighty pull, ripped it clean off.

  The doors opened. A young woman laid prone inside. She looked uninjured but Michael couldn’t tell whether she was friend or foe at this point. Being locked in a closet worked in her favor but he could never take his guard down unless he wanted a repeat of what happened earlier.

  Danielle looked up at the man in tactical BDU pants, a sleeveless shirt, and his crimson colored arm. Whether a knight in shining armor or a new adversary to contend with, the first question she had to ask was, “Who are you?”

  He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his badge. Although he told Nicole earlier he quit, it was irrelevant in this situation. The woman gave it a swift glance. It convinced her he was friendly. She stood up and reached out to him. Michael pulled back, keeping his injured arm f
ar out of her reach. Now that his identity was established, it was his turn to ask the question.

  “Who are you?”

  Danielle had no problems answering him. “My name is Danielle Ross,” she pulled out her badge hidden safely in her pocket. “I’m with the CIA. I trust you’ve been told of our presence.”

  Michael didn’t even acknowledge that statement. He moved away from her and headed back in the direction of the elevators. Danielle immediately noticed the destroyed patch of flesh near his arm and raised concern.

  “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t answer. They didn’t work together so after identification was established they didn’t have to answer each other either. Her civic duty as a proper human being made her stop him from advancing.

  “You can’t go, especially with your arm like that.” She directed him to the edge of the half destroyed table. “Wait here. There’s got to be a first aid kit on this floor.”

  Although he was unwilling, the woman did have a point. Michael stayed put as she began her search. The blood spilling from his arm made him think of something else he might need. Definitely an unusual request but necessary nonetheless. Before she escaped out of view, he spoke.

  “Salt.”

  That halted Danielle right in her tracks. She wasn’t sure what he meant by that but whatever the reason, she would bring it for him.

  As she ventured off into the great unknown, Michael went to clean his arm off in a nearby sink. Gratefully it hadn’t been permanently damaged in his previous encounter. He stuck his sticky, blood covered appendage under a stream of running water. At this point, he was happy he was able to move it. So much blood up had been lost that Michael began to feel its effects. The soap worked its magic to clean his arm but if the woman didn’t return with what he asked it would all be in vain.