Nightfall

by Peter Hoole

  “Caleb,” Darcy replied, and Caleb knew she was trying to sound calm and composed, “my life is already in danger. I only feel safe when I’m with you. I don’t know who I can trust… no offense Mike.”

  “None taken,” replied Dunleavy.

  Caleb considered the situation. It had several unknowns, and he wondered if he could guarantee Darcy’s safety if she stayed with him.

  Until he knew the entire situation, and who exactly was after him, he knew he couldn’t be sure.

  But she did have a point. He would worry if she wasn’t with him, and he didn’t completely trust Dunleavy, even though Dunleavy had given him no real reason not to trust him at this point in time.

  Caleb assessed his options, and decided to opt for the lesser of the two dangers. “Alright. I give in. But, I want you to stay here for now. I’ll go to the apartment and get the laptop. Dunleavy… you stay with her, at all times. Get it? You don’t let her out of your sight.”

  Dunleavy nodded his agreement and Caleb glanced back at Darcy.

  Darcy nodded, reluctantly.

  Caleb left the car, walking from the carpark and out to the road leading to Darcy’s apartment. Before he turned the corner, he looked back at her, and smiled reassuringly.

  Darcy returned the smile, although hers was a little more tentative.

  If it was to be Caleb’s last image of her, he was glad it would be her smiling. The thought comforted him, and Caleb began jogging toward the apartment.

  “You’ve got a good one there,” said Dunleavy, watching his former charge jog away. “He’s never failed me before, and I can’t see him doing it now. Not when he’s fighting for you.”

  “I know,” Darcy replied.

  “I don’t think you do. In all the research we did, all the profiling – the one trait that always stood out with Caleb, the one element of his character which seemed to always stand out was fidelity. No matter what choices he made, he was completely loyal to that choice. Probably why he joined the Marines. Sempre Fi—”

  “I know that, Mike,” Darcy said tersely.

  “I realise you do,” Dunleavy responded. “But I thought you should know, there’s more to him—”

  “You think you know him?” Darcy snapped, “You think you know him because he answered a quiz in a certain way, or because of the way he carried out these missions you sent him on? You think you know him, because you think all your mind games and manipulations were perfect. Well, you know what? You don’t know shit about him, Mr. Dunleavy. Caleb is the best person I have ever met. I know him better than any of your tests, any of your psychological games ever could!”

  Dunleavy was taken aback by her anger, not used to being spoken to in such a way. He’d always been treated with respect; to have this little spitfire shouting him down was quite a shock.

  “Have you ever seen him when he’s not about to go on a mission?” Darcy asked, not waiting for a response. “No, you haven’t. You don’t know the real Caleb. I’ve seen him do acts of kindness for people, the things that no one else does. He’s the kind of guy who stood up for the bullied kids at school. The kind of guy who gave up his spot in the Varsity football team, to the kid whose parents had just been killed. He’s the guy who, no matter the situation, always does the good and right thing. He is everything the rest of us aren’t. That’s who he is, and you’re lucky you had him working for you!”

  Darcy lapsed into silence, her arms crossed over her chest, her annoyance evident. Dunleavy had no doubt that she knew Caleb better than anyone else ever could, and obviously, she wasn’t going to let anyone tell her otherwise. He admired her spunk. “My apologies, Ms. Chamberlain.”

  She remained silent for almost a full minute before she spoke. “Okay, then.” There was another long pause before Darcy continued. “Just don’t you dare think you know him better than I do. You’ve only seen him at his worst. I’ve seen him at his best.”

  With that, they both fell silent, waiting for Caleb to return.

  Leon’s eyes were drooping. He’d been waiting in the apartment for hours, and the conversation with his family seemed so long ago. Leon was happy to know that regardless of how the situation turned out, his wife and children would prosper into the future. It would all be worth it, to know that he’d secured their safety.

  He was startled by a vibration from his pocket and he hurried to retrieve the phone, seeing William’s name on the caller ID he answered the call.

  “Leon,” William said, without waiting for Leon to speak. “The car is parked about a mile away. Be prepared. It appears they might suspect something.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll get them as soon as they walk in. I’m in position and they won’t know what hit them.”

  “Just don’t fuck this up.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  “Stay alert. The target will be there any minute.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good luck,” William said and disconnected the call.

  The adrenaline pumped through Leon’s body, his alertness heightened, and he worked to block all external thoughts from his mind.

  His family.

  The plan.

  Everything.

  His focus was on the door and the taking down of anyone who entered.

  Seconds turned into minutes. Lying on his stomach between the couches, Leon pointed the pistol towards the door. He struggled to block all the sounds coming from outside the apartment.

  The passing cars caused several distractions. The lights rebounded from the wall, and made the door seem like it opened. The sound of the engines prevented Leon from hearing anything unusual in the vacant apartment.

  After several minutes, a motorcycle went past outside. The engine was loud, and the lights brightened the room.

  Blinking from the sudden flash of brightness, he felt a huge blow on the back of his head.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caleb had approached the building cautiously, working his way around from the front to the side, where he noticed the broken bathroom window. He entered the apartment exactly the same way Leon had, keeping his movements completely silent. Once he’d entered the bathroom, he considered the apartment and how an assassin would plan his attack.

  He was dealing with a trained professional, someone who’d made an effort to hide how he entered the building. Considering this, and the apartment layout, Caleb reasoned that whoever was here would have wanted a good view of the door, and hidden themselves – probably at floor level.

  The space between the couches, he thought.

  Caleb cautiously made his way through the apartment, hugging the walls, only moving when a vehicle passed in the street below, to mask his movements as much as possible.

  He reached the couch, and moved into position, keeping his eye on the assassin. His target was lying on his belly between the couches, his gaze fixed on the apartment door.

  Caleb waited, completely still, his slowing breath controlling his heart-rate. He waited for his moment, for another vehicle to pass. It didn’t take long before a motorcycle roared down the street, passing the apartment in a blur of sound and light.

  Caleb made his move.

  He swung down and struck the gunman hard on the back of the head, causing him to reactively fire. A bullet shot from the barrel, embedding itself in the wall beside the door. Due to the apparent shock, the gun fell from his hands.

  Startled into action, the gunman sprang to his feet, turning to face his opponent. Caleb leapt at him, getting the man into a bear-hug, trying to keep his opponent as confused as possible while he tried to gain the upper hand. The man was a bit bigger than Caleb, but no more so than he had dealt with in the past.

  The gunman pushed himself away with a loud roar of anger, causing Caleb to lose his balance and step back towards one of the couches.

  Struggling to regain his balance, Caleb was attacked by the gunman, who landed a series of blows. One caught Caleb’s jaw, another one his ribcage and he suffered a glancing blow to his
sternum.

  Caleb quickly realized that while the man was not the best fighter, he’d obviously had some training. Countering the man’s continued attack with defensive parries, Caleb found his own punches being blocked and struggled to penetrate the man’s defences.

  Rethinking his plan, Caleb adjusted his stance into an attack posture, placing his weight on his back leg, and delivered a roundhouse kick to the assassin’s sternum.

  The impact of the kick was enough to shatter the man’s ribcage, and the force sent him stumbling backwards, until he fell through the coffee table in the middle of the lounge, shattering the glass top.

  The man cried out in pain and Caleb suspected some of the glass had embedded itself in his back. Not wanting to kill the man – information was more important – Caleb backed away.

  To Caleb’s surprise, after a moment or two, the man stumbled back up onto his feet, although he was hunched over in pain.

  As Caleb watched, the man reached over his shoulder, and removed a large piece of glass that protruded from his upper back. The man shuddered, and Caleb could only imagine the intense pain he’d experience from such an act.

  The assassin wavered a little on his feet, blood flowing freely, staining his shirt. He eyed Caleb carefully under the limited light filtering in from outside, and his eyes narrowed. “You!” Once again, he tried to attack, but his movements were completely restricted by the wound in his back and the damage to his ribs from Caleb’s kick.

  Caleb was easily able to get out of the way and when the assassin attempted a punch, he lurched forward, falling onto the floor.

  When he remained motionless, Caleb moved closer, turning on a lamp to get a better look at the man who’d been determined to kill him and Darcy.

  The man’s back was completely covered in blood. Caleb took a closer look, but with so much blood, he couldn’t distinguish exactly where the wound was. The blood was still flowing freely from the man’s back, and Caleb reasoned that the shard of glass must have nicked an artery. With the amount of blood flow, Caleb realised the man only had minutes to live, at most.

  Caleb flipped the man over, and told him the situation. He told the man he was sure to die.

  The man smiled.

  “Who are you?” Caleb demanded, taken aback by the leering smile on the man’s lips.

  “It… it doesn’t matter,” the man replied. “You will be dead, soon enough.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s going to die,” Caleb said, determined to get some answers. “Tell me who you are. Why did you want to kill Darcy?”

  “The plan…” the man said, struggling to breath.

  His next words surprised Caleb.

  “My family’s life… my family. They will live. That… that’s all that matters.”

  Caleb grabbed the man’s shirt, shaking him. “Tell me who you are?” Caleb begged the man.

  The man shook his head weakly, his words coming out between gasps for breath. Caleb leaned in closer, and heard the man whispered something.

  A moment later, the life left the man’s eyes.

  Caleb stood up and stared down at the man. He still didn’t know who he was, but his last words had the desired effect.

  “See you in the next life”.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Matthew and Pierre ran across the road, and entered through the front of the building. They’d been alerted by the gunshot, and weren’t willing to risk the possibility that Leon might slip away.

  Pierre had joined Matthew approximately thirty minutes before the gunshot.

  Everything was in place. Emmett had sent out the files and emails, Matthew had positioned himself in a great vantage point, and Leon had just shot the reporter.

  The only thing now was to ensure that Leon was eliminated. Pierre was confident that between the two of them, they could easily account for one of William’s men. While he trusted and respected William, Pierre had always believed he was the better mentor, and his trainees were better equipped to deal with most situations. After all, he had never asked a neighbouring Zone to take care of his problems, as William had done earlier.

  Once the task was complete, and Leon was eliminated, both Pierre and Matthew could return to the colony, and receive their duties for Phase Two. He also knew they would receive the serum.

  The pair entered the building through the lobby. Dressed in nondescript clothes, wearing baseball caps and with their jacket hoods pulled low over their faces, they were sure that even if they were seen, they couldn’t be identified.

  Within two minutes of hearing the gunshot, Pierre and Matthew were closing in on the apartment door. As they approached, Pierre held up his hand – ordering Matthew to slow down. Matthew obeyed and Pierre slowly approached the door, his gun aimed in case Leon appeared unexpectedly.

  Pierre gave Matthew a hand signal, ordering him to wait on the far side of the doorframe and wait for Pierre’s mark. When they were both in place, Pierre silently counted down on his fingers.

  Three… two… one… go.

  Matthew crashed through the door.

  He scanned the room, and saw the signs of a struggle. It was immediately apparent the kill hadn’t gone as smoothly as they’d hoped. Matthew walked through the room, and discovered a body on the couch. He stood his ground, and whispered softly, but loud enough that Pierre would hear.

  “Aider requis” said Matthew, informing his Canadian master that help was required.

  Dammit, thought Pierre. He did not anticipate any issues. However, just to play it safe, took out his phone, and sent a quick text to Emmett – the details of the flight he was to target.

  After confirming the text had been sent, Pierre replaced his phone, and entered the room.

  He crept inside, surveyed the scene quickly, and seeing what Matthew had discovered, ordered him to maintain position while he checked out the rest of the apartment.

  Pierre, his pistol still drawn, moved slowly towards the body on the couch. It was instantly apparent it wasn’t the female reporter. The strong, masculine frame gave that away. “Merde!” he exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Matthew asked.

  “Fuck. You stay here,” Pierre said, “I’ll check out the rest of the place.”

  “Okay. But… what happened sir?”

  “It’s the Asset.”

  Matthew immediately tensed up. If Leon had even a small portion of the training that he had received, he was a force to be reckoned with. But, that wasn’t what concerned Matthew. At that point he was more worried about the person who’d killed him. It couldn’t have been the reporter.

  Pierre raised his weapon when he felt a slight breeze coming from the bathroom. He shifted his weight to his front foot, and slowly walked in that direction. Matthew kept lookout in the living area, while paying heed to any possible threat to Pierre.

  Pierre continued to move slowly, stepping on the glass that had shattered from the coffee table. He kept the gun focused on the bathroom area, hoping the assailant was still there. The person had managed to kill Leon, and that was bad enough, but the fact the assailant might have escaped as well would be unforgivable, and it would place their plan in serious jeopardy.

  Pierre, for the first time since he came into the group, was genuinely concerned.

  As Pierre entered the small bathroom, he quickly covered all visible areas with his gun. The shower, the cabinet, the closet.

  Nothing.

  He walked over to the open window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the assailant. He stuck his head out the window and once again saw… nothing.

  Damn it, he thought, working out all the variables that were now coming into the equation.

  Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him. Pierre spun around, in his heart hoping it was just the breeze.

  Caleb took one swing at Pierre, knocking him backwards, the punch connecting squarely with his jaw. Pierre fell back against the sink.

  Pierre was dazed, but used the momentum from his fall to bounce off the sink and
kick out at Caleb.

  Caleb knew that such tactics were useless. The bathroom was quite small, and only close fighting tactics would assist him. Caleb was physically taller and stronger than Pierre, and had an age advantage of ten or so years. Coupled with the surprise of the attack, Caleb was easily in the dominant position. He absorbed Pierre’s kick, and reached out, grabbing his opponent by the shoulders.

  He lowered the man’s head, as though intending to double him over. When he had lowered his head far enough, Caleb lifted his knee and drove it into the man’s face, shattering his nose, and sending teeth flying down his throat.

  Blood was streaming from the intruder’s head and face, thus blinding him. The knee had also caused a concussion, which meant Canadian was off balance.

  “Sir?” Matthew called out from the living room.

  Pierre tried to cry out, but he choked slightly on the blood that was engulfing his throat. Before he could say anything meaningful, Caleb placed his hand over his mouth, preventing any sound. Pierre was on his knees, and the Marine was crouching at eye level to him.

  “Why are you trying to kill Darcy?” he asked. He slightly loosened his grip over Pierre’s mouth.

  Pierre paused, trying to buy time for Matthew to come storming in.

  “Fuck you!” he spat out.

  Caleb had overheard the two men talking, and he knew he was talking to the superior in the relationship. He realised he was wasting his time, and decided to end the conversation. He stood up, and hit Pierre on the temple with the butt of his newly acquired CZ-75.

  Pierre slumped to the floor, unconscious, but alive. Caleb knew when it was necessary to kill a man, and when it was not. He immobilized Pierre so he was no longer an immediate threat.

  He stood, and stepped towards the bathroom door. He knew the younger man in the living room was probably still scanning the room. He would have to be fast, and hoped the speed would be enough to get to him.

  He opened the door, and a hail of gunshots flew towards him. As they flew, Caleb dropped to the floor, and crawled out of the room, hiding behind the couch adjacent and waiting for the shots to finish. Once they did, he waited for shots to come towards the couch.