Cobra- The Vigilante Box Set 2

by Nicholas Bella

  “I will, don’t worry.” I walked over to him and kissed his forehead, then left. First, I drove my car to an area close to where I’d parked the one owned by Mr. Tate, which I’d left in a hotel parking lot. I knew he would be tracking the car and if I was going to another hotel or motel, or even a random neighborhood, he’d think I was out getting some sex since I was supposed to be living back at Tate Towers with the other guards. To keep up appearances, there were days when I didn’t leave the Towers. If I’d left every day and stayed gone until the next day, they would have grown suspicious. So, needless to say, it’d been an ordeal.

  I switched cars, then drove to the Towers and climbed on the elevator. I hoped both Mark and Alisha were there so I could catch them off guard and kill them. Sure, I’d learned the ropes in all this time. I knew their personalities and only a few times seemed off to them, but I managed to bounce back enough to disarm them. We’d been working like a well-oiled machine since I had breached their defenses, and taking them out should be simple enough.

  They had to go first, because dealing with Takahashi was going to be trouble enough. I’d seen him training in the gym a few times. He was damn good and loved to use his Katana or Nodachi. Of course, I wasn’t concerned about his swords, as nothing could penetrate my skin. Also, I was proficient enough with my guns to make him bringing a sword to a gun fight a foolish idea. I just didn’t want to be dealing with Takahashi Anzai longer than I had to, because I didn’t want Richard’s sneaky ass to get away.

  I was on the elevator, about to carry out the mission I’d been plotting for damn near a month. Was I a little nervous? Just a little, but when it came time to act, all my nerves turned to steel and I was determined to get the job done, no matter what the job was. I believed that was why those secret agents had wanted to recruit me. My commanding officer had always commended me on my work ethic, saying I could handle every fucking situation that came our way. I was sure that was how they had vetted me. Knew I didn’t ask questions and would work my ass off for them. I was the perfect soldier, and that was why I was the perfect candidate for their little experiment.

  I guess they were pissed off when it looked like they had failed. I bet they buried my ass without a backwards glance. It wasn’t like I was their first failed attempt at making a super soldier. Or hell, maybe they were making super mercenaries. I didn’t even know and didn’t bother going back to find out. I wasn’t afraid… I didn’t think. But I just didn’t trust them, and I didn’t want to be used anymore. My gullible, vulnerable days… I wanted to put them behind me.

  The elevator doors opened and I walked down the hall, making sure my face was visible on the cameras. I used my key card and entered the apartment. Alisha was on the monitors and Mark was lounging on the sofa, watching the basketball game. I was pretty sure his team was in the playoffs. Hmmm, how was I going to do this shit? Did I start shooting now, or wait until one of them left the room? I was a pretty quick shot, but I didn’t want to give them the opportunity to sound any alarms. We all wore bracelets that acted as alerts. If one of us were in trouble, or the boss was, we could push the buttons on the bracelet and help would come running.

  See, I didn’t need that shit. Also, from looking at the monitor, I knew Mr. Alexander Foster hadn’t arrived yet. I wanted all of my ducks in a row, so to speak. Well, I guess it was decided. I would wait. “Everything cool?” I asked Alisha as she lazily studied the monitors surveying Richard’s home.

  She nodded. “Nothing to report, really. We’re having a guest tonight, though. Some big wig rich guy named Alexander Foster. Boss wants one of us to escort him up when he arrives,” she explained.

  “I’ll do the honors, I suppose,” I volunteered. Maybe it would give me a chance to get a feel for the guy. J brought up a good point, but I just didn’t think it was enough to make me change my mind about killing this asshole. However, if he did want to back out… I might rethink my strategy, if I could use the guy. He might have a conscience and be willing to help. That was still an idea I was mulling over.

  “I wasn’t going to go down there. You just started your shift, so I was going to suggest you be the gopher anyway,” Alisha said.

  I smirked. “Cunt.”

  “Slut,” she shot back.

  I realized that the three bodyguards traded insults often. When I wasn’t quick on the uptake one day, that was one of the instances that threw them off, but I caught on and avoided blowing my cover. Another thing that made them suspicious was when I didn’t want coffee. Apparently, Tanner Jacob wasn’t quite himself in the morning without his cup of joe. I didn’t really drink coffee, wasn’t a fan of the bitter shit, but for the past two weeks, I’d had to practically swim in it because the man whose face I wore was addicted to the caffeine. Lucky me. That was another reason I couldn’t wait to be done with Richard Tate and his fucking circus.

  I motioned for Alisha to move and she gladly gave up the seat, so I took it to begin my shift of staring at the monitors with no sound. It was boring as fuck. I really, I mean really, hated doing surveillance. Sure, I was good at it, paid attention to details, but I detested it. Even when I was in the military, I hated it. I listened to Alisha and Mark chatting it up, Mark screaming in rage as his team fucked up their shots here and there. About twenty minutes later, we received a telephone call. I answered and it was the front desk alerting me of Mr. Foster’s arrival. I hung up and turned to my two partners.

  This was the moment I needed. Kill them while their guards were down, use Mr. Foster to get inside Richard’s apartment without having to come up with some elaborate scheme, and then kick ass like it was nobody’s business. I removed my gun with its suppressor from my pocket and stood up from the monitors. I walked over to Mark and Alisha. She turned toward me and I aimed the barrel of my gun directly at her face and fired, striking her between the eyes.

  Blood and bits of brain matter splattered the side of Mark’s face and clothes. He jumped from the shock of what had just happened, but I didn’t give him time to put it all together before aiming my gun at the back of his skull. I pulled the trigger twice, blasting his brains out through the front of his skull. Blood splattered the TV, coffee table, and pretty much ruined the suede sofa and tan carpet. I kind of liked Mark, but he was a killer. Had carried out shady shit on Richard’s behalf, like killing the wife of a business man Richard owed a favor to. Apparently, Richard wasn’t a man of his word. After the man lost his wife, he stopped seeking that favor.

  Alisha wasn’t a saint, either. She was also a cold-blooded killer, so pulling the trigger was easy for me. I slipped my gun back into my pocket and left the apartment, since this was my last night having to be there. I was looking forward to not having to see this place ever again. I went downstairs to greet Mr. Foster. He was standing by the receptionist’s desk, looking a bit nervous and frustrated at the same time. I walked up to him, smiling.

  “Mr. Foster, if you’d please follow me, I’ll take you to Mr. Tate,” I said.

  He grunted, then looked me up and down. “And you are?”

  I hated the air of arrogance a lot of these rich motherfuckers tended to wrap around themselves like they were so much better than everyone else simply because they were more fortunate. I played like his attitude hadn’t affected me and answered his question.

  “My name is Mr. Jacob. I’m one of Mr. Tate’s personal security agents, sir,” I informed him, then gave a sweeping gesture for him to follow me towards the elevator.

  He nodded and we were off, walking toward the one elevator that actually went to the penthouse apartments. The other three did not have access to Mr. Tate’s floor. While we were standing there waiting for the elevator to return to us, I got the brilliant idea to just kill Mr. Foster and become him. It was tricky, that was for sure. I was supposed to escort him to Mr. Tate’s penthouse, but with me taking Mr. Foster’s form and the other security dead, I had to hope that wouldn’t raise an alert.

  However, on the other hand, if it didn’t and al
l things went according to plan, I could get more information out of Mr. Tate this way a lot easier. He’d be willing to answer my questions. Well, the reward was worth the risk. The elevator opened and we climbed on.

  “So, how long have you worked for Mr. Tate?” Alexander asked me.

  Now, he could just be making small talk, but what if this was some sort of trap? Like, if I answered wrong, would it blow my cover? Call me paranoid, but I just didn’t trust people. I looked at him and replied, “Four years, sir.” I knew everything there was to know about my cover that Jordan could gather. If he was trying to trip me up, he was going to have to come harder than that.

  “Ever have to worry about his safety?” Alexander asked.

  Okay, now I was curious as to why he was asking these kinds of questions. “So far, so good, Sir. I take my job of protecting Mr. Tate very seriously,” I replied.

  “So, no attacks on him?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, sir.”

  “Lot of security for one man,” Alexander commented, and I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  Perhaps he was only trying to gauge if being a part of the Killing Game would mean he’d have to increase his own level of security. The more I thought about that as the reason, the more it made sense.

  The doors opened and I led Mr. Foster to the penthouse I had shared with Alisha and Mark. Mr. Foster didn’t say anything, just followed me inside, so I knew it was his first time here, or else he would have said something. He almost did when he saw the two dead bodies of the other guards before I broke his neck from behind. It was quick, clean, and efficient.

  I pulled out my cell and called Jordan as I began to undress Mr. Foster’s rotund corpse. “Hey, Jordan, I need you to give me everything you know about Mr. Foster that I don’t already know,” I said when he answered.

  “Ahh, okay, umm, give me just a sec.” He paused, and I knew he was looking up the info I needed.

  I already knew about the man’s businesses and where he lived. I needed more personal shit. I knew what had been discussed on the phone with Mr. Tate, somewhat, because it was only from Richard’s end of the call that we could hear through the listening devices. I needed a little bit more if I was going to pretend to be this man enough to fool Mr. Tate. I knew he was arrogant, and I could do that part well enough. I’d had a choice to make right before I decided to break his neck, whether or not to force him to answer some questions for me, but I didn’t want to keep Mr. Tate waiting. I needed shit to flow smoothly.

  “Okay, I have something. He had a heart attack three years ago and is now on certain medications for his health,” Jordan said, then he rattled off the names of the medicines.

  As I searched Mr. Foster’s pockets, I found his medicine container with the pills. I also looked through the man’s wallet at pictures of his wife, two sons, and his daughter as Jordan gave me information on his family and Mr. Foster’s habits as far as what he liked to do for recreation… besides watching people die.

  “That’s good enough for me to work with. Thanks, J.”

  “Be careful,” he said, which was something he always told me.

  “I will, don’t worry.” I ended the call, then stripped out of the clothes I was wearing to transform into Mr. Foster. It hurt like a motherfucker, like it always did, and I didn’t like having to add on extra pounds, which was going to feel even worse when I changed back. I dressed in his clothes as fast as I could. Surely, too much time had already passed, and I didn’t want to fuck up my chances to get to the bottom of the Killing Game.

  Before stepping out of the penthouse, I checked the monitors and saw that Takahashi was still training and Mr. Tate was sitting in the chair, laptop on his lap and a wine glass in his hand. He’d just finished checking his watch. The last thing I wanted him to do was send Takahashi to find out what was going on. I opened the door and stepped across the hall to Richard Tate’s penthouse, then rang the doorbell. A minute later, Takahashi opened the door and stepped aside to let me in.

  Okay, take it easy, Eric… this wasn’t your first rodeo… just the one you’ve been waiting to attend for a while. Play it cool. I stepped inside and handed Takahashi my coat like an arrogant, rich bastard would do.

  “I was starting to get concerned that you were having second thoughts, Mr. Foster,” Richard said, taking another sip of his wine.

  “I can’t say that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But then, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?” I said, hoping it was the right thing.

  Richard smirked and nodded once. “Very true.”

  Takahashi hung my trench coat on the coat rack near the door, then stood beside me, which made me a little concerned. “You have a lot of guards, I see.”

  “A powerful man should always have protection. People are envious of those with status in this world. They’ll try to take what you have, so you keep your money in a bank, but don’t protect your person? What sense does that make?” he asked, putting the question back in my lap.

  I began walking toward him and took a seat on the sofa adjacent to his chair. “I see your point. Perhaps, I should look into getting a security detail myself.”

  “You should. But you didn’t come all of this way to talk about me or my top-notch security. I promised to show you something amazing, a one of a kind experience only granted to the elite. Are you ready for that, Mr. Foster?” Richard asked.

  I rubbed my hands together, feigning being nervous, which was what Mr. Foster had been when I’d gone down to retrieve him in the first place. I was guessing Richard would expect him to be. “I… I think so.”

  Richard smiled. “Of course, you are. I wouldn’t have even bothered to let you in on this little secret if I didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. As a matter of fact, I’m willing to bet this is what you’ve been missing in your life. Sure, wife and kids can satisfy a man, but only so much. You need your own pastime.”

  “The Killing Game?” I asked.

  Richard nodded, then gestured for Takahashi to do something. I glanced over my shoulder to see Takahashi walking toward the bar, no doubt to pour me a glass of wine. I returned my attention back to Richard.

  “I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t intrigued. Will I be betting on someone tonight?” I asked, playing my part.

  Richard shrugged. “That’s entirely up to you, Alexander. I think we can do away with formalities at this point. However, if you do decide to bet, I would suggest you pay via cash. I strongly suggest you avoid wire transfers. This isn’t legal and casting aside paper trails is just smart business on your part.”

  I nodded. “Then I’ll take your suggestion. How do I pay via cash?” I asked, wanting to know more about how he conducted business, especially since Jordan and I couldn’t catch him in the act.

  He took another sip of his wine just as Takahashi handed me a glass. I took a sip so as not to seem suspicious or unappreciative. It was high class shit, that was for sure. Must have cost a-something-I-couldn’t-afford-type-of-fortune.

  “I never bet,” Richard said. “I consider myself a voyeur, if you will. I like to watch others act out their darkest desires. I also like to watch people fucking, but that’s not illegal.” He chuckled, like that shit was funny.

  I guessed to a sick son of a bitch like him, it was. But it was good to learn that he never betted. I did notice how he avoided answering my question. Maybe he wanted me to commit to the Killing Game before he would be forthright. He was a suspicious man, so it was even more of a good thing the others I’d killed had spilled the beans on him, or else I might not have ever found him. That would have been tragic, since it was obvious even more now that he was a major player. It was time to find out just how big his part was in this shit. I decided I was going to ask him questions that J and I hadn’t already heard Richard’s answers to via their phone conversations—one-sided that is, Richard’s side.

  “Who protects this site? I mean, you’re telling me to pay with cash—”

  Richard held up his
hand, cutting me off. “Like with anything, nothing is fool proof, Alex. The security is top-notch, but so is the pentagon, and people still manage to hack that. It is my concern that anything can be traced, which is why I suggested leaving no trail by paying in cash. Now, if you don’t share my concerns, then by all means, wire transfer.”

  I took another sip of my drink. “It’s not that I don’t share your concerns, Richard. I just want to make sure this is safe for me to even get involved in.”

  “It’s safe, just make sure you don’t enter your real information.” He leaned over, turning his laptop that was sitting on the cocktail table toward me so I could see the screen. There was a countdown timer going that I was all too familiar with. There was approximately ten minutes before the Killing Game was to start. “We all use fake names, of course.”

  I took another sip of the wine, then sat my glass down. I thought that was good enough pretending on my part. Besides, I was starting to feel the effects of it and I wanted to be focused. I didn’t handle alcohol well. I could get drunk fast. Good thing was, I could sober up in no time. “Who is in charge of this thing?” I asked, hoping it sounded innocent enough.

  Richard cocked an eyebrow. “Why does that matter?”

  I shrugged. “Just wanted to know.”

  “That’s something you don’t need to know,” Richard stated.

  “You seem to know,” I pressed.

  He smiled and it was one full of wicked arrogance. “And that just bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  The way he asked that question left me a little concerned. Odd phrasing and all that. “I was just curi…” just then, my vision began to blur and it didn’t feel like the normal effects of booze. I mean, shit… I only had a few sips of wine. Fuck! Laced fucking wine. What the hell?

  “Feeling all right, Alex?” Richard asked me, but the smile on his face betrayed his fake concern.

  I gripped the armrest of the sofa, trying to steady myself as the room was starting to spin. “Wh—what did—what did…” I couldn’t get the words out as my tongue felt swollen and lazy in my mouth. I hated the effects of being drugged, and I had no idea what the fuck they had given me. I just had to ride this wave and hope to come out of it.