The cat watched him from under the bed as he changed his clothes in Simon's bedroom. He'd put the soiled clothes in a garbage bag in the kitchen to bring with him. The cat did not seem to be afraid of Nasir himself, but rather of the carrier and what it signified. Nasir let the cat cower for a little while longer and made his way back to the living room.
Picking up the machete, he poked through the torn remains of Simon's clothes and body with it until he found his cellphone. Somehow the phone had remained mostly dry. He wiped the hilt of the machete and dropped it back to where it had originally fallen from his hand, then wiped off the phone as well.
Simon ran his entire life from that phone. Nasir had little doubt that it contained information that was both valuable to the agency and dangerous in the wrong hands. Simon had not expected to die today but he had always been practical, and unfailingly loyal to the cause. They had an empire to build, and Simon would not risk the possibility of that empire falling if he did. He would plan for someone to take over, someone he trusted to know what to do and who to contact. To be able to guess his password or get in without it. Nasir was both.
Glancing over the hacked up corpse of his oldest friend, Nasir lowered his head and typed Kingsman.
Not Bulletproof
Miko: Age 27
Miko felt decidedly less clever as he lay in the booth and held a diaper to his ribs to stem the blood flow, waiting for the ambulance, and the police, to arrive. Frank had instructed him to pretend that he didn't know English, so instead of offering words of comfort to the little girl he just smiled and waved at her under the table whenever she looked his way. Her father was holding both of the children but the diaper bag was now at Frank's feet, filled with their guns and Miko's vest that Frank had taken off of him when the rest of the cafe-goers had fled in fear for their lives.
He could hear sirens in the distance and he focused on the taste of his candy so he wouldn't focus on the pain. Miko wasn't sure how badly he was injured. It felt bad. All he saw when he looked down was blood. But Frank didn't seem too concerned, and even let Miko hold his own diaper, so Miko told himself it couldn't be very serious. “Have you been shot before?” Miko asked, sticking with German like Frank told him to.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Couple of places.”
“In your hand?” Miko remembered the scar on Frank's hand with great joy. “I got shot in my hand.”
Frank glanced down at the scar on his thumb like he'd forgotten, then at Miko. “No.”
“You cut it off?”
“I tore it getting out of handcuffs.”
In his excitement Miko tried to sit up with the promise of a story, then winced back down. “You are so cool,” he groaned, then whimpered.
Tensely rubbing his face, Frank turned back to watch the door. “Thank you.”
“Handcuffs in kinky way or police way?”
Turning a highly attractive shade of red, Frank said, “You should stop talking. Save your strength.”
“I think I am okay.”
Frank gave him a look like he was about to be far from it.
“I think I will stop talking.”
“Wunderbar.”
Only a few people had come back to the cafe, a waiter who Miko thought he saw chase after the gunman, an old man who hadn't moved fast enough to get very far, and two women in professional dress that had been smoking outside, and now they were all slumped over in various seats throughout the diner. Frank was the only one standing. Miko was tempted to tell him that he looked like he was about to kill someone and would therefore be of great suspicion to the police, but Miko didn't think sitting down would make much of a difference in Frank's appearance and he had agreed to stop talking. Frank had the kind of face that got actors cast as the bad guys in movies. He looked like an antihero. Handsome, far more handsome than Miko, but stern and cold. Murderous. And he was growing a beard which made him look rugged and sexy. Facial hair always just made Miko look like his face was dirty.
Frank seemed fine when the police showed up, which cemented Miko's belief that it was in a kinky way after all, and his belief that Frank was so cool. The mark did most of the talking with the police, Casey Evans as he introduced himself. Frank gave the police Miko's name since Evans wouldn't know who he was, and he said “mon ami,” which Miko understood to mean “my friend” and made him completely forget about his injury until he tried to sit up again.
The police started interviewing other witnesses right as the ambulance finally arrived, and Frank helped him get up so he could lay back down on the stretcher. “All right?” Frank asked guiltily, stepping away from the stretcher.
Miko realized that Frank wasn't riding to the hospital with him. It was the first moment since the gunman appeared that he'd actually felt afraid, and he reminded himself that he wasn't a child anymore and his idols would not look after him. They probably wouldn't have even then. “Do I keep speaking German?” Miko asked, still seeking his guidance even if Frank was done with him. Frank knew who the witness was, so he likely knew who the client was too. He didn't need Miko anymore.
“They may have an interpreter at the hospital. Try not to speak to anyone until I get there.”
Beaming at him, Miko exclaimed more than asked, “You are coming back?”
“I have to take the children home. And call Joe.”
And Bella. Miko was afraid again. “You think Bella will be mad?”
Frank patted his shoulder and nodded to the medics to take him away. Miko took that as a yes.
It wasn't until Miko got to the hospital that he realized Frank must've taken his cell phone while removing his vest. And his identification. He hoped Toby hadn't tried calling again, but he wasn't afraid of Frank finding out about him. He was afraid of Frank answering it and telling Toby what had happened.
Thankfully, Frank had not taken his candy.
Miko was looking at several weeks of discomfort and a couple days in the hospital according to the German-speaking doctor. Hardly more than a flesh wound, there was little damage compared with the pain inflicted. But the bullet had broken two of his ribs and torn through the muscle surrounding them, and sitting at attention every time Frank sent a favorable look his way hadn't helped matters. Miko wondered where the bullet had ended up. Just like Frank said, it had missed the Kevlar but dragged the Velcro strap through Miko's wound, which the German doctor had taken unusual pleasure in removing. Miko had no trouble not speaking with him after that.
It was several hours before Frank returned, but Miko would've been just as excited if it had only been a few minutes. Frank brought the doctor in with him, which Miko was not nearly as thrilled about. “You have to sign a form that I'm taking you home against medical advice.”
“You are taking me home?” Miko exclaimed, once again sitting and hurting himself.
Frank gave the doctor what would've been a petulant I-told-you-so expression on someone who wasn't so far above such trivial things as proving their superiority to those around them. Miko reached for the form and eagerly signed whatever it might've said, smiling at the doctor as if to say, “I'd rather have him pull Velcro out of my bullet wound any day.”
The doctor did not seem to find Frank nearly as impressive as Miko did, and he looked at the form with dissatisfaction as he left.
“Are those for your friend?” Frank asked, eyeing Miko's tattoos.
Miko touched his heart, like he'd seen Nasir do. “And my sister.”
“Here.” Frank tossed him a black button down shirt.
“Danke.” Miko was pleased to have one of Frank's shirts, but he hesitated to pick it up. Buttons intimidated him and he felt self-conscious getting dressed in front of the shirt's rightful owner. But they'd cut off Miko's clothes and pulling a different shirt over his head wouldn't be an option so he had no choice. He started to get dressed, concentrating on making his hands look normal, but Frank just turned away completely. “Danke,” Miko said again, pretending that in thei
r imagined closeness Frank understood him even though anyone else would know he was simply being polite.
He limped down the hallway at Frank's side, unintentionally moving closer and causing Frank to intentionally move away, until they were nearly against the wall when they finally made it to the lobby. “The children are okay?”
“Yes.” Frank paused and turned to him. “You are being permitted to stay at my home while we determine what to do about Simon. If you give me any reason to regret this, I will bury you in my backyard. Understood?”
Miko smiled and nodded, hearing only the permission and not the threat.
“Stay. I'll get the car.”
“Okay.” Miko stood in that exact spot until Frank pulled up in front of the hospital, then ran, and promptly stopped running to limp to the car.
Frank handed him a black cloth and Miko obediently took off his glasses and placed it over his eyes, thinking about how he'd once distrusted Toby to see his hand and having no hard feelings over Frank not wanting him to see how to get to his home. “What did your father tell you about me?” Frank asked as he drove.
Leaning his head back and reclining the seat, Miko closed his eyes just in case like Toby had done. “That you were Bella's partner. That you killed someone with flowers.” He smiled. “I like flowers.”
“What about Simon?”
Miko sighed. It hurt. He needed to talk to Nasir about Simon. Not Frank. “He never mentioned you. Except that you had the book.”
Frank said nothing else on the topic. Miko was too deep in thought to really notice. He didn't know what to do. What Nasir would do. Miko needed to call Toby back but he didn't want to scare him. He had been distracted by Toby, just like Toby feared. It may have saved Miko's life. “Your friend, he is civilian?” They hadn't really gotten to speak about what had happened, except for Frank to explain that the gunman was another artist, someone jealous of Casey's success but not successful enough himself to hire Miko.
“Yes.”
“And he knows what you do? What Bella does?”
“Yes.”
“It does not bother him?”
“He's used to it.”
Miko thought about the little girl, no more than Tola's age. If she was their daughter they hadn't been together for all that much longer than he'd been with Toby. “Already after few years? Five?”
Frank glanced at him, then looked back to the road. “You're not too curious, are you?”
“No—yes?” Miko wasn't certain how to answer that. It hadn't occurred to him that it was rhetorical and didn't need an answer at all. “I have friend. He is...civilian.”
“It bothers him?”
“Maybe not after more time.”
“Where did your nickname come from?”
Miko opened his eyes to the darkness of the blindfold at the abrupt change of conversation. “Simon got my name wrong. Mako. And...sometimes you mean to shoot someone once and they end up in many pieces.” Miko paused, imagining that Frank's marks would've only ever ended up in as many pieces as Frank wanted them to be, and he wouldn't be able to relate to that at all. “This has not happened to you though.”
“No. But sometimes people get flower stems through their eye sockets.”
“Sometimes,” Miko agreed with a smile so wide it nearly lifted the blindfold off his face.
“They haven't been together that long,” Frank said, once again shifting the conversation. Miko wasn't sure whether it was supposed to give him hope or be discouraging. Then Frank possessively added, “I've known Casey since he was a kid.”
Miko gasped so hard he hurt himself, remembering Hector saying Frank was connected to the agency in a similar way Miko was, but not recalling the details. “You tell him stories?”
“No,” Frank said coldly, and Miko could tell he disapproved of Hector.
“You think it is bad, that I know stories?”
“Children are impressionable. Your father told you things he shouldn't have, and now you've taken a bullet for someone you've never met.”
Lowering his head, Miko muttered, “You helped me with my list.”
After a tense moment of silence, Frank asked, “Did it pan out?”
“Not yet. But it will.” He anxiously fidgeted with what was left of his right hand. “Your friend, he was collateral damage?”
“No.” The word hung heavily in the air for some time, as if it was the last word Frank would speak to him.
Miko had thought that he remembered what Hector had said, that Frank was connected to the agency somehow, that it must've been because of the kid, but now he just felt confused again and alone. If he didn't remember Hector's stories then Hector would truly be lost to him forever.
The car slowed and turned, the road feeling different now, the noise of traffic becoming muffled. “You can take that off.”
Miko pulled the blindfold from his eyes to reveal a deep forest with a path just wide enough for the car. He wondered if Frank had an entry code like Silva did. Snipers on the roof. Threatening men inside. Bella inside. And the blond maniac.
“Is that what you are?” Frank asked. “Collateral damage?”
The leaves of the trees swept against the side of the car as Miko looked out the window. He wanted Frank to know him, to know his story and realize Hector did what was best. “Did you meet Anton?” Frank shook his head. “He was friends with Malkolm.” Everyone knew who Malkolm was.
“That doesn't speak very highly of his character.”
Miko smiled, Frank's little barb at Malkolm giving him a well needed boost of confidence. “Anton used high powered gun on his mark. The bullet went through the floor. To my sister. And my hand.”
Frank's expression didn't change. “Hector was Anton's handler?”
“Yes. He told me things so I would understand why it happened.”
“It sounds like it happened because Anton didn't do his job properly.”
Reaching for a candy, Miko remembered that he'd finished them back at the hospital. He meant to visit the gift shop before checking out, but being in Frank's presence had distracted him. Now Frank's presence just made him feel awkward, like they didn't have the connection Hector described after all and everything about Miko was wrong.
“Did you kill him when you were older?”
Fixing his eyes on Frank, Miko said, “I killed him then.”
“Good for you,” Frank said, and Miko held his head a little higher. “Malkolm's here if you'd like to visit.”
Miko shuddered, his eyes wide. “He is here?”
The faintest hint of a smile crawled across Frank's lips, the first time Miko had seen Frank smile, and it felt like a pivotal moment in their relationship, like when he'd first heard Nasir laugh. “In the backyard.”
“Oh.” Miko giggled. “That is good.”
Frank pulled up to a quaint two story home surrounded by trees, the driveway loose gravel that crunched underneath the wheels. Miko could hear dogs barking. “The children are not sleeping?” he asked. Miko did little else after the first time he'd seen someone shot.
“I took them to a hotel. Bella will pick them up on her way back. I didn't want them here at the house alone in case Simon's client knows the address.”
Miko nodded, wondering whether he would've been smart enough to take such a precaution. Frank got out of the car, coming around to the passenger side to help him. Miko accepted Frank's aid more than strictly necessary, Frank's arms thin but strong like Toby's. The barking had grown louder and finally Frank said a word in French and it became immediately silent. Miko couldn't help but smile at Frank's authority over man and beast.
Beast was an understatement. One of Frank's dogs was nearly as large as Miko, big slobbering jaws and black eyes. The other was some sort of mutt with a face only a stone-cold killer could love. It was missing a leg. Then with a flash of white fur a third dog appeared from behind the others, some sort of cotton ball on legs with an inappropriately ferocious spiked collar, jumping up and down for attentio
n. “It is fuzzy like your blond maniac!” Miko exclaimed.
Frank's eyebrows raised, an amused expression coming to his face. “Blond maniac?”
Miko swallowed hard, having intended to use the nickname Blondie instead of describing Frank's husband. “You will not tell him I said? He is painful.”
“He'd be flattered.” Frank led him through the hallway, the dogs following closely. They came to an immense library, shelves stuffed with thousands upon thousands of mostly leatherbound books, some small tattered paperbacks thrown in the mix. Miko recognized a marble bust from Silva's office. He wasn't sure who it was, but it had been split right in two. Frank was using it as bookends. There were a few stuffed leather chairs and a sofa which looked cushiony and very inviting, across from the fireplace. Frank helped him to the sofa and Miko sat down, gazing about in wonder.
“You have many books.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have Hamlet?”
Frank took a giant tome off a shelf and dropped it on the table in front of the sofa.
Miko gazed at that in horror. “This is all Hamlet?”
“Collected works.”
“Will you read to me?”
“No,” he said, but he sat down beside him so Miko was happy anyway. “How long have you been doing this job?”
“Ten years.”
“With Simon?”
“With Hector first.”
“Last year, you told Joe you didn't trust Simon. Why did you go back?”
“Nas was working. I went to help.”
“And you never suspected Simon of being involved with what happened to your friend?”
As much as he hated Simon, and actively feared him now, Miko still didn't believe his involvement was possible. “Claudius said it came from on high. Silva.”
“Claudius?”
“It is from Hamlet.”
“Yes...” The obviously went unstated.
“That is what I call him until I know his name.” Miko hesitated, then added, “Simon thought of it.”
The Mercy of the Mako Shark Page 15
