Rogue Agent

by Kellie Wallace

  “Is that what Terra Bloom is to you?” Joca asked, swatting a fly on his arm. “A pain in your ass?”

  “Eliminate her and all her known associates and I’ll give you a job you’ve only dreamed about.”

  Joca returned to his weapon and disabled it, slipping it into a tan bag. “What do I need to do?”

  “Meet one of my men in Dallas, Texas. I’ll supply all the necessary details later on when we get back to the States.”

  “What about my plane ticket? I’m not paying for that.”

  Spencer wiped sweat from his brow, wishing he’d bought a hat. “You’ll be traveling through portals. I can tell by the look on your face you’ve never experienced one. Portals are everywhere. You just can’t see them.”

  For a man like Joca, he seemed a little spooked by the notion of traveling in one. “Are they safe?”

  “Yeah. Your molecular structure is disjointed in the wormhole and put back together by the time you step out. You don’t feel a thing. Scientists created them years ago from rifts in time and sold the technology to the government. They are perfect for my team—virtually undetectable. That’s how I traveled here,” he explained proudly. “Will you accept my offer?”

  Joca stabbed the ground with the toe of his boot and nodded. “All right. I’m in.”

  “Who were you watching anyway?” Spencer asked, pointing toward the bag.

  Joca smiled and hoisted the weapon onto his shoulder. “I was watching you.”

  Chapter Six

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the board,” Spencer said behind a forced smile. “I appreciate you coming in at such short notice. I have a lot of things to cover so please make yourselves comfortable.”

  His secretary set a glass of water in front of each member, followed by a complimentary cigar or glass of wine. He had to keep these bloodsuckers happy. Board members came and went so frequently, he didn’t even know their names anymore. They were just numbers to him.

  When Annemarie wiggled out of the room, he said, “I’ve just gotten off the phone with an associate of mine and we’ve hit a roadblock. What I heard will supersede all other current and upcoming targets. I’m assuming you’re familiar with Terra Bloom. She’s been all over the news lately, most recently rallying at Mocha Elliot’s office. Mocha is a friend of mine and has lost significant clients over her little rallies. Bloom is a boil on society’s ass.”

  “I’m aware of her activities,” one board member said, “but I thought Seth Langdon killed her father. What has she done to explain this meeting?”

  Spencer pulled out his chair and sat down. “That’s where my associate comes in. Someone saw her at Crest Bar in New York Sunday night. She approached one of my agents. I can’t explain how she knew he worked for me or why. It's a risk I cannot take.”

  “Who is this worker?”

  “Jack Winchester. His portfolio is in your files.” Spencer allowed time for the board to flick through the folders in front of them.

  “What was the outcome of Terra’s visit?” board member two asked.

  “My associate told me she left with him. I can’t tell you what happened behind closed doors. However, Jack did bring himself to work the next day. He didn’t disclose his meeting with Bloom when I asked.”

  “Why isn’t this meeting about him?” the same member asked. “Is your associate certain Jack didn’t disclose anything about Haroun? Bloom is a civilian and a public figure. She could risk contamination.”

  Spencer reached for his glass of wine and drank it back unapologetically. “Look, Jack’s no Seth Langdon so I have no hesitation in cutting ties.” When he was met with tense silence, a rising heat bubbled in his chest. “We’re not here for Jack Winchester, people. I’m seeking your advice on Terra, no one else.”

  “What are you planning?” board member three asked. “I want to eliminate even the notion of Terra feeding the public with her knowledge of Haroun. Can you imagine the public scrutiny? Our lives will be ruined.”

  “I have a certain man in mind to help achieve my plans,” Spencer said. “He’s one of the most skilled assassins in the world and highly trained at what he does. He’s currently on tour with Seth as we speak, showing him the ropes. I trust he’ll get the job done.”

  “What’s his name and credentials?”

  “You may not recognize Joca Ryan’s name but you’ll recognize his body of work. Do you remember when they found the charred remains of Senator Levi a few years back? That was Joca. And when convicted rapist Mark Marr was shot dead in a busy street with no evidence—that was Joca too. He’s the best of the best.”

  “How long has he been working for you?”

  “Not long, however, I trust his instincts.” Spencer wound his fingers together and glared at the board members. “I assure you this will get handled quickly and professionally. Terra Bloom’s death will mark a new era at Haroun.”

  The board members exchanged glances. “I hope you can appreciate our anxiety with this decision,” board member three said. “With Terra’s celebrity, you might as well kill an Oscar winner. We expect a smooth execution. Otherwise we have certain plans in place ourselves. Do not let us down.”

  Spencer’s blood chilled for the first time since he appointed the board members. A lot was riding on Terra Bloom’s death, including his own life.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll send notice upon her elimination.”

  ***

  “Seth, eyes up. Our boy’s here.”

  Seth lowered his newspaper and located Peter South across the courtyard immediately. His bright orange windbreaker stood out among the sea of gray and white business suits.

  Joca put down his half-drunk cappuccino, withdrew a cell phone from his jacket, and dialed a number. “Sir, the target’s in sight. Agent Langdon and I will proceed with the mission.” He ended the call and finished his coffee, throwing Seth a glance over his sunglasses. “All right, Hack’s approved the kill. Let’s move.”

  Seth had arrived in Dallas by plane that morning—no portal, no adjoining text, and no usual routine—and he didn’t like it. He lived off routine. “Where’s the protocol, Joca?” he said. “I thought we would be waiting at a portal.”

  Joca snapped a few photos of Peter at an ATM and turned to him. “You’re an Expult, Langdon. The protocol is different. Our target is high risk and must be eliminated. Normally, we’re assigned to someone specifically but Peter South must be taken down now.”

  “Why? Who’s he associated with?”

  A file materialized from Joca’s jacket and he handed it to Seth. “We bugged his phone. He’s a known associate of David Bloom and convicted whistleblower. We can’t allow him to release any knowledge about the agency to the public or Terra Bloom.”

  Seth flicked through the file. “Why is he such a threat?”

  “Peter works at the NYPD as a records clerk. He has access to all files and evidence of unsolved murders. One day someone will slip up and Peter will put a connection to Haroun targets.”

  Seth glanced over at Peter. He was heading toward the train station, about to be swallowed up by the early morning work crowd. “We’re in Dallas.”

  Joca ran a hand through his thinning ash blond hair. “He’s here for a one day work function so we have a small window of time.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  The older man threw him a knowing glance. “Hack recommended you, Langdon. You’re the best of the best. You need to think outside the box. How do you think I managed ten thousand kills under my belt?”

  “You don’t make friends that easily, do you?”

  Joca sighed. “Put aside your jealousy, Seth, or you’re going to miss the opportunity. How well you do today will shape your future at Haroun.” He slid over a thin leather box.

  Seth opened the lid to find a syringe nestled on red velvet. Joca leaned across the table and tapped the needle. “It contains a lethal blend of some of my favorites. Follow South into the train station and inject the serum into his nec
k.”

  “How soon will death occur?”

  “A few minutes if we’re lucky.”

  “All right.”

  “One more thing.” Joca withdrew a lens box from his pocket. “Put these retinal lenses on. They’re fitted with high grade, top of the range cameras in the lens. No one will be able to detect them.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Seth asked, clumsily slipping the contacts onto his eyeballs without a mirror.

  “It’s insurance,” Joca said. “I need to know you’re not going to alert Peter or run off somewhere. Everything you do will be transmitted to my cell phone so I can see what you see.”

  “Excellent,” he said dryly. “I’ll try not to look down womens’ blouses.” He pocketed the syringe and stood to leave.

  Joca grabbed his sleeve, anchoring him to the spot. “Do I have to remind you to be discreet?”

  “I’m a professional. You can trust me, Mr. Ryan.”

  Seth crossed the courtyard and entered the frenzied subway. At first, he thought he lost Peter in the crowd, then caught sight of his brightly colored windbreaker. He quickened his pace, pushing his way through the hordes of commuters. The syringe felt like a dead weight in his pocket and he pulled at his bottom lip anxiously. It was the first time he’d committed a murder in plain sight with little regard. There were too many people around. He was used to isolation and solitude where he could take his time with his kills. He glanced back through the crowd to see Joca staring at him, his lean facial features hidden by dark aviators.

  Taking Peter’s life smoothly, swiftly, and without hindrance would test his ability in becoming an Expult agent, and Joca was the only one who could make it achievable. He was being reviewed by the best so he had to do this right.

  Peter sprinted down a flight of stairs and joined a queue to zap his transport card at the gates. Seth slipped into the line adjacent and scanned the chip in his wrist to enter the platform. His actions caught the attention of a transit guard nearby. He had to be careful; there were very few people who had the ability to enter or exit public domains with a wrist chip and they weren’t normally model citizens.

  Seth slipped into the crowd before he was approached. Peter stood between two businessmen on the phone, engrossed in their conversations. They were the perfect witnesses. Seth knew from experience that personal accounts given to the police were often unreliable because the witnesses were semi-distracted by their cell phones. It had worked to his advantage many times over the years.

  He scanned the platform. Some people were glued to their tablets or cell phones, others read a holographic newspaper. There had to be at least forty people between him and Peter. Too many eyes.

  A young woman’s face appeared on a television screen above his head, declaring all forthcoming train services. Half the platform, including Peter, stopped what they were doing to listen to the announcement.

  “The next train to arrive on platform two goes to Arlington. This train is scheduled to arrive in one minute.”

  Seth pressed his way through the crowd until he was three feet from Peter. He had less than sixty seconds to make his kill and leave without being noticed. He wrapped his fingers around the syringe and held it tight, waiting for the opportune moment. When the train arrived, there would be a mad dash for a seat. No one would be paying attention to what others were doing.

  Right at one o’clock, the platform trembled with the strength of an earthquake and a streamlined hover train materialized from the tunnel. People stepped closer to the edge of the platform, elbows out, ready for the fight. As Seth withdrew the syringe from his pocket, an idea popped into his head. The train’s front carriage was designed like a dolphin’s snout, perfect to maneuver the tracks around the city and perfect to hide the remains of a human body. The locomotive broke the sound barrier at 760 mph, so it created suction underneath the carriage, pulling and destroying anything into its path. If Seth’s idea worked Peter’s body would be pulverized.

  As it approached, the train operator sounded the horn to signal his arrival and Seth stepped into position. The distance from the tunnel to the platform was half a mile, so the train needed time to slow down. It was still going at a decent speed to do some damage. With catlike reflexes and a little desperation, Seth pushed Peter into the path of the oncoming train.

  A sickening wet sound of flesh hitting fiberglass pacified the station. Soon after, screams of horror and disbelief erupted. Seth didn’t wait to see the outcome; he knew Peter’s death was instant.

  He dashed out of the subway, rejoining Joca outside the station. A horde of people spewed out onto the courtyard behind him, screaming and crying for help.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Joca demanded. “Pushing him in front of a train wasn’t part of the plan! They have fucking security cameras.”

  Seth blew out a frustrated breath and gathered his things left on the cafe table. “I thought outside the box, Joca. Just like you told me to. Think about it. If I injected South with the serum, his body would be out on show, open for investigations and autopsy. The method I took eliminated all of that.” He pushed his face into Joca’s. “There’s no body to investigate. All gone. Poof!”

  Seth then turned on his heel and left the courtyard, heading to the nearest exit portal.

  ***

  Trix drew on the end of her cigarette and exhaled until her lungs were empty. The bottle of vodka on the passenger seat beckoned to be consumed, numbing the butterflies fluttering in her gut.

  She’d been parked outside Haroun Agency for an hour, waiting until she was drunk enough to see Spencer Hack. He was expecting her because three notifications had buzzed on her cell phone, unanswered and untouched.

  Taking a long, mollifying breath, Trix read the text message over and over, pulling at her bottom lip.

  Spencer: Are we still on for this meeting? If you expect me to help you, show some courtesy and get your ass up here. I don’t have all night. Spencer

  As she typed a reply, Seth’s face popped into her head. She hated going behind his back, feeling as though she was betraying him, but times were desperate. Trix took one more swig of vodka and threw the cigarette butt out the car window.

  She exited into the bitter night, pulling the faux fur jacket around her thin frame. Her pumps clicked against the concrete as she crossed the road and entered the foyer. The guard behind the desk buzzed her in. She entered the lift and rode to Level 10 unaccompanied.

  The offices were dark when she stepped out, everyone gone home for the evening. Trepidation grew inside her like a weed. Trix hoped someone would be still at work so she had a witness in case anything happened. Spencer was very unpredictable.

  His office was lit like a beacon, almost blinding in the dark room. She could see his bulky frame silhouetted against the pale blinds. She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she bought the bottle of vodka with her.

  “Trix, is that you?” Spencer’s voice called out, anchoring her to the spot.

  Fuck, too late to turn back now.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Come in, honey.”

  She entered his office tentatively and took a seat opposite him. A cigar smoldered in an ashtray and a half empty bottle of whiskey sat in the dim lamplight.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, burying her hands in her lap. “I was having second thoughts.”

  Spencer’s eyes went completely black for a moment. “I’ve been funding your habit, Trix. I’ve kept my mouth shut while you shoot up behind Seth’s back. If you’re having second thoughts, we’re going to have some issues.”

  “I know I should take responsibility, but I can’t seem to shake it,” Trix said. “Seth hates that I’m still on it. He only wants the best for me.”

  Spencer reached for his cigar and sucked on it, polluting the surrounding air. “I thought you were telling him you’re going cold turkey?”

  “He’s too busy with work to care.”

  Stabbing the cigar into the ashtray, Spencer s
aid, “I have the money you’re asking for. It’s in the safe right behind me. Do you remember the deal we made the first time I gave you credits?”

  Trix hoped he couldn’t see her trembling hands. She’d come to Spencer one year ago when she first got hooked on Clandestine, begging for money to pay for it. Dancing at the club didn’t earn much and she knew Spencer had a soft spot for beautiful women. He’d frequented East of Eden for years.

  “Yes, I remember,” she replied. “I pay you back with what I can.”

  “Do you have anything now for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  Trix opened her purse and threw a wad of fifty credit notes onto the desk. “Here’s two thousand credits. I took it from our safety deposit box. I have to replace it before Seth notices it missing.”

  Spencer stared at the money. “Seth is one of my best men. I don’t like betraying him as much as you do.” He cleared his throat and glanced at her. “There are other ways I can make this debt go away.”

  Trix inhaled a sharp breath. Though she was used to being propositioned at the club, it surprised her to have an offer from Spencer Hack. He wasn't known to mix business with pleasure.

  “You’ve never made such a suggestion before. Why now?”

  Spencer circled the desk and sat on the corner opposite her. He brushed away a lock of hair from her cheek and she inwardly shuddered. “I know you love Seth, but you’re willing to do anything to fuel this habit of yours. I can see your desperation, Trix. I want to help you. I haven’t said anything to your boyfriend about our agreement and I won’t unless we can’t arrange something.”

  “What…what do you have in mind?”

  “You have a reputation, Trix,” Spencer said. “You’re the star of East of Eden. You screw ten men a night. Is Seth aware of what you do to other men?”

  “He knows what I tell him.”