Dixon

by Kris Michaels

  Joy plopped her ass on the desk and wrapped the blanket around her. "How did you know that?"

  "I talked to a friend of mine yesterday when I called in a favor from the thief that opened the doors. I asked them to try to get in using my father's computer upstairs. They couldn't and explained what was probably going on."

  "Huh."

  Dixon looked up at her. "What?"

  "Who do you know that smart?"

  "Lots of people."

  "Huh."

  He tipped his head and waited.

  "Why do you need me again? I thought you said you had no allies."

  "I said I had no allies I could access. The people I reached out to yesterday cannot be touched again. It was an emergency situation as my fucking sperm donor offed himself with my gun. Believe me, I have burned every favor and every bridge owed or promised to me from those people."

  "What are you going to do with those?" She nodded to the computer. Dixon reached under the top desk drawer and smiled. He yanked the small thumb drive from the tape holding it in place. "I'm making an insurance policy."

  He lifted the thumb drive and inserted it into the computer system following the detailed instructions he received yesterday. He watched as the system moved small packets of information to the removable device.

  "And then?"

  Dixon glanced over at her and smiled. "Then I'm going to go to work. Daddy dearest's death has forced not only my hand, but also those who had planned on using him. We buckle up, hold on, and hope like hell this ride ends with both of us alive."

  The blinding smile his comments brought surprised him. She jumped off the desk and grimaced a bit before she collected her knife and headed out of the small office. "That's cool, 'cause I was afraid for a minute things were going to get boring." She padded down the hall and shouted over her shoulder, "It's cold in this house, dude. Could you turn up the heat?"

  Dixon glanced at the desktop monitor and smiled as he pulled the thumb drive from the system. He entered the command Jewell had made him repeat back to her and hit enter before he darted down the hall. When Joy saw him coming, she laughed that damn sexy, throaty laugh and dropped the blanket, running for the stairs at full speed. He’d let her win the race to the bedroom. This time.

  Chapter 13

  “Operator Two-seven-four.”

  “Sunset clearance, zero operative.”

  “Standby, zero operative.”

  “Archangel.”

  "He's in position."

  "You're positive?"

  "Yes."

  "He cannot reach out to us again. We won't answer. The success of the mission depends on him having no contact with us."

  There was no sound on the line.

  "Are you there?" Archangel's voice snapped across the connection.

  "So, you'd rather he what...dies?"

  "Watch yourself."

  "Or what?"

  Archangel sighed. "You are there to ensure he doesn't pay that price."

  "Of course."

  "Your attitude has been noted."

  "And I care...why?"

  "Do your job. Keep him alive. Check in as scheduled unless something happens.”

  The line disengaged without acknowledgment.

  "Play the video and audio up to the point where our new associate was stupid enough to cut the feed."

  Her assistant hit the play button, and she watched the events unfold. The video stopped. "Play the audio after that point."

  She listened and directed her assistant to play it again after enhancing the volume. She leaned back into her seat and stared across the table at her sister. "What say you?"

  "I concur. It is an insurance policy should he decide to rebel." Her sister slid her eyes to the third woman at the table. Collectively they were The Fates, the women who decided the world's trajectory. In the ten years since they'd assumed control from the elders, they had resurrected Stratus and recovered some of the economic, political and military might the elders had lost.

  Third sent a blank stare back to her. Third was hard to read, even after all these years. "The legislation you want to be passed will do what, exactly?"

  "There are two bills of paramount importance. The first is an economic aid package that will funnel directly into our coffers and allow the continued buildup of our infrastructure. The government will never miss the money as they believe it is going to aid the people of third world countries. We will, of course, ensure reports validating the aid is delivered. While we have good people in position; I want the best. The influx of money will help us attract and keep them."

  "The threat of losing their life should keep them." Third replied immediately.

  "True," Second added.

  "Of course, as you know, I have no problem getting rid of problems, as my elimination of Senator Waxman proves." First lifted an eyebrow and dared her sisters to challenge her.

  "Back to this..." Second looked up at the monitor. "Simmons. Does he have the qualifications to take the seat?"

  "With minor tweaks to his records, yes. He is a legal resident of New York. The press will have a field day with the lack of tax returns, but his association with Guardian will make him solid."

  "He is guilty of tax evasion?" The second asked.

  "No. Guardian personnel file masked reports as per their agreement with Congress. No personal information is divulged, and the Guardian employee base pays at a forty percent tax table to keep the nation happy. It is a similar agreement the CIA uses for their deep cover agents."

  "I'm concerned about his ties to Guardian." Third motioned to her assistant and Dixon Simmons' photo flashed across the screen. "The information we have is spotty at best."

  "We have validated that his twin is dead." Second smiled as she spoke. "He led me on a merry chase. The bastard." She leaned back and spread her hands. "We still do not have the location on the others that we've identified."

  "You let one of them slip through your fingers." Third pinned Second with a glare.

  "He was injured. Some believe mortally," Second defended her mission.

  "Is there a body?" Third demanded in a sharp retort.

  "No." Second acknowledged.

  "May I direct the conversation back to the matter at hand?" First was always the peacemaker of the group. Both Second and Third possessed anger that needed to be harnessed and directed. "I believe we need to bring this to a vote."

  "Concur." Second agreed.

  Third tipped her head, acknowledging First.

  "A majority carries the vote, as always. No dissent after the vote, and all energies are directed to the success of the majority’s directive." First repeated the mantra they'd adopted to stop the infighting that had led to the inability of the elders to function as a unit.

  "Agree." Third replied.

  "Agreed." Second echoed.

  "The motion is as follows: In regard to the realignment of the United States government: Dixon Simmons, a former Guardian, will be appointed to the vacant New York Senate seat. Failure to approve this motion will result in the immediate termination of Dixon Simmons by our asset on the scene." She shifted her eyes from the monitor in front of her. "All those in favor of approving this motion, please signify by raising your hand."

  The First raised her hand and glanced from Second to Third. "Very well." She caught the eye of her assistant. "Log the vote and send word to our assets in New York." The curmudgeon nodded and tapped away at his station. First returned her attention to her sisters. "Now, on to the next order of business. This concerns our assets in Russia. Second, you have a report on the status of the oil reserves that have been diverted?"

  Dixon glanced at the clock on the wall and leaned back in the large chair that faced the fire. He swirled his drink and watched the flames consuming the logs. It had been two weeks since his father had died. In that time, he had obtained a reasonably well-made cover story for Joy, who was now Joy Nguyen. According to her papers, she held a dual French/American citizenship. The fact that sh
e spoke no French wasn't concerning, and they'd talked through a cover story should that topic arise.

  She'd taken up residence with him, after a fashion. That she normally ghosted in after Smith left and rarely made an appearance when the man was present wasn't lost on him. Smith's concern for the sudden appearance of someone else was palpable. The man's eyes tracked Joy with a suspicion he couldn't, or didn’t want to, hide. Dixon had taken pains to ensure the thumb drive with the files was safe before he allowed Smith access to the computer system and the files Smith wanted erased. So now he sat in the home owned by his dead father and tended his legitimate businesses while he waited for Stratus to move. The illegitimate businesses had been dropped. The ensuing chaos on the streets marked others scrambling to fill the void. Dixon didn't give a shit. He had shed the illegitimate businesses to capture the attention of Stratus. Now that he had it, he could keep it without breaking the law. He could keep it without breaking the law.

  He heard the door open and Smith speak. The man appeared at the open office door where he waited for Dixon to acknowledge him. "Who is it?"

  "A Ms. Samantha Banner to see you, sir." Smith stood stoically at the door like a hybrid butler-slash-hitman.

  “Thank you, is the limo here yet?”

  "Yes. Parked out front.”

  “Excellent. Did Ms. Banner give you a topic of conversation?"

  "Layers, sir."

  "Layers?" Dixon's eyes swung to Smith's.

  "Yes, sir. No further explanation. Shall I show her in?" Smith waited without moving.

  "Give me a couple minutes then bring her back." Dixon waited for Smith to shut the door before he withdrew his automatic and checked the magazine. He slipped the clip back in and chambered a round. He slipped the weapon back into his holster and slid his jacket on. He topped off his drink and then sat behind his father's desk. When the knock at the door sounded, Dixon bid Smith in.

  "Sir, Ms. Samantha Banner." Smith stepped aside and revealed a striking woman. Dixon did an immediate once over. She was short, perhaps five-foot-five-inches tall, middle eastern descent, and had very intelligent dark brown eyes that assessed him in return. Dixon waited until the woman entered and Smith backed out and shut the door.

  "Ms. Banner. To what do I owe this visit?"

  "I believe you requested it."

  "Indeed? When was that?"

  "I believe your exact words were, ‘If this is your next play, turn off that fucking camera and send me someone that can speak for you.’ I would be that person," she sneered.

  "Please, have a seat. May I offer you a drink?" Dixon wasn't about to move or turn his back on the woman.

  "I regretfully decline. I drove and would never operate machinery after imbibing spirits." The woman unbuttoned her expensive suit jacket and sat down. She crossed her legs and stared at him.

  Dixon waited. He wasn't going to start the conversation, and he could out-stare just about anyone...except Drake…and maybe Frank. This one? Child's play. He crossed his hands over his abdomen, picked a point on the woman's face and waited.

  Not more than a minute later she flinched before she cleared her throat and announced, "You have been saved."

  Dixon snorted and chuckled before he asked, "Really? From what?"

  "Perhaps your own faulty belief that you can negotiate with us." A sneer reappeared on her face.

  "I don't want to negotiate with you, Ms. Banner. You're nothing. If I had to guess, you're not even mid-level management. Tell me, what benefit would it be to me to deal with minions?" Dixon leaned forward. "Your superiors want me in that Senate seat. They want me to vote a particular way. That is a done deal. I don't give a flying fuck about the bills that are up for consideration, but I want something in return."

  The woman's dark olive complexion flushed red. Dixon knew he'd nailed Ms. Banner's position in the organization. He had tied the fly to the hook, and he was getting ready to make his cast. The woman cleared her throat and drew several deep breaths before she ground through her teeth, "What?"

  "Listen very closely to my words, Ms. Banner. I won't repeat them. Go tell your handlers I will vote any way they tell me to after the money I require is deposited into my offshore accounts. It is the base price of doing business with me. However, there is more. I want them to take out several prominent players within Guardian, people who set me up and cast me out. I have information and a way in your people could never access. The information I have is segmented and protected should you unwisely decide to extract that information by force. I'm a certified genius, Ms. Banner. Your lack of intelligence requires remedial explanations that I find tedious. I won't deal with the likes of you. Now, be a good little pawn. Get up. Turn around and go report to your handlers. I'll be waiting."

  "You will regret this," Banner spat from the chair.

  "No, I don't think I will. You, on the other hand, will not fare well if you don't repeat my words verbatim. What would they do to you if they found out you denied them access to Guardian's heart?" Dixon chuckled and waved toward the door. "Leave. Now."

  He watched the woman stand, button her jacket and jerk it down. She stared at Dixon the entire time. Ms. Banner probably believed she was intimidating. She spun on her heel and left the office. The woman was impotent at best. Dixon listened as the front door opened and then shut. Smith appeared at his office door moments later.

  "Do you need anything else, sir?"

  "No, I'm waiting for my date, then we'll be leaving for dinner. You may leave for the day."

  Smith nodded but lingered in the door. Dixon glanced up. "Speak your mind, Smith."

  The man glanced at him. "Thank you for allowing me access to those tapes."

  Dixon nodded. “What did my father have on you?”

  Smith stood stock-still before he cleared his throat and spoke, “There was a young lady. She found me attractive, which should have been my first warning. We dated. One thing led to another, and we slept together.” Smith cleared his throat. “Here, in the room I used to have upstairs.”

  “He blackmailed you with…sex tapes?”

  “No. The woman told me she was twenty-three. She wasn’t.” Smith rubbed the back of his neck. “She was fifteen.” He lifted his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t know. I never would have touched her…” Smith cleared his throat. “I hadn’t been here long…a month, maybe a little longer. Right before you came back. He used the tape to ensure my obedience.”

  “To make you kill for him?”

  “No, sir. He only had to pay me to do what he needed to be done on the street.”

  “Then what was he forcing you to do?”

  “Watch both you and the boy. He needed me to use my resources on the street to spy on both of you. Report back to him on what you were doing. The boy was easy. The mother is predictable and has a routine. The little guy seems like a good kid, but quiet. I did what he asked, but my primary focus was on you. Who you talked to, what you did outside of the time you spent here, working for him.” Smith chuckled. “But I’ll give you credit. You usually lost the people I sent to follow you, so I reported on what I could find out. Like what you ate and drank. What you wore. He was obsessed with knowing everything about you.”

  “Why would he need to blackmail you to do that?”

  “I think it was because I saw the pictures. I told him I wouldn’t have anything to do with crimes against children. He was a vindictive motherfucker.”

  “So, he needed to ensure your silence and compliance?”

  “Yes, and he knew I would go to jail for life if the girl reported me. It would have been my third strike.” He nodded toward the bookshelf. “She showed up the day after I saw those photos. You can’t tell me it was a coincidence.”

  Dixon’s eyes swung toward the built in. “He was a sick bastard.”

  “I wouldn’t have let him put that boy downstairs.” Smith shifted on his big feet and clenched his hands. “Adults, they are responsible for their actions. They make decisions and take chances th
at come back to bite them. Kids, they don’t. That girl, she probably did what he said she had to do. I never would have touched her if I’d known how young she was. That little boy, he needs to stay a kid for as long as he can. I wouldn’t have let him touch that boy.”

  The big guy seemed legitimately upset. “What happened to the girl?”

  “I don’t know.” Smith shook his head. “I’m hoping she is alive. I don’t think he’d kill her in case he needed her to testify.” Smith dropped his eyes. “I didn’t know. I swear she looked older. Acted older. I trusted her, and that was a huge misjudgment.”

  Hurting kids was Smith’s hard limit, and somehow his fucking father had known that. He glanced up at Smith. “I’m relieved to hear that, and I thank you for watching out for the boy.” Dixon’s gut rolled at the idea of what his father had planned for that child.

  “Why did you come back?”

  Dixon leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I had no other option.”

  “There is always—” Smith's eyes shot to the hall, and he straightened. "Ms. Nguyen is here." He spun on his heel and left as Joy strode into the office.

  The woman was draped in mink. Her heels were impossibly tall, but fuck they made her legs look a mile long. Dixon smiled and lifted out of the chair. "Did you have a good day?" Dixon asked as she dropped her purse into one of the chairs and walked over to him.

  "Not really."

  He tensed at her words. "Why?"

  "Because I hate shopping and spending money on frivolousness. For me, it is the equivalent of pulling teeth without Novocaine. Why are there so many people in the stores this time of year? Why are we going to this thing again?" She cocked her head at him.