The Ruins

by Matt Rogers

  Silence.

  Slater said, ‘What’s it going to be?’

  ‘I’m not going back.’

  ‘You are. You get to choose how this plays out. You don’t have to go back to your family. We can get you the help you need.’

  ‘I don’t need help.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  But Noah was already too far gone. Slater knew exactly how this was going to play out. The young man had severed all ties with his past. Somehow, some way, he’d befriended ETIM soldiers and made them accept him into their ranks, after being kidnapped by them. That took an expert manipulator. Slater had no idea if Noah had practiced for years, or if he was just a phenom at swaying people to his side.

  Probably the latter.

  Considering Samantha and Ethan had both fallen under his spell.

  So there was no going back. This was an angry, broken kid with nothing left in his soul. He’d given up on this life. He’d given up on this world. He’d strayed toward the nihilistic path, and it had consumed him entirely.

  He was an empty shell of a human being, and after spending enough time in this world, Slater knew in the depths of his soul that if he tried to help Noah, the kid would stab him in the back at the first available chance.

  Then he’d slaughter Samantha and Ethan to silence any chance of the truth getting out, and then he’d disappear back into the mountains to pledge allegiance to the first radical terror group he stumbled across.

  This was a twenty-something kid who wasn’t yet dead, but was already in hell.

  So when Noah made a lunge for the carbine, Slater didn’t whisk it away.

  He’d like to pretend that he did.

  In a perfect world, he would have neutralised Noah, tied him up so he couldn’t harm anyone, stuffed him in the trunk of the jeep, and set to work trying to get an actively hostile participant out of rural China.

  That would put his own life in danger, and the lives of the two hostages he’d already saved.

  He had a job to do, and this was not a perfect world.

  So he kept the gun where it was.

  Just so he could justify what came next in the official after-action report.

  If it came to that.

  Noah got his hands on the carbine. There was pure venom in his eyes. He wanted desperately, rabidly, to turn the gun around and use it on Slater. And then he would stalk his way up the mountain, and he’d find Ethan and Samantha and shoot them like wild dogs in the street. And he’d take glee in it. Because although it may not have been his fault that he’d turned out the way he had, the transformation was irreversible.

  So Slater let Noah tug the carbine away from his body.

  He let the kid put up just enough of a fight.

  No.

  Not a kid.

  This is a man.

  This is a man who made his own decisions.

  Slater kept that in mind when he pulled the trigger.

  31

  He left the warehouse holding the carbine down low by his side.

  He walked straight forward.

  He didn’t look back.

  He got back in the jeep and spun the wheel around and drove out of the camp. The mud churned on either side of the vehicle, but he didn’t look down, or over his shoulder. He only looked forward. Once again the jeep spluttered and struggled and wheezed its way up the climb.

  Slater slowed down at the right stretch of trail, and sure enough Samantha and Ethan were nowhere to be seen.

  He didn’t panic.

  Not yet.

  It was exactly what he’d instructed them to do.

  He waited. He kept both hands on the wheel, and stared straight ahead. He couldn’t let his face betray any emotion, not for a moment.

  They appeared.

  The pair emerged out of the brush with hesitancy. They seemed to stare at the jeep from a distance for a long time.

  Both of them were scrutinising Slater.

  And looking for any sign of a passenger.

  They didn’t find one.

  They seemed to sigh collectively, and then they trudged toward the vehicle.

  Perhaps they’d been hoping for some sort of miracle solution. They’d been expecting Slater to find Noah unharmed, perfectly happy and healthy, eager to return to the loving arms of his family.

  A family that missed him dearly.

  Slater kept staring forward.

  He didn’t want to think about it, or talk about it.

  Not now, not ever.

  And he had a unique opportunity in that regard.

  They got back in the jeep, scooting across the rear seats, and before either of them could quiz him on what had happened, Slater began to speak.

  He said, ‘We’re not going to talk about what happened here. My intelligence report couldn’t confirm whether there were two or three hostages. We’re going to pretend there was two. There has always been two. You don’t know what happened to Noah. He left you without explanation in the Jiaohe ruins, and you never saw him again. You will stick to that story, and you won’t allow anyone to quiz you on it. I’m doing this because I never want to speak about what happened in these mountains for the rest of my life. Understood?’

  They both sat there in stunned silence.

  Eventually Samantha said, ‘Was he alive?’

  ‘He’s not anymore.’

  ‘Did you kill him?!’

  Slater twisted in his seat, and stared hard at her. She wilted under his gaze.

  He said, ‘Samantha, it wasn’t an accident he led you out here.’

  She went pale, and averted her gaze.

  She couldn’t seem to grasp it.

  Ethan said, ‘I fucking knew it.’

  Slater looked at him.

  ‘Do you understand?’

  ‘I knew something was off.’

  ‘Do you know why he did it?’

  ‘I knew about his dad. Was that why?’

  ‘Probably. That’s what he said. I have a feeling there was more to it than that, but I’ll never get the chance to dissect his state of mind now.’

  Ethan chewed on his bottom lip and stared out over the valley.

  Slater said, ‘I don’t want to tell anyone what I had to do. Not now. Not ever. Will you both help me?’

  They nodded silently in unison.

  Samantha said, ‘You saved our lives. We’ll do whatever you say.’

  ‘You shouldn’t. You should keep it a secret because you want to keep it a secret. Do you understand why I don’t want to talk about it?’

  Two nods.

  ‘Do you understand why that might look bad?’

  Two more nods.

  ‘Will you help me?’

  Two more nods.

  ‘Then let’s get out of here,’ Slater said.

  He put the jeep into gear and drove away from the nightmare.

  32

  Undisclosed Location

  Washington D.C.

  One week later…

  The air was cold, but the temperature control was artificial.

  This was not the Tian Shan mountain range.

  Far from it.

  Yet Slater was just as uncomfortable.

  It was a drab waiting room in a featureless administrative building, the likes of which he’d seen a hundred times before. This was how Black Force operated — no official headquarters. At least, that was what the operatives were told. Perhaps there was a central node buried somewhere in the depths of the secret world, but Slater and his fellow operatives would never know of its existence. The buildings he saw were temporary set-ups, to debrief operatives and handle the immediate aftermath of incidents.

  And this time, there’d been a special request.

  He didn’t know how to feel about it. It went against every principle that had been drilled into him since the division’s inception.

  I’m not supposed to exist.

  But that didn’t change what Lars wanted him to do.

  He sat on a plain chair in the window
less waiting area with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, as if awaiting a terminal diagnosis. He didn’t know why it made him so uncomfortable.

  But it did.

  The door opposite softly opened, and Lars Crawford poked his head out. He was a boring, unassuming man — short and pasty and squared away. Line him up with a dozen accountants and you’d never be able to pick who single-handedly ran a covert division of black-ops killers.

  Lars said, ‘They’re ready for you.’

  ‘Can we make this quick?’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘I told you — I don’t want to be here.’

  ‘Not now,’ Lars said under his breath. ‘They’re just inside.’

  Slater nodded and composed himself. He stood up, briefly checking for nagging injuries. He came away satisfied. He was young and healthy and in his prime. Two hundred pounds of rippling muscle and athleticism. A walking science experiment, as if an entire government department had set to work discovering where the limits to human potential were.

  He straightened up and followed Lars into an equally drab, equally depressing room. This was a little larger than the waiting area, with teal walls and a grainy grey carpet that muffled his footsteps.

  There were six people waiting for him.

  Ethan.

  Samantha.

  And four parents.

  There was nothing surprising about the adults. They looked like a pair of ordinary middle-class couples, neither slim nor overweight. There was a strange emotion in their eyes. Like they’d never expected to be here, facing the man who had decimated a terrorist encampment to save their kids. He could see the wariness on their faces. They knew he had killed many, many people. It gave him a certain aura. There was an underlying tension.

  But this was just as much their world as it was Slater’s.

  He’d rather be anywhere else.

  I should be on another operation by now, he thought.

  He nodded to each of the parents in turn, and then to Ethan and Samantha.

  They all nodded back.

  Samantha’s mother said, ‘I know this isn’t the way things are supposed to go, but we’re all grateful you honoured our request.’

  Slater wanted to say, Wasn’t up to me.

  But he said, ‘Of course, ma’am.’

  ‘We just … really wanted to meet you.’

  ‘Happy to be here.’

  Ethan’s father said, ‘We can’t thank you enough. From the bottom of our hearts.’

  He stepped forward and offered a soft hand.

  Slater took it, and went through the motions, but at heart he was a savage. A primal warrior. He could put on a mask when he needed to, but he wasn’t one for formalities.

  Anywhere else, he thought. Anywhere but here.

  ‘I’d do it all over again,’ Slater said. ‘Really, it was no problem.’

  He turned to Ethan and Samantha.

  ‘Just glad you two are back in one piece.’

  They smiled with their mouths, but not with their eyes. Their eyes were detached. Forlorn. Somewhere else.

  Somewhere far from here.

  Probably thinking about the body of their friend, left discarded in a deserted warehouse in the mountains of China.

  Because no matter how many times they reminded themselves of the circumstances that had led to it, Will Slater had killed their friend.

  And they couldn’t talk about it.

  Not to their parents.

  Not to their friends.

  Not to anyone.

  The pact was sacred.

  Slater went through the ritual. He shook the hands of Ethan’s mother and father, then Samantha’s. When it was over, he nodded once more to all of them, and then looked to Lars.

  Lars said, ‘Thank you, Will.’

  Slater turned on his heel and left the room.

  He didn’t like seeing anyone involved in an operation after it was completed, let alone their loved ones. He compartmentalised from mission to mission, and when it was over he ejected most of it from his memory.

  But he would remember what happened to Noah Powell for a long, long time.

  And then he stepped back out into the waiting room and came face to face with another set of parents.

  Instantly, he knew who he was looking at.

  33

  Noah’s father looked an awful lot like his son.

  He was big — a couple of inches taller than Slater — and he stood tall, with his shoulders back and his chest out. There were dark bags underneath his eyes, and the whites were bloodshot. Same went for Noah’s mother. They’d probably been crying since they got the news.

  Slater didn’t know how they’d ended up here.

  He’d told Lars, and anyone who asked, that there had only ever been two hostages. It made sense that Noah’s parents would be invited to the official meeting, but they must have showed late. Lars would have seen it as a formality, but Slater quickly realised it was about to become a dynamic clusterfuck of a situation.

  Because he didn’t quite know how to control himself at a time like this.

  He stood in front of the pair and smiled at each of them.

  ‘Hello,’ he said.

  Noah’s mother lifted her gaze from the floor and said, ‘Are you the man that saved my son’s friends?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Thank you very much for what you did.’

  ‘As I said to everyone inside, it’s no problem. That’s just my job.’

  ‘We were forced to sign a million NDAs,’ she said. ‘I guess that’s all part of it, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t usually meet the families.’

  The husband stood quiet and solemn, off to one side. He watched the conversation like a hawk.

  Slater didn’t look at him.

  He was afraid he might punch the man square in the teeth.

  Noah’s mother said, ‘I know you would have already told your superiors, but is there anything you can remember about where my son might have gone?’

  ‘Like I said, all I know is what Ethan and Samantha told me. He ran off before they arrived at the Jiaohe ruins, and they didn’t see him again. He could be anywhere. I’m very sorry, ma’am.’

  ‘Was there anything at all you saw that might give a clue?’

  ‘No, ma’am. Once again, I’m sorry.’

  Then the dad stepped in.

  Literally.

  He came between them, aggressively close to Slater, and said, ‘That sounds fishy. I don’t like this whole thing. You’re telling me you didn’t see him, but he made a call to his mother three hours before Ethan and Samantha were supposedly taken. He sounded fine, and he said he was with them. I think you’re covering up the—’

  Slater stepped in, so he was inches from the man’s face. For a brief moment, he let all the rage he was feeling flash in his eyes. Noah’s mother didn’t see it.

  Only the father did.

  The man noticed, and physically wilted under the gaze. He backed off a step.

  Slater said, ‘It doesn’t matter what you think. I’m telling you what I saw. Now, you’ll both understand that this is an incredibly fragile situation, and you’d do well to make sure Ethan and Samantha don’t have to deal with your conspiracy theories. Do not press them for information. Do not make this situation any more sensitive than it already is. Do not ask any more questions. Rest assured that the U.S. government is doing everything within its power to find your son. Until then, don’t bother anyone.’

  He wanted to add, You should have treated your kid better. Then maybe he wouldn’t have tried to join a radical terror organisation out of sheer desperation to feel something different.

  But he didn’t say that.

  He just walked out.

  Overly harsh, perhaps, but he remembered the psychopathic glint in Noah’s eyes. He remembered the kid reaching for the gun. Intent on murdering the man who had come to rescue him.

  Slater didn’t look back.

 
Some things were better left unsaid.

  Some things were better off forgotten.

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  Books by Matt Rogers

  THE JASON KING SERIES

  Isolated (Book 1)

  Imprisoned (Book 2)

  Reloaded (Book 3)

  Betrayed (Book 4)

  Corrupted (Book 5)

  Hunted (Book 6)

  THE JASON KING FILES

  Cartel (Book 1)

  Warrior (Book 2)

  Savages (Book 3)

  THE WILL SLATER SERIES

  Wolf (Book 1)

  Lion (Book 2)

  Bear (Book 3)

  Lynx (Book 4)

  Bull (Book 5)

  Hawk (Book 6)

  BLACK FORCE SHORTS

  The Victor (Book 1)

  The Chimera (Book 2)

  The Tribe (Book 3)

  The Hidden (Book 4)

  The Coast (Book 5)

  The Storm (Book 6)

  The Wicked (Book 7)

  The King (Book 8)

  The Joker (Book 9)

  The Ruins (Book 10)

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