Second Solace

by Robert Clark

  ‘Cece sentenced me to death,’ I said. ‘She locked me up in the bunker with Jack Dawson. I managed to escape.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question, James.’

  There was no denying the hostility in her voice. But then, I had a gun pointed at her. I lowered it enough to make a point. I wasn’t her enemy. Not unless she threw the first stone.

  ‘I’m trying to call for help,’ I said. ‘I can’t stay here. I need to get out while I still can.’

  ‘Where did you get the phone?’ she asked. No movement in her posture. No twitching fingers looking for a weapon. No aggression whatsoever, despite that in her voice.

  ‘I found it while I was escaping. I thought I might be able to call someone to pick me up.’

  ‘Who were you calling?’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Who were you calling, James?’

  She took one step forwards. A bold, confident movement, like she was preparing for a fight. I kept my fingers interlaced with the pistol. I didn’t raise it.

  ‘A friend,’ I said eventually.

  ‘Who is your friend?’ she asked. It was a loaded question, like she was asking who would have the audacity to be my friend, but I didn’t think she meant it that way.

  ‘Someone I helped out a couple of times who owes me a favour.’

  ‘A woman?’

  Again, there was something to her tone. It felt ludicrous to admit it, but it sounded like jealousy.

  I nodded.

  ‘Is she a cop?’ she asked.

  I let out a fake laugh.

  ‘You think any law-abiding citizen would want to help me?’ I laughed.

  Her face darkened.

  ‘Some might,’ she sniffed. ‘Some might have thought you were worth helping.’

  And just like it had during our candlelit dinner, a cloud of discomfort returned. Silence permeated the small bedroom. I resisted the urge to swan dive out the window to escape it. Instead, I changed the subject.

  ‘How’s your father?’ I asked.

  Her attitude deflated somewhat at that. Instead of irritable, she looked forlorn. Like a balloon left out in the sun for a couple of days. Her arms sagged and her expression darkened.

  ‘He keeps losing consciousness,’ she sighed. ‘The doctors say he needs to have a scan on his brain to see what the damage is. But you know how he is. He doesn’t want to leave, and given the circumstances, I don’t blame him. This is his home.’

  ‘It won’t be for long if Cece isn’t stopped,’ I said. ‘She already made one attempt on his life. She won’t have any qualms at having a second bash on home territory.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Cece, she was responsible for the ambush,’ I said. ‘The people that attacked us came from here, Gail. I saw Carl Dawson with my own eyes. Cece sent them to kill us.’

  ‘That can’t be true,’ she said. ‘Cecilia loves Cage more than anyone. She wouldn’t risk his life.’

  ‘I don’t know what to tell you, Gail. She’s responsible. She tried to pin it on me. Like I had the chance to plan something so elaborate.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said. ‘I should go speak to her. It can’t hurt to get her side of the story.’

  ‘Gail, if you do that she’ll likely kill you too. You’re the boss’s daughter. You’ve got a target on your head as much as me.’ I turned the satellite phone over in my hand. Thought about what I was about to say. ‘You could come with me. We could get out of here together. You could have a life away from this place.’

  Another silence.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘This is my home. My parents built this place together. Someday it’ll be mine to look after.’

  ‘This place will be a pile of ash long before you get the chance. If Cece is planning an attack somewhere, the Government will come down on this place with everything it has. And like it or not, but wood walls and an underground bunker won’t do shit against them.’

  Her eyes bore into mine like drills.

  ‘What attack?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is she has something up her sleeve.’

  ‘Who told you about that?’

  ‘Your father did,’ I said.

  ‘My father?’ She opened her mouth as though to say something, but changed her mind and shook her head once more. ‘No. I need to go. I need to talk to him about all this.’ She looked at me before turning. ‘You should be careful, James. This place is a lot more dangerous than you give it credit for.’

  And before I could respond, she turned and left. Only her scent remained.

  I didn’t make the call straight away. Instead, I waited until I heard the front door shut, and watched Gail walk away through the snow. Then I pressed the button on the phone once more and held it to my ear.

  Ringing. Ringing.

  Something didn’t feel right. Not with the call, but in the real world. My senses were alert. I’d felt it before, usually when the police were about to burst into a room and arrest me. I looked out the window, stared at the tracks in the snow left by Gail. Something wasn’t right.

  I ended the call again and heaved open the window once more. I dropped down into the snow and hustled across to the trees. I picked a spot dense enough to hide me from sight, but left me enough visibility on Gail’s house. I dug out a spot in the snow and tucked myself down low. Then I waited.

  It was strange. Normally, I attributed this instinct to the Wolf. His expertise lay in the shadows, always watching, always waiting. This sense of unease was right in his ballpark, yet it was definitely my own instinct that sensed danger. Since waking up on the side of the mountain, his absence had been noted. Like a tumour removed, I felt lighter, emptier, better.

  Now all that remained was to see if my instincts were as sharp as his.

  My hole was deep enough to have parted the snow and make way for the disheveled blades of grass to make an appearance, but it didn’t stop the cold from soaking into my bones. I’d been cold for so long I could barely remember what warmth felt like. If I made it out alive, I would have to seek out a secluded Mediterranean beach, and wile away the days baking in the golden sun.

  Not today though. Nor tomorrow. Maybe never.

  I wasn’t sure what it was I felt. There was undeniably something between Gail and I. A friendship, maybe. Maybe more? Not that it would have ever gotten that far. But was it enough to ensure her loyalty? Maybe. Maybe not. She was definitely loyal to her home, and if she saw me as a threat, then I wouldn’t be surprised if she did rat me out. But she too was one of the few people I’d met over the last year that didn’t see me as a terrorist and a traitor. She looked at me and didn’t see inherent evil. She saw me.

  There was movement off to my left. I spotted it behind the tall, thick trunks surrounding me. A flash of colour. There one second. Gone the next. There it was again, further left. Closer. Not coming at me. A different destination in mind. And there was more than one. And their approach was far from silent. People. Lots of them. Maybe ten, maybe twenty. They cleared the trees and approached the house ahead of me, weapons raised and ready for combat. No prizes to the person who guessed what they were here for.

  I couldn’t hide the feeling of betrayal. It dampened my spirits more than snow could ever. Yet it was no surprise, and it caused me no qualms. While soldiers stormed the empty cottage, I retreated into the trees.

  There was a great stillness to the world as I searched for somewhere to make the call. Night had claimed everything, leaving only shadows and secrets. I found a spot where I figured no one would overhear me, and switched on the satellite phone for the third time to make the call.

  The seconds ticked by. Five. Ten.

  The call was answered.

  Silence.

  ‘This is James Stone, can you hear me? Over.’

  More seconds passed. More silence.

  ‘I wish to speak to Agent Jonah Miles
or Kayden Whyte. Over.’ I said.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr Stone.’ It was the same voice I’d heard the last time. Deeper, older, impatient.

  ‘Can I ask who I am speaking to?’ I asked.

  ‘My name is Alexander Pierce. I am the Executive Director for Counterterrorism and Counterintelligence. You must forgive me for our last conversation. Things were far from calm on our end. And I have to say, I didn’t expect to speak to you again.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Because you are a wanted fugitive, and I don’t often get the-’ he paused, ‘-pleasure to speak to such people in your situation in this manner.’

  ‘Where are Agents Miles and Whyte?’

  ‘They have been relieved of their posts. They acted without authority conducting this little mission in the wilderness and have breached numerous codes of conduct in doing so. It would appear that in foresight of this, they have abandoned their duties and are currently MIA.’

  ‘MIA?’ I asked.

  ‘It means “missing in action.”’ said Pierce.

  ‘I know what it means, I’m just surprised to hear it.’

  ‘They won’t get far, and they’ll pay the price for their disservice.’

  I said nothing. The trees swayed in the darkness.

  ‘I must admit, I am glad you called,’ said Pierce.

  ‘Sounds like you wanted to ask me out.’

  ‘I’ll cut to the chase, Mr Stone, because neither you nor I have the time to spare bouncing witticisms off one another. You are a wanted man, and you have been hoodwinked by my agents into a dangerous situation, for which I can only apologise.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘And while that may be technically true, it’ll be my ass that bites the bullet if they aren’t brought back soon. But that is not the sole excuse for my apology.’

  ‘Then what is?’

  ‘I believe Agents Miles and Whyte coerced you into cooperation through, shall we say, insalubrious methods?’

  ‘If by insalubrious, you mean kidnapping my wife, the mother of my son, and using her as collateral, then yes, I think we can agree on the use of the phrase.’

  ‘And therein lies the rub,’ said Executive Director Pierce. ‘When they initially detailed their request to detain you, I was led to believe it would be for the sole purpose of acquiring intelligence, not this lone cowboy act. I noticed the cracks in the plan when they failed to submit daily reports, or give any actionable progress over the telephone. So I made plans of my own. I decided to come and visit them in person. An impromptu visit. I wanted an update.’

  ‘Seems reasonable, given your position.’

  ‘I’m glad you see it that way, Mr Stone. However, when I arrived and discovered that not only was the intelligence mission a lie, but that you were no longer even in the same state as my agents, I was not a happy man. I busted heads and demanded the truth. Which was exactly what I got. The whole nine yards of it. I’m telling you this, Mr Stone, because while you are still a fugitive, you are also a human being, last I checked. And the pain my agents put you through should not continue any further.’

  ‘What are you saying here?’ I asked.

  ‘What I’m saying is this. Agent Miles and Agent Whyte don’t have your wife. They never did.’

  Twenty-Seven

  Burn It All

  I felt numb. The ringing in my ears intensified. Louder and louder until I could barely hear the low, heavy breathing of Executive Director Alexander Pierce down the line. I didn’t even know if I was breathing myself.

  ‘I saw her,’ I whispered.

  ‘You saw an actress hired on the Government dime and a nifty bit of computer work to make it look like your wife. That is all. I cannot apologise enough for the distress this must have caused, but please seek comfort in the knowledge she is not a hostage of rogue federal agents.’

  Silence followed. My mouth felt bone dry. I couldn't make sense of it. I had seen her. Sophie. I had risked everything for her.

  ‘Are you still there, Mr Stone?’ Pierce asked.

  I nodded. Realised he couldn’t see me nodding.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Good. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully. This mission you are on is hereby disbanded. Given your position, I am asking that you make your way immediately to the nearest Sheriff’s Department and turn yourself in. If you do so, I give you my word that I will attest at your trial this most unfortunate of situations. Now, my word means you won’t see a death sentence, and may be reduced down to somewhere in the ballpark of fifty years. Thirty with good behaviour. A young man like you will be out in no time, and the way your generation is living, you’ll last till you're one hundred. That’s more of your life out and free.’

  He waited for a response. He got none.

  ‘That offer is a one-time deal,’ he continued. ‘If you try to run or screw me over, I will make it my personal mission to see you captured and in an electric chair. I will pull the damn switch myself if you try anything. Do you understand?’

  ‘Obey or die,’ I said. ‘I understand.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re seeing some sense. Now, I need-’

  ‘Why don’t you come here and get me?’ I asked, cutting him off. ‘You’ve got the tracker in my neck, right? Can’t you just come and pick me up in a chopper?’

  A long pause.

  ‘It appears the tracking device embedded in you has malfunctioned,’ he said. ‘You must have the luck of the Irish. In all my years, I have never seen one go dark, and I have seen a lot of them out in the field.’

  I rubbed the lump behind my ear.

  ‘So you can’t see me on your map?’ I asked.

  ‘Mr Stone, I see you heading down a dark road here. I’d advise you not to let those thoughts wander any further.’

  ‘And you don’t have my wife in custody?’

  ‘As far as the American Government is concerned, we don’t have a clue where your wife is.’

  I ended the call. Flipped the satellite phone over in my hand and pulled the case off the back. Took out the battery. Dropped it on the floor and stamped it into the snow. Did the same to the phone itself. Smashed the damn thing into pieces. Covered the wreckage up with snow. I was done with it. Done with the FBI. Done with Second Solace.

  Done with the whole fucking thing. Gail. Cece. Cage. America. The entirety of the human population. Fucking done.

  I was seeing red. Feeling the anger pulsing in my heart. Through my veins. Into my fingertips. I punched the tree. Once. Twice. Four. Five. Ten times. Beat it till my hands turned bloody. Wanted to swear. Wanted to shout and scream and burn the whole fucking world to the ground. They had played me. The FBI. Miles. Whyte. Used me for their agenda. Not anymore. I hoped they failed. Hoped they never found Noble, or the bomb, or stopped the attack. Let it all burn. The whole fucking world.

  I pictured their faces. Miles and Whyte. The goatee and the bleached teeth. I saw them sitting across the table from me, chewing fucking gum and filling me in on their little scheme, all the while knowing their hold on me was bullshit. I pictured myself leaping over the table. Jamming my thumbs into their eyes. Smashing those teeth with a hammer. Stomping on that goatee. I wanted them to die. Slowly. Painfully. By my hand.

  I headed off into the trees. Didn’t know which way I was going. Just knew I needed to get out of Second Solace. Find a car and drive. Far, far away. Let them try to find me. The FBI, Second Solace. Let them try. My fingers squeezed the grip of the stolen pistol. Let them fucking try. I’ll kill them all. Every last one of them.

  I was making too much noise. I needed to calm down. I took a moment. Tried to breathe. It didn’t work. I needed to let it out. Needed to break and crush and fucking burn the whole thing. Miles and Whyte. Their payment would come soon enough. But I needed to do something now. Right now. Right this goddamn second. Cece, and Shotgun Joe, and Jack Dawson. And all the others who had looked down their noses at me.

  ‘You can sc
ratch Jack Dawson off that list.’

  It was the Wolf. Resurfacing in the storm. Shedding some light onto the darkness. The blood. The gun. The blackout.

  ‘I may have had something to do with that,’ he muttered.

  I didn’t care. Didn’t care what had happened anymore, so long as it didn’t again. And I wouldn’t let it. I was in charge. Not him. Never him.

  I checked the pistol. Three bullets. Not enough to go in anywhere guns blazing. More than enough to end a life or three. Cece would be first then. She could pay. Then Second Solace could die.

  I headed for the courthouse. Cece might be there, angry that I had slipped from her grasp. I hoped it. I wanted it. I kept moving. Ignoring the cold and the dark and the rustling in the trees. Kept moving forwards. Imagined watching the life drain from her black eyes. Fuck it. If the world wanted a monster, that’s what I’ll be. That’s what they taught me to be.

  I didn’t know what time it was. Didn’t know where anyone would likely be. But if Cece was the vicious bitch I thought she was, she wouldn’t haul her arse out of Cage’s chair for anything short of the apocalypse. I skirted around the settlement, clinging to the darkest of shadows, away from the light and activity. The courthouse was up ahead, shining like the North Star. Something big was happening inside. No other reason to have nearly every light in the damn place burning oil.

  I looped around to the back. A couple of sentries stood on guard outside. Another of Cece’s additions. Cage had not deemed it necessary, but Cage had been a fool. He hadn’t seen what was coming right in front of his own eyes. I watched the sentries. They didn’t move. Eyes scanning the night for intruders. Assault rifles in hands. Ready for combat. I had the pistol and three rounds. But it was too loud to use without drawing everyone in Second Solace out to join in. I drifted further back, so that I was confident no one would see me and kept going.

  I continued round to the side. No one guards the side. Not the windows. They guard doors and think that everyone has never thought of using a window to gain entry. Cece’s men were the same. They were blind in the foresight department.