Read Raymond Benson - 2012 - Hitman: Damnation Online
Authors: Raymond Benson
With
that, the man jerked his head at Jade, and the two left the room.
47
waited a few minutes and then threw back the sheets. He swung his legs around
and put his bare feet on the floor. He grabbed the IV pole, which was on
wheels, and dragged it across the floor as he unsteadily walked to the locker.
He opened it, revealing the black suit hanging in pristine condition. The
briefcase sat on the locker bottom. 47 pulled it out and took it back to the
bed. He opened it, examined the two
Silverballers
,
and then felt for the hidden latch that unlocked the hidden compartment beneath
the handguns. His various passports, currency from several countries, and
Fiberwire
were all there.
As well as his painkillers.
47
opened the pill bottle, took two tablets, and downed them with the remains of
his juice.
He
carefully put everything in place, shut the case in the locker, and went back
to bed.
Sleep
came quickly. The figure of Death mercifully stayed away.
EIGHT
The
night passed peacefully, and Agent 47 slept better than he had in months.
Perhaps the gentle rocking of the ship helped. By the middle of the second day
on the ship, he felt rejuvenated. Travis sent word that they would have dinner
together and talk that evening—in the
meantime,
he was
to feel free to make himself at home aboard the Jean
Danjou
II.
Although
he was a man of fierce independence, 47 allowed Nurse Parkins to pamper him. It
was gratifying to be waited upon. Both Parkins and Dr. Chalmers quickly learned
that the assassin spoke very little, so they gave up attempting to engage him
in conversation. They did, however, encourage him to get out of bed, dress, and
take walks.
The
yacht was huge. 47 strolled the deck from bow to stern and back,
then
explored the ship’s bowels. No guards prevented him
from entering any restricted areas. He spent time in the control center,
observing the various operations and personnel. The
hitman
figured Travis was attempting to instill confidence. The man wanted 47 to
consider
himself
part of the team again.
The
woman known as Jade seemed to be very competent. She managed the control room
with admirable patience and efficiency. Travis moved in and out of the space,
delivering orders and listening to reports. At one point he acknowledged 47 and
asked how he felt. 47 replied that he was fine, and Travis said that he looked
forward to their meeting later. Otherwise, everyone on the ship ignored the
assassin. He was allowed to stand behind the various workstations and study the
computer monitors, maps, and data coming in from all parts of the globe. The
Agency was busy. It appeared that the business of killing was in no danger of a
recession.
Dinner
that evening was served in the yacht’s executive dining room, which was
designed in luxurious Louis XIV décor, as if the place
were
a high-end French restaurant. Waiters wore formal uniforms with white gloves.
Travis, Jade, and 47 were the only diners.
The
food was of exceptional quality. They started with a bottle of Dom
Pérignon
’57, which the
hitman
had to admit was smooth on the palate. Never a heavy drinker, Agent 47 did
appreciate fine wine and champagne. He had expensive tastes, and over the last
year he had not been able to indulge in the kinds of meals to which he was
accustomed. He knew full well it was yet another ploy on Travis’s part to lure
the assassin back to the Agency, so he figured he might as well enjoy it.
A
bottle of Château
Pétrus
, among the priciest and best
wine on the planet, was served with dinner, which was a selection of Kobe beef
filet mignon, lobster
thermidor
, and a variety of
steamed vegetables.
A recently
baked
challah
bread made from an orthodox recipe in Jerusalem was
incongruously served with the meal, but it was a surprisingly fitting addition.
Agent
47 declined an after-dinner drink of
fino
sherry but
heartily accepted the crème brûlée.
It
was the best meal he’d had in over twelve months.
Travis
unsuccessfully attempted to engage 47 in conversation while the trio ate, but
the assassin didn’t utter much. During the awkward silence, 47 was intent on
gauging what Travis had to say and how he said it. The assassin could never
fully trust him or his attractive assistant, but at least 47 would give them
the benefit of the doubt—for now. The story he’d been told about Diana
Burnwood
still disturbed him. Could she have really
betrayed him and the Agency? 47 thought he knew his former handler better than
that. He also accepted the fact that any
hitman
working for the Agency would be disavowed if anything went wrong during a
mission. Could Diana have been compromised in some way? It was possible she
didn’t have a choice in abandoning him.
The
only thing 47 could do was to play out the game. If rejoining the Agency would
eventually lead him to Diana—if she was still alive—and to the answers he
sought, then so be it.
“I
have decided to accept your offer,” the assassin unexpectedly announced as
Travis lit a cigar.
The
man raised his eyebrows. “You have?” Travis exchanged a look with Jade. Then he
smiled. “Well! All right, then. I thought Jade and I would have to ply you with
promises of Italian sports cars, women, and points in the company’s profits!”
“I
don’t care about any of that. I live for perfection. It appears that you’re
offering me a fair deal to restore my name to its former glory. I welcome the
challenge.” 47 thought this was a reasonable explanation that a shallow man
like Travis would accept. It had a touch of truth to it, but in reality the
assassin felt he could do nothing else but play along.
Travis
offered 47 a cigar, but the
hitman
shook his head.
“Upper management will be very pleased to hear that their prized asset is back
on board. Thank you, 47. This means a great deal to us.” He held out his hand,
but 47 didn’t take it. Travis awkwardly gave up and gestured for the tall, bald
man to follow him into another room. “Let’s talk in here. Jade, could you
please take notes?”
“Yes, sir.”
The
three of them moved into a room that was not unlike an English manor study or
library, complete with a roaring fireplace. If it hadn’t been for the easy
rocking, 47 would never have known he was on a boat.
Travis
pointed to a leather armchair. “Have a seat.” He sat in an identical piece of
furniture across from 47, while Jade, notepad in lap, perched on the end of a
sofa perpendicular to the men.
“Now, then.
The mission,” Travis began. “Are you up to date
with what’s going on with American politics these days?”
Agent
47 shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention to it.”
“America’s
economy is in big trouble. They’re in the biggest depression since the 1930s,
although the government won’t admit it. President Burdett has lost the support
of the people. A Congress consisting of Democrats and Republicans is ridiculed
as being incompetent and petty. In the last few years, a third party has risen
to power. The America First Party is conservative, ultra right wing, and anti
big government. In the last Congressional election, several AFP members were
elected. There’s a presidential election coming up in a month. A female
senator, Dana Shipley Linder, a member of the America First Party, is poised to
be the winner.”
“Okay,”
47 said.
Jade
spoke next. “Thrown into the mix is an uprising of militant terrorist groups
around the country. The big one is the New Model Army, led by an individual—”
“A
nut, if you ask me,” Travis interrupted.
“—called Cromwell.
You might recall that Oliver Cromwell,
who led a revolt against the English monarchy in the 1640s, called his troops
the New Model Army. We suppose that’s where this Cromwell gets the name.”
“I’ve
heard about the militant groups,” the assassin remarked.
“They’ve
destroyed a lot of federal property. They’re inciting violence and urging the
American public to rebel against the government. And they’re succeeding.”
Travis
took over. “Now, have you heard of a man named Charlie Wilkins?”
“Yes.”
“Big, wealthy celebrity in the United States.
Owns a chain
of fast-food restaurants, has
his own
cable TV
network, and he’s very popular as a television talk-show host. More important,
he leads a so-called religion known as the Church of Will. Do you know of it?”
“A little.”
“It’s
widespread, and it’s part of the America First Party movement. Dana Linder is a
member of the Church of Will and a personal friend of Charlie Wilkins. The U.S.
government believes that the Church of Will and the New Model Army are
connected in some way. Maybe Wilkins funds them. We don’t know. They don’t
know.”
“Wilkins
doesn’t seem like the militant type,” 47 said.
“No,
he doesn’t,” Jade agreed. “He is well loved by much of the American population,
and the rest see him as a harmless entertainer who has managed to influence a
couple of million people to join his religion.”
“Or
whatever it is,” Travis said. “It’s a wacko cult, if you ask me. But that
doesn’t enter into the assignment. Or maybe it does. You’ll have to find out.”
“What
is the assignment?” 47 asked, growing impatient.
“It’s
really a two-part mission. The first part is set in stone, the fee is very
high, and there are special conditions attached to it. The second part is a
‘maybe,’ the execution of which depends on the fallout from the first hit.”
“Could
you be more specific?”
Travis
cleared his throat. “The first hit is on Dana Linder.”
Agent
47 showed no visible reaction. He’d heard and completed more-challenging
operations.
“A presidential candidate.”
“Right.”
“Who’s
the client?” he asked.
“Anonymous,”
Travis answered. “We don’t know who it is, but he’s already paid a substantial
down payment. That said
,
we suspect the client is the
current U.S. administration.
The CIA.
Maybe President
Burdett himself. Who else would want to eliminate the competition in the
election? It makes sense. The America First Party and the Church of Will are in
cahoots, so I’m sure the U.S. government doesn’t want to see them lead the
people in a revolution that could change the face of the country. Washington
quite understandably would consider them all dangerous.”
“What
are the special conditions?”
“The
client wants the hit on Linder performed within the week and in a public place,
in front of witnesses. And, of course, you can’t be seen or caught.”