He took
up position at the door of the adjacent room and watched the four men enter,
their weapons making appearances as they were about to cross the threshold into
his room.
He
opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. Tires squealed nearby and he
took a quick look. Unmarked cop car most likely. He knew he had only seconds to
clean this up before whom he presumed was Detective Percy got himself hip deep
into agency business.
He
pressed himself against the wall, poking his head around the doorframe of the still
open door to his room, weapon extended.
“Good
afternoon gentlemen, anything I can do for you?”
All four
spun at the sound of his voice, their weapons raised and pointing at him, but
with his limited profile, they were at a disadvantage, but only if they didn’t
all open fire at once. And first. This was going down one of two ways. If they
valued their own lives more than the mission, whether sanctioned or not,
private or not, they’d lower their weapons, and talk. If they felt the mission
was more important, and the mission meant killing him, they’d open fire. And
either they’d be walking out, or he’d be.
He was
hoping for option one, but expecting two.
He had
no intention of dying in Ogden, Utah.
He
wouldn’t even get his star on the Memorial Wall since he wasn’t technically on
Agency business.
And he
wanted his star.
Not that
he had a death wish, but simply that he expected to die on the job. It was an
exciting, fulfilling life, and if he died while doing it, he could honestly say
he felt he had no regrets. He’d prefer to die one of those fat semi-retired
looking spies at a cocktail party collecting intel at the end of a long career,
but if he had to die young, so be it.
But not
in Ogden, Utah.
The guy
on the left twitched, and Kane immediately recognized the decision to open
fire.
Kane
squeezed the trigger, taking out the twitcher, and was already squeezing the
trigger as the second target came into his sights. The second jerked backward,
toward the tiny bathroom, as the first one fell into the nightstand. The other
two opened fire, but were also diving for cover, their aim wild, but not wild
enough for Kane’s liking.
These
guys were good.
The door
frame took several hits, blasting apart into a million shards of wood as Kane
twisted his head out of the way, closing his eyes to protect them, still
squeezing his trigger with no doubt as to his aim, only doubt as to whether or
not his targets were in the locations his educated guesses suggested they were.
He heard
a cry as he ejected the spent clip and smacked in a new one. The gunfire
stopped and he poked his head inside to see a third body near the door to the
adjoining room and the fourth in the bathroom, shoving himself through the
window.
“Don’t
make me shoot you in the ass,” said Kane, stepping into the room, his gun aimed
directly at the man’s chute. He froze, then slowly crawled back inside, his
arms raised, gun hooked on his trigger finger. “Toss it in the tub.” The man
flicked his wrist, and there was an unsatisfying thud as expensive polymer hit
cheap plastic. “Now step out here, nice and slow, and empty your pockets on the
bed.”
The man
complied, his eyes never leaving the gun, except for a brief instance to
confirm his three comrades were down and out. Footsteps from outside, pounding
on the pavement caused the man to look at the door, but not Kane.
“Detective
Percy, would you mind covering my six while I interrogate this prisoner?”
“What
the hell are you talking about?” growled the detective. “You put your damned
gun down, now!”
“From
your little perch at the gas station, I assume you saw these four men enter my
room?”
“How’d
you—”
“Yes or
no, Detective?”
“Yes, of
course—”
“Therefore
they are trespassing in my room, are they not?”
There
was a grunt. “Yes.”
“And I
have a right to defend myself?”
“Yes,”
he muttered, then his voice seemed to find strength. “To a point!”
“True,
and I think that point has been reached,” said Kane, still not taking his eyes
off the one remaining man. He knew that if this man had been through the same
training he had, a mere second was all that was needed to make a successful
dive for one of his comrades’ weapons still lying on the floor. “Would you
please pass me your handcuffs?”
There
was another grunt, then the jangle of cuffs as they came into view. He took
them with his spare hand, and tossed them at the prisoner, who caught them
easily.
“Now put
those on, nice and tight.”
The man
glared at Kane, but complied.
“Now,
Detective, would you mind frisking him?”
“Yes I
would! Who the hell do you think you are?”
Kane
smiled.
“Would
you believe I’m an insurance investigator from Shaw’s of London?”
“Not for
a fuckin’ second.”
Kane
chuckled.
“All you
need to know, Detective, is that I’m on your side, they’re not. These are most
likely part of the crew that killed your partner.”
He heard
a deep breath get quickly sucked in through the detective’s nose.
“Cover
me.”
Kane
stepped aside as Detective Percy entered the room and approached the last man
standing. A quick pat down revealed a gun in an ankle holster.
“Check
his belt buckle.”
Percy
nodded, and grabbed the buckle, then shook his head and removed the belt.
“How’d
you know?”
Kane
smiled as he looked at the special issue belt with two small blades integrated
into it.
“Just a
hunch.”
“Uh
huh.”
Kane
looked at their prisoner.
“Now,
please take a seat.”
The man
sat down, the scowl on his face suggesting he was as pissed off at the
situation as Kane would be if the roles were reversed. And his constantly
roaming eyes left no doubt he was looking for a way out.
“Why
have you been following me?”
He could
tell by the sniff that Detective Percy wasn’t happy with the first question. No
doubt he wanted to confirm if this guy was involved with the murder of his
partner.
But
first things first.
He
needed to know if this was sanctioned or rogue. If it was sanctioned, it meant
he had become a target of the Agency for some reason. If it were rogue, then at
least he knew he could come in from the cold and find out what the hell was
going on.
But, as
expected, he received no reply.
“Listen,”
said Kane, approaching the man. “You know who I am, obviously. You know
what
I am. You
know
I can cause you an extreme amount of pain, and never
leave a mark.” Kane stopped in front of the man, looking down at him. The man
had little choice but to look up, otherwise he’d be staring at Kane’s crotch,
something most men refused to do if given an alternative.
“Now, if
you are who I think you are, you no doubt have been trained, like I was, to
withstand a tremendous amount of pain. But, since you’re on a domestic
operation, and you’re about the same age I was when I came out of basic, I’m
guessing you haven’t actually had to put that training into practice.” He
paused, the man’s eyes meeting his, but a little wider than before. “Have you
picked your safe place?”
The man
said nothing, but his eyes flashed wider for a split second.
“Is it
something from your childhood? Your home when growing up? The family cottage?
Or is it some place you like to go. Fishing perhaps? Skiing?” No reaction.
“Well, I suggest you go there now, or answer me this simple question. Are you
on a sanctioned Agency mission, or not?”
Again no
response.
Kane
reached forward, his thumb and index finger held out, and rested them on the
man’s neck, his thumb in the hollow under the ear.
“Have
you gone to your safe place?”
Their
captive sucked in a deep breath, his teeth clenching, the jaw muscles flexing,
as he prepped himself for the pain.
“Tut
tut,” said Kane, shaking his head. “You really do have no experience at this,
do you?” He leaned forward and whispered in the man’s ear. “I’m really sorry
about this. If you answer my simple question, either way, the pain will stop. I
don’t care whether you are sanctioned or not, I just need to know which it is.”
He leaned in, placing his lips within an inch of the man’s ear, and lowered his
voice. “And remember, I’m trained to be able to tell if you’re lying.”
He stood
back up, and began to push firmly with his thumb, his index finger providing
leverage, and the man began to turn red.
“Safe
place…” whispered Kane, knowing full well that every time he mentioned it, it
would drag the man back from it, the acknowledgement of the coping mechanism
subconsciously negating its effectiveness unless you were truly experienced in
having had pain inflicted upon your body where you could shut out your captor’s
voice.
Like he
had experienced on more than one occasion.
Fortunately
he’d always made it out alive, usually due to the overconfidence most
torturer’s had. They assumed after a short while that you were broken
physically and mentally, with no hope of putting together a coherent escape
plan, and certainly not capable of noticing and taking advantage of a little
thing such as a loose bolt or rusty nail.
He
pushed harder still, and the man gasped in pain, the breath he had been holding
escaping with a burst. Kane heard the detective about to say something, and cut
him off with a raised finger before the first syllable was completed.
“This
will all end if you just answer my simple question.”
“Sanctioned!”
yelped the man.
Kane let
go, and the color quickly began to return to the man’s face as Kane felt a pit
grow in his stomach. If they were sanctioned, that meant he had killed three of
his comrades, on the job. It didn’t make sense. First off, CIA wasn’t supposed
to operate on US soil unless sanctioned by the President or very senior
administration, but that was ignored all the time when dealing with one of
their own, so that part didn’t really bother him. It was the fact that they’d
resort to killing him that had him concerned.
“Why did
you try to kill me?”
The man
was no longer looking at Kane, his head sagging into his chest as he realized
he hadn’t even lasted sixty seconds of torture, and the humiliation that would
bring him if it were known. What he should have realized, but Kane certainly
wasn’t about to help him with that, was that Kane was an expert at manipulating
people, and there was no shame in cracking under the physical and psychological
torture his mind knew would be coming, and the inevitable breaking point that
would have been reached regardless.
“You
shot first.”
“Only
because your buddy was about to shoot me.”
“He
wasn’t one of us.”
“What do
you mean?”
“He was
an outside contractor.”
“With
who?”
The man
shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. BlackTide I think.”
Kane
pursed his lips. If BlackTide were involved, this took on an entirely different
slant. They were notorious, not only for some of the shit they had pulled
publicly in Iraq and Afghanistan, but for what the public didn’t know. They
were private security, but special ops trained. Their services went far beyond
providing extra bodies in US war zones. Visit their website, and you’ll see
they hired out their services to anyone with money. And those services included
hostage rescue, extraction, security and “other” services that would be
discussed for a price.
These
guys would do anything for money.
Including
apparently shoot and kill a CIA agent.
“So your
orders weren’t to kill me?”
The man
shook his head.
“No, we
were to track you, then question you as to why you were here.”
“How’d
you find out I was coming back?”
“No
idea. I’m new on the team. Last minute replacement. All I know is something
happened last week, something bad. I arrived yesterday to replace someone in
Salt Lake City. Apparently appendicitis.”
“Are you
the only team here?”
“As far
as I know.”
“Who’s
your handler?”
He shook
his head. “No idea, above my pay grade.”
Kane
frowned. This guy was too new and too green to have any useful information,
beyond the fact that it appeared the surveillance was sanctioned, but perhaps
not the op from last week.
“What’s
your protocol if things go sour?”
“Call
the switchboard, request extraction.”
The
detective cleared his throat. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Kane
ignored him. “Were these guys”—he motioned at the bodies with his chin—“here
last week?”
Shrugged
shoulders.
“Can’t
say for sure, but the chatter I overheard suggested so. Like I said, something
bad happened, but I don’t know what. I think they were sent in to clean it up.”
“Any
idea what that op was?”
The man
shook his head. “No idea, above—”
“—my pay
grade, yes, I get it.” Kane sighed, then picked up the man’s cellphone off the
bed. He dialed the switchboard and held the phone to the man’s ear. “Request a
clean-up crew and extraction.”
There
was a pause, then a deep breath.
“This is
Eagle Watch, code forty-seven. I say again, this is Eagle Watch, code
forty-seven.”
Kane
took the phone away, snapping it shut. He turned to Detective Percy.
“We’ve
got anywhere from five minutes to a couple of hours, depends on how high a
priority they assigned to this op. I’m guessing low priority, but you never
know. Either way, we need to leave, now.”