Trained by Sansa Rayne

Chapter 15

On a cool, cloudy Sunday afternoon, for the first time in eight months, I step outside my apartment by myself and walk. Although I’m wearing a disguise — big sunglasses, a black floppy hat and a long, blonde wig — no one’s shuffling me into a limo. One of Anton’s men follows me at a distance, but he stops when I reach the subway entrance.

Walk to Lexington and 53rd, the first text says. Then take the E downtown.

I glance over my shoulder every other footstep. My pursuer doesn’t try to hide, but his instructions are clear: Don’t follow her into the subway station or the deal is off.

Sure enough, when I reach the bottom of the stairs, he’s watching me from the top, stopped in his tracks. He reaches for his cell phone.

Some time in the next minute or so, my trackers will deactivate — not that I’ll feel anything or have any way of knowing. From that moment, I’ll have three hours to conduct my interview with Death. After that, the trackers will come back on and Anton will send someone to pick me up.

Assuming he doesn’t go back on the deal.

Swiping my MetroCard, my hand shakes. I’ve done it thousands of times in my life, but I end up looking like a tourist, trying to get the machine to read it. This is really happening: Anton can still track me through my implants, but he won’t.

As I pass through the gate, my phone buzzes.

Get off at Port Authority.

Easy enough. I find a seat and keep my head down, pretending to scroll on a phone. The screen is on, and responsive to my touches, but the text is all gibberish, randomly generated with the occasional image pulled from a random website. It’s almost funny, but it keeps me from checking out the other riders and drawing attention to myself.

A man approaches me when I reach Port Authority and get off the subway. It’s Eyal.

“Lift your arms,” he says.

I do as instructed and let him use a radio frequency scanner, running it around my body with extra attention to my injection sites.

“The trackers are off. Come on.”

He snakes his arm around mine, pulling me close. His other hand stays in his jacket; I would guess he has a gun.

“Where are we going?”

“Jersey,” he says.

It’s only a short walk through the terminal, but the noise makes my head spin. I’m used to either a TV studio or a prison cell. No one pays me any attention, but people are everywhere.

We head upstairs to the NJ Transit terminals. I’m surprised at first that Ingram would want us on a bus, but instead of waiting at a gate, he opens the door for us to trespass through.

“What are we doing?” I ask, expecting a Port Authority cop to stop us.

“Just move,” Eyal grunts.

Buses rumble around us as he leads us deep in the station; I try not to breathe in the exhaust fumes too deeply.

Soon we reach a parked black Cadillac sedan; the back passenger seats open as we approach.

“Get in,” Eyal says, watching all around us, gun drawn.

I don’t hesitate, and when I climb in, Ingram’s there.

“Hi, Kate,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss.

I’m barely aware of Eyal shutting the door behind me, starting the car or driving us off. Ingram holds me close, pulling off my sunglasses, hat and wig as he breathes me in. I groan, squeezing the hard muscles in his back. He wears dark, brown slacks, a black turtleneck and a matching skullcap. The sweater clings to his body, accentuating his broad physique.

When we emerge from the bus terminal, a light drizzle taps on the windshield as soft light shines into the car. I nearly cry as Ingram cups my face in his hand and presses his forehead against mine.

“You did it,” I say, sniffing and blinking rapidly. “You saved me.”

“We’re not finished yet, but I’m not letting you go again,” he says, drawing his gun and his phone. “Sit back. We have to be sure we weren’t followed.”

He loads up a video feed of vehicles in motion.

“Don’t turn around to look out the back, in case we’re being watched,” says Ingram, showing me the phone. “This is our rear camera.”

I stay quiet, letting Ingram and Eyal keep watch and drive, but after we exit the New Jersey Turnpike it becomes clear no one’s following us. We drive through the city suburbs of North Jersey, heading west until we reach rural farmlands. Ingram scans me once more to ensure my trackers are off, then Eyal pulls off the road and drives us up to a barn. As we roll up the dirt path, the doors open up before us and we continue inside.

In truth, I’ve never gotten within miles of a farm or a barn, so I don’t really know what to expect. Hay? Cows? Bags of seed and grains? Certainly not an operating table and a surgeon wearing scrubs. Stanislaw and Henrik are there too, watching banks of monitors. They nod when they see us, but then turn back to their work.

“Is this a good idea?” I ask. “Anton could turn the trackers back on at any moment.”

“Yes, we have to act fast,” says Ingram. “Get undressed. Don’t worry, Dr. Grenoble can do this quickly.”

Grenoble? That name rings a bell.

“It’s good to meet you,” she says. “I appreciate what you tried to do for Peter.”

The medical examiner? Then I notice the silver hair and the wrinkles around her bright eyes.

Oh wow!

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have done more for him,” I reply.

“Come along, lie down. I’ll be injecting you with Novocaine, which will take time to go into effect.”

“If time is of the essence, I can handle the pain.”

“No,” Grenoble says, shaking her head. “That shouldn’t be necessary.”

“We have the area under surveillance,” adds Ingram as he helps me pull off my top. “We’ll know if anyone tries to come after us. And, if they do…” He points to a rack of guns and what looks like small missiles. “We have more men stationed all around to intercept anything incoming. And we shouldn’t need more than twenty minutes.”

“Eyal, you run the scanner,” says Grenoble. “Ingram, you keep the cases ready. We treat the implants as though they’re online. Even if they’re not transmitting, the tampering detection systems could be active.”

“Understood,” the men say in unison.

“What cases?” I ask as I climb onto the exam table.

Ingram points to a series of boxes.

“These will fool the implants into thinking they’re still inside you.”

My eyes widen at the prospect. We could remove them and be gone long before Anton catches up!

“Are you sure they work?”

Ingram and Eyal laugh.

“We tested them out with Timo and Lincoln. They worked,” says Eyal.

Of course. Just like that, their plan comes into focus.

“We’ve been working this for a long time,” Ingram says. “Or we would have come for you much sooner.”

“I know,” I reply. “I don’t blame you for how long it’s been. I know you came as fast as you could.”

Ingram kisses me.

“We’ll make up for lost time soon.”

The Novocaine burns as Dr. Grenoble injects it.

“Just relax,” says Grenoble. “If it helps, I have practiced this procedure on some very uncooperative individuals. You’re going to be fine.”

“I know. Thank you,” I say.

My eyes tear up, but Ingram and I kiss until the sensation fades and I can’t feel any pain around my implants.

“Okay, Ingram. Get the cases ready,” says Grenoble.

“Yes, doctor.”

I keep my eyes closed and my breathing steady as Dr. Grenoble begins the procedure. The incisions cause no pain at all; the anesthetics work perfectly. I feel a tugging sensation as she pulls the implants out, but it doesn’t hurt. Eyal scans the implants up until they’re removed, but none of them show any sign of transmitting a signal.

When Ingram closes the first case around the device, my tears drip freely. For a long time, I never believed this moment would come. This could be a dream — a wonderful reality I’ll wake up from, only to realize none of it ever happened. Ingram will really be dead and Anarchy, Inc. won’t exist.

This is real, though. The doctor does her work, and then my implants are gone, locked away in the cases where they can’t harm anyone. Grenoble stitches up the incisions and cleans them.

“We’re done,” she says. “Kate, take painkillers as needed once the Novocaine wears off. Avoid too much strenuous activity. If you heal well you should be back to normal soon.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I say, shaking her hand with both of mine. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Take down Anton,” she replies. “That’ll be enough.”

“We will,” says Ingram. “We will. Thank you for everything. A car is waiting to take you home. You’ll be safe with my men.”

“Of course. Call me anytime if you need something, Mr. Dent, Ms. Atwood.”

“Kate, come with me,” says Ingram.

He leads me outside the barn. My wrist, neck and thigh will feel numb for hours, but I have no trouble walking. When we step into the fresh, cool air, I inhale deeply — a free woman for the first time in nearly a year. As we watch another Cadillac pick up Dr. Grenoble and drive her away, it’s incredible to think that I could be doing the same: I could get in a car and go literally anywhere. Ingram could put me on a plane to Nairobi or drive me to Myrtle Beach. I probably can’t come out of hiding for a while, but if Anton couldn’t find Anarchy, Inc. before, he won’t find us now.

The enormity of it all makes me dizzy. Months and months of loneliness are over. I’ll be with Ingram from now on. His operatives will protect me, and when the threat of the Masters is over, maybe I’ll find a way to convince my friends that I wasn’t myself. Someday soon I’ll have a semblance of my old life back. Maybe I won’t be a respected journalist ever again, but at least I’ll be free — with the man I love.

Then there are the little things, of course: no more eating the same bland turkey sandwich or garden salad every day. If I want to watch a movie I’ve seen ten times already, I can. Maybe I’ll learn a new hobby, like gardening or cross-stitch.

I smirk.

Fuck that.

I’m going to the gym and I’m taking up kickboxing, or maybe Aikido. Then I’m going to a range twice a week and learning to shoot like an expert marksman. Handguns, machine guns, sniper rifles — I’m not going to get caught defenseless ever again.

“Is it safe for us to be out here?” I ask, sweeping my eyes across the open fields. Not a single car can be heard coming from the empty country road. Dark clouds and a cool breeze herald a coming storm.

“We’re fine,” he says, showing me his phone. It’s an aerial view of the farm. “No one’s approaching the property for miles. We have drones in the air, and we’re watching Anton. We’ll know when he makes a move.”

“Good.”

He takes me in his arms and kisses me. I melt into his embrace, not caring if my body still feels funny from the Novocaine. Ingram walks me back until he presses me against the side of the barn, then reaches down between my legs.

“Ingram,” I moan.

“Do you not want to?” he asks. “Are you in any pain?”

“No,” I giggle. “But the doctor did say to avoid strenuous activity.”

He grunts a laugh.

“We could take it easy, for now. Just relax and I’ll take care of everything.”

That sounds wonderful, so I shut my eyes and sigh happily as he kisses me and probes two hooked fingers into my wet folds. With his other hand he massages my breasts, his firm touch eliciting a pleasure I haven’t enjoyed in far too long. His fingers stroke my sensitive flesh, his easy rhythm building me slowly.

However, after so much time waiting for relief, my euphoria spreads quickly. My body burns, starved for pleasure. Dormant nerve receptors come back to life, activated by Ingram’s touch. I find my hips rising and falling in sync with his touch. Sweat beads on my forehead, despite the chill in the air.

“You’re all I thought of, Kate. Every minute of every day. You’re the only reason I survived.”

My knees want to buckle, but Ingram holds me steady.

“Believing you… were still out there… made what Anton did to me… worth enduring,” I say.

“Has he… has he… ever touched you?” Ingram growls.

“No. Never.”

“Good,” he says. “The rest is… bad enough.”

“Yeah. I want to be the one, Ingram.”

He swirls his thumb over my clit, lighting the fuse of an immense orgasm. Soon I won’t be able to hold it back.

“The one what?” he asks.

“To kill Anton.”

For murdering Madeleine.

For what he’s done to me.

For nearly killing Ingram.

For all the many lives he’s destroyed on the way to seeking his revenge.

I want to drive the dagger into his heart.

“Give me that, and I’ll never ask for anything else.”

“Kate, I want it to be you,” he replies. “Without a doubt. But I’d like to shoot him in the leg first.”

I laugh, kissing him and whimpering from the burst of bliss traveling outward from my pussy.

“Oh, I want you to do much more than that to him. I want you to kick his ass.”

“Gladly,” he says, accelerating his fingering until my orgasm erupts.

I howl, my voice carrying across the tranquil farm, scattering a flock of crows from the trees. My jaw drops as the wave of ecstasy short-circuits my brain. Ingram doesn’t stop until I slump against his chest, spent and glowing from the rapturous pleasure’s much-needed release.

Ingram lowers us both to the ground and curls me into his lap.

“That was amazing,” I say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, kissing me. “I love you, Kate. I want to spend my life giving back what was taken from yours. I can’t change the things I’ve done, but I’d like to pay for them.”

“I love you too, Ingram. And I know you will. I believe in you.”

He takes my hand in his, and we rest. We’ll probably have to leave soon; my allotted interview time must be nearly over, and Anton will be wondering why I’m on a farm in the middle of New Jersey.

“What’s the next phase of your plan?” I ask.

“There isn’t one,” he chuckles. “The last phase was to get you back. Depending on what happened then, I figured we’d go from there. Maybe that was reckless of me.”

I laugh.

“Trust me, I don’t mind. But I should warn you: the reason Anton let me do this at all is because he was willing to let go of his need for revenge against you. The one cause for him to act irrationally is gone.”

“As long as he thinks I’m dead,” Ingram counters.

Holy shit. That’s true.

“You’re going to reveal that you’re alive, is that it?” I say.

“Maybe. Right now he thinks he succeeded in killing me, and he’s willing to give up on hurting you. That thirst for our suffering gave him the drive to work his ass off. Sometimes when people get what they want, they lose their edge. It weakens them. If Anton learned I’m still alive, all that hatred would come roaring back. He might rediscover his talent for defeating his enemies.”

“Then what do we do?”

Ingram helps me to my feet as he rises up.

“We’ve taken enough of his pieces off the board,” he says. “It’s time to finish the game.”