Trained by Sansa Rayne
Chapter 23
My motorcade advances up the freeway like an army marching into battle: slow and orderly, but numerous and imposing. Armored SUVs and vans full of mercenaries form a line in the right lane, with me in my limo near the back. Fifty men toting assault rifles, grenades and flashbangs joke around in their transports; they’re not the most professional crew, but they agreed to take the job. It wasn’t easy finding a team this large on short notice who knew the dangers of going after Anarchy, Inc.
Drivers look out their windows at us as they pass by, but see nothing through our tinted glass. Some honk and give us the bird, having waited some time to pass us. However, we can’t go fast: Brendan Zimmerman’s ride stays around the speed limit, forcing us to match it. Fifteen miles ahead of us, they head north into upstate New York in a green Maxima.
“Can we move in closer?” I ask. “I’d like to close the gap.”
“We shouldn’t, or we’ll risk being seen,” says Nick, following the freeway traffic cameras on a tablet.
“We should have a helicopter with us. We’re going to need air superiority.”
“They’d probably see it,” Nick says. “And eventually they’ll hear it.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I’m not worried about losing track of the vehicle; we have it tagged and tracked, watching on satellite — as well as via our hack of Zimmerman’s cell phones.
I was right about him. He’s a smart guy for a bit player in the national media. He was curious about why Kate’s boyfriend disappeared and she suddenly made a strange career change, but the restraining order against him seemed to have worked at the time. He left her alone — but he didn’t abandon the case, obviously.
He didn’t abandon his friend. I respect that.
And now he’s going to help take down a terrorist organization, whether he knows it or not.
It’s vindicating to know my instincts were on point: he was lying to me. I haven’t had many wins lately; I’ll take this one. If working for the mob taught me anything, it’s that sometimes you have to start small.
It’s too bad Zimmerman got paranoid about our meeting. He went straight to his contact, confirming my suspicions but also necessitating immediate action. This is our chance to find Anarchy, Inc. where they live. It would have been interesting to gather more information from Zimmerman’s devices, but none of it will really matter if we find Death and dismantle his entire organization.
After we’ve eliminated the threat, then I can find out how much revenge I need to exact on Zimmerman.
“Target is passing exit eight,” says Jesper, our satellite monitor.
“Roger,” Nick replies. “Continuing pursuit.”
Ideally, I’d be nowhere near this fucking parade. Were it not for the fact that Death knows more about me than I can afford to let leak, I would simply tell the FBI to follow the green Maxima. They might bomb the shit out of Death’s base, but they might try to storm it and take prisoners. I can just picture the G-men at the NSA and Pentagon wanting some faces and names they can slap on a press release so they can take some of the credit.
No, this needs to be kept as quiet as possible, and if Death can be taken alive, that would be excellent. I’d love to see him suffer an excruciatingly painful death, after the hassle he’s caused me. I’d let the surviving mercenaries from the Brooklyn attack beat him senseless every day for six months. Maybe once a week I’d saw off a joint from one of his fingers and toes. When he runs out of them, I’ll pull a tooth with pliers. When he’s out of teeth, I’ll waterboard him. I’ll throw hot sauce in his eyes. I’ll leave him in solitary until he starves.
Sadly, I can’t imagine it’ll be easy to take him alive. I’d much rather the mercenaries focus on retrieving Kate and Zimmerman. They’ll probably be in some kind of prison cell, safe from the fight and easy to pick up later.
However, there is a question as to how winnable this fight will really be. If we strike now, we’ll have the element of surprise. They won’t know we’re coming. By the time they see us, we’ll be at their front door.
On the other hand, going in quickly puts us at one disadvantage: we won’t know what we’re getting into. We have enough well-trained fighters to mount a swift and effective incursion, even if Death’s dug in well. But, how many people belong to his ranks? His missions have shown a great deal of coordination, but very few individuals. If they have ten or fewer members, we’ll rip them to shreds.
What’s more, there are only so many places they can be hiding. We’ve been analyzing their route, trying to pinpoint potential destinations and mobilize additional units. Every mile cuts down the possibilities of where they’re going and brings us one step closer to ending Death’s threat.
“Alert: target is pulling over at a rest stop.”
“Roger. Hadley and Swarzak, follow them and keep us updated.”
“Copy that.”
“All other units,” Nick continues, “take Exit 11 and head north on local roads,” says Nick. “We’ll re-engage on the freeway once the target gets on the move once more.”
The other cars confirm the command, and soon we’re veering off the interstate en masse.
“They must be going pretty far if they’re making a pit stop,” I say.
“Probably,” says Nick. “It sounds like they don’t suspect anything.”
Perfect.
I can’t wait to see the look on Jamison’s face when I tell him that Anarchy, Inc. is no more. It’s going to be the most satisfying accomplishment since I took over the Masters. My first serious challenge, bested. They’ll see how wrong they were to doubt my capabilities.
“Two are getting out of the car and heading into the building,” reports Jesper.
“Roger,” says Nick. “Hadley, when you get there, head inside and find them. Keep a low profile. Swarzak, watch their car.”
“Understood.”
Five minutes pass by at a glacial pace as I watch the satellite feed, waiting for two figures to return to the green Maxima.
“What’s taking so long?” I ask.
Nick shrugs.
“There could be a line.”
“Or they stopped for a meal,” I say.
“No, they’re probably smart enough not to do that. Hadley will be there soon. He’ll let us know.”
“Tell him to hurry up.”
I spot Hadley and Swarzak’s vehicle on the tablet, weaving through traffic as they close in on the rest stop.
Does Kate have any idea how close she is to being reunited with her friend? That’s one small mercy she’ll enjoy before we take her back: a chance to have a taste of her old life, even if only it’s for a few minutes before it gets ripped away again. And Mr. Zimmerman, how nice for him that he’ll have a chance to tell Kate he never gave up on her. He deserves whatever catharsis comes from this moment. Who knows? Maybe there will be some way of painting them as the heroes who helped take down Death. If Kate could be made to obey, why not Brendan too? It’s a fun thought — one I can consider later. I’ll have ample time to decide their fates.
Two of the icons on my tablet disappear. A red X appears over their car.
“What the fuck just happened?” I ask.
“Shit,” says Nick. “Those were Zimmerman’s cell phones; we’ve lost their signal. Damnit, Hadley get in there now! We need a visual! And block the exit — don’t let anyone leave. All other units, get back on the freeway and get to that rest stop!”
“Did they destroy the phones?” I ask when Nick finishes.
“Probably. I didn’t like that they brought them in the first place. It seemed like a dumb mistake.”
My stomach churns.
“Did they lead us here on purpose? Could this be another trap?”
Nick rolls his head around on his neck.
“Maybe. It doesn’t fit Death’s past methods: he’s always attacked us in isolated places with easy escape routes and no civilians around. If they try something at a public rest stop, there will be collateral damage and they’ll only have one way out. That’s not how they’ve operated.”
Well, if it is a trap, Hadley and Swarzak will be the ones to spring it.
On my tablet, I switch from satellite view to Hadley’s bodycam. Swarzak drops him off, then speeds off to the rest stop’s exit and swerves, blocking the lane. Hadley heads inside the facility, a relatively small building offering little more than restrooms, vending machines and a few benches and tables. A clerk sits at a desk between two large boards full of pamphlets; he turns to look outside as honking horns blare from the parking lot. Hadley hurries into the men’s room and checks the stalls, but none are occupied.
Nobody in sight looks like Brendan Zimmerman.
“What the hell is going on?” the clerk says, rising from his desk.
“Excuse me,” Hadley shouts. “My name is Agent Vance, I’m with the FBI. My partner and I are searching for a pair of escaped convicts. I need you all to remain calm while we search the area.”
For fuck’s sake. A dozen muffled conversations fill the small room as people take their seats.
“Hadley, check the car,” says Nick. “Swarzak, flash your badge and direct all the civilians inside.”
“Look! Fire!” someone shouts.
“Hadley, move!” Nick screams.
Hadley’s bodycam shakes as he runs. As soon as he gets outside, we see a small pillar of smoke rising from a green car.
“It’s the target’s vehicle!” he says. “The smoke’s coming from the front seat. I don’t see any flames.”
“Can you get us a closer look?” Nick asks.
Hadley approaches, taking off his camera and pointing it directly into the vehicle.
“Are you seeing this?” he asks.
Smoke rises from two cell phones, or what’s left of them.
“They’re not here,” says Nick. “They must have had help. Jesper, I need satellite footage from the moment they parked at the rest stop. Look for any group of three or more leaving the building, or any individuals. Hadley, Swarzak, get back on the road, now!”
Fuck! Fucking goddamn shit!
We can figure out which car they used to drive away, but it’s going to take time to analyze the satellite footage. It’s entirely possible they’ll leave our coverage area before we track them down.
“We should have grabbed Zimmerman and tortured him until he told us everything,” I growl.
“You want to find Death?” says Nick. “This was the way to do it. Zimmerman didn’t know, or he’d have driven himself.”
“We should have stayed closer. Or had a helicopter in the area.”
Nick shakes his head.
“It would have spooked them. They’d have turned around and made another plan.”
“Do you know what just happened?” I ask him, reaching into my jacket pocket. “They humiliated you. They knew we’d track the cell phones. They knew they were being watched. What do you want to bet Death is laughing right now? He had a plan to bring in his asset and it went perfectly. This was a giant fuck you to me. To us — and you, Nick. This is your fuck up.”
“What do you want from me, Anton? You said it yourself: they had a plan. We didn’t. You should be glad this failed. You wanted us to storm Death’s base without any idea of what was waiting inside? When the fuck did you get so stupid?”
How dare he.
“This was a chance to find them and end them. You’d rather pass it up and give them another chance to attack us? This bullshit could have ended today.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Nick snorts. “Considering their love for setting traps, you would have walked us right into a kill-box. Anarchy, Inc. just spared them. They’re lucky you fucked up this job. The next time they’ll probably die because of your-”
“Juniper.”
“-impatience and… reckless… ness…”
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
Nick slumps in his seat, shutting his eyes as he passes out. The tranquilizer overdose should have stopped his heart by now.
Fucking idiot.
“Sir, we’re getting a call,” says Jesper. “It’s from Death.”
“Put him through and trace it.”
I don’t want to take the call. Odds are, he’s calling to gloat and the trace won’t work. We have to try, though.
Death’s silhouette appears in a new window on my tablet, and he’s not alone. Kate sits next to him. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Death’s probably been milking her for information — maybe in exchange for protecting Zimmerman.
“Hi, Anton,” she says. “Leave my fucking friends alone, you fucking piece of shit. Or there will be consequences.”
“I will, Kate, if you tell me where you are right now.”
She laughs.
“I’m never going to do what you say ever again, asshole.”
Now I chuckle.
“And you think your new friend is going to carry out your threats? Are you stupid?”
“Kate Atwood is one of us now,” says Death, his voice scrambled into a demonic bark. “She and her friends are under our protection. Heed her warning.”
“Or what?” I snarl.
“Or I tell the world everything there is to know about you and the Masters… Simon Wilson.”
Well, that’s that. She’s told them everything.
“There is only one way you can save your life,” says Death. “Resign from the Masters. Turn yourself in to the authorities for the murder of Ingram Dent and a woman named Madeleine, as well as the unlawful imprisonment and mental abuse of Kate Atwood. Make a full confession. Include faking the death of Simon Wilson. Do that, and we won’t kill you.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I say. “The net’s tightening. I’m going to find you, and I’ll kill all of you.”
“See you soon, Anton,” Death replies.
Then the connection goes dark.