Rogue Agent Page 16

  The elevator doors opened and Seth poked his head out, searching the hallways on either side. It was clear. He jogged down to Spencer’s office, keeping watch of the security cameras along the way. He reached the door and tried the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. When he stepped inside, a knot of dread in his chest slowed his pace. Spencer wasn’t the type to leave his office so accessible. Either way, though, Seth was willing the take the risk. He closed the door behind him and went straight to the computer.

  As he expected, it was password protected. With only two attempts optioned, he had to choose the words carefully. He typed in the obvious ‘Haroun’ and an angry, red ‘NO ACCESS’ flashed across the screen. Seth cursed under his breath and took a seat in the rhino hide chair.

  Think! Think! Who or what does Spencer hold dear?

  Possible password combinations circled in his head. There had to be a clue somewhere in this office, something Spencer would look at every day. Million credit paintings on the wall only provided an aesthetic appearance and the lack of framed photos proved his employer was a reserved and private man.

  Seth stroked the fine leather chair like a cat twitching its tail and it hit him like a ton of bricks. With trembling fingers, he typed in the word that made his chest ache: ‘Trix’.

  The computer’s interface sprang to life. He had suspected something was going on between Spencer and his girlfriend for months but could never find evidence to prove it. Spencer used blackmail to fund her Clandestine use and as much as it stung knowing Trix had lied to him, he was hurt most by the betrayal. He pushed down the grief of his girlfriend’s death and went in search for the daily log files.

  “I knew you would come back.”

  Seth gasped when Spencer and a loaded Desert Eagle pistol stepped into the room. He flew up from the chair. “That explains the unlocked door.”

  Spencer stood motionless in the middle of the room, aiming the gun squarely at his chest. “You’re too predictable, Seth. Always have been. I thought Trix’s death may have bought you to your senses, but even with her brain matter staining my favorite suit, you still defy me.”

  “Where’s her body?”

  The Desert Eagle was lowered onto the desk between them, a solid reminder of the situation Seth was in. Spencer planted a hand on either side of the pistol and glared at him. “I could’ve killed you the moment you broke ranks, and I chose not to. You’re a talented killer, Seth. I’ve never seen anyone in my time as skilled as you. However, when you started screwing strippers, you lost a part of yourself. My lion was becoming soft.”

  Seth gritted his teeth, wishing he had the balls to take Spencer’s taunts, but there were some truths in his words. “You never answered me. Where’s Trix’s body? I want to take her home to her family.”

  “Would you like to see Trix? She’s not far, just through there.” Spencer pointed to a visible rift in the room. “No one else has access to this portal but me. I enter coordinates on my computer and it takes me to wherever I want. Trix is at arm’s reach, Seth. What are you waiting for?”

  Seth eyed the glistening Desert Eagle on the desk and bit down the urge to grab it and blow Spencer’s head off.

  “Do you know why I’m here? Why I chose this moment to come back?”

  “You’re cornered and desperate. You broke every rule to come back here for intelligence. You’re after numbers, yes? You want to know how many men are embarking on your position in Montana.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “Oh, I know you’re not alone. Terra Bloom is still hanging around, that’s how I got you. I’ve had you tracked the moment she appeared at your feet.”

  The revelation didn’t shock Seth. Somewhere deep down, he knew Spencer would eventually find them. No one ever escaped Spencer Hack.

  “Yeah, you got me, but we’ll be gone before your men reach the cabin.”

  A shadow crossed Spencer’s face. “Don’t threaten me, boy. Look where you’re standing. Have you forgotten what we do? You’ll be dead on the floor.”

  “Take me to Trix now and I’ll come back willingly. No questions asked.”

  “What about Terra?”

  “She’ll do what I tell her.”

  Seemingly satisfied, Spencer picked up his pistol and motioned to the rift. “It’s ready for you. It will take you straight to her.”

  He circled the desk and entered coordinates into the system. The event horizon materialized, sucking air from the room. Pieces of loose paper, small trinkets, and even a painting were dragged into the portal. Seth hadn’t seen one this powerful since David Bloom’s death.

  “Go now, Seth. I anticipate your return.”

  Seth approached the whirling portal with bated breath. He needed this one moment of closure before taking Spencer out. As he stepped through the event horizon, he noticed Spencer press a button on his computer. He opened his mouth to object, then the wormhole sucked him in.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Enfield, England, 2030

  Seth landed hard in a bed of damp, lush grass. He gritted his teeth, rolled onto his knees in an effort to stand up, swayed, and then fell face first into the earth. He couldn’t remember the last time portal travel had sucked him so dry. It’d been years since it affected him this much, going back to the days when travel gave him motion sickness.

  Seth lay still for a moment, allowing time for his head to stop swimming. A clear blue sky blanketed him from above, painted with white wisps of clouds. In the distance he heard birds singing in the trees. Was he dead? Was this his version of Heaven?

  He rolled onto his back and slowly sat up, throwing a hand out to stabilize himself. Shadowed by a large oak tree, Seth realized he wasn’t in New York anymore, or the United States. Vast, lavish pastures of farmland rolled far into the horizon, dotted with black specks of cattle and sheep. To his left, a grand clay brick clock tower, similar to the one in Crescent, pierced the cobalt blue sky. A row of timber roofs built above the tree line disclosed a local and bustling village. He could hear the low hum of voices and musical instruments carried by the breeze.

  A ball dropped in the pit of Seth’s stomach and the crippling nausea returned. He knew where he was now. The scent of pastries and bread loaf confirmed it. He was in Enfield, United Kingdom, a little farming town an hour outside of Suffolk. On any other day, he would gather his bearings and find his nearest portal, however, Spencer sent him to England for a reason.

  As a young and eager assassin, Seth had been given the details of his very first target: Sonny Day, an acquitted killer who’d murdered American Caroline Langdon. It was sheer luck Spencer handed him the file on that day. Or was it? The courts may have failed Caroline with lack of evidence and poor counsel, however, Seth had vowed to give her justice. Ten years ago under the guise of darkness, he travelled to Enfield and slit Sonny’s throat as he slept. Events of that night shaped Seth’s future into the man he was today.

  He got to his feet and headed for the village, hoping someone there could point him in the direction of the nearest pay phone. Dawson could get him home, if he hadn’t been corrupted or killed by Spencer already. As he trudged through the knee high brush, sidestepping fresh cow patties, he reflected why Spencer sent him here in the first place.

  Trix’s remains were buried somewhere in Enfield, but what would he do when he found them? Could he rely on the local police to assist or resort to smuggling her body out undetected? He also questioned Spencer’s intentions. Why send him to Enfield, the place of his mother’s murder, to search for Trix’s body? It didn't make sense. Then it hit him: Spencer was a sadist, getting off on seeing his enemies writhe in pain. This was his price for treason—a double blow to the heart.

  Seth reached the perimeter, shook the fence to test its stability and jumped over it, momentarily pausing to inspect the other side. Someone’s backyard garden provided good cover for Seth to slink down the side of the house and onto the main street. Locals walked the pavements, laughing, smiling, and devou
ring hot dogs and fresh burgers. Cars lined the road, some garnished with red and green streamers on their wipers. Strung up between adjacent apartments, banners billowed in the wind, advertising the ‘Butchers Festival May 15, 2030’. Seth froze mid step and gawked at the date on the sign. It would explain the nauseating feeling when he first arrived.

  He gazed around in despair, searching for certain nuances that might confirm what he was dreading. He walked to a news agency and studied the magazine covers. They mentioned marriages of celebrities who had long since died, or world events that had passed. One newspaper declared America’s new female president and the day cloning of Elvis Presley failed.

  He let out a breath of defeat and slipped to the concrete, his head spinning with images and events of the last decade. The notion of time travel was still in infancy, and yet Spencer had the technology all along. Sending Seth back was a punishment, one he had to endure alone.

  With a plausible chance of never returning to the present, Seth pushed aside the mission for Trix’s body, and climbed to his feet, emboldened with a new sense of purpose. Getting closure was what he needed to move on.

  My mother.

  On the fifteenth of May, Caroline had visited the town as a budding writer and met the allusive Sonny Day during a pub crawl. Two nights later, he raped and murdered her, leaving her body behind a library to be found by a class of ten-year-olds. Fair, blue eyed, well built, and charming, Sonny Day got away with murder. It wouldn’t happen again.

  Seth glanced at his reflection in the shop window and felt a burgeoning weight on his shoulders. There was no proof killing Sonny would change Caroline’s course. Altering history was a bad idea. If he took Sonny’s life, would his mother leave Enfield alive and come back to her family, or die in other tragic circumstances? The future was uncertain, and Seth was unsure whether he wanted to play this game. However, it wouldn’t hurt to find Sonny and persuade him to leave town before the events of May the fifteenth.

  Seth searched the streets for a hotel or pub, waving at locals and greeting children with a friendly smile. Small towns had the uncanny ability to sense outsiders and he wanted to remain anonymous as long as he could.

  He stopped outside the Lions Head Hotel, a red brick building adorned with aged Grecian white columns and a stone lion figure hidden among the overgrowth of the garden bed. The lobby was bare when he entered, the sound of his heels ricocheting off the tiled ceiling.

  “Hello? Anyone home?”

  “Hello! You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” a voice responded. A head materialized above the reception desk, and a young man jumped up, sprawling across the counter to shake Seth’s hand. “Are you American or Canadian?”

  “New Yorker.”

  The man’s face exploded with glee and pointed to the name badge of his breast. “My name’s Barwon and I love Americans! Welcome to the Lions Head. How can I help you?”

  Seth cleared his throat, a little taken back by his enthusiasm. “I’m here on a quick business trip and would like to stay a few nights. I don’t have a booking. I know you’re probably full with the festival going on.”

  Barwon waved his hand in the air. “It’s mainly locals you see out there. We don’t get a lot of international tourists around here. London isn’t far so we often get bypassed.” He typed into the computer, glancing at Seth inquisitively. “May I ask what type of business you’re in?”

  “Umm…I’m a reporter for the New York Daily. They shipped me over here to research a story.”

  “Oh, sounds interesting. What is it about?”

  “The history of the Butchers festival. I was told by my editor that a man named Sonny Day could help me out. Do you where I can find him?”

  The light visibly died in Barwon’s eyes and his lip curled with aggression. “Why do you need to know?”

  “Apparently he has knowledge of the festival, am I right? His dad was one of the founding fathers.”

  “Do you have any credits, sir?”

  Seth fished out his wallet and tossed a wad of credits across the counter. “Will these pounds do? I had my US credits converted at that place down the road.” As Barwon counted the money, he added, “Why the sudden change in character? Can’t Sonny’s name be mentioned around these parts or something?”

  Barwon slid a key across to him. “It’s best you stay clear of that man. I can give you many other names that can help you with your story.”

  “I need to speak to Sonny Day, no one else. Do you know where I can find him?”

  Barwon avoided eye contact, burying his attention to a spot on the desk. “He’s currently working in a stall at the festival. I can’t tell you which one as I don’t know.”

  Seth pocketed his room key and headed for the hotel entrance. “I appreciate your help, Barwon. Now, can you point me in the direction of the festival?”

  “Follow the road north until you reach a football field. Sir, Sonny will not appreciate your business.”

  Seth left the building. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Terra woke to an empty bed and a grumbling stomach. After searching the cabin for ten minutes, she returned to the bedroom, annoyed yet disenchanted. Though she never pictured Seth as the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, she had prepared her heart for such outcomes. Despite zipping around the country with him, dodging bullets together, and even sharing his bed, she didn’t really know him at all.

  After a hot shower, Terra dressed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and sat on the edge of the mattress, thinking about what to do next. If what she feared was true, Seth had abandoned her in the middle of a state forest with little money and half a tank of gas. There was no way she could return to California with what she had. Her only option was to wait until he returned to her, if he ever would.

  She got up to leave when a crumpled note on her pillow caught her gaze. It was written in Seth’s cursive handwriting:

  Gone back to New York. Need answers. If not back by sundown, go into town and call Dawson Degan at 555 6584. He’ll tell you where to go.

  Letting out a breath of relief, Terra slipped the note into her back pocket. Seth hadn’t left her behind. Craving a cup of coffee and a hearty meal, she decided to leave the canned Spam for later and drive into Crescent and treat herself. There was nothing she could do until Seth came back.

  Once parked in town, she dug around the vehicle looking for spare change. After finding five credits squeezed between the seat and the center console, she entered the diner, a large plate of melting pancakes calling to her.

  “Where’s the tall fellow with the black hair?”

  Terra glanced up mid-bite to the man standing across from her. It took her a moment to recognize him. “Oh hello, Emil! Seth’s gone out of town and should be back in the next day or so. Why do you ask?”

  Emil scratched furiously at a spot on his chest. “I wanted to see if he was still interested in purchasing those items from me. My supplier can get them quicker than I anticipated.”

  “He hasn’t said anything to me about it, sorry.”

  Without an invitation, Emil pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’ve heard things about your boyfriend.”

  Terra swallowed the food in her mouth, a sense of dread building. “What things?”

  “I still have contacts in the industry who order exclusively from me. One called this morning to say Spencer Hack has put out a hit on anyone who’s made contact with Seth Langdon over the last few weeks. He’s eliminating any ally Seth may have left. I’ll be closing up shop tomorrow and heading to Alaska to my sister’s. That’s why I’m asking about a possible order before I leave.”

  “Spencer knows where we are,” Terra said. “There’s no point running.”

  Emil’s face paled. “He does?”

  “When we were driving to Crescent we came across a hit man in the woods. He tried to take out Seth. He got here very quickly so either Spencer has allies of his own or he’s tracking us with something.
”

  Emil slipped a twenty credit note on the table. “Have breakfast on me, love. If you’re screwing with Spencer Hack, you’d better live the rest of your days fruitfully.” Without saying goodbye, he got up and walked out of the diner.

  Terra picked at the remnants of her pancakes, trying to remember the faces of those who’d helped her and Seth escape. There were too many. She found it odd, and a little redundant, for Spencer to eliminate all of them. He must be panicked, because he was making desperate decisions, never having someone like Seth questioning his humanity.

  Terra finished her breakfast, paid, and went back to the car. The sun hung high in the sky, holding the promise of a beautiful day. She played with the notion of going for a swim in the lake later on. It felt almost surreal to wake up every morning to its glistening waters and abundant birdlife. Then a dark cloud of realization would settle over her. She wasn’t here on a vacation, but as a fugitive. She drove home and parked, stepping out of the car to admire the lake she’d grown to love and wishing Seth was here to share it with her.

  Once inside, Terra brewed a cup of coffee, grabbed a book from the shelf, and sat by the window bathed in sunlight. She planned to remain in this spot for the rest of the day, pushing down the growing fear of Seth never returning to her. He had to. He would never leave her here. Would he?

  She woke an hour later to a key turning in the lock. Terra jumped up from the daybed so fast the book propelled from her lap and landed three feet away. She practically danced to the front door, excitement building inside her. “It’s about time, buddy,” she called out. “I was going to send out a search party.”

  When she opened the door, the thrill of seeing Seth again died instantly. It wasn’t he who stood on the other side. A man dressed in a black designer suit and gold aviators stood on the porch, holding a key to the cabin. There was a visible outline of a weapon in his trousers.