Rogue Agent Page 19

  “I’m feeling okay, Dad,” he replied at last. “I’ve been working so hard I forgot Mom had her hair appointment.”

  “She’s been dying to see you. Will you come by this weekend?”

  Seth inhaled a shaky breath, his heart rocking against his ribcage. For over a decade, he prayed to anyone who would listen to bring his mother back, vowing to take Sonny Day’s life the way he took Caroline’s. Now that he’d achieved both, he felt complete for the first time in years. The thought of Terra in the hands of Spencer angered him. She needed him now. This was his one chance to do something right in the world.

  “Sorry, I have something to do but I’ll come by as soon as I can.”

  “All right, son. We’ll have tea or coffee together. Do you drink coffee?”

  “Yes, Dad, I’m a coffee drinker.” Seth went to hang up the phone when a question popped into his head. “Oh, did Mom ever go to Enfield in the UK ten years ago?”

  “You probably don’t remember, we missed her flight and it ended up crashing over the Pacific Ocean. Two hundred people died. The authorities don’t understand why. There was no evidence of mechanical or environmental factors.”

  Bile tickled the back of Seth’s throat. He knew why the plane crashed. “I must’ve been working that day. I forgot all about the crash.”

  “Why are you asking? Is something wrong?”

  “No, it doesn’t matter,” Seth replied. “I’ll come by on Saturday. Tell Mom I miss her.”

  “I will, son. Goodbye.”

  Seth hung up the phone and downed another glass of vodka. He didn’t care that his head was swimming or his apartment looked like a bomb had gone off. His mother was alive. As if the revelation finally kicked in, he sucked in a breath, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He dashed out the front door, down the hall, and into the chill afternoon air.

  In the middle of the sidewalk, he rested his hands on his knees and inhaled a rich cocktail of smog, rancid trash, and freshly cooked pizza. His mind was racing with thoughts of Terra, his mother, and the body of his dead girlfriend left behind in the United Kingdom. The women in his life were taking a toll on his emotions, exposing raw nerves under his skin.

  The closest rift that he knew of was opposite the local Chinese restaurant, hidden down an alleyway. He gathered his bearings and hurriedly crossed the street. A bum sat outside a dry cleaner shop, knees drawn to his chest, his face concealed by a woolen beanie and a curly beard. Seth would normally ignore the homeless, stepping over them as if they were part of the trash littering the streets. There was something unusual about this man so he stepped closer to observe him.

  The bum saw him coming and glanced up, the corner of his lips lifting in a smile. “Can you spare a credit, man?”

  Seth dug around in his pocket and pulled out a few one credit bills. “Take this. Buy yourself a coffee.”

  The man took the money appreciatively. “Thanks, man.” He peeled off his beanie and tossed it into a pile of loose belongings at his feet. “There aren’t a lot of people like you around. I’m normally viewed as a stray animal.”

  Seth couldn’t withhold the look of shock on his face. The man’s wild red hair and rosy cheeks was too familiar to be a coincidence. The beer belly was long gone, replaced with a thinner frame. “Jack, is that you?”

  The man frowned at him. “How do you know my name?”

  Seth crouched down to one knee. “We’re good friends, man. I’ve known you since we were kids.”

  Another blank stare.

  “What are you doing out here?’ He cleared his throat, unsure whether Jack was legitimately the man he thought he was. “Does Spencer have you working an undercover job?”

  “I don’t know any Spencer. I haven’t been employed in years.”

  Seth fell backward onto the pavement, nauseated and bewildered. He was now certain killing Sonny Day had altered his reality. His mother was alive and Jack Winchester never worked at Haroun Agency. What else had changed? He lowered his gaze to the pile of Jack’s things and noticed a syringe and a baggie of Clandestine hidden among the rubbish. Culpability nipped at him.

  “I’m sorry for bothering you,” Seth said. “I thought you were someone else.” He withdrew more credits and pushed them into Jack’s hands. “Please take this. It will pay for a room at the Byron Hotel. It’s a rehab center. They’re pretty good.”

  Jack stared at the money with a gaping mouth. “Wow, thanks. That’s very nice of you. I don’t even know you.”

  Seth stood up and waved his hand in the air.

  Jack placed the credits in his beanie and slipped it back on his head. “How do you know I won’t spend your gift on drugs and hookers?”

  “Because the Jack Winchester I knew was willing to make a difference in his life. He wanted to live.” Turning, he saw the Chinese restaurant and the accompanying rift circling behind a pair of trash cans. Casting one more glance at Jack lying in a bed of his own filth, he stepped through the rift.

  ***

  The first thing Seth felt when he stepped out of the portal was the bitter cold. It enveloped every part of his body: his hair, his clothes, his pores. He didn’t remember the ammunition factory being this cold when he shot dead David Bloom all those weeks ago. The ground was still dirty, covered with a layer of grime and filth. He was certain the creature in the trusses hadn’t left.

  He felt the outline of a handgun in his pocket and knew it probably wouldn’t be enough to go against Spencer, however, it was a start.

  Across the warehouse, Terra sat bound to a chair, shoulder to shoulder with a half conscious Dawson. They were gagged. She let out a muffled scream when she saw him appear. Seth yearned to run to her but fear held him back. No one else was in sight. He had no idea if Spencer was setting a trap.

  “Terra! Dawson! Is the place booby trapped?” When they didn’t respond, he threw a quick glance around the factory. He couldn’t see any security cameras or set traps, though he did see a tray full of suspicious looking tools beside Terra. For a split second, he felt like the target.

  “Terra, are you okay?” He dashed over and removed the gag from her mouth. “Have you been hurt?”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “But Dawson’s been through the ringer. Joca bashed him up.”

  Dawson was in rough shape. His nose was bent at an odd angle, blood had dried across his cheek like a lightning bolt, and it looked like he may have lost a few teeth.

  “You came,” he breathed.

  Seth placed a hand on Dawson’s shoulder. “I’m here, buddy.” He looked around the warehouse. There was no Spencer or Joca in sight. “Where are they?”

  “They left about half an hour ago,” Terra said. “I don’t know where to. I’ve been waiting for them to come back and use those tools on me.”

  “I won’t let him hurt you.” Seth caressed her cheek.

  “I know. Now, can you get me out of these handcuffs?”

  “Where’s the key?”

  The warehouse doors opened and something jingled. “I’ve got them. Do you think I’m stupid enough to leave the keys lying around?” Spencer stepped into the factory with Joca by his side.

  Seth welcomed a rush of insane anger and whipped the gun from his pocket. He pushed the muzzle into Spencer’s forehead so hard the man flinched. “Don’t fucking move or I’ll blow your brains out.”

  “I can see that you’re angry, and I understand why you are,” Spencer observed. “You normally reserve that fury for your targets, don’t you?”

  “That has nothing to do with it.” Seth inhaled sharply, keeping his grip on the gun. “I lost everything! My life, my job, and my girlfriend. Her blood is on your hands. I had to bury her body in a fucking forest!”

  “Holding on does more damage than letting go,” Spencer replied. “Trust me. I never wanted to kill Trix. You forced my hand. It took days for me to get her brain matter out of my suit.”

  An animalistic cry left Seth’s throat and he lunged at Spencer. A look of shock crossed
the man’s face as they fell to the concrete floor in a tumble of limbs. Seth wanted to rip the man apart for everything he’d done to him. Trix. Terra. Caroline. Jack. His family.

  “Joca! Stop him!” Spencer screamed between breaths.

  A pair of hands latched onto Seth’s shoulders and pulled him backward at great speed. He landed on the concrete, whacking the back of his skull against the ground.

  Spencer hovered over him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Doesn’t this take you back? You were in this very warehouse only a month ago, doing the exact same thing to David Bloom. You blew his brains out.”

  Seth heard a whimper behind him. “I had no other choice. I was under your command.”

  Spencer rolled his eyes. “Do you think you’re a martyr by turning your back on me? You’re not the first one to put a gun to my head and you won’t be the last. I’m not one for monologues, so I’ll keep this brief. You are nothing without me. I own you and everyone in your life.” When Seth didn’t respond, he went on, “I want all this running to end, don’t you? I’m not a young man anymore and quite frankly, I can’t keep up. Let’s end this, shall we?” A handgun appeared from his inner jacket and he fired a bullet straight into Dawson’s chest. The sound ricocheted off the factory walls, mirroring Seth’s screams. Dawson flopped in his chair, a red stain bleeding into the front of his shirt. Terra’s sobs filled the silence.

  “Losing your loved ones hurts, doesn’t it?” Spencer sneered, motioning for Joca across the room. The man circled Terra wordlessly and hooked an arm underneath her chin, blocking her airway. She jerked in her seat as if being electrocuted, her wrists still bound to the chair.

  “Get away from me!”

  Seth climbed to his feet slowly, one knee at a time, his head throbbing like a jackhammer. “Leave Terra alone, Spencer. Your gripe is with me, not her.”

  “Actually, it’s Terra I’ve always wanted. Come on, Seth. We’ve had this dance before. I’ll let you walk out that door if you never look back. It’s not that hard.”

  Seth looked over to Terra and their gazes locked. After losing Trix, he buried the notion of ever loving someone else; the sheer possibility of having his heart broken again deflated any desire. Something was born the day he met Terra, another chance of a new life. He would die for her.

  “I’ll never leave her,” he said. “If she dies, I die.”

  Spencer threw a wink at Joca, who laughed at the private joke. “Works for me.” He whirled his gun in the air, seemingly enjoying playing the role of the bad guy. “Joca, neutralize Seth for me.”

  Seth was too tired to fight when Joca approached and handcuffed his wrists in front of him. He pushed Dawson’s body off the chair and plopped Seth in place.

  “Stay,” he barked.

  “Why did you do it, Spencer?” Seth asked, ignoring the searing ache behind his right eye. He probably had a concussion. Dawson’s body lying nearby didn’t help with the pain.

  “Do what? Enfield? Oh, that’s simple.” He smirked. “You see, a nail that stands out must be hammered down.”

  “You punished me by sending me back. I spent years trying to bury the angst of what Sonny Day did to my family.”

  “Some people are just broken, like you,” Spencer replied. “The past always sways the future. Do you think you’re the same man you were before your mother died? Caroline’s death shaped you into who you are today. You’re a formidable force, fueled by insatiable greed, resentment, and revenge. I can’t find that anywhere else.”

  Seth wondered if the news of Caroline was yet to reach Spencer. She was alive and well, living in New York, not rotting in a graveyard in Connecticut like he believed. Sonny’s grisly death was unplanned and something Seth didn’t want leaked prematurely. He needed time to move his parents out of town. So for now, he had to play dumb, otherwise it could cost him dearly.

  “What about Jack?” he said, keeping an eye on Joca. The man had remained questionably quiet throughout the whole conversation. It unsettled him. “He showed potential and you threw him away like a piece of garbage.”

  “Seth, this business is fickle. One minute, you’re the golden child, killing high profile targets and making money, and the next, you make one expensive mistake and it’s over.” Spencer turned to Terra and ran a finger down her cheek. She squirmed with repulsion. “I thought I could rely on my men. Dawson was a loose cannon and he paid the ultimate price. I had no doubt Jack Winchester would fuck me over some way or another. I just never imagined he would give in so willingly to a beautiful woman.” His gaze flickered upwards. “You two are very much alike. I see the way you look at her.”

  A knot of dread formed in Seth’s chest as something carnal and animalistic glimmered in Spencer’s ice blue eyes. If he laid a hand on her…

  “You’re a very traditional man, Seth,” he continued, curling a finger toward Joca, who obediently picked up a pair of pliers from the silver tray beside him. “I admire how you kept those traditions alive. Loyalty drives every decision you make. Loyalty to me, to your job, to your women. I admire that. Your colleagues were envious of your impressive kill list, did you know that? They were so inflicted by jealously, they wanted you dead. No one else has managed such skill. A particular senator in Washington was willing to pay me to release you to him as his private bodyguard. He offered five million credits and I refused because I knew how much you enjoyed your job.” He leaned in; close enough Seth could smell coffee on his breath. “Do you know what my favorite part of the job is?” He paused for a beat. “Cutting the finger off. Oh, how I love it!”

  “What? No!”

  As quick as lightening, Joca’s hand shot out and latched onto Seth’s left wrist. He buckled in the chair, his eyes widening with fear. “What the hell are you doing? Get away from me.”

  “Hold still.”

  “I like to keep those traditions alive, Mr. Langdon,” Spencer continued, “and I’m sure you appreciate that.” A slow grin uncurled across his face. “For the first time, the hunter becomes the hunted.”

  Joca singled Seth’s index finger and wrapped the pliers around the digit. He applied some pressure and dug the teeth deep into Seth’s flesh. His screams echoed off the steel walls, startling an owl roosting in the trusses.

  Pain shot up and down Seth’s arm like a live wire. He felt the delicate bones in his finger quivering. It wouldn’t take much more to snap them. His gaze slewed over to Terra, who looked on helplessly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

  Then there was a snap, and a white hot searing pain cooled Seth’s body. Through a distorted haze, he saw his finger lying in a pool of blood and filth on the floor. His body instantly reacted to the loss, and he heaved, throwing up what little he had in his stomach, staining the front of his shirt. “Oh my God,” he managed to mumble. “Oh God.”

  Spencer bent down and picked up the discarded digit, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger as if it was an insect. “I always found the removal of fingers to be a dirty part of the job. It’s necessary, it’s insurance. How can I rely on an agent’s integrity when the target was never eliminated? I’ve been screwed in the past and it won’t happen again.” He glared at Seth with a cool nonchalance. “You got off lightly, trust me. I’ve killed men for less. You know, I should’ve given you everything I had at my disposal. I was ready to peel the skin from your bones. But the removal of your trigger finger is enough. Your life as a hit man is over.”

  Frozen by shock, Seth released a deep, guttural moan. His body trembled as it struggled with the pain. He could no longer see Terra or Joca clearly, just two distorted figures in a mirage. Memories of David Bloom entered the haze and an unwavering feeling of guilt washed over him. He finally understood the agony and distress David must’ve gone through during his capture. He vowed to never hurt another human being again. Except for one.

  Spencer dropped the finger into a plastic baggie and pocketed it. “I look forward to giving this to the board,” he said. “They’ve been on my back abou
t your impending death for weeks. Now, I have something to show them.” He walked over and unlocked Seth’s handcuffs, doing the same for Dawson. “Joca, take Dawson’s body outside and bury it, will you? I want it deep enough so cougars can’t find it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Joca hefted Dawson’s lifeless body into his arms and carried him outside. A triangle of sunlight entered the warehouse, adding a soft ambience. It was morning already. How long had he been sitting in the chair? Even though he was free to move, Seth didn’t budge from his spot, a feeling of dread weighing him down. Spencer wouldn’t let him go so willingly without something in return. He stood slowly, swaying on his feet like a newborn calf. He picked up a piece of cloth from the floor and made a temporary tourniquet, worrying about infection later.

  “You’re letting me go after everything I’ve done to you?”

  Spencer’s eyes glistened. “You’re probably wondering why I’m toying with you, playing with you as if you were a pet. You’re weak, Seth. What I’ve learned over these last few weeks is that you’re pathetic, an invalid. You had a target get the better of you. That’s the number one rule at the agency and you broke it. You’re free to leave without Terra. She’s who I want. That’s reasonable, don’t you think?”

  Seth brushed his back pocket, feeling the outline of his handgun. To his surprise, he wasn’t searched when Joca handcuffed him. Maybe it was all part of Spencer’s plan. Regardless of what may happen, any automatic weapon would be useless. A gunshot would attract Joca outside so he needed a silent weapon. Seth gazed around the warehouse for any loose steel or timber fragments. A shard of glass lay a few feet from Terra’s chair. That would do.

  “You had many opportunities to kill me,” Seth replied, inching closer to Terra step by step. “I deceived and belittled you but you never made that final blow. You’re a good man, Spencer.”

  A strained yet sour look came over Terra’s face. He knew exactly what she was thinking—he had forced a pretty bad lie, but Spencer didn’t seem to notice, gloating at the compliment. The glass shard was nearby so he covered it with his shoe, careful not to crush it with his weight.