bricks in
the wall:
prologue
.
Carpark,
JEH Building, Washington
I stare
down at the corpse at my feet, trying to
distance myself from any remembrance of the man it used to be. That sly,
abandoned vibrant man. Now just a sack of meat on the floor.
Abruptly
pain assaults me, mapping itself in red throughout my body like the veins of a
maple leaf. A small choke of pain escapes before I crumple to the ground. Part
of my consciousness screams at the betrayal, then everything fuses into
incoherent agony.
Dimly
through the black river rushing over my mind and sight I hear the sounds of a
vehicle stopping, doors opening. Footsteps surround and pass me, clothing rustling, a grunt, slower, laden
footsteps returning, thud of something heavy on a metal surface, doors slamming,
an engine gunning and leaving.
The
pain dissolves, my sight slowly clears and I'm lying on the concrete of the FBI
carpark, sweating, angry, tremors shuddering through my frame, humiliated once
more. And Alex Krycek's corpse is
gone.
.
