Jason jerked awake. Fog still clouded his mind; it took a moment for him to orient himself.
He was in the driver's seat of his rental car. Beside him sat Dana, her red hair catching the late afternoon sun. And a rustling sound from the backseat. Gray, his blond hair ruffled, as if he'd just woken up as well.
"Don't worry, I've been keeping an eye on them," said Dana. "No action so far."
"How long…?" he said, not sure what time he'd passed out.
"About two hours."
"Two!"
"There was nothing to see. Hardly anyone coming or going. The other agents are watching the back."
"They've arrived?"
"Called a few minutes ago. If you fall asleep again—I'm running on four cups of coffee so I should be good for a while. I didn't have the heart to wake you up. Besides, you'll need to be fresh if something happens."
Jason rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up, feeling two days' growth of a beard. "I slept like one hour in almost two days. Now, it's more than doubled so I should be ok." He attempted a grin, but it felt stiff, more of a grimace. He was still exhausted but at least the two hours took the edge off. Good thing about having a partner.
He glanced back, Gray looking warily at Dana. "How are you doing?" Jason asked.
Gray looked at him. "I'm…fine."
"I think you're due for more painkiller."
He shook his head. "I want to be alert in case something happens."
That's true, thought Jason. I shouldn't take my next dose, either. The caffeine will dull its effects but… now that I've slept, I need to be extra alert. And it wasn't like his injuries were very severe anyway; he didn't really need any medicine anymore. He could tough it out from now on.
Gray, however…his wounds were more serious. "Maybe you'd better take some. The pain might get distracting."
Gray's brow furrowed then he nodded. "I suppose…. I don't want to be incapacitated like I was this morning."
Jason took his pill bottles out of the middle compartment and handed them to Gray. "You can keep them."
"What?"
"I don't need them anymore. Well, I'm supposed to take the whole course of antibiotics, but I think there's extra. Take what you need."
"Thank you," said Gray quietly. "You don't have to—"
"My injuries are nothing compared to yours."
Gray looked away, shame glimmering in his eyes, and Jason remembered some of his injuries weren't gunshots.
"You can mitigate it fogging your mind by taking caffeine."
Gray tapped his empty can. "I think… I may need another one."
Dana reached toward the floor where she kept the snacks she'd picked up on the way. She handed a red can with Muldavian words emblazoned on it back to Gray.
Gray hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes, then carefully reached for the can. As he took it, one of his fingers brushed Dana's. He jerked away and the can tumbled to the floor, fizzing.
"I'm sorry," said Gray. "I'm so sorry. I won't do it again." He cringed against the seat, looking as if Dana might hit him.
Dana glanced at Jason, puzzled. "It's fine! Don't worry about it. Just make sure you wait before you open it." She smiled at him.
"Okay. I will, V—Dana."
A shock shot through Jason's heart.
He realized what was wrong with Gray. Why he would possibly be afraid of Dana, a woman he'd never met, who wasn't exactly the most imposing person in the world.
It was Dana's red hair. Vivian had red hair, Jason recalled. Even though she looked a lot differently than Dana, it had still triggered Gray's panic.
There had to be some way to assuage his fears, because this was going to help neither Gray nor the mission. If he was going to be in close proximity with Dana for a while… he had to learn she would never harm him.
Carefully, Gray lifted the can from the backseat floor. He didn't open it but held it in his hands, huddling over it, looking furtively outside.
"Would you like some snacks?" said Dana.
Gray shook his head.
"I'll take some," said Jason. He felt infinitely hungry, like the bottomless pit his mom had said he had been as a teenager.
Dana tossed him a bag of onion rings. Jason dipped one into his mouth and immersed in the heavenly crunchiness.
They settled in to watch the building from their vantage point under a cedar tree. It had large windows, almost the exact replica of the one in Rakima. Surrounded by similar buildings, it fit in more here than with the older brick buildings of the capital. Dana had told him how this was a relatively new city; it was a shopping and tech center, as well as the unofficial western capital, with lots of new, growing suburbs. No wonder Ali had planted another base here.
"It's amazing he can juggle so many things at once," said Dana.
"It's almost like he's superhuman," said Jason. "I wonder if he ever sleeps." Jason felt a bit jealous of Ali's endless energy.
"Maybe he takes the drugs he sells."
"Somlex is more of a depressant, though."
"There might be other drugs…."
Jason nodded, recalling amina. At least Yavesh didn't know about that. As far as he knew, anyway…. Yavesh with amina would be a catastrophe.
But if only a few knew… it wasn't likely to be found out. Dr. Aziz, who Jason had worked with to protect amina, would never tell.
And I won't either…
"So," said Dana, "do you want to hear what else I found out about roxyen?"
"Sure."
"It isn't much…. But maybe comparing notes will spark a connection."
Dana revealed that Kovane had been cooperative with her overt investigation. More so than most companies would be, even ones that were clean. This made her suspicious in itself; perhaps they were being too cooperative.
She interviewed a few employees, including doctors and the CEO. All of their stories seemed consistent; they didn't give off any suspicious vibes.
Meanwhile, she'd checked with some of her sources with connections to the company; no Dr. Farlin or anyone with that nickname or alias had worked there. Unless of course they were lying, or the alias was still a secret. She'd also hired a special investigator to look into the company, and so far, its history and records were clean. One might say, too clean. No controversy, as if it had all been silenced. But if so, it had done that extremely covertly.
Dana investigated other angles, contacting roxyen farmers, since roxyen was the main component of Somlex (and zyx, the street drug). She found out that roxyen had been a powerful remedy for hundreds of years, but a blight nearly wiped it out in the early twentieth century. A few farmers kept it alive, some of them quarantining it in greenhouses. In the early twenty-first century, a new treatment was found. Dana wasn't sure where it had come from; she suspected Kovane. One of their members had probably found out about roxyen from a family farm, keeping it secret until they could develop the drug. That's why Kovane was the first major producer of it.
Dana had examined the timeline of the drug's distribution, tracking it to ground zero. Its distribution had been very limited before Kovane started developing Somlex. During the past year, Somlex had been developed and zyx had exploded on the street. She'd tracked it to within a few days of the emergence of zyx; it was only about a month before that that officially Somlex had begun developing. It was too close of a correlation to deny.
Since Somlex had been created first, not zyx, Kovane was likely the source of zyx. At least it had somehow spread the knowledge of the existence of roxyen to dealers, or someone who had contact with dealers.
Dana had confronted Kovane with this information, and they continued their cooperation. They were frantic to find out how it had gotten out on the street; they were already looking into it, they said, since of course they were aware of zyx. It was a nightmare; they wanted Somlex to be proprietary. Of course, Somlex was safer and regulated by law. Not just some raw street drug or home remedy. Still, they were trying to get the law to crack down on its sale. And they were trying to find out who the leak was.
It was a potential PR nightmare; thankfully it hadn't gotten out yet. They asked Dana not to report it and she agreed on condition (to herself) that she wouldn't damage the company unless it really had it coming.
"Then, just this morning, they revealed the leak."
"Who is it?" asked Jason.
"Some low-level assistant. Not even one of the doctors. It makes sense, considering the unprofessional behavior, and considering he had lower income, so he was motivated to sell. I talked to him; he seemed really nervous and denied everything. That doesn't mean he's not guilty. Still. There's something fishy about this. Kovane is either hiding something, perhaps covering up for someone else, or connected to Yavesh."
"Then there's experimenting on trafficked kids."
"They got sloppy somewhere… connected Yavesh's drug operation with its human trafficking operation. This leak could still be the key. If I could interview the assistant again, subtly see if he knows anything about human trafficking… I don't want Kovane to know I suspect the connection. If I knew what Doctor Farlin looked like, I could compare the fall guy with his appearance."
"Nika…might be able to tell."
"I don't want to disturb her."
"She wants to help. She's going to be adopted, along with her baby, so she's taking another step in her recovery."
"That's wonderful!"
"It might help put a distance between her and what…she'll have to tell." Jason wasn't sure though—he knew how trauma could feel like it was yesterday. He'd ask Nika and see if it was okay. Last time, it had helped for her to write it down in her own time.
"There's also this other angle I'm interested in," said Dana. "It doesn't have anything to do with Yavesh… so far. But I'm always looking for my next story. This could be big."
"What is it?"
"When I was researching information about zyx, a dark web discussion board mentioned this drug that could be twenty times as potent and be more efficient in its distribution. Amina, I think it was—"
Jason's heart free-fell.
Amina.
The reason Gray had tortured him in the first place.
He tried to suppress his alarm. "You told me about it already."
"Don't you want to know more?"
"It's just a rumor, isn't it?"
"So far, but it's too specific to not have some truth…" Her voice faded away into a dim gibberish.
His heart pounded hard in his ears.
Gray was on his side now…but who knew if he always would be.
Jason resisted the urge to look back and see his reaction.
Even if he did make the connection, he would never find out where it was hidden.
He'd tried that before.
I might have broken if he'd continued….
If it came to that, I'd have to… end my life rather than let it fall into the wrong hands.
Jason leaned his head in his hands, his head spinning.
"Are you okay?" asked Dana.
She has no idea…. She can't know….
"Just… it's been a long two days."
"Let me know if there's anything I can do."
"M-hm," said Jason, feeling a little irony in the fact that he was trapped (no, not trapped!) in this car with Gray. Both of them dealing with their own trauma. His directly caused by Gray.
I'll have to get over this if I'm to do anything. Can't properly be on a stakeout when I can't see what's going on!
His forehead pressed to the steering wheel, he focused on breathing in the dark. Then he emerged and glanced back at his fellow sufferer.
Gray met his eyes with a startling mixture of sympathy and inquisitiveness. His blond hair was tousled, his face etched with weariness. His pale blue eyes suffused with guilt, and he looked away. Then he looked back at Jason. "I'm sorry."
The words sounded distorted, muffled. He must not have heard right.
"I know how it feels. How even small things can remind you of it… I just wish I could take it back. Make it so you didn't have to experience this. I'm the one who deserves it. Not you."
Shivers raced through him, making him tremble uncontrollably. He leaned his head on the seat, trying to hold in his feelings, but that made his whole face ache, and soon tears splashed onto the fabric. His vision blurred and he closed his eyes, which made more tears fall as silent sobs shook him. An ache raged in his heart; it felt like it was being crushed. But at the same time, a warm glow spread through him, almost unbearable in its intensity. He took deep breaths, trying to quell his—sorrow, or whatever this was. Too many feelings pouring through him.
To have him apologize… I didn't know I needed it so much.
Fresh tears flowed down his cheeks.
In a way, despite what Gray had said, he hated looking so vulnerable in front of his former enemy. But he couldn't totally control it.
I'm…happy, I think. Maybe there is no word for this exact feeling.
He clutched the back of the seat, turning so he could see Gray without twisting around too far. "Thank you," he managed. His voice despicably soft and hoarse.
A mixture of pity and disbelief in Gray's eyes. "You have saved my life… bound my wounds…." He shook his head, tears shimmering in his eyes. A few spilled onto his cheeks and he wiped them away with disdain. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked at Jason with unsuppressed gratitude. "You've not only given me strength, you've given me something I never had… never thought I wanted. Connection with someone else. And…this from someone I tortured. If you and Tasha can…care for me…" Tears welled up in his eyes. He shook his head as if to deny them; they spilled onto his cheeks. "Maybe…someone else can too."
"I'm sure they can," said Jason, not trying to hold back the tears this time.
"I just…have to recover first. Get over this…detestable weakness. You're right, it takes time. I'll have to learn to walk on my own eventually... Somehow…navigate this new version of myself. I…always did need someone, it turns out, because I…wasn't invincible after all. I probably always will need someone…." He looked rather dismayed at this. "Now…. I have to apologize for who I was, and what I am. I don't know who I am beyond what I was and this…broken thing. I was only something with Tasha but that was really just her."
"It was you, too. It takes strength to admit what you did was wrong. I…wasn't expecting that." Jason wiped the tears from his face. As much as he'd apparently needed it, he didn't want to keep crying. Especially since he was theoretically supposed to be watching out the window. At least he had Dana. Gratitude welled up in his heart.
A wry smile tugged at Gray's lips. "I wasn't expecting that either. But…seeing what you were going through, just because of a word—"
Jason's heart dropped. Cold swept through him. "What do you mean."
"I'm an expert at reading people, remember? It was that word that triggered your episode."
Horror tore through him.
Gray knew.
He was going to torture him at the first opportunity.
This had been his plan all along—
Gray laid a hand near his. Jason yanked his hand away.
Hurt flooded Gray's eyes, then it was overtaken by resignation. "I couldn't help but understand what was going on… but I don't care about its name. Even if I could bring myself to hurt you… Jason… you know how messed up I am—I'm in no shape to… so you have nothing to fear from me. I know how reasoning with someone…doesn't take away the fear. But I could never hurt the one who helped me. Just like I couldn't hurt Tasha."
"Thank you, Gray."
Gray's eyes flickered. He slid toward Dana, glancing at her warily, then looked back at Jason. "I'll give you some space."
"You don't have to."
"I will anyway."
Incredulity swept through Jason. He still couldn't shake some of the fear—and he knew well how irrationality could take hold of you. But for Gray to move toward Dana, who he was afraid of…. He truly had changed for the better.
Jason turned to actually do his job, looking out the window through his spyglasses, feeling drained out. Less than negative energy—it felt his soul had been wrung out.
Dana glanced at him. "Nothing yet.".
"You're the only one actually staking out."
"Well, we don't really need all eyes on this. Nothing going on yet. No Ali unless he's a middle-aged white woman or a man in a wheelchair."
"He could be a master of disguise."
She shrugged. "I doubt he suspects us. He's got other things on his mind." She handed Jason a bottle of water.
He drank it in a few gulps. It did refresh him a bit. "I…suppose you wonder what's been going on."
"Well, I tried not to eavesdrop, but it's a little hard in such close quarters. I got the gist of it. So… I kind of…unknowingly…hurt you."
"Not your fault. It's… well. I suppose you know now. That drug. Amina. It's why…he…interrogated me in the first place. Where I got these scars." He brushed the scar on his cheek.
"If I'd known—"
"Just don't tell anyone. No one can know where it is. I'm the doorstop keeping the floodgates closed."
Her eyes sparked with alarm. "I'll keep it secret."
"Be careful with yourself. If anyone finds out that you know…."
"I do wonder how it got loose on the dark web…."
"We had this airtight. I thought. Apparently not, because Will knew about it."
"Will?"
"Gray's former employer. There had to be a leak somewhere…. Must've been one of the creators. But then why wouldn't everyone know its formula."
"Could've been a mistake."
"That might be the most plausible…. The one who primarily developed it—I would trust with my life." Jason was careful not to say Dr. Aziz's name. "Anyway. We better not talk about it. Here, or anywhere."
They watched the door for a while. Jason wondered how the king's task force was doing on the other side. And when the NSA would arrive.
"Look," said Dana.
Sure enough, the door opened.
And out walked a man.
Exuding suaveness with his jaunty swagger. It could only be one person.
Ali headed to a shimmering bug-green sports car in the front of the building.
"Want to switch?" said Dana.
Jason shook his head. "No time." He prayed for strength. Then he pulled away from the curb, his heart thumping hard.
Excitement thrilled through him. Along with dread.
He glanced back at Gray; he was leaning forward, clutching the edge of Dana's seat. Dana shifted to pull her seatbelt on, and he jerked away, slamming back against the seat. He wrapped his arms around himself, not bothering to put on his seatbelt.
Thankfully Ali drove just a little over the speed limit, perhaps not wanting to attract attention. Jason drew on all his expertise, some of which was a little rusty. The last time he'd followed Ali, he'd found out. Not until he was at the hotel, but. What if he'd known all along? Was just toying with him for some reason? What exactly was up with that camaraderie last night? He'd also helped him escape… pretended to care about trafficked kids….
Ali drove through the vibrant downtown, through an idyllic residential district, through an industrial district. There, on the remains of an old road, scattered with weeds, stood an abandoned warehouse. Ali pulled his car right through the large rusty door, half open, and disappeared.
Jason pulled his car into a dilapidated shed not far away from the warehouse.
"We have to make sure he's up to no good," said Jason. "Can't call in backup for nothing."
"The agents should be here soon," said Dana.
"I'll get a head start." Jason climbed out of the car, ignoring Dana's protests and Gray's startled look. He stepped through the weeds and crept along the edge of the building, searching for a view inside.
He found a gap in the steel wall, the thick window above it broken. Hearing faint, echoing voices, he peered inside.
He could only see small, shadowy figures moving beyond the posts and old machinery. One of them was definitely Ali; his motions were smooth, sinuous. He gestured, speaking in a rather light tone, which gradually became serious.
With the constant reverberation, Jason could only make out a few words and couldn't make sense of them. Ignoring his trepidation, he slid through the crack, the sharp jagged metal catching on his shirt. The top section was a little tight, and it pressed against his shoulder wound. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
He ignored the pain. Saving Tasha. That was all that mattered.
He crept into the shadows; thankfully, large pieces of conveyor belt and rusted equipment shielded him from view. He kept low to the ground until he found a suitable vantage point. Just close enough so he could hear and so he could see reasonably well and not be seen. He crouched down and looked through a rusted gap in a metal sheet.
"You've botched all of this, you know," said Ali. The two other shifted, looking uncomfortable. One was a tall, bulky man; the other was shorter and thinner but still muscular. They looked the part of weapons traffickers; tough, weathered. Yet, they were afraid of Ali, who looked like a willow branch compared to them.
Or a sleek, sly snake ….
"I'm sorry," said the larger man. "We had no idea they were agents."
"You should have looked harder. I don't know—developed intuition. You've become a weak link. You know what that means."
"The agents don't really know anything," said the shorter man. "Well, they know what we are of course. But they don't know our operation. We can move, set up somewhere else…."
"They know your faces."
"I have it on good authority someone knows your face," said the larger man with a hint of bravado.
Ali faced him directly. The movement revealed more of the object between them, a chair with some kind of dark bundle on it. "I was able to segue to another branch. Because I'm good. I'm adaptable. And they really had nothing on me. You—I'm afraid you've become liabilities."
"We—don't know anything." The man's voice held a tone of fear in it.
"That's our policy. However…you still know too much. We can't let you freelance; you belong to us. You failed. Now, I'm not sure what you're good for."
"We—we can be an asset inside. Do work for you directly."
"That countenances need to know. We'd have to be sure you were trustworthy. After this…." Ali shook his head, curls shaking. "I thought you would prove yourself in the interrogation, but so far, you've just bludgeoned her into unconsciousness. No thought to finesse. You do know that keeping someone alive is a crucial part of the interrogation process?" He turned away as if in complete disdain.
"Not our fault. She was already half-dead."
Ali swung back to the other man. Looking as if he would lunge for him but he restrained himself at the last moment with the precision of a dancer. "Then you should have taken care of her wounds first. Not done this butcher's job." He gestured to the lump in the chair.
With a shock Jason realized it was Tasha. He'd partly guessed it, but he'd been too preoccupied to go beyond a vague assumption.
Had they killed her?
A fist wrenched his heart, pain throbbing through his veins.
"We did help her," said the larger man. "We're not idiots. But we couldn't afford to not ask her questions."
Ali gestured. "Questions should wait until she's stabilized. By all rights she should be in a hospital. We can't take her there so she should get the next best care. Some of the questions can wait… it's more important we can ask her all we want."
"But the NSA might find her by then. They're not about to let this go."
"By then, she'll be long gone. I'd have thought you would know how to competently bind wounds—not to mention follow simple directions. But you only know how to shoot up targets. Can't even think what interrogation really is—it's not chopping people up until they scream the answer. There's a certain…give and take. I shouldn't have expected you to understand that. That's why I'm taking over. I'll have to fix up the mess you caused. It'll take her longer to recover now."
Relief rushed through Jason. She was alive, at least.
"But that begs the question. What to do with you. If you can't follow simple instructions, if you can't even do an interrogation competently… what exactly are you good for."
"We can be enforcers."
"Like me?" Ali laughed, the sound echoing harshly through the building.
"No… on the inside," said the shorter man meekly.
"That would remain to be seen. We don't just let anyone in. Frankly, I don't see much promise in you. It takes a certain… expertise to walk among the elite. Even for common guards." He shrugged. "It's not up to me. It's up to the One." He tilted his head, surveying the two men. Jason had been on the receiving end of that gaze before. He knew how uncomfortable it was to be assessed like that. Though he didn't exactly feel sorry for them. "I really don't know. I'm privy to the One's preferences. Perhaps… if you don't work out for a guard… and I'm not seeing too much potential so far…. You could be a product."
A shocked silence. The men shifted, glancing down, at each other, then away.
"We're not products," said the smaller man indignantly, yet with a note of fear in his voice.
"They'll be the judge of that," said Ali. "Everything has its use. We hate wasting…. Though it may come to that. Hm… you're a bit too bulky for what many want." He looked at the larger man. "You'd have to be carved down a bit…. Not be a threat to your owner. Perhaps a shock implant."
"No…." he breathed. Then he seemed to puff up with anger. "I am not just some thing to be—trampled! I'm Vasha Senf, who people have shuddered in front of!"
Ali patted his cheek. He jerked away, laying his hand on his gun, which Ali ignored. "I'm sure they have. But we all have our role to play. We all agreed to serve the Master. If they have no other use for us…. Then we go into the meatgrinder. It's up to us to stay valuable in other ways. It would be a shame to waste a good product…." He looked at the other man. "You on the other hand… I see some potential there. Nice muscling, not too massive…" He slid his hand along his bicep and the man yanked his arm away. "If nothing else, you could be used for backbreaking labor. My money's on living statue. Some of the elite families love having one in their foyer. I wonder how long you could stay still before you had to move… and they had to punish you…"
The man stepped backwards, looking horrified. He hit Tasha's chair; she stirred.
Jason longed to run in and tell her it would be all right, but it was time to leave and call in the cavalry.
He crawled back toward the gap in the wall. In the shadows, he couldn't see well, and he hit a piece of machinery.
Clunk!
His heart stopped.
He froze, looking to see if they'd heard.
Ali was looking around suspiciously. "Did you hear that?" he said.
The men shook their heads.
"That's why I'm elite and you're… possible meatgrinder material. A certain sensitivity is needed…." He stepped toward Jason's general direction. Jason held still, not sure if he should make a break for it.
Then, to his relief, Ali turned back. "Probably just the wind. This old building." He crouched in front of Tasha, who was breathing hard, as if in intense pain. He lifted his hand to her chin, brushing it softly. She turned away, a moan escaping her lips.
Jason's heart went out to her, but he had to move backwards, not toward her, and he slid carefully around the metal obstacle course and out through the gap, careful not to let the edge hit his shoulder this time.
He ran back to the car where Dana met him with desperate inquisitiveness. Gray slid toward him as he got inside.
"Tasha?" said Gray.
Jason nodded, catching his breath.
"Is she—"
"She's been unconscious."
"Did they…hurt her."
"They tortured her," said Jason reluctantly.
Gray sank back, his eyes closed.
"She's conscious now, though. So she has a chance. And… with Ali there… he actually said he didn't want them to hurt her as much. To save her for more interrogation later."
He called the NSA and then the head of the combined Muldavian task force, Leila, since she was the one with seniority, directing the op from afar. She told him to stand by; it was best he stay where he was in case anyone else was around. Not risk alerting anyone. Just in case he was needed. He was safe out of the way in the shed.
He was glad that he'd helped significantly. This was the kind of role he should play in the future… just on the edge of danger. Perhaps a little further back most of the time. But this time it was worth the risk because Tasha was involved.
Then there were Luna and Elliot… and many other trafficked people. Weren't they worth the risk too?
Well… I'm not what I used to be. I can do some things… lend my expertise… but it's better that I be on the periphery, and let the actual professionals go in.
Part of him still wanted to be part of the action. But his days of doing missions singlehandedly were over. Yavesh required a larger force, anyway.
It was fun to do recon… if I could always do that with guarantee of not getting captured….
Just the word "capture" sent shivers down his spine.
What they'd done to Tasha…. He hadn't seen her clearly, but from how she moved, how she looked… she must be in unbearable pain, not just from her bullet wounds, but from whatever else they'd done to her.
Anger whipped through him. Hurting someone defenseless, already wounded. It didn't get more despicable than that.
At least Ali had put a stop to the brutality… which made Jason oddly grateful to him. Still… Ali was most definitely not an ally. Jason had seen clear evidence of that. The mask had come off. This was the real Ali, the enforcer. The one that even hardened criminals were afraid of. Jason had seen hints of it, but mostly he had seemed charming, innocuous, a bit annoying. That needling… flirting… He shuddered. That had been the tip of the iceberg. What Ali had seen him as… a potential product. He was cold, ruthless… he wasn't delaying the interrogation out of the goodness of his heart, but sheer practicality. Jason had no illusions he'd torture Tasha when the time came… with that "finesse" he talked about.
And who was this "One" or "Master" he'd mentioned? Most likely the leader of Yavesh.
Ali was a direct link.
Soon, he'd be in the hands of the law.
But…would he betray his boss. Jason would have said the Ali he'd known had his own interests in mind and would betray someone to stay comfortable… but the Ali he'd seen… he wasn't so sure.
Clunk-clunk! Right next to his ear. He jumped, whipping out his gun, heart slamming against his chest.
He aimed at the figure who'd just sprung into being outside his window. A man with chestnut curls and intense brown eyes. He wore dark clothes that hinted at well-defined muscles. He made the signal for rolling down the window.
Jason signed, "Who are you."
The man sighed and lifted an ID. It said NSA with his picture beside it. His name was Josh Novak.
Jason flipped on the car for a second to roll down the window. "Hi," Jason said. "I didn't think you'd contact me directly."
"I prefer to speak in person if possible. You never know who's listening." He spoke in a soft yet determined voice.
"That's true."
"What's wrong with him." Josh nodded toward the back.
Jason turned to see Gray pressed against the back seat, rigid with fear, as far from the intruder as possible.
"It's all right," said Dana to Gray. "He's on our side."
Gray nodded, gasping, shuddering with the exhale. Dana reached out toward him and to Jason's surprise, he took her hand, holding it tightly, then closing his eyes, taking in deep breaths.
"It's just…" said Jason, finding it hard to explain.
"Oh, yes, they mentioned the asset." Josh's eyes narrowed. "I don't know if I'd call him that."
"He's…had a hard time."
"I heard about Tasha's pet project. It's a wonder he's been able to be of any value.
"But that's not what I'm here for. What's the layout?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of the warehouse.
Jason told him, making sure to mention the proliferation of obstacles.
Novak asked a few more questions, then peered in at Gray. "So, has he calmed down yet?"
Gray glared at him.
"I think he's feeling better," said Dana.
Gray slid his hand gently from hers and clasped his hands, eying the newcomer.
"I'd like to ask you some questions."
Before Jason realized what was happening, Josh had reached in and flicked the lock open. Then he slid in beside Gray in the back.
Gray slid back against the right window, as far away as he could, his hands clenched.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Novak scoffed. "Though I'm within my rights to do so."
"That's not helping," said Jason.
"I'm not coddling him." He looked back at Gray. "I want you to tell me about the traffickers. What are they like. What's likely to be their first reaction."
"I…."
"You must know something."
"Well… Vasha may look toughest but he's actually the more reasonable one. Zef—he has a hair trigger temper."
"Fitting," said Novak.
"That just means he's more unpredictable. The randomness can make him more dangerous, but Zef can think ahead of time. So he can actually cause more precise damage."
"There, you see? That wasn't so hard." He patted Gray's knee.
Gray jerked away and flung himself out the door.
Novak leaped out and grabbed Gray by the arm, slammed him against the car. Gray struggled but Novak yanked his arm up over his back, making Gray cry out.
Jason jumped out of the car and rushed over to Gray's side, his shoes crunching on the gravel and grass on the floor of the shed.
"Let him go."
"The asset was escaping."
"He's not escaping."
Gray struggled weakly, his face deathly pale. He was hyperventilating and looked like he might pass out.
"Let him go."
"I'm the one with seniority. You're not even an agent."
"He's no threat right now. He's injured. I'll take care of him."
"I have to get going, anyway." He let go of Gray and Gray collapsed; Jason just managed to catch him and lowered him to the patch of grass near the car. Jason sat down beside him; Gray leaned his head against his knees, breathing hard.
"So, an injury did this?" said Novak.
Jason nodded.
"That'll slow him down at least if he tries to escape. I really should take over as his handler, but I can't afford a burden right now."
"I've got this."
"Just so he doesn't jeopardize the op." He looked down at Gray with disdain. "Some mighty agent you are. Thought you could prevail over us. Now look at you. Couldn't handle what you dished out, could you. Or did you receive…special treatment in jail? What, another prisoner take a fancy to you?" He laughed harshly.
Gray flinched as if he'd been kicked. In a flash, the agent was gone, vanished noiselessly through the gap in the shed.
Dana climbed out and knelt beside Gray. "I should've done something. I have to admit, I'm a little out of my depth here. I fancy myself a secret agent sometimes—but a lot of your world is alien to me."
"That can be a good thing," said Jason, looking at Gray, who was sitting back against the car, trembling.
Jason wasn't sure what to do either, so he sat down beside him. Dana joined them.
Jason took out his phone to see if there were any messages. Connie asked him how he was and he texted back what was going on in general without giving any specifics. She told him the king and queen were adopting the triplets. Warmth spread through him. Some good news at least.
He told her he was safe, and hopefully he'd be home soon, and Ali would be captured, and the NSA would ask him questions. Tasha would be safe… and she and Gray could begin recovery.
Connie sent him a bunch of kisses. He sent her xoxo, wishing he could kiss her in reality, smell her fragrance. Linger his hand in her hair.
If this was the big break, perhaps it would lead to Elliot's and Luna's rescue and then they could go home.
At the very least, when he got back to the palace that evening, they could be together fully. If she wanted. If he wasn't too exhausted. He didn't know how he could ever be too exhausted for that… but in practicality, if he wanted to give her his best….
Perhaps tomorrow, then. Something to look forward to.
Gray stirred. He rubbed his face with his hands. Attempted to get up, but then sank back down. Anger flashed across his face; Jason felt an echo of fear though he knew Gray was in no shape to hurt him.
"I hate this," said Gray hoarsely. "I couldn't even— I shouldn't have to be…coddled." Utter disdain flooded his voice. "Just like with Zef. Just a touch. I…." Despair wracked his face. He leaned back again. "She was my backbone, my rock. Without her… I'm nothing."
"You've got to give yourself a break. You've been shot. She was taken away—just when you needed that support."
"I don't want to need it," he said fiercely.
"We…can't really exist without other people."
"I could." He laughed mirthlessly. "I thought I could. You're right… it is an illusion. I just… hate being this pathetic. When I should be helping her."
"Well, you did give him info. Despite the fact you were afraid of him. So…that's progress."
He looked at Jason with surprise. "I suppose…"
"I know it's hard. But…if you hang in there… it'll eventually get better. Especially if you have help."
He hesitated, then nodded. "If I have enough help… maybe… I can be myself again. Some semblance of it anyway. I just wish I could be… strong. I wish I couldn't feel…."
"Then you wouldn't be human."
"Anything to not be—that." He squeezed his wrist, digging into it.
With a jolt, Jason realized what he was doing.
"Gray—"
"I can't help but hate this. I deserve the disdain he gave me."
"He was wrong."
"I do see where he's coming from. I was… a nuisance to the NSA. Now…his enemy is brought low. That's how I thought you would feel."
"I did, at first. If you remember…."
Gray nodded, smirking.
Jason flinched with the memory. The yellow house, the stale smell of it, his enemy in the basement. The rage and hate… the decision to hurt him…. Then repentance, setting Gray free.
Sierra had knocked him out and taken Gray to captivity. In a way, Jason felt guilty for that… if there had been some way he could have helped him escape beyond untying him…. It had been all he could manage at the moment.
Still, if he was still out there… he would still be a threat… isn't it better this way….
He looked at Gray, still clenching his wrist hard.
No. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. It would have worked out, in the end. I did the right thing.
"I can help you, if you want," said Dana. "I'm not sure what I can do, but… maybe I can distract you or something. Please, don't hurt yourself." She looked at him with infinite sympathy and proffered her hand, and, after a moment, he lifted his hand away and laid it in hers. Blood dripped from his wrist onto the grass. Jason tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his wrist.
Gray glanced at him sheepishly, a little apologetically. "I thought I was over this…."
"Recovery isn't linear," he said, reciting what he'd heard earlier.
Gray looked at him quizzically.
"I know that in a small way, at least," said Dana. "After my first husband divorced me… well. Let's just say I got into some substance abuse. I wish I had learned that. The guilt at not staying sober drove me back into it even harder. But now… it's been ten years. And Sam is—more than I could have ever dreamed.
"Speaking of which…shouldn't we have heard something by now?"
"I would think so," said Jason.
"What did you mean?" asked Gray. "Is your husband in there?"
Dana nodded. "One reason I wanted to come along. He's good…but he's not a fully-fledged agent yet… I'm surprised they let him…" She frowned, looking anxious for the first time since Jason had met her.
"It'll be okay," said Jason. "They know what they're doing. I mean—there are only three enemies inside. Probably making sure they surround them, neutralize their weapons."
"Having no experience myself…. My imagination runs away with me." She bit her lip.
"Maybe they've forgotten about us."
"We are on the periphery…."
"I was a big part of instigating this op…"
Then—gunfire. Pop-pop-pop, and the rattle of machine guns.
He resisted the urge to jump up and look out. Or to dash outside and help.
I don't want to get in the way.
A lull of a few heartbeats. Then the gunfire started up again, as furious as a fireworks finale.
Gray's jaw was set as he gazed toward the gap where the light shone in, as if trying to catch any motion.
From his slightly shadowed vantage point, Jason couldn't see anything at all.
"Dana?" he asked, his whisper drowned out by the gunshots.
She swept her short hair back, eyes fixed on the metal face of the warehouse, half-hidden by bushes and a hill of grass.
She knelt, keeping Gray's hand gently in hers. Then, she let go, and crept toward the gap.
"Dana," said Jason. "Don't—"
She stopped, looked at him, paled, as if realizing what she'd been doing. She took a deep breath and crept back. Proffered her hand, but Gray smiled and shook his head.
Finally. Silence.
Just the wind hitting the shed, so its loose pieces rattled and banged, the swish of grass, the hum of grasshoppers and crickets, a constant undertone, suddenly switched to high volume.
They sat there, frozen; Jason wasn't sure how long.
Dana glanced at her watch again. "They really should have contacted us by now…"
"Maybe they have more important things to do," said Jason.
"We should have arranged some sort of communication," said Gray. "It seemed a bit haphazard."
Jason nodded. "Us freelancers aren't the priority… they treat us as second class sometimes. I…wouldn't have thought that of Saul though…."
He had a sudden flash of Saul as a young man, naïve, eager, a bit nervous. Now a leader in his field, an agent… with a family.
His heart thumped hard. He had a bad feeling.
His phone buzzed. He slammed it to his ear before looking at caller ID.
"Jason," said a familiar voice. Leila. She sounded shaken.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm at field HQ. It's Saul I'm worried about. He said he was going in—then radio silence—then nothing. He hasn't checked in. It's been…half an hour."
Jason's heart fell. "Oh."
"So, you haven't heard from him?"
"Not yet."
"Is he okay?" said a faint, worried voice in the background.
"That's Gina. She's been shadowing me. I thought… it would be a simple op. But now…"
"I can go check."
"I'll send someone—you don't have to do that."
"I can sneak pretty well."
She hesitated. "Okay. But be careful."
"I will."
"Check in in—ten minutes?"
"Okay."
"I'm sending some more agents in on standby."
He hadn't expected to offer to go in again, but he had to know. It was true, he was good at spying. It was when he became a one-man agent force like an 80s action hero going in all maverick that things went south.
Just. Be cautious. I've learned that much.
He told Gray and Dana what Leila had said.
"I'll go with you," said Dana.
"I don't think…."
"Sam's in there. I have to know. Don't worry. I won't get in the way. I've got some pretty good sneaking skills of my own."
He nodded reluctantly and crept to the door. Then he glanced back at Gray. "You'll be okay alone?"
Gray nodded, propping himself up against the car. "I'm in no shape to go in."
Jason crept out the door and, Dana shadowing him, slid along the edge of the grassy hill and through the bushes to the gap in the wall of the warehouse. He didn't see a hint of movement.
To her credit, Dana kept up, as quiet as a whisper. Only her hair was loud, but she couldn't help that.
Through the gap. Into the shadows.
More shadows that hadn't been there before.
None of them standing.
Figures spread over the entire warehouse. The chair in the middle knocked over, riddled with bullet holes. A still figure lying beside it.
Jason longed to run in and see if it was Tasha, but he resisted the urge and walked agonizingly slowly, his gun raised. A gun appeared in Dana's hand as well. They stopped at the edge of the open space and watched, waited. Jason slid his gaze along all the edges, inspected the shadows, lingered on the light at the open doors and cracks.
A banging sound—
He jumped. Almost dropped his gun.
Just the wind. Whipping up stronger. Making the metal groan and scream.
A figure moved. One of the bodies on the dusty floor moaned in pain
Before he could stop her, Dana rushed out and knelt beside him.
When no gunshots rang out, Jason dashed out to her side, knelt beside the man he vaguely recognized as Dana's husband, Sam.
"I'm here," she said, tears streaking her cheeks, silvery in the dim light.
He gasped, arching his back a little. "Ambush—" he said hoarsely.
"How?" said Jason, holstering his gun and grasping his phone.
"They… got us with knockout darts. Someone called the others in… inside job… had their call sign. I'm not sure who it was. They came in and—" He gasped in pain again.
"Take your time," said Dana. She dialed 911.
"Are they—" said Jason.
"Not all," said Sam, "they took some."
"Who? Is Tasha alive?"
"Is she…the one that was tied up?"
He nodded.
"Took her… and the MNS leader…."
"How did three kill all of them?" Jason glanced around the room at the carnage; it smelled like gunpowder and blood.
"More… so many… I…."
"It's okay. We'll call help. Just one more thing. Where did they take them?"
"They thought I was dead. They said they were going to HQ… Samar's house …"
"Samar?"
Sam nodded. "That's all I know, I'm sorry…."
"You're a hero," said Dana, tears streaming down her cheeks, the phone pressed to her ear. "They're coming." She spoke to the 911 operator. Jason called Leila, his heart sinking when he had to tell her that they'd taken Saul.
At least they hadn't killed him.
Still… perhaps it would've been a mercy.
Samar… why does that sound familiar….
The trafficker. At the auction. The one who gave me zyx… she's connected to both drugs and human trafficking… if I can find out where her house is…
What about Novak—
He looked around and after a moment, saw him sprawled on the ground. Jason rushed over but before he got there, realized he was dead.
His eyes stared unseeing at the distant ceiling. His heart had been shattered by a bullet; blood darkened his chest, spread out beneath him on the floor.
Now… Jason realized grimly, with an agent dead, an agent captured, this would get a lot bigger. The NSA would come in, in full vengeance mode.
But that would take several hours. Tasha and Saul might not have that long.
Most of the agents decimated… Yavesh didn't only have the ability to do this, they had the guts. The arrogance—to take on not only Muldavian forces, but American.
Did it deserve its hubris—or would it turn out to have exploitable flaws, in the end.
Me, up against them—when agents couldn't—
I have no choice.
"I'm going," he told Dana.
"They're on their way. I'll stay here, with Sam."
Jason nodded. "Thank you."
"Thank you, Jason." She kissed Sam's forehead. Jason ran out into the light. Past contorted bodies blotched with blood.
Through the door. The sun sliding behind a cloud. Wind whipping into his face.
He dashed to the shed, hoping Gray was all right.
He was still there, looking expectantly. A hint of hope.
Jason hated to crush it. He told him, then told him of the possible clue.
"I'm going with."
"You're in no shape to—"
"I have to be."
Reluctantly, Jason agreed; he didn't have time to argue, and had to keep Gray with him if possible.
Jason looked up Samar's house… a Samar Ravin owned a mansion here in Konterr.
He sped toward it just as the sirens arrived.