Chapter 59: The First Agreement
I stood at the desk impatiently, looking around to make sure that no one recognized me, especially since I was in public. But the whole public thing was never my idea. It was just an operation. A smart, sneaky, cunning operation which I knew too much about, and hoped to God that it was still real and I didn't either get killed from it, or make a complete ass of myself in front of a bunch of people I hoped I didn't know.
Four people in front of me, and my heart still pounded faster and faster every moment. The closer I got, the better chance I had of not being recognized, with all the walls and covers and what not surrounding the front of the line.
Three people. My fingers on my right hand twitched at my side as the ones on my left grasped the only copy I had of Liber Caedes, a book designated to gain access to the darkest people in the world. All connected by a single, plain book, which had no words, but was always being updated with the owner's personal pictures. Not of themselves. But of their kills.
Two people. My nails dug into the deep sea green color of the cover - the color I had picked out when I was nearly eight. It was ripped and slightly torn, molded to perfection to look just like an ancient book found before Cleopatra.
One person. Now me.
I walked to the counter and set the book down slowly, my breathing labored as I looked up at the brunette woman. Her brown eyes glowed behind her thick glasses as she stared at me.
"What can I help you with?" She asked, as politely as one could in such an awkward position. I swallowed.
"Renewal." My voice cracked and she nodded, picking up my book in one hand and typing a few things into the computer. Nodding slightly to the side, I followed her head to a young man who couldn't have been more than twenty-five. I swallowed my fears that was burning brightly in my imagination as I followed back to her gaze on me. She smiled, as if to say goodbye or to get the hell away from her desk, and I walked away from her, aiming my gaze at the young man at the back of the library.
My shoes squeaked on the linoleum flooring as I followed him around the library - up and down tall rows and left and right between massive shelves of books. As soon as I caught up to him, I was in the back of the building, staring at four blank, concrete walls and one man who, unfortunately, picked the wrong side to be part of.
"ID." He said sternly, his bright hazel eyes darkening as he positioned his hand closer to the gun underneath his jacket. I wanted to roll my eyes, since after all, anyone who didn't know who I was had to have been living under a rock for the past, oh I don't know, twenty-one years.
"Three, one, six, four, eight, nine, seven." I spoke, adding a pause between each number so he could process it quickly. I knew what it was like working in his position. That's how I had started. An innocent eight year old, guiding hard-hitting assassins to meet with the only man I knew to really hate. My father.
He looked down as he pulled out his phone and looked back up, a sly smile appearing plastered to his face, almost a smirk, it seemed. I clenched my fist behind my back, knowing that whatever the hell he was smiling about was as good as my aim. Or even better.
"Sarah Lawson. Damn, what I would've done six years ago to meet you. Say, you look a hell of a lot different that your pictures. Didn't like the blonde hair, or just couldn't stand people noticing you?"
"What I do with my hair is none of your damn business. But I do have to say, you're very slow for a Guidance Counselor." I mocked him, and his job, still knowing for a fact that I once had it. As much as I admired his bravery for actually putting up with his job and not killing himself or some shit like that, I didn't like his attitude. But honestly, everyone's attitude was the same where I came from. And there were really only two options. The people who had fallen head-over-heels for you, and the ones who dream about slitting your throat and beating the shit out of you while you die right in front of them.
"Funny. But, I don't talk. About anything. Feelings, even less." He pressed his hand against the wall, and leaned on it, walking away soon after and leaving a green-glowing print on the wall.
"Like I didn't already know. By the look of it, you're more the physical type than emotional. That explains why your girlfriend's a prostitute." I said as I watched another glowing, green light appear. The little green glow spread like a wild fire, moving up and over and down in a neat line, and revealing the hidden creases in which the secret door was located.
"I don't know what you're-" He started, but I cut him off. The door was in the process of being opened as I spoke quickly, hoping that no one - guards, assassins, anyone - could hear me through either door.
"I've been doing this for almost twenty-one years. I had your job when I was eight. I know the tricks, I know the rules, I know everything. And to top it all off, you have a little lipstick on your neck. Ruby Red. One of the most popular colors with prostitutes recently. Oh, and also, I met your girlfriend three years ago. Don't ask where, because you should know by now."
The room was dead silent - the only exception being the grinding of the door being opened and the creaking sounds it made as the old hinges loosened. Not even bothering to look at the man - or Caleb, the man I had constantly studied while stuck in Russia a few years back, when he was first starting out, and my father was the only topic I cared to put my interest in - I walked past, and into the bright green light that was dimming every moment. It had been there for years, and yet, I still couldn't tell if it was alien or just some stupid ass invention my father and his buddies came up with. Whichever, it was fucking insane.
With Caleb on my heels, I walked down the old steps, the metal creaking beneath my weight as a sign of constant erosion and too many years of use. By the time I reached the bottom, I felt even more out of place. I walked through the only door I saw, not even bothering to listen to Caleb's cut-off warnings, and stood, in slight shock of what I saw. Usually, in normal circumstances, I'd first realize that I was the only woman in the room. Second, I'd realize that I came to a secret assassin meeting in clothes that made me look like a city slicker, and Third, I'd realize that I was basically dead meat. But, unfortunately, with my huge ego and pissed off state, I only noticed one thing. That I knew every damn man in that room. And one of them just so happened to be him. My lovely father.
"What the hell?" Marco Peterson spoke, his Jersey accent hitting spot on as it echoed throughout the cave walls. His brown eyes were wide with shock - the most emotion I had ever seen him portray, and trust me on this, it was the only emotion you'd ever want to see him portray.
"What the hell is your daughter doing here, Dominic? You said you took care of her." Alexander Vladmir spoke, his Russian accent sending chills up my spine. He glared at my father with all the coldness in his heart, and I knew that if Hell and Heaven were real - if they were or weren't - that Hell would definitely freeze over when he died.
"You took care of me, huh? Hmm. Well, you failed. Once again." I said, mocking my father with every intent to do so. I could see him tense up, but in this room, he was nothing. He was at the bottom of the chain - working his way up, but still at the bottom. And do you want to guess who was at the top? Well, leave it to me to shed some light on the subject.
Before I went to Russia to get away from... everyone who hated me in America, Marco was at the top of the chain, sending spies, killing innocent people, searching for me and every other betraying child this world had to offer. My father, being Marco's best man, so to speak, in the way that best suits being the hit man, decided to play a little game. By exposing me to the world in little bits and pieces. Instead of playing hardcore, my father chose to play it safe. Sending only information connecting each and every alias I had from Canada, all the way down to Panama. And that pissed me off.
So, being myself and not knowing what to do, I went to Moscow - a dangerous place to be when you're wanted in more than a hundred countries and wanted dead by half the population - but I did anyway. That's when I ran into Alexander. I had few connections to anyone living in Russia, but the few I did have turned out to be the deadliest. And somehow, somewhere, one of them got me connected to Alexander, one of the most ruthless men I had ever met.
I was seventeen. I was sly and cunning. He had more power than my father. And I knew my father needed to be taken down. So I shot, and scored in some places. But just not the whole... destroying part.
I could see Alexander resist the urge to say something - probably some smart ass remark he knew better than to say in front of the men who looked up to him like a God. I wanted to smile, but the thought at smiling at Alexander - the man who used me to get what he wanted (a.k.a the backstabbing liar who eventually joined forces with the devil himself) - sickened me. And I was not going to get sick.
"Anyone have anything to say before we get this started?" I asked, breaking the sudden silence of my appearance. Per usual, my father made the first comment.
"Started? What started? You do realize that you're on our territory, right? That you wouldn't last three minutes with us all being armed and you being so thin and frail." I swallowed.
He was right. I had lost a lot of weight just in the past few days in the least. I wasn't eating, and I knew that. And attempting to fight a war that could perpetually result in World War III in my condition was the most asinine idea I had had in a while. But I didn't care. I needed to get this over with and done. Before it was too late.
"You'll get plenty of chances to kill me later. But now, before you decide to break the bones of your only living daughter, you might want to listen up to my proposition."
"And what makes you think that some random agreement with the people who want to kill you a good idea?" Alexander spoke up, not letting my father ask anything else.
"If I asked myself 'why?' all the time, I would've never slept with you. And you would've never gotten to play the part you do now. So, shut up and listen." Alexander's eyes slightly widened, but he didn't at all seem that surprised. I threw down my book on the long table everyone stood by, and it went dead silent.
"Let's start with the obvious, shall we? I give you one thing, you give me one back."
"What makes you think that I'll ever agree to anything you have to offer?" Alexander asked, cocking his head to one side. I smiled.
"Because I know what you want. And if it worked one time, why not try again?"