Chapter 1

March, 2024

Who in their right mind would want to live in a place like this?The March weather in Milwaukee was terrible, especially with eddies of snow swirling around the overgrown lot, and then the snow vanished as if it had never been there.

Lord, it's cold. Bitterly cold. He should have worn the leather jacket instead of the nylon one he'd grabbed when they called to tell him his quarry had gone to ground.

He'd left his home in Chicago and rushed to Midway to catch a Learjet to Milwaukee's Mitchell International Airport. Now that he was here, he wished they'd sent someone else. Sure, the weather in Chicago was pretty similar to Milwaukee, but at least there he could sit in front of the fireplace and sip the Yamazaki 55 scotch he'd gotten as a bonus for his last mission. But no, he had to answer the phone, and now he was freezing his private parts off.

He hunkered down, doing his best to stay out of the biting wind. His target was still there, so that was good. He didn't like the idea of having to chase him all over hell and back. He smirked. Hell seemed appropriate, all things considered. Starting with the garish edifice his quarry had chosen as his stronghold.

The dilapidated building with gang tags that covered the walls should have been condemned years ago. Broken windows and mortar missing from half the bricks had left the place open to both inclement weather and temperature extremes. But for anyone who cared to look closely, there were signs the place hadn't been abandoned completely. Someone had cleared the brush away from the doors, leaving the entrance easily accessible. Lights were visible all day and night. And if one were patient enough, a lone, furtive figure could be seen inside.

They'd been keeping close tabs on Cliff Tanner. Well, on all the basement-dwellers, if truth be told, ever since the project was shut down eight years ago. Most of the men involved had gone on to other gigs, but a few of them had still felt the need to dig around in places they had no business being.

Not that they were digging anymore. He'd seen to that.

Tanner was the last of them. He'd hacked into a server—no mean feat, considering the layers of security—through a backdoor he'd implanted before he left, and from what they could tell, he'd been making use of it to steal documents, including a particular one he definitely wasn't meant to see.

No one was.

Damn. That is such a pity.

He'd worked with Tanner in the past, and always found the man affable enough. His jokes were bad, but said with enough mirth to make everyone laugh.

Except me. Maybe I don't have a sense of humor.

Yeah, it was probably that. Considering his job, he had very little to laugh about, and it would be disrespectful to find humor at a dead man's expense.

And there he is.

Tanner exited the building and glanced around. He was bundled up in a thick coat and maybe gloves. He had to give Tanner credit—he sure as hell wouldn't want to be working in this building, even wearing several layers. Even at a distance, Tanner's nerves showed: his short, jerky movements, the way he eyed his surroundings, stopping now and then to scan the vicinity. It had to have been fear that had kept him alive all these years. No matter what anyone said, a healthy dose of paranoia wasn't a bad thing.

It had clearly worked for Tanner.

Go back inside, Tanner. Don't make me hurt you.

Except hurt wasn't what he had planned, and he knew it.

Tanner bolted for the car and reached inside.

Don't. Don't do it, man.

Tanner drew out several manila folders, held them to his chest, and then rushed back inside.

Aw fuck. You had to do it, didn't you?

Such a shame. If only Tanner had followed the rules, what was about to happen would be totally unnecessary. But to break them in such an egregious way?

That couldn't be allowed.

He crept toward the building as silently as possible, close enough to hear Tanner inside muttering to himself. There was a knot in his belly and a feeling of heaviness in his chest. Tanner had been the one who usually stopped and picked up coffee for everyone. Myself included.

Being a decent human being didn't absolve him from his crimes, however.

He peered around the corner. Tanner was tapping away furiously on a MacBook. He made a mental note to make sure nothing happened to that. They'd want to know what more Tanner had discovered and whether or not he'd shared that information with anyone else.

Well, he certainly can't share it with his former colleagues, can he?

But there was always the chance he'd missed someone. With this job, no stone could be left unturned. He did a quick mental assessment. He could take Tanner from where he stood, but he couldn't risk the laptop being damaged. Patience was better. Eventually Tanner would move away, and that was when he'd take him.

He didn't have long to wait. After ten, fifteen minutes at the most, Tanner muttered something and headed for the door. As soon as he was outside, he checked the surrounding area with the same obvious nerves, then made a beeline for his car.

Show time.

He stepped out of the shadows, stealth no longer necessary.

"Tanner."

The short cry that burst from Tanner spoke of fear. He spun around, his eyes huge. "W-What are you doing here?"

Disappointment crushed him. If there was one thing he hated, it was when someone tried to bluff. "Please don't play dumb. You know why."

Tanner's shoulders slumped. "Wait. No. You have to understand. I have to tell you what I found."

His ribs grew tight. "You know as well as I do that it doesn't matter. It never mattered."

"Wait. You have to listen to me." The note of desperation in Tanner's voice only made his task more difficult.

He shook his head sadly. "I wish you'd just let it go. Why did you need to get involved?"

"Because of what they're doing!" Tanner's eyes were wild. "We were told the project was scrubbed, but I found letters. They mothballed it, sure, but someone started it up again. If they go ahead with it—I found messages that say they will—there will be consequences. People have the right to know."

"No, they don't. In my experience, people would rather live—and die—in ignorance."

"You're too late." Tanner swallowed hard. "I've already been in contact with the others. Word will get out."

He tilted his head to one side. "Heard from any of them lately? Or have they all gone quiet?" He smiled. "Yeah, I'll bet you a million bucks all those busy little emails and messages you've been sending back and forth have dried up."

Tanner frowned. "How do you—" He froze. "What have you done?"

"I think you already know the answer to that."

Tanner gaped at him. "But what if there are deaths because of this? Don't you care?"

Maybe he had—once—but now?

"You want to know something? Everyone dies." He smiled. "Even you." Then he aimed the gun.

"No, don't do this!" Tanner cried as he turned, his feet already moving, except he couldn't run that fast.

No one could outrun their destiny.

Tanner might as well have drawn a target on his back. Even with his suppressor, the sound echoed off the building and surrounding hills. Tanner had chosen well. This spot was difficult to find, being well hidden in the dense foliage. He went down in a heartbeat, his groans filling the air.

He walked over to where Tanner lay writhing on the ground. He wanted to say something, maybe offer an apology, then thought better of it.

The dead have no need for such things.

"This might hurt a little." He reached into his pocket, removed the container, and poured its contents over Tanner. Fluid streamed in an arc, spattering Tanner and the ground around him, filling the frigid air with an acrid smell. This stuff had been developed by the group he worked for. It left a thick, oily substance that clung to practically anything.

Which now included the soon-to-be late Cliff Tanner.

He reached into his pocket, removed his lighter, and flicked it into life, its bright flame lighting up the area. He held the flame to the viscous fluid, and it lit instantly, licking up the trail with a slow tongue, consuming the splashes of liquid until it reached Tanner's body. He stood and watched as the fire flickered around him, then swelled into a living, breathing monster that engulfed Tanner. His screams were short-lived as he either asphyxiated or his lungs were roasted by inhaling the blaze.

I've seen enough.

He turned from the smoldering corpse and went inside the building to retrieve the laptop. A cursory examination showed several emails had been sent, and he opened the folder to take a look at their contents. Most were inane, stuff that could be found in anyone's mail. He found what he'd been looking for and smiled. The eleven recipients were already taken care of.

Then he saw the last one and groaned.

Dr. Malone,

I don't know if you remember me. We worked together. I certainly haven't forgotten you.

The thing is, I've discovered something, and I need to talk to you about what I've found. I know they're following me, so I don't know how long I have. Can we meet? I want to tell you face to face, so you know I'm serious.

I contacted the others, but they've all stopped answering my emails. To be honest, that scares me. You're my only hope now.

Please, say you'll meet with me. You can pick the location. Name the place and time, and I'll be there. But make it soon? I think I'm running out of time.

Dr. Cliff Tanner

He closedthe laptop with a sigh.

Bad enough that you had to reach out to those people, you had to send it to him.

It looked as if he'd earn that promised bonus after all.

He'd known the name, of course, long before the boss had called him on board with this particular job. Malone's reputation lingered long after his departure. He'd made a lot of people very nervous when he stole files that could link the project's backers to things they'd rather no one knew about. What was worse, Malone had threatened to disseminate them if anyone came near him. That took balls of steel.

No one threatened the company. No one. Yet Malone had gotten away with it.

He smiled. Malone's luck is about to run out. Everything he knew about the man told him once Malone got the mail, he'd be too intrigued to let it go.

Which is why the boss entrusted me—his top man—to take care of him.

Lucky me.

There was no turning back now. All the basement-dwellers were dead, save one.

For the project to succeed, Dr. Josh Malone would have to die.