Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Gabe

After the meeting with Miss Tansie Bell, I wanted to immediately drive back to the safe house to check on everyone. However, I wasn't done for the day.

Instead of returning to the safe house, I drove forty more minutes in the opposite direction, putting an even greater space between me and the people I needed to protect. It aggravated every nerve I had and tested my patience to its limit. I was left feeling more and more agitated with every mile that passed beneath the tires of my car, but it was necessary. Lily had given me two items of business to take care of, and I wanted to get them both out of the way before I met with the director tomorrow.

As I stood in the foyer of an empty apartment, listening for the sound of footsteps outside the door, I began to question that decision. Surely there were better things I could be doing with my time than standing around in the dark like an obsessive stalker.

What was taking the man so long?

According to his daily schedule, he usually arrived home about half an hour ago. Of all the days for this man to get delayed, it had to be the exact moment when I was waiting for him.

Nearly twenty more minutes of waiting finally paid off when the front door swung open on squeaky hinges.

I stood as still as possible.

The familiar figure of Blake Adder, my fellow agent who had worked with me on many cases, walked past. It was his own apartment, so he easily navigated the room using only the miniscule light that snuck around the edges of the closed curtains.

Just as he reached the far side of the room, I flicked the switch on the wall.

The room filled with light. He jumped, nearly tripping over the coffee table as he reached for his gun.

Upon seeing me standing in a hidden corner by the front door, he pressed a hand against his chest and gasped.

"Jesus, Gabe. Don't do that. I nearly shot you."

"I've seen you during training. Your trigger control is better than that."

"Well, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

I stepped further into the room and took a seat on one of the two chairs facing each other. The white leather furniture looked much better than it felt. Blake had a pretentious taste in decoration that I had never understood.

"Are you saying you weren't expecting me to show up?"

He claimed the other chair, gun still clutched in his hand though it hung limp and remained pointed at the ground.

"Yeah, I did, but not like this. How'd you even get in here anyway?"

I raised one eyebrow, waiting to see if he actually needed me to answer that question.

He didn't.

"Right, why am I asking?" He ran an exasperated hand through his hair and stored his gun back in its holster. "Fuck. What kind of skills did they teach you in the army? I can't that imagine lock picking is a part of the standard training regime."

"Not standard. No."

Then again, nothing about the Army Rangers was ever standard. It was about getting the job done however possible, and with whatever skills were needed.

Didn't have the skills needed?

Then you either learned quick or you died.

The ability to pick a lock had saved my life on more than one occasion.

"Well..." Blake leaned back in his chair. "Now that you've made your entrance. What do you want? You know the director is still steaming mad about the stunt you pulled. Seriously. I think there was literal steam coming out of his ears at one point."

I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket, undoing the cufflinks to give my wrists a little more breathing room. "I've made an appointment to talk with him tomorrow. For now, you're my main concern. You were put in charge of investigating the explosion at the Roth Brothers' apartment. What have you found?"

Blake hid his face in his hands for a moment as he mumbled to himself, likely wondering how he always ended up in these situations.

To be fair, the man did have an uncanny ability for ending up as the middleman in a lot of investigations. Always in the middle of things, but never actually in charge.

"Fine," he eventually concluded. "This is priority information, but whatever. You're still an agent, so you still have clearance. Let them try to fire me. See what happens."

He stood and retrieved a file from somewhere in another room. When he returned, he set the file down on the table in front of me.

I immediately started going through the information as he sat back in his chair and gave me a basic summary.

"It's as we expected. A bomb was wired into the door, which was triggered when Sebastian Roth opened it. Nasty piece of work, too. There was an incendiary device added to the bomb specifically designed to spread as much fire as possible, which is why the apartment burned so quickly. They really wanted to make sure your man was dead. If the initial explosion didn't kill him, the ensuing fire would."

"But they failed. He survived."

"Yeah. Those Roth brothers must be made of something special, because honestly, I have no idea how he survived."

At the back of the file, I found a page with several photos attached, including one that looked like a pile of broken bricks. "Sebastian and Damien Roth have had to fight for their survival since they were little more than teenagers. To have lasted this long, it should be no surprise that they're good at surviving. But that's not what I want to know about. The nature of the bomb doesn't surprise me. Its placement, however, is a concern. How was it planted inside the apartment when we had the building secured? I was guarding the place myself. No outsider should have been able to get in."

Between my meeting with Tansie Bell, and now with Blake Adder, I'd been talking a lot that day. My throat was starting to feel raw, but there was no chance to let it rest. My meeting with the director tomorrow would require just as much talking as today. Possibly even more.

All I could do was keep pushing forward and hope my voice didn't give out.

Blake gestured toward the file in my hand. "I found the answer to that. It's documented on the last page. There was a maintenance shaft in the basement that we missed. It wasn't secure. That seems to be how the person who planted the bomb got into the building. Once inside, it wouldn't be hard to sneak up to the Roth apartment. And you've already demonstrated how easy it is to pick a lock."

I looked back at the page in question, which was already sitting open in my hand. Just as Blake had described, it showed several pictures of a basement, including a close up of the hatch to the maintenance shaft.

"Where's agent Wilson?"

Blake was obviously surprised by the sudden change of topic and took several moments to respond to what should have been an easy question. "What?"

"Agent Gloria Wilson," I snapped, already getting impatient. "She was working this case with you, wasn't she?"

"Oh, right. She's been out sick with pneumonia. The weather's been terrible recently and I guess it got to her."

Remembering the frozen sleet that had greeted our arrival at the safe house and made transferring Sebastian out of the RV infinitely harder, I could agree with at least one thing he said.

"A lot of things have been terrible recently." I held up the pictures of the basement. "You know, we didn't miss this maintenance shaft. We discounted it because it was bricked over when the building was renovated. To get in that way, the wall would first have to be demolished."

"Yes," Blake agreed with me, though he elongated the word like he wasn't sure what to do with it. "Which you can clearly see in that picture. Someone broke through the wall from the outside."

"It is very clear in the picture," I agreed. "Except... Did you know I was recently able to get a look at Agent Wilson's original notes. She wrote down that the basement was the only part of the building to remain untouched by fire or explosion. She even included her own pictures with the note. Although, in her pictures this wall was clearly still intact."

I held up the picture of the broken bricks so both of us could see it.

"Strange how the wall wasn't broken until after Agent Wilson went on sick leave."

The two of us stared at each other, neither speaking. We didn't even blink. No more words were necessary. My meaning was clear.

A deep rumble, almost like a growl, built in the back of Blake's throat and his fingers slowly curled into fists. "Where did you see Wilson's original file?"

That answer didn't require words either, which was good, because I was running out.

He answered it for me.

"It was that Chinese cunt, wasn't it? Should have dealt with her when I had the chance."

Although I didn't react outwardly, internally I laughed at the idea of Blake ever having a chance to deal with Lily.

I set the file back on the table between us and tugged at the cuff of my left sleeve again.

"First, Lily is Korean. Not Chinese. If you're going to insult someone, at least be accurate. And second..."

Between one word and the next, I pulled out a knife that was strapped to the inside of my wrist and threw it at Blake. The four-inch-long blade planted deep in his gut before he even realized what was happening.

"Wha—"

He never got to finish his question as the pain hit. His hand pressed against his stomach, and he seemed genuinely shocked to find it covered in blood.

The poor white furniture was going to be ruined.

"Don't move around too much," I said as I stood from my own spotless chair. "Gut wounds are tricky. They bleed slow, so you should survive."

He tried to stand and face me, but the pain knocked him off his feet and he slid to his knees. The hand not pressing against his stomach moved toward his gun, but I grabbed the weapon out of its holster before he had a chance.

"I told you not to move around too much."

The blood was coming faster now, staining the whole front of his body a deep crimson, like someone had poured paint on him.

Luckily, I'd brought a few first aid supplies, just in case.

I helped Blake lie on the floor, then started wrapping bandages and tape around the wound while keeping the knife in place.

"You just stabbed me. Why're you helping me?"

"I didn't stab you. I threw the knife at you."

He snorted in frustration, and I was happy to hear his lungs were clear. That meant the internal damage wasn't too bad.

"Whatever. Same thing. Why're you helping me?"

Once certain he wasn't about to bleed out on the floor, I pulled out my own gun and pressed the barrel against his temple.

"Because we aren't done. How long have you been working for the Mariano family? Did they get to you at some point, or have you been rotten from the start."

"Fuck off," he spat.

I pressed the gun in a little harder, enough to feel the flesh and bone of his temple grind against the metal. "Answer me and I'll let you crawl back to your masters. Keep quiet and I'll ship you back to them in multiple boxes."

He glared at me in silence.

Breathing deeply through my nose, I swung my gun to the side and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the knee.

A tangled knot of curses fell from Blake's lips as he tried to grab his knee, but the knife in his gut kept him from curling up.

"Stop moving around." I shoved him onto his back, then started bandaging this new wound.

The knee was completely demolished, and I felt a bit of satisfaction when I realized it was the right knee. The same leg that Sebastian currently had hanging in traction.

Now Sebastian wasn't the only one who may never walk again.

"You fucking psycho," Blake shouted, but there was a new fear in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"It doesn't really matter how long you've been working for them," I said, as if he hadn't just insulted me. "Betrayal is still betrayal. What I really want to know is the identity of the person leading the pedophile ring Sebastian was investigating."

Blake's expression changed from one of fear and anger to one of confusion.

I shrugged, treating his confusion the same way one would treat a college student that couldn't recite their ABCs.

"What? I know Lorenz Mariano is bankrolling this secret ring, and the Mariano family is assisting in the hunt for Sebastian because of their own history with the brothers, but they aren't the ones in charge of the ring. Someone else is. That's the person I want."

I'd made a mistake. Asking such an unexpected question had shocked Blake, which distracted him from his fear. My desire to return to the safe house as soon as possible had caused me to rush things, and now I could already see the defiance building in Blake's eyes again.

Acting quickly, I pulled the knife out of his gut. My first aid attempts were ruined, and a fresh wave of blood gushed from the wound.

"You—"

He shut up real quick when I pointed the tip of the knife at his already destroyed knee, but I didn't want silence. I wanted him talking.

He still wasn't afraid enough yet.

I let the point of the knife drag up his leg, keeping my gaze locked on his eyes to catch even the slightest change in expression.

The knife pointed at his groin.

There. Now he was afraid.

I pressed the knife down a little more, just enough for the tip to poke through the material of his pants and prick at his skin.

"All right. I'll tell you. Stop."

The knife stayed in place, but I didn't push it any farther.

"The person in charge of the pedophile ring," I demanded. "Not just their name. Tell me everything you know about them."

Blake's grin verged on mania. "I'll do you one better. Inside my safe, I've got several files of information on the whole nasty little undertaking. You can have it. But you're not going to like what you find."

I removed the knife, and re-bandaged his stomach. There was now a worrying amount of blood staining the floor around him. The man would need to get to a proper hospital soon if he was going to survive.

Before leaving, I'd have to make sure to call 911 for him. With this much blood loss, he might pass out before he could do it himself. I'd killed people before. Between my time in the Army Rangers, and my employment with the FBI, taking a life was nothing new. However, I refused to kill when it wasn't strictly necessary. It felt like a waste, and waste was almost synonymous with mess.

I really hated when things got messy.

Once certain that he wasn't about to die, I turned my attention to the safe in his closet. To my surprise, the door opened on the first try. I'd half expected him to give me a false code or try to lead me into a trap.

Apparently threatening to cut off a man's genitalia was enough to keep him honest. It was too bad Blake hadn't had someone holding a knife to his balls all his life. He'd be the saintliest man alive today, and then maybe we could have avoided this whole mess.

The safe was mostly empty except for a small stack of files at the very bottom. I pulled them out and flipped the top one open to the first page.

After such a long day dealing with people, my vocal cords were exhausted, and I had very few words left.

In fact, I had only one word left, which I shouted as soon as I saw what the file contained.

"Fuck."