I wanted to vomit.
During my time overseas, I’d seen a lot of death. Hell, I’d caused quite a bit of it.
Never had I seen a mass suicide. If I could even call what I’d just witnessed suicide. Those people were murdered, but by their own actions. It was a mind fuck that I couldn’t quite get my head around.
“How far out is the response team?” Smith asked.
“Another five minutes,” one of the stooges said.
“Then we’ve missed him.” Smith turned back to me. “Do you understand now, Mr. Benson?”
“Understand? I just watched a bunch of people jump to their deaths. I’m about as far from understanding as you can get. What the hell is with the nursery rhymes? That’s some creepy shit.”
“We used those as a primitive code when our agents were in the field. Murdock made McArthur say that as a kind of calling card.” Smith walked to the door, waving for me to follow him. “If we don’t take Murdock into custody soon, he’s going to wreak untold havoc on this country.”
“I can see that. He’s like a tornado in a trailer park.” I stepped through the door and walked behind him.
“That’s why we need your assistance. You can help us locate him. We’ll take care of the rest.”
“You drugged and kidnapped me and now you want my help? Somehow, you thought this would work out? And let’s not pretend that you’re just asking for a small favor here. You want me to run toward a guy who just wiped out an entire floor of people like it was nothing.”
We walked down another blank hallway before stopping at a nondescript door. Smith turned back to me, his eyes boring into mine.
“You joined the military after the events of September Eleventh, ran into the line of fire to rescue a fallen soldier, and interjected yourself into a bank robbery to save lives. Despite your nonchalance and smart-ass comments, I know that you care, Mr. Benson. You want to make a difference. You want to help. This is your chance.”
I hated that he had me pegged.
Everything he said was true. My motivations, though muddled and blurry from years of boozing, were pretty obvious. I couldn’t stand around and watch bad things happen to good people. It would get me killed some day.
Maybe today.
The man in the black suit, he who liked to jam needles into me, appeared at the end of the hall. “Sir, we have a survivor.”
“What? Who?” Smith’s eyes narrowed even further. They were little more than slits at that point.
“Nami Williams. She’s a low-level analyst. Just hired a few months ago.”
“Debrief her.”
“She’s already en route.” Needle Jabber disappeared around the corner again.
Before this was over, my fists were going to have a conversation with his face.
Smith glared at me again. “Are you willing to help us or not?”
The image of those people running through the windows flashed through my mind. Everything about Smith and his little operation bothered me. They weren’t telling me everything. But how could I sit idly by while Murdock rampaged through the D.C. area like Godzilla?
“What do you need me to do?”
Smith smiled. It didn’t suit his scarred face. Looked like it hurt.
He opened the door and stepped into a room filled with shelves and workbenches. Unrecognizable equipment and computers lined the walls, covering most of the surfaces. Despite the abundance of gear and whirring PCs, no one worked in the room. Boxes sat on the floor.
The entire building seemed empty. Were they just starting to set up shop there?
“We have a potential lead on where Murdock will be later today,” Smith said.
“If you know where he’s going to be, why do you need me at all? Just shoot his ass when he shows up.”
“He’ll sense our presence long before we could identify him. He would either kill my men or disappear again until the next slaughter. Our plan now is to get you close enough to form The Bridge, which will verify he’s there, and then we’ll come in and take him out.”
That sounded like an incredibly stupid plan to me. They were throwing me to the wolf and hoping he wouldn’t bite.
Smith continued, “Because we don’t know which direction he’ll come from, we’re going to have to stay at least a mile out.”
“He’ll tear me to shreds before you even get there.”
“Once you confirm his whereabouts, all you have to do is walk away.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. In fact, I didn’t believe much of what he said at all. Outside of this Murdock guy being able to make people kill themselves, I wasn’t sure if there was a whole hell of a lot of truth to anything they’d told me.
Poking my head through the door, I looked down the long hallway again. The place didn’t feel right to me.
“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“What?” Smith grabbed a few things from a shelf and stuffed them in his pockets.
“You’re supposed to have this super-secret spy organization, but you seem to have all of three people working for you.”
“I already told you—the telepaths under my command are out on various missions.”
“What about the regular people like the band of action-star wannabes back there? You can’t run an operation with a handful of people.”
Smith sighed. “We keep things small to minimize the potential for leaks. Imagine what the American people would do if they found out that telepathy was real and that the government used them for espionage? What would the international community do?” He walked back to the door and led me into the hallway again. “Only three employees at DC3 knew where our intel came from. They processed information and evidence, but few had any idea about the telepaths.”
That didn’t sound right either. Everything the government did was huge and unwieldy. Even if something leaked, it wasn’t like anyone would believe it. A bunch of mind readers that spied on terrorists?
Yeah, right.
“Bullshit. Where’s everyone else?”
“Dead,” Smith said after staring at me for several seconds. “Murdock killed the majority of my staff over the past few days. Those he didn’t get to have gone into hiding.” He handed me a small earpiece and a transmitter. “Put this in your ear. We’ll be in contact the entire time you’re in the open. Everything you say will come through to us.”
“This is it? I don’t get anything else? So much for being on the cutting edge of international espionage.” I stuffed the equipment in my pocket. “I like how you just glossed over the fact that your staff is dead. Afraid I would balk if I found out?”
Smith’s cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered, turning away from me.
I took that moment to focus my mind on his. The drug continued to wear off, and I could feel things slowly clearing out in my head. I still didn’t have full use of my faculties, but I felt the presence of his thoughts nonetheless.
They were cloudy and immaterial, impossible for me to latch onto. Whether that was from the drug or his ability to block me out, I didn’t know.
As if he felt me probing around in his head, he turned back to me, eyes narrowing. He checked his watch. After several more seconds, he dropped his phone back in his pocket.
“The drug administered to you should be wearing off soon. How do you feel?”
“Nervous, untrusting, and pissed off.”
He nodded. “Our contact has confirmed that Murdock will be in place shortly. We have a driver ready for you.”
“Where are we going?”
“Mt. Olivet Cemetery outside of Washington.”
“I’m going after a terrorist in a cemetery?” I rubbed my temples. “What the hell kind of operation are you running here, Smithy?”
“An extremely hobbled one.”
Smith led me through more hallways until we arrived at the front of the building. We stopped in an empty lobby, our shoes echoing. The more I looked around, the less the place felt like a government, or military, facility.
It felt like a bag of lies.
I needed to get out of there and figure everything out. Get a hold of Drew.
“The driver outside will take you to the cemetery. We’ll be close behind, monitoring you by GPS and satellite feeds.” Smith fixed a hard gaze on me. I held it. “If you try to run or divulge anything I’ve told you to anyone, we’ll take you out. Understand?”
I shook my head. “So glad I’ve agreed to help.”
“Give us his location, and we’ll take over from there.” Smith nodded at the door. “The driver knows nothing, so don’t bother picking through his memories. Good luck, Mr. Benson.”
With my stomach twisted in uncertainty, I walked outside.
Another SUV waited for me by the curb, the engine idling. As I crossed the pavement, yet another pulled up behind it.
A small, black child climbed out of the backseat. She couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. Her long hair was pulled into pigtails. A Powerpuff girls t-shirt and SpongeBob SquarePants backpack made up her outfit.
Her eyes were large and round as she took me in.
“Are you lost?” I asked her. What the hell was a little girl doing here?
“No, are you?”
“Ms. Williams, come inside please,” Smith said from behind me.
I turned back to him. “What are you up to? Why are you bringing children here?”
“Children?” The little girl flipped me off. “I’m thirty, you asshole.”
I looked from her to Smith and back again. I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Telepaths, government officials, and a woman-child.
What had my life come to?
Who is this jerkhole? Looks like they found him in a gutter.
“Name’s Ash. I might look like they found me in a gutter, but at least I don’t have to sit in a high chair to eat dinner.” I paused for a second, sifting through a few of her thoughts. “Nami Williams.”
The drug had worn off enough to allow me to peek into her head, though I still couldn’t penetrate Smith’s.
Did I say that out loud? She was walking past me, but she stopped, glaring up at me. “You know my name. Congratulations.” Her nostrils flared, and she grimaced. “You smell like a bag of ass.”
She was a fiery little turd; I had to give her that.
Her past flitted through my mind. Though she put on a hardened exterior, minus the child-like appearance and clothing, fear gripped her. She worked on the top floor of the DC3 building.
The only survivor of Murdock’s massacre.
Nami had been in the bathroom when the murderous spy had arrived.
The women’s restroom by her cubicle was closed for maintenance, so she’d gone down a floor to use that one. She’d stopped to chat with someone in the break room when the bodies fell past the window.
Pure luck had saved her life.
“And your name is Ash? Really? Ever seen The Evil Dead?” Nami stood two feet in front of me, her neck craned back so we could make eye contact.
We couldn’t have looked more different. I was a tall, scruffy, white guy. The coolest guy in every room when I walked in. She looked like she should be selling cookies door to door.
If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me if I’d seen The Evil Dead, well, I’d have a lot of dollars. Every dork and nerd who crossed my path had to ramble on about how cool Bruce Campbell was.
More images from her past came to me then. My ability was returning quickly.
I saw Nami wearing costumes at Comic Con and doing bizarre photo shoots with similarly dressed friends. She collected Anime, Manga, and weird Japanese crap that I didn’t recognize.
When added to her unusual look and foul mouth, Nami’s tastes made her unique. In a weird way. She was moral though, and that went a long way for me. Besides, who was I to judge someone for being weird?
“Yeah, I’ve seen it. My name is Asher, not Ashley though. My parents didn’t hate me that much.”
She appraised my shirt. “You know what a shower is, right?”
“Mr. Benson, time is of the essence,” Smith said. He still held the door open.
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Don’t trust these guys. Something is wrong here.”
“What?” Her eyes darted toward Smith. “You’re the one who seems screwed up here, not him.”
“Just keep your eyes open. Pretend you’re one of those weird characters from your favorite anime.”
“Huh?” She took a step away from me. Who the hell is this guy?
“I’m Ash. Try not to drool at my overwhelming masculinity.”
I turned and climbed into the waiting SUV.
I had a date with the devil.