Chapter 42
Will sat quietly on a bench under a growth of oak trees. The man he was there to meet was running a few minutes late, something for which he had little tolerance. It didn’t cost anything to arrive a few minutes early. But tardiness seemed to be the culture of the younger generation. They felt like it was completely acceptable to show up late and simply apologize it away.
The sound of traffic was light at that time of night. Big cities always had at least some street activity during all hours. The area around Piedmont Park was no different. Some local bars and music venues were still busily serving their patrons while an erratic stream of cars hustled by.
He tried to clear his thoughts of the annoyance by taking in a deep breath of the cool evening air. Late fall in Atlanta brought a vast array of temperatures. Sometimes it could be as cold as the teens during the holiday months while at others, temperatures could reach into the low seventies. That night was somewhere in-between, probably in the upper forties. The nearly barren branches rustled above in a slight breeze, causing him to pull his coat a little tighter.
Piedmont Park was home to a number of city activities throughout the year. From concerts to parades and even cooking festivals, it was often the center of activity. Around late November, though, it seemed temporarily forgotten, which was why Will had chosen the location for the evening’s meeting.
“Sorry I’m late,” a man’s voice slightly startled him from behind.
Will’s irritation resurfaced with the artificial apology. He peered at his paid help with disdain. The brown haired man was probably in his mid-twenties, dressed like he just jumped right out of an Abercrombie canoe with a striped, cotton polo, a black pea coat, and some artificially torn jeans. Cocky and careless didn’t last long in their line of work. A lesson he would soon learn. “You should never keep an employer waiting,” he replied.
“I know. I got caught up in traffic.” The young man was sheepish but obviously lying.
As bad as Atlanta traffic could be, there wasn’t enough to slow anyone down at that time of night.
Will decided to let it go. It wouldn’t be an issue anymore anyway.
“We have a new assignment. And it’s more money this time.” He began walking towards the center of the park and the younger man fell in beside him. The two crested a small rise and then descended down the other side, out of the view of the streets surrounding the park.
“What’s the gig?”
Will stopped in the shadows, just far enough away from the reach of one of the streetlights that dotted the sidewalk. He put his hand into a coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “It’s a lot of money this time. Fifty grand up front and fifty more when we finish the job. That’s a hundred grand a piece.” He handed the manila package to his subordinate who started unwinding the twine.
“Hundred grand a piece? Who we going after? Someone political?” From within the envelope, he pulled out an 8x11 black and white photograph. His eyebrows lowered and confusion filled his face. The picture he held was of him. “Is this some kind of joke?”
He barely got the sentence out before the face on the photo erupted to the pop of a silenced gun. His legs wavered and he staggered backwards a few steps, only then seeing the black gun that Will had pulled out from the other side of his jacket. The bullet hole in his chest was already leaking a great deal of blood through the yellow shirt. He dropped to his knees, confusion and terror filling his eyes. Will stepped closer, holding the weapon at his side. “Your generation just doesn’t get it, do you? You think it’s ok to cut corners, show up late for appointments, and just by saying you’re sorry it makes everything ok.” He raised the gun, aiming it at the stunned victim’s head. “Well it’s not.” The barrel popped again sending a second bullet into the man’s forehead. Will looked around casually as the body slumped over sideways onto the sidewalk. There was no one in sight, just as he’d planned.
Placing the gun back into his inner coat pocket, Will strolled back out to his car on the street. There were a few drunken revelers walking down the road, but they were walking the other way. No one had seen a thing.
Chapter 43
Emily yawned as she walked down one of the many corridors in Axis headquarters. She’d taken an early flight out of Atlanta, sacrificing a good night’s rest. Still, she felt better than she had the previous night. A good shower and a least a few hours of sleep had done wonders. The office was quiet, as it always was. One of the nice things about Axis was size. A smaller agency provided a less crowded working environment. Serenity was something Emily needed. There were several questions that needed answering, and she wouldn’t really be able to rest until she found some kind of resolution. She would have to call Jim Caldwell’s boss and explain to him that he’d been killed. It was a call she didn’t look forward to.
As she approached her office she fumbled with her keys for a second before she realized her door was slightly ajar. Cautiously, she pushed the glass entrance open. In her chair behind the desk, sat a familiar and unwelcomed face. Sam Townsend.
“Good morning, Emily,” he said dryly.
“Your little ‘all-access pass’ doesn’t include my chair, Samuel,” she returned with resentment.
“My mistake,” his tone was lathered in insincerity.
He stood and slipped around the edge of the desk and into one of the guest seats. She never took her eyes off of him as he moved. Emily knew everything about Townsend, probably more than he knew about her. His unusually fast rise to power, the people he’d run over to get there, and even his favorite flavor ice cream were no secret to her. She’d made it her policy to keep an eye on potential enemies both foreign and domestic.
“What do you want, Sam?” She asked as she placed her laptop case on the dark, cherry wood desk.
He pulled out his cell phone and gave a quick glance at its face then slipped the device back in his pants pocket. “What were you doing out in Las Vegas, Emily?”
His voice was genuinely curious.
“I was out there on vacation. I had some days to use and what better place than Vegas? Plus, I wanted to check up on an old friend who was playing in a big poker tournament.”
His tone became wry. “Yes, Sean Wyatt. How is he these days? Shame he didn’t stay on with the Justice Department longer. He was a good field agent.”
“He’s doing fine,” she replied as she sorted a few papers on her desk and placed a few things from her bag into the top drawer. And he’s happy working for IAA. Pretty sure he’s never looked back. So why don’t you spare me the bs and tell me why you’re in my office, Sam?”
“Fair enough,” he said with a smile. “I need your help with something.” He shifted slightly and loosened his red and white striped tie.
“My help?” She appeared dubious. “I doubt that. You have pretty much every single agency at your disposal. What could my little operation do that they can’t?”
He crossed his legs and leaned back, folding his hands together in his lap. His face looked thoughtful as he considered how to word his next sentence. “Eric Jennings has gone rogue. I need someone to find out what he is up to.”
The statement was brazen and to the point. Emily stopped what she was doing and stared at him for several seconds, considering what he’d just said. Even the few, quiet sounds of the office outside seemed to pause with the information. “What do you mean? Eric is the director of a very respectable, very powerful agency. It’s not like he’s just some field agent or an asset.”