Unstable Target: Six Assassins Book 3 Read online

  She tried to lift the control box, but it wouldn’t budge. If this thing had a shutoff option, Ember had no idea where to find out. Plus, she seemed to be running out of time.

  “What do we do?” Gabe said.

  Ember didn’t answer, but she stood up and took a step back, trying to clear her head. The entire cage now hummed. There had to be a way out of this, but Ember couldn’t think of anything. She had maybe seconds left to figure it out.

  What if she disabled the cameras? No, that would probably trigger the gun to fire.

  Ember took out one of her pistols and pointed it at the cage. The woman craned her neck and shook her head, her eyes pleading.

  Ember didn’t know what else to do.

  She aimed. Maybe she could shoot the gun and knock the barrel a few inches to the side. Ember didn’t know if it would work, and the bullet was almost guaranteed to ricochet off some of this metal, but she had nothing left.

  Her finger tensed, hovering over the trigger.

  But before she could press it, the cuffs on the woman’s arms tightened more, then a surge of electricity shot out from the sides along the cuffs, lighting up the room and pulsing through the woman. The cage swarmed with electricity, and Ember had to step back.

  Her eyes slammed shut as the woman writhed, standing up, electricity shooting through her. The sparking and crackling filled Ember’s ears.

  The woman tried to scream, but Ember couldn’t hear anything. She could only watch as the captive’s mouth moved slowly, open and then closed. It happened multiple times as the horrendous display crackled on for several seconds.

  Then the cage stilled, and the last crackles of electricity surged through and disappeared. The woman slumped in her restraints as her now-smoking head drooped forward. Her eyes glazed over.

  The machine went silent.

  “What the hell was that?” Gabe asked.

  "That," Ember said, sucking deep breaths to neutralize the nauseous feeling in her gut, "was Quinn."

  Chapter Five

  ZACH

  Zach Bennett looked up from his microscope to find an empty laboratory. He had to blink a few times to be sure. But, as he'd first thought, there was no one else here. This abnormally dark room seemed to hide people, despite the white lab coats.

  The dozen-or-so other people who had been on this shift with him at Firedrake had all slipped out while he’d had his head down, squinting at slides. It wasn’t uncommon for them not to say goodbye, but he’d expected Wanda to at least offer some parting words for the day. Zach and Wanda weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t indifferent workplace cohabiters, though.

  The sudden lack of other people wouldn’t have been a problem except for the fact that Thomas Milligan was here today. The boss sat in his office at the end of the dark room, his feet up, laptop on his thighs. He stopped in every few weeks, sometimes for an hour to pace around the room with his hands behind his back. Some visits, he would stay for multiple days, usually on the phone in his office, having angry conversations where his hands would slash the air in gesticulated exasperation. Sometimes, he sat in that room and stared out at his little worker bees.

  Thomas' eyes were down, not looking out at the lab. Zach had a chance to slip out quietly if he was careful about it. Given the scowl Thomas had worn on his face for most of the day, Zach did not want any time with the boss at all.

  Zach opened the cabinet below his workstation. He unplugged his microscope and gingerly lowered it to set it on the bottom shelf. Then, he collected his Petri dishes, pH strips, and other materials and deposited them on the top shelf. Going as slowly as possible to avoid any noise, he unzipped his backpack and slid in his notebook.

  He stood and slipped it over his shoulders, then made a quick and quiet path toward the logout station. He sucked in a breath as he set out.

  “Zach,” said Thomas from his office, not looking up. “Before you leave for the day, can you stop and chat with me for a moment? I won’t take up too much of your time. Promise.”

  Zach slammed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose, mentally kicking himself. Why hadn’t he snuck out with everyone else? How had Thomas even seen him?

  He swallowed. “Sure thing, Mr. Milligan. Be right there.”

  Zach made the slow walk over to Thomas’ office door, leaning against the exterior. Maybe he wouldn’t have to sit. The scowl on Thomas’ face vanished as he folded his hands over his stomach.

  “Come in, come in. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Thomas? It’s like a sickness with you.” The boss chuckled and kept the same plastic smile on his face he always wore whenever he had Zach’s attention.

  Zach took a few steps inside the room and lowered himself to the chair. He took his backpack off but did hesitated when he thought about setting it on the floor. He instead held it in his lap as he hovered on the edge of the seat, not committing to being inside this room for long.

  “How was your research today?” Thomas asked. “I meant to get out there and walk the room a few times, but I got sucked into something else, unfortunately.”

  “It’s going well. I’m getting closer on that thing we talked about the other day. The infected cells, remember? It’s not quite stable, but it’s better than it was a month ago. I’m failing in the right direction, is what my high school biology teacher would say.”

  Thomas appeared confused for a second; then, recognition passed over his face. He set his laptop on the desk and then put his feet down so he could lean closer. "Yes, I remember. Progress is good. Progress is what we want, so I'm glad to hear you're making strides. And how are you? How is everything else going?"

  Zach scrunched his toes inside his shoes to distract himself from his paranoia. Only a few days ago, someone had planted child pornography in his apartment to make it look as if he'd been searching for it on the library computer. Finding that folder sitting in his kitchen had been possibly the second most insane and anxiety-inducing moment of Zach's short life, after the camping trip that had taken his father away from him.

  What sort of person would even do something like that? Zach had no enemies in Fort Collins. He had no enemies anywhere, as far as he knew. Certainly no one capable of doing such a despicable thing like that. There was only one person in the world he thought capable of planting child porn, and that person was sitting right across from him.

  Not capable, he thought. Likely.

  His boss was absolutely the type of person who would have one of his minions sneak around and plant something like that in Zach's apartment to scare him into action. He didn't know why he knew that, but he did.

  Zach swallowed the giant lump in his throat and put on the most neutral face he had in his arsenal. It was difficult. His subconscious was fighting between rage and fear, and it took everything he had to remain calm. “I’m good. My classes are kicking my ass this semester, but I’m pretty used to that. I’ve been running outside now that it’s cooling off, which is always better than being on a treadmill. How are you?”

  “I’m sad, Zach, because I’m really starting to think about how much you’re missing out by working in this drab little building in Colorado.”

  Of course, Milligan flips this all around to be on me. He squeezed his fists beneath the desk.

  Milligan continued. “I know you like it here, but part of being a grownup is knowing when it’s time to seize an opportunity before it disappears. It’s time for you to join the big leagues and come to Sacramento. Firedrake needs you.”

  Zach had heard this pitch multiple times already and had turned it down each and every time it had been presented to him. But now that Thomas had upped the stakes with the faked pornography, could Zach resist?

  Would Thomas use it as blackmail? Or was it extortion? Zach didn’t even know the right term to use to describe the sword hanging over his head.

  Also, he wasn’t sure if agreeing to take the job would cause it to stop.

  "I'm not sure about that. I think I'm happy where I
am. I mean, I still need about thirty more hours in my major just to graduate. Plus, I have to take Advanced Trig again, and I have to pass it this time. My advisor is taking a pretty firm stance with me on that. Third time’s the charm, though, right?”

  “I don’t doubt that school is important to you. But, do you know what we’re doing at Firedrake in California, Zach?”

  “Saving the world?”

  Thomas chuckled. “That’s right. But it’s more than that. This little infected cell project you’re working on? It’s nothing compared to what you could do with the big-boy toys in California. I’m talking about giving you a budget and a staff to set your sights a thousand miles higher than that. I’m talking about viral mutation. I’m talking about putting a virus inside a bacteria — imagine an unkillable antibiotic — and using that technology to do things like clean dirty water, fix polluted air, to keep perishable foods safe indefinitely… there are a million applications. We’ve only scratched the surface on all the permutations.”

  “A virus inside a bacteria?”

  Thomas waved his hands. “Don’t get too caught up in the particulars. What matters is that with my guidance and Firedrake’s funding, you could literally save the world, Zach. The world. Not just vaguely help out in the whole scheme of pharmaceuticals and be some unknown whitecoat in a cubicle farm. Zach, we'll waive the degree requirements for new hires. Later, we'll pay for you to finish undergrad and get your advanced degrees, anything you think you need. Would you rather do that, or would you rather end up at some doomed startup, trying to figure out how to turn cow shit into gasoline?"

  Zach stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder; then he had to work to force the next few words out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Thomas, but I'm going to be late for a thing. I appreciate the offer, but I can't accept it. Not right now."

  Thomas sat back and smiled, but a brief sneer passed his face as he let out a breath. He nodded and flicked a hand toward the door. He said nothing.

  Zach backed out and then pivoted toward the exit, feeling Thomas’ eyes bore into his back. Heart racing, mouth dry, Zach wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

  Chapter Six

  EMBER

  Ember took a step back from the dead body in the cage. The chill of failure spread through her as the foul smell invaded her nostrils. The dead woman was barely a woman, even. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old. Blonde and pretty, probably a college student with a boyfriend and a crew of sorority sisters stapling missing posters up on telephone poles all over town.

  Gabe turned away and put his hands on his hips as he leaned over. He grunted as he tried to breathe.

  “If you’re going to be sick,” Ember said, “go back outside. We don’t need our DNA all over everything. I know that sounds calloused, but we have to be practical.”

  He turned back around and blinked a few times, his eyes cloudy and wet. “I’m okay. It’s just so crazy. What a terrible way to go. I can’t even imagine how that felt.”

  Ember listened to his words, but she didn't let them settle in her mind. She couldn't. She would feel it too, just as Gabe had, but right now, she needed to stay alert, vigilant. She needed to find Quinn, or find whatever mistake he had made here. They always made a mistake; they were always careless with something — excited and egotistical about their show; they still left something behind accidentally.

  If she allowed the emotion in, it would cloud her judgment. If she allowed Gabe’s words to ring true, she’d lose.

  “I think that was the point. Quinn wants me to understand how serious and unpredictable he is. That's why he added that little twist at the last second.” She motioned at the unused pistol in the cage to illustrate her point.

  “Fagan said he was schizophrenic. Looks like a nutso, too, so we should keep a lookout for stuff smeared on the walls.”

  Ember met Gabe’s eyes. “Don’t think for one second that just because he’s crazy, that means he’s dumb. Don’t think this means he will make a mistake or somehow be sloppy. He wants us to underestimate him.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “This may seem like a strange time to tell you, but Fagan thinks you’re ready to take your membership test. We talked about it, and I agree.”

  A hint of a smile cracked his face. “For real? I mean, I can’t think about that right now, but I’m honored.”

  "It might be as soon as next week, or it could be a while. Fagan said she might want to wait until after my trial by combat is done, but that doesn't seem fair to you. She can fill you in on the details since she'll be the one giving you the test."

  Gabe nodded. “I can wait. What do we do now, about this?”

  Ember again examined the cage, thinking about a way to find out about this Jane Doe inside it. Ember dared not touch her, and a DNA sample from a cheek swab or skin cells wouldn't accomplish much. The results would take too long. Also, given how she had died, she wasn't looking too photogenic right now, so not much hope in matching a picture of her to a missing person database.

  No, Ember expected that, when he was ready, Quinn would himself reveal this woman’s identity, so he could gloat about it. Until then, better not to touch anything.

  Ember knelt, looking for a way to get to the machine’s guts. She felt wary of those little cameras pointed inward, because there was still a gun attached to the frame.

  The cage was too heavy to lift, but maybe there was a hidden switch or a button she'd missed in the chaos. And then, her eyes landed on something up near the arm cuff. Where the cuff part met the side, outside of the path of the electricity, a little piece of something white jutted out—a tiny triangle. Ember leaned in close, trying to breathe through her mouth so she wouldn't get as much of the smell of cooked flesh.

  “What are you doing?” Gabe asked.

  Ember poked at the white thing. A piece of folded paper. “Do you have tweezers?”

  Gabe took a pouch from his backpack and dug around in it. “No, sorry.”

  She pinched at the corner of the piece of paper and worked it back and forth until she could get two solid fingers on it. She pulled it out, a rectangle about the size of a fortune inside a fortune cookie.

  Gabe crossed over to her side of the cage and squinted at her discovery. "Did you find anything?"

  Ember opened it up. On the inside, in blocky letters:

  TWO DAYS

  FREE SHIPPING

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabe asked.

  “My best guess? In two days, there will be another machine like this, and another person trapped in it. It won’t be the same way, but the result will be the same.”

  “‘Free shipping?’”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  Gabe crossed his arms. “So, he’s toying with us?”

  “Looks that way. When he said he wanted to meet to discuss terms, I didn’t expect it to be as simple as that. But this looks like he’s enjoying himself, so we’re at the whims of a mentally unstable person who doesn’t follow the normal rules of hostage negotiation. All bets are off.”

  "I had this friend in high school," Gabe said. "He was part of our group, but he was always like an outsider. But, his family had money, so we kept him around. I know, juvenile cliquey high school crap. He was 'unstable,' too. Like, we had to watch out for how much he drank at whatever party, so we could have someone keep an eye on him if things got out of hand, and he'd decide to start a fight with some random kid from another school.

  “About two years ago, I heard he took his family hostage. The cops came, barricades in the neighborhood, snipers on the rooftops nearby, the whole thing. Eventually, he ate a handful of Valium and passed out, then they raided the house and took him away. But, the point is, I knew this guy. I used to party with him. I never thought he was capable of duct-taping his parents to chairs and provoking a twelve-hour standoff with the cops, you know?”

  “You don’t get to look inside other peoples’ heads. What you think
you know about people is often just enough to get you in trouble when you start trusting them.”

  Gabe pursed his lips and gave a somber nod. “That’s true.”

  Ember’s pocket buzzed, and she took it out to find another unknown number on the screen. She snapped her fingers at Gabe. “Quick. Do you have the phone thing? The one to trace numbers?”

  Gabe jumped as if given a scare, then he snapped into action. He dug into his pouch again and pulled out a plastic device about the size of a pack of gum. One end was a connector that would fit onto Ember's phone's port. She'd always wanted a special NSA or CIA-type device, like what they had on old TV shows. A big, black box that chugged and dinged and spat out an exact location after magically analyzing data.

  The reality was that there were a thousand ways to do it, none of them were big black boxes, and all of them worked in different ways — and provided differing results. Zach’s device was software-based, analyzing background audio cues to build a location profile.

  In other words, it was magic. She snatched it from him and connected it to her phone, then she tapped the button to accept the call. “Are you feeling proud of yourself?”

  “Oh yes,” said Quinn’s slow and grating tone. “I only wish I could have been there to see it in person.”

  She turned around, checking the corners of the room for surveillance cameras. She didn’t see anything. “You broke your word, you know. You said you were going to be here to discuss terms. We’re not starting off on the right foot, Quinn.”

  “Maybe not. But, I thought about it and decided this was a much better way for me to introduce myself. Now, there should be no question of who is on the other end of your contract this week. You don’t know me, Ember Clarke, but you will. I promise you that.”